My French Routine: Fill & Download for Free

The short answer: yes, but that's a good thing that he can handle (and so can you).The long answer…My three sons, 3, 5 and 7 moved with us to France in 2012 to a town of about 50k. We put them in the “best" local French Catholic school.My 3rd grader lucked out and had an upbeat, progressive teacher who communicated in English a smidge in the beginning to ease him into his new school and social life.My kindergartener had no such luck, and hadn't yet been diagnosed with dyslexia either- cold turkey, immersion method, and still dislikes much of French life after nearly 6 successful years there.My youngest discreetly became French before our eyes, dispite his pre-kindergarten co-teachers’ lack of bilingual instruction or cross-cultural understanding. Both my two youngest did not speak for most of their first year there. Common in young bilingual learners. Don ’t worry. It will come when your son is comfortable.Don't be afraid to advocate your son's special needs, and articulate for your son if he's not receiving the affection he needs from his teachers in elementary school, which can often feel cold, harsh and mean to foreigners.What helped us tremendously was my immediate involvement on campus, volunteering, dropping off and picking up my kids, who I brought home from school at lunch everyday. This gave them the touchstone they needed to get through the day, a break in the mental marathon of learning not only the language, but all the new customs, cultures and environments. It gave me the chance to ask them what they'd done in the morning in class and recesses before they'd forgotten, and to reorient them with suggestions to help them make friends, interpret their teachers’ behavior and comments, and especially to tell them daily how proud I was of their efforts and courage in this new adventure.I grew to treasure these two midday hours together that gave me the great opportunity to get to know my children and earn their trust by sharing and participating daily in their greatest challenge so far. None of us felt alone in our struggles and achievements.We were repatriated last January to a new state. Re-entry is proving more difficult, because American culture separates parents from their children early in elementary school, and completely in middle and high school. Here we tend to seek independence , self satisfaction and comforts linked closely to television, gaming and food. We are doers, constantly packing our days with busy doings, and rarely taking the time to spend talking and playing together. We do share less here.My advice would be to embrace the quirky old-style obstacles that slow you down in France, ways that are culturally protected in France- stores that close on Sundays or Banks on Mondays, not driving everywhere. Enjoy having friends for dinner, going to parties frequently and traveling with friends, weekly or even daily “pauses café" with new friends, whatever stands out as different. Dive into what makes your local area special. Get out each day brandishing a big smile and a fast draw, “Bonjour" to everyone who takes notice of you. And most importantly, get to know every kid's name as fast as you can and say bonjour to them everytime you see them; this will earn friend points for your son quickly, and as a bonus, you'll get to know their parents, who'll appreciate your attention to their child(ren). They will share their great French ways with you, and you will show them how open and friendly and culturally curious and smart Americans can be. As my mom always said, “remember, you're an American ambassador.”And here's a key piece of information: continue to use your mother tongue “en famille.” Children quickly adopt language, especially before middle school. But I have a number of American friends whose children have lost their knowledge of English and even have accents though their parents speak English. Speaking English can begin to feel less natural. I would allow some cartoons in English and some cartoons in French after school frequently. This is how I made sure that using English didn't become awkward for my sons no matter where and with whom they were. As Americans, the world will expect mastery of English, especially 8th grade and beyond. I even did a little homeschooling each week in English to keep it part of the routine. And by switching back and forth between the two languages daily, your son will be the best kind of bilingual, a young bilingual. He will have the incredible advantage to live in every moment completely bilingually without exhausting his brain quickly like later learners.I hope you don't take the above as patronizing. Without knowing your full story, I share mine with you, hoping you'll take what works for your family's experience.Good luck at Bonne Adventure!

IMO language mastery is not about huge vocabulary but being able to explain yourself in most everyday situations. "Book" knowledge of language is usually over complex and doesn't let you actually communicate. Also, once you have the basics down, the language is not so much about routine as adding something meaningful to your life — friends, books, films, travel, classes — it should add richness, not just take up time with repetitions and exercises.Stage 1 : Basics1. Wh questions. "Where is X" or "What is Y". They are simple and you can start practicing right away.2. The simplest possible verb tenses for present, past and future. Example: in French, there are multiple verb tenses in the book but in everyday conversation you can get away with 3: present, past perfect, "going to"3. Modal verbs. "He wants to...", "Can you...?", "Should I...?"4. Pronouns5. Sets like numbers, directions, common foods, parts of the body, etc.The basics are about repetition and memorization and practice. The more you can repeat every day, the better. To practice try reading aloud and understanding newspaper articles or something simple like that. Children's books are good, so are children's shows (like Sesame street). If you are where the language is spoke, simple walking around and asking people "where is X" and "how to Y" (and asking "what is Z" for every word you don't understand) is a great everyday practice. Learn routines, such as "in a shop" or "ordering a meal". Don't worry about elegant phrases or even correctness of what you're saying, the point is to be understood.Stage 2: Vocabulary + new expressions1. Watch sitcoms! The sillier the better (you don't want to get intellectual here)! I learned English by watching Futurama and Friends and Sex and the City. French — bref! and Les Parents. The good thing about sitcoms is that characters repeat and their language stays consistent more or less. If you like a phrase that someone said, repeat it a few times out-loud.2. Read simple books. Preferably the ones you already read in your language so you know what's going on. You should be able to understand at least 50% of the book, if not, pick a simpler book. Simple books are not necessarily bad, I red Camus in French (l'Etranger, La Chute) and Jane Eyre in English.3. Don't look something up in a dictionary unless you see it at least a few times. This will make watching/reading more enjoyable and ensure that you only look up useful things.4. If you can, find people who only speak that language and befriend them. You'll make a new friend and will have no choice but to speak the language.The goal is to get to the point where you understand 90% of everything said/written and learn all the grammar you need. Don't learn grammar rules unless you stumble upon them a few times first. You will learn everything you need eventually, don't worry.Stage 3: Expression + accent1. Start a journal in a new language. Write what you did that day, what's on your mind, what you'll do tomorrow, what you should do, gossip, judge people, etc. It's a great practice.2. When you hear someone say a phrase (in a bus, in a store, etc.) and you like how it sounds, repeat after them in that exact expression/inclination until it sounds very close. You might want to do this in a low voice so they don't think you're crazy :D3. Take a course in that language — history, algebra, whatever. Or watch how to-s. Cooking shows are amazing. Coursera is good for some, so is youtube.4. Movies are great. And music. And literature. Since it's Brazil, maybe soccer? Find knowledge that has to do with that language/culture that you genuinely enjoy and can contribute to conversations about.For example, I really like Françoise Hardy, I can't tell you how many kudos I got for playing her songs at francophone parties. My other friend was able to charm people with his deep knowledge of local history. I myself love when people (knowledgeably!) talk to me about Russian films or literature.The end point is to forget that you're using a foreign language and just communicate.

My living hell came in the form of double-trouble! I was the third roommate moving into their apartment for four long months of torture....Let's set the scene: This story is takes place back in my student days. I was ecstatic to get a Summer internship abroad, at a tech-company in the South of France, right on the French Riviera between Nice and Cannes. It was my first time away from home and I didn't have much money, so I thought I was soooo lucky when the company's HR rep helped me find an affordable room in a small sea-side town at the apartment of two English girls who were completing a year-long internship at the same company. "Perfect!" I imagined, "We're the same age, speak the same language and we'll have lots in common! How lovely!". I was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.....I had just sealed my own fate and moved into my own nightmare: living with vulgar, drunken, xenophobic slobs with no chance of escape.They took away my sleepI had heard before that sleep-deprivation is a very powerful form of torture, and this was my chance to experience it first hand. Around two days in, the roommates dropped their "nice" act and resumed their usual routine of late night booze and drunken yelling.Every day, I had to catch the bus to work at 7am, and they would be up drinking until 2am, 3am, sometimes 4am. My room had paper-thin walls and I would ask them if they could keep it down, but they'd just nod and smile and then start talking (yelling) crap about me as soon as I was out of sight. I'd just cry into my pillow and wait for them to pass out. The next day when they'd sober up they wouldn't remember any of this, deny it and reassure me it wouldn't happen again.At some point during the Summer, one of my roommie's parents came to visit. My hopes were raised as I imagined I would get a break from the boozy yelling for a week... only to be dashed as I discovered they were even louder and drunker than the girls!!They took away my airWhen I first toured the apartment, I told them I was a mild asthmatic and that cigarette smoke made me ill. They nodded and said no problem. What they meant was - no problem for them. They kept smoking and welcoming their guests to smoke at our place.At this point, I should mention that my room had no window. It was a small narrow space, just enough room for a twin-size mattress and a short clothes rail. No furniture, nowhere to sit except the mattress. Looking back some years later, it struck me that I may have been living in a large closet. This could explain why the apartment was so affordable in the middle of the Summer on the French Riviera.In any case, no windows + cigarette smoke + humid Summer = no fun to say the least.They took away my living roomAround one month into my stay, the girls informed me that they had invited their brothers + a bunch of friends to drive down from England and stay with us for three nights. We would be a total of 11 people crammed into a tiny three-bedroom apartment (or perhaps a two bedroom, one closet apartment, see revelation above). Sigh. Oh well, three nights only right? Well, those three nights turned out to be almost three weeks. You see, they all decided to go drinking on the beach their first night there, and then those geniuses decided to put all of their car keys, wallets, (money, driver's licenses) and cellphones into a single bag and leave it out on the sand while they partied. Any guesses about what happened next? Let me tell you - it takes around three weeks to get replacement car keys in France with no ID, money or original key.And all this time, our guests were crammed into our apartment, sleeping on the living room floor, sleeping on the kitchen floor, even sleeping on our balcony. I had to push my door open very hard each morning because there was usually someone in a drunken stupor blocking it.They took away my kitchenAround this time, I could no longer keep up with all of the dishes. Yes, I was the only one who ever washed dishes in this apartment. It was fine(ish) when it was just the three of us, but by the time we were 11 I had to give up and resort to washing one dish from the dirty pile before I needed to use it. Yet even this was not that bad compared to what was about to come next.There had been a particularly filthy pot sitting on the kitchen counter for a while - a long while - when one day I noticed someone had placed a tied plastic bag around it. "Hmm", thought young innocent me, "why would anyone put a plastic bag around a pot"? I remember what happened next in slow motion: I carefully untied the plastic bag and pulled it open to discover.... they were not even maggots any more - baby flies came out at me!!Needless to say I could not use the kitchen ever again.(Side-note: one day, early on in my stay, I came home to find my bar of soap in the kitchen trash. I stared at it for a long while and could not figure out why anyone would throw away soap. I finally concluded that they did not know what it was - maybe they thought it was food, took a bite, did not like it, and tossed it out. If anyone has a better theory, I welcome your input!).They took away my peace of mindAround half-way through my stay, my roommates must have decided that I was getting too comfortable again since they presented me with a new surprise: they decided to stop paying their rent.Basically, they were pretty dumb but not idiots: they realized that they had trashed the apartment and would not be getting any of their deposit back. (I mean traaaashed - these girls were slobs, I've already mentioned the kitchen disaster area, but imagine what happens to a bathroom after one year of no cleaning, plus they destroyed the washer / dryer. And the icing on the cake: black foot prints on the wall. Not shoe-prints. Not on the floor. *Foot* prints on the *wall*. How? Why?? Ewww!!).Anyways, they decided to "take" back their deposit which happened to equal the last two months' rent by simply not paying the last two months' rent. This meant every day I would slip my hand through the hole of our locked mailbox** checking for an eviction notice. In another twist, one day I found a "final notice" from our utilities company saying that they will turn off our electricity & water if we did not pay by the end of the week. I gave up explaining to them that they could not get their deposit back by not paying the electric bill and paid it all myself for the rest of my stay there. After all, I do quite enjoy electricity and water. But I couldn't afford to pay their share of the rent, and so I spent the rest of the Summer having nightmares of being evicted.** When I moved in I asked them where our mailbox key was. They said they were not quite sure - they went out drinking one night and lost it in a fountain. Which fountain? They don't remember. Not a huge problem for them since they could not speak / read a word of French and so, as far as they were concerned, had no reason for checking the mail.They took me away from my work"But why did you stay there if it was so horrible Lucy? Why didn't you move to another apartment right away?". Very good question Quora reader. Believe me I tried! I'd spend around half of my work day desperately scanning rental listings, looking for anything, anything at all! This is not an easy task: an immediate, short-term rental, in the middle of the Summer in one of the most expensive tourist destinations in the world.I went to visit any apartment I could afford and found them all to be in the sketchiest of sketch locations in Nice (sometimes I did not even feel safe walking around some of those places in the day time). Eventually, I gave up defeated, but not after sacrificing a huge amount of work-time to the task.They took away my smileI think I pretty much cried every day that Summer.Normally, people who know me would describe me as happy / cheerful / smiley. But those four months I'm sure I gave off quite a different impression. I mean, I actually had strangers stop me on the street and ask if I'm ok.Mostly, these tears were due to sleep deprivation and loneliness. The loneliness was particularly acute being surrounded by those girls and their friends, all my age, all speaking the "same language", and yet feeling like we exist on separate planes.Close to the end of my stay, I simply couldn't take it any more. I packed my clothes and checked in to a nearby hotel for a week. They didn't even notice...They took away my cultural experienceI feel I must add one more note on their xenophobia. These girls had already lived in France for 10 months when I arrived and yet they had managed to avoid learning a single word in French. How do you do that? This is quite an impressive achievement and they surely worked very hard to avoid it completely. (This did not work in their favor when they could not file a police report for the theft of the car keys / wallets / ID's).And it didn't stop at the language, they avoided anyone or anything French like the plague. Their hatred for anything non-British was so strong that these, ahum, ladies would actually go to a store that imported British goods to buy *all* of their food!?!! I was also perplexed to discover that we had a TV in the apartment without a single channel. They soon reassured me that I don't have to worry about any horrible French shows being played on TV, and that we could all enjoy British soaps which they regularly had their friends videotape and send to them...Unfortunately, their anti-French feelings were well known at our company among the non-English interns and since I lived with them, I was associated with them and had a very hard time being accepted by anyone French at the company. It was not until the end of my internship that a few French interns gave me a chance and got to know me, and I would finally have someone who spoke the "same language" as me (at least figuratively). But alas it was really too late.But... they gave me...Incredible stories! I could tell their tales for hours (and I have)! In fact, the very night that my now husband first asked me out on a date, we had spent a few hours leading up to that moment bonding over these shocking & hilarious-with-hindsight experiences.They also gave me karma! After living with these two fine specimens, I decided that the Universe owed me some good roommates and it did!! I became careful to the extreme about finding a vetting roommates, and next time ended up with the best roommates imaginable!Finally...At the end of the Summer, when it was finally time to leave the apartment and go home, I called my parents the night before my flight back. I told them I suddenly have a very strange and unexpected feeling of being sorry to leave and some sort nostalgia flowing through me...why?? My Dad laughed and told me: "You know, even inmates get that feeling when they're about to leave prison!".