french class.

when i was in high school and college, i had an irrational fear of french class. basically, it went like this: i would get very, very nervous for the hour or so leading up to french class. there was a ball of dread curled up in my stomach like a puppy in front of a fire on christmas eve. i would twitch a little bit, my bladder would become impatient, and my voice would shake.


because i was 100% certain that some woman was going to ask me things in french and then expect me to answer her. and i wasn’t going to be able to do that, because i don’t speak french. then, i assumed she would get mad at me and i’d look like an idiot in front of lots of people who, supposedly, spoke french.

but then i’d get to french class and it wouldn’t be so bad. yes, a woman might ask me something in french, but if i couldn’t understand and thus respond, she wouldn’t get mad at me; most of the time, she would help me out and give me clues as to how to respond correctly. so during french class, the dread would go away and i would feel relief and life would continue on as normal.

most things are like french class.

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