The teacher marched in, deeply tanned from a recent vacation, and proceeded to rattle off a series of administrative announcements. That’s the way they do it here – it’s everybody into the language pool, sink or swim. The first day of class was nerve-racking because I knew I’d be expected to perform.

As an added discomfort, they were all young, attractive, and well-dressed, causing me to feel not unlike Pa Kettle trapped backstage after a fashion show. Some accents were better than others, but the students exhibited an ease and confidence that I found intimidating. Regardless of their nationalities, everyone spoke what sounded to me like excellent French. Vacations were recounted, and questions were raised concerning mutual friends with names like Kang and Vlatnya. My school is an easy ten-minute walk from my apartment, and on the first day of class I arrived early, watching as the returning students greeted one another in the school lobby. I’ve moved to Paris with hopes of learning the language. Me Talk Pretty One Day – By David SedarisĪt the age of forty-one, I am returning to school and have to think of myself as what my French textbook calls “a true debutant.” After paying my tuition, I was issued a student ID, which allows me a discounted entry fee at movie theaters, puppet shows, and Festyland, a far-flung amusement park that advertises with billboards picturing a cartoon stegosaurus sitting in a canoe and eating what appears to be a ham sandwich.

Me talk pretty