After getting back from the conference and vacation in Puerto Rico, I decided that I absolutely needed to force myself to be more productive. So, I've been using a technique taught to me by my new friend Jena, who is a PhD student at Johns Hopkins.
It's called the pomodoro technique (website: mytomatoes.com; app: pomotodo) and operates on a very simple principle: rather than setting aside a large block of time to work, divide your time into smaller blocks and assign yourself a clear goal during that time. And take short breaks.
Let me explain with an example. Tuesday, Jena and I camped out in the ENS library and worked for about 5 hours straight. In that time, I did this:
1) (25 minutes) Read ch. 58 and 59 of Perec biography
2) (25 minutes) Read ch. 60 and 61 of Perec biography
3) (25 minutes) Finished ch. 4 of Reggiani book
4) (25 minutes) Finished ch. 5 of Reggiani book
5) (25 minutes) Worked on introduction/outline of dissertation
6) (25 minutes) Worked on introduction/outline of dissertation
7) (25 minutes) Worked on introduction/outline of dissertation
8) (25 minutes) Read ch. 62 and 63 of Perec biography
9) (25 minutes) Page and a half of OuLiPo transcription
10) (25 minutes) Read ch. 64 of Perec biography
The smaller, 25 minute intervals, are totally manageable. And contrary to working for those 5 hours without such subdivisions, you only do stupid things—checking your phone, Facebook, chatting, getting a coffee, etc.—during the 5 minute breaks and are otherwise totally devoted to the work you're doing in the 25 minute blocks. I've found that I'm reading faster and better without constant interruptions, writing better when I devote a clear amount of time to a specific part of my dissertation, and I also like having a log of my work at the end of the day.
In addition to that, I've also been nominated a co-coordinator of a new team of transcriptions for the OuLiPo project! It turns out that I'm no longer a "jeune chercheur anglophone," but a "jeune chercheur francophone." And I'll be delegating. How exciting! In addition, I've also finished the Perec biography and the next book I'll be reviewing. I also rewrote my introduction/outline that I had discussed with my advisor in Princeton and sent him the new version. Tomorrow, I begin work on the algorithm section of my dissertation/my maybe article on algorithmic literature.
So, even if the libraries in Paris are annoying and the ENS is basically useless in terms of classes and conferences, I can still be productive on my own here. Next step: finding out how to continue learning German here, and actually learn Hebrew. Hopefully I can find some way to do that in Paris too!
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Fleur Pellerin hasn't read Patrick Modiano
One of the major news bits that I missed while I was in the US was that Patrick Modiano won the Nobel Prize. Now, I did hear the news, obviously (how could I not? I was presenting on him!), but I came back to posters and book displays in windows everywhere here in Paris. Here is just one of the many bookstores boasting about how many Modiano books they sell:
Apparently one of the other news items I missed was even reported in the New York Times. The French Culture Minister, Fleur Pellerin, apparently received some backlash for admitting that she has never read even a single book of Modiano's. The opinion here seems split: while some are happy that Ms. Pellerin is honest enough to admit that with her trying schedule, she doesn't have time to read novels, the other half are outraged that their Culture Minister knows so little of the French literary tradition that she hasn't even read a single work by such a renowned author (Modiano, in case you didn't know, beat Georges Perec's La vie mode d'emploi for the Prix Goncourt, and has since written dozens of best-selling books). Here is the NYTimes article about it:
My thoughts aren't perfectly formulated, but I wanted to address it anyway. While I do think it's good that Ms. Pellerin did not pretend to have read Modiano (which is very common—how many American politicians from the Tea Party have pretended to have read Ayn Rand?), I also think that it is surprising she would take the time to read at least one of his books before meeting with him and discussing his recent Nobel Prize. I mean, the book I discussed at NCFS was only about 150 pages long, and is a real page turner whether you like Modiano's style or not. And since most of Modiano's books seem to be about the same topics (I should say right now that I haven't read all of Modiano, but he's also not my specialty), reading one or two could allow one to say a good deal about his style and corpus. Finally, I think this incident really says a lot about the current state of French literature. French literature is one of the greatest national literary traditions in the world, but in the past half-century has become very academic, theoretical, and a lot less about narrative. While Modiano's work is still largely accessible to a general public (revealing the horrors of the Nazi occupation of Paris during WWII through gripping stories, events that the French tend not to speak about), it has also been noted recently that the English-speaking world hasn't shown as much interest in French literature recently. And while I might be straying from my topic, I should also say that the fact that even a French person—but not any one, but the Culture Minister—doesn't read contemporary French literature is disconcerting from where I stand. I mean, it will eventually be my job to teach foreign students about this language and literature and how to inspire interest in it first and foremost. But how to do that when even French ministers of culture don't care?
I can't say I have the answers right now, but I do know I'm working with an excellent set of texts. The OuLiPo is filled with fun, games, plays on words, puzzles, secrets, and more. Students seem to like it, and it works wonders for teaching the language (forcing students to write with constraints is one thing, but in another language, it can be used to focus in on certain vocabulary or grammar). Hopefully, my students will read French literature, unlike Fleur Pellerin.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Conferences
First of all, I have to apologize for my hiatus from writing. Though I assume almost everyone who reads this blog knows me well enough to know why, I'll just reiterate: I was on a "business trip"! Now, I say "business trip" because Princeton paid for everything, and because the main motivation for what I did was to attend two conferences (one of which I presented at), to speak to my advisor in person (at the first conference and also in Princeton), make quick use of Princeton's library and printing services (since the ones in Paris aren't very good), and then go home. The reason for the quotation marks is that I got to go to some of my favorite places (Baltimore, Princeton, NYC), visit with some wonderful friends, get Idina Menzel's autograph (!!), have a very fancy dinner with my mother, present in a tropical climate (San Juan is a strange choice of venue for the Nineteenth Century French Studies yearly colloquium, don't you think?), and have an excellent excuse to visit family in Ponce, Puerto Rico!
I don't want to get too much into the details of conferences, but going to two of them really put the whole ideas of conferences into perspective for me. While it is absolutely necessary nowadays for graduate students to attend a certain number of these things, they can sometimes seem like a waste of time. You spend months working on an innovative research project, try to boil the important points into 20 minutes of talking time, and then get almost no feedback after travelling to a faraway place to present to important strangers. But, I guess you get two lines on your CV. The stark differences between both conferences really underlined the overall use you can get from certain conferences, and what you lose.
Conference #1: A two-day colloquium on translating constrained literature at Johns Hopkins. Now, I only got to attend one day of this, but it was extremely interesting! Especially for me, since I study all this. Even though I don't study translation per se, attending a conference with a whole batch of OuLiPo specialists (and even the president of the OuLiPo, Paul Fournel!) was extremely useful to me. It updated me on current OuLiPo scholarship, but also gave me a new perspective on the notion of constraint from the translation angle. Also, I was able to attend a conference at my undergraduate institution and reconnect with my old professors. All in all, definitely worth the extra six hours of driving while jetlagged.
Conference #2: The NCFS is a yearly conference, extremely huge and important to see where the current scholarship on 19th century French literature is heading. The most important 19th century experts attend, and there are hundreds of talks you can go to. But the conference is too big! There are four talks in each panel, which are only 1.5 hours long. That means that if all goes perfectly, there is exactly 10 minutes left at the end of the presentations for questions. But in practice, it never works out that way. Academics like talking a lot, and 20 minutes doesn't allow them to demonstrate the true depths of their research. In order not to be perceived as cutting corners, they overshoot the allotted time, and then, before you know it, there is no time for questions. To a graduate student attending, this really defeats the purpose: without feedback, all the work, money, and time was for nothing. This conference was especially expensive to be useless to graduate students, most of whom don't come from universities such as Princeton with very large conference funding available to graduate students (I received funding from my department and from the Dean's Fund for Scholarly travel, a total of about $1,800 in total). How is someone from a PhD program that isn't even paying them well and that doesn't offer travel funding going to attend this conference on an island far away? And then, if you do manage to go (since, if you study 19th century at all, it is, as I said, the most important conference of the year), you don't even get asked any questions.
Overall, I think conferences can be productive when they're smaller and more focused. But those conferences are not inclusive. The larger ones generally have a blanket theme (the NCFS was "escape" this year—appropriate, no?) and a huge number of unrelated talks. The smaller ones allow every participant and attendee to interact and connect with one another (obviously, socializing is a major part of these); the larger ones tend to act as a big reunion, allowing scholars from across the country to reconnect every year over overpriced dinners in mediocre hotels. Universities pay thousands upon thousands of dollars to fund travel to these conferences, and the host university must also spend even more to make it all happen. In the end, what do we have to show for all the work? Humanities in academia are in a state of crisis right now, mostly because no one thinks we do anything useful. Perhaps continuing this tradition of expensive cocktails in exotic locations might not be the best way to convince the world that we are providing a necessary service. But at this stage, at least I can enjoy the ride!
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Making French friends
When I got to Paris to study abroad four years ago, we had a very comprehensive orientation, during which we were instructed in everything from French methodology to living with a host family. One of the workshops we had was about how to make French friends at the university. What we were told was this:
•French universities aren't like American ones. The students don't consider them a community, there generally aren't well-organized clubs, and many students still live at home.
•Students in French classes are encouraged to be autonomous. The professors don't really assign work at all. It's up to each student to decide what interests him/her on an individual basis and study that.
•French students generally don't go to university in a different city than the one in which they were raised, so they already have friends. And as French people can be quite cliquy and less open, it might be hard for us to make friends.
•Especially not in classes, because the French system is all about the professor "professing" and reading a prepared speech during which the students ideally don't ask any questions. Now, some professors in France can be open to the idea of students asking questions, but often that can seem like questioning their authority. In any case, you generally don't talk in class, so you don't have much opportunity to get to know your classmates.
•Since it's hard to meet your classmates, we should make an effort right from the beginning. Get to class early and tell them you're American. They might think you're exotic and interesting because you come from a different country.
•If all else fails, just try to meet one French person, and you can meet more through that one.
Okay, so they didn't really say all that in that way. But if you read between the lines, that's what it meant (obviously, my study abroad program was not disparaging towards the French university system—otherwise, why would they send American students there?). But either way, I followed the advice. In a history class, I made a friend because I said I was American (He's just passed a very difficult examination to be a high school teacher, by the way!); in my philosophy class, I met Alix (an American who had been living in France for a long time) and through her, met more French people; etc.
Well, last night was the "nuit blanche" or the night where Parisians stay up all night to see public art expositions and do other sorts of mayhem. But instead, Mélanie and I went to a party outside of Paris to see her friend from the north and her new apartment. At this party, I learned two things: #1, I am the life of the party! #2, French people follow the same strategies to meet foreigners apparently.
I spent the whole time speaking French, and her friends were very nice. At the end of the party, though, the friend who threw the party asked Mélanie if she thought I would ever meet up with her and speak English. Mélanie responded that of course, we could all meet up sometime and speak English, that I was nice, and that I wouldn't mind at all (this friend is currently studying to be an English teacher). Her friend responded that she wanted to meet up just with me, that she wanted me all to herself, then immediately asked me. Don't get me wrong, if she wants to come all the way out to Paris to speak English, then sure, I guess. But I'm not going back to Arpajon at night again. We missed the last RER and had to take an 80 euro cab back to Paris. When we got there, we saw the line for the art expo near my house (at the Bibliothèque Sainte Geneviève!) and decided it wasn't worth it. Too cold and rainy. So we got a crêpe and went home. Maybe I'm getting old because I don't want to stay up all night. Or maybe I don't have to, because I'm the life of any Arpajon party!!
•French universities aren't like American ones. The students don't consider them a community, there generally aren't well-organized clubs, and many students still live at home.
•Students in French classes are encouraged to be autonomous. The professors don't really assign work at all. It's up to each student to decide what interests him/her on an individual basis and study that.
•French students generally don't go to university in a different city than the one in which they were raised, so they already have friends. And as French people can be quite cliquy and less open, it might be hard for us to make friends.
•Especially not in classes, because the French system is all about the professor "professing" and reading a prepared speech during which the students ideally don't ask any questions. Now, some professors in France can be open to the idea of students asking questions, but often that can seem like questioning their authority. In any case, you generally don't talk in class, so you don't have much opportunity to get to know your classmates.
•Since it's hard to meet your classmates, we should make an effort right from the beginning. Get to class early and tell them you're American. They might think you're exotic and interesting because you come from a different country.
•If all else fails, just try to meet one French person, and you can meet more through that one.
Okay, so they didn't really say all that in that way. But if you read between the lines, that's what it meant (obviously, my study abroad program was not disparaging towards the French university system—otherwise, why would they send American students there?). But either way, I followed the advice. In a history class, I made a friend because I said I was American (He's just passed a very difficult examination to be a high school teacher, by the way!); in my philosophy class, I met Alix (an American who had been living in France for a long time) and through her, met more French people; etc.
Well, last night was the "nuit blanche" or the night where Parisians stay up all night to see public art expositions and do other sorts of mayhem. But instead, Mélanie and I went to a party outside of Paris to see her friend from the north and her new apartment. At this party, I learned two things: #1, I am the life of the party! #2, French people follow the same strategies to meet foreigners apparently.
I spent the whole time speaking French, and her friends were very nice. At the end of the party, though, the friend who threw the party asked Mélanie if she thought I would ever meet up with her and speak English. Mélanie responded that of course, we could all meet up sometime and speak English, that I was nice, and that I wouldn't mind at all (this friend is currently studying to be an English teacher). Her friend responded that she wanted to meet up just with me, that she wanted me all to herself, then immediately asked me. Don't get me wrong, if she wants to come all the way out to Paris to speak English, then sure, I guess. But I'm not going back to Arpajon at night again. We missed the last RER and had to take an 80 euro cab back to Paris. When we got there, we saw the line for the art expo near my house (at the Bibliothèque Sainte Geneviève!) and decided it wasn't worth it. Too cold and rainy. So we got a crêpe and went home. Maybe I'm getting old because I don't want to stay up all night. Or maybe I don't have to, because I'm the life of any Arpajon party!!
Saturday, October 4, 2014
OuLiPo in Paris
A list of OuLiPo related things that I've done or will do in Paris:
Séminaire ALGORITM: This is a new seminar that will happen a few times this year. I've talked to the professor in charge (Camille Bloomfield) and she said not only am I more than welcome, but I can even do a small presentation on my work!
Transcription Project: This is part of the séminaire ALGORITM, more another aspect of another larger project called the DifDePo. I've finished my first batch of transcriptions and have already been given four more. It turns out the groupe of "jeunes chercheurs anglophones" (young Anglophone researchers) is the dream team for such a project! Seems that Americans accomplish somewhat mindless tasks efficiently. Also, I was the first one to finish a transcription!
Séminaire Perec: In addition to meeting with Camille Bloomfield, I met with Christelle Reggiani, a Perec specialist who is a professor at La Sorbonne (Paris IV). She told me that in June, she will hold her annual Perec seminar, and that if I send her an abstract by December, she would love for me to speak about something Perec-related.
Archives: There are Perec archives that I can access right near my apartment, apparently. Also, the OuLiPo archives are located at the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal. Once I know exactly which documents I need, I can head over to those archives and do some real archival research.
OuLiPo class at La Sorbonne: Next semester, Christelle Reggiani will be teaching a class on the OuLiPo and has invited me not only to attend, but also to guest lecture on something related to my dissertation!
Book Review: Yes, another one! This one is a book by Christelle Reggiani that I got through David Bellos' suggestion to the French Studies journal as well as an enthusiastic recommendation from my former medieval literature professor, Sophie Marnette!
Jeudi de l'OuLiPo: I will be missing the first one (which is the day I'll head to Puerto Rico for the conference), but then they will be once a month until I leave.
L'Atelier de George Orrimbe, member of the OuPeinPo (Ouvroir de Peinture Potentielle): A chance encounter with a man in a bookstore in Versailles a few weeks ago has resulted in my being invited to visit his workshop. He is both an engineer and an artist who works in one of the OuXPo spinoff groups. He saw me buying Perec books, we started talking about the OuLiPo, and it seems that chance (or was it? since the OuLiPo is anti-chance...) has introduced me to someone who is very much tangential to the group!
Conference at Hopkins: Yes, this one is not in Paris. But there will be a conference on translating the OuLiPo, and I'll be going on Friday! I did so miss Baltimore.
There is probably more, but this is a good start for now. Back to work!
Séminaire ALGORITM: This is a new seminar that will happen a few times this year. I've talked to the professor in charge (Camille Bloomfield) and she said not only am I more than welcome, but I can even do a small presentation on my work!
Transcription Project: This is part of the séminaire ALGORITM, more another aspect of another larger project called the DifDePo. I've finished my first batch of transcriptions and have already been given four more. It turns out the groupe of "jeunes chercheurs anglophones" (young Anglophone researchers) is the dream team for such a project! Seems that Americans accomplish somewhat mindless tasks efficiently. Also, I was the first one to finish a transcription!
Séminaire Perec: In addition to meeting with Camille Bloomfield, I met with Christelle Reggiani, a Perec specialist who is a professor at La Sorbonne (Paris IV). She told me that in June, she will hold her annual Perec seminar, and that if I send her an abstract by December, she would love for me to speak about something Perec-related.
Archives: There are Perec archives that I can access right near my apartment, apparently. Also, the OuLiPo archives are located at the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal. Once I know exactly which documents I need, I can head over to those archives and do some real archival research.
OuLiPo class at La Sorbonne: Next semester, Christelle Reggiani will be teaching a class on the OuLiPo and has invited me not only to attend, but also to guest lecture on something related to my dissertation!
Book Review: Yes, another one! This one is a book by Christelle Reggiani that I got through David Bellos' suggestion to the French Studies journal as well as an enthusiastic recommendation from my former medieval literature professor, Sophie Marnette!
Jeudi de l'OuLiPo: I will be missing the first one (which is the day I'll head to Puerto Rico for the conference), but then they will be once a month until I leave.
L'Atelier de George Orrimbe, member of the OuPeinPo (Ouvroir de Peinture Potentielle): A chance encounter with a man in a bookstore in Versailles a few weeks ago has resulted in my being invited to visit his workshop. He is both an engineer and an artist who works in one of the OuXPo spinoff groups. He saw me buying Perec books, we started talking about the OuLiPo, and it seems that chance (or was it? since the OuLiPo is anti-chance...) has introduced me to someone who is very much tangential to the group!
Conference at Hopkins: Yes, this one is not in Paris. But there will be a conference on translating the OuLiPo, and I'll be going on Friday! I did so miss Baltimore.
There is probably more, but this is a good start for now. Back to work!
Breaking News
Louise (my French flatmate) has just gotten a job at a boulangerie. Our apartment is now filled with baguettes, cookies, pastries, and sandwiches of all kinds. I should probably start by saying that, every time I go to Europe, I lose weight. The food here is less chemically enhanced than in America, I think they use less pesticides and hormones, and you walk a lot more. Plus, every time I leave or return to my department, there's the small matter of five flights of stairs to deal with. The ENS is a 10 minute walk, Berthillon is a 10 minute walk. I walk a ton and eat less and healthier here.
Well, I think the weight loss period might be over. Too many pastries!!!
Well, I think the weight loss period might be over. Too many pastries!!!
Visitors
The interesting thing about having visitors is that you get to see the place that you live through new eyes. You go to places like the Eiffel Tower and the Sacré Cœur and take pictures, even though you ordinarily wouldn't be caught dead in touristy places where you could get your wallet stolen so easily. You go to expensive restaurants instead of eating a 3 euro lunch at the ENS dining hall, since a guest pass would cost 10 euros. You don't get as much Berthillon ice cream because they don't see how amazing it is like you do. Anyway, having visitors is a different way to see the city, except that I had my visitors in my first three weeks, when I was supposed to be settling into a routine. What's more, my visitors were actually friends who lived in Paris with me four years ago. So, the visits were almost like déjà vu, a reminder that Paris is timeless, but that we're not.
My first visitor was Eileen. In case you don't remember, I met Eileen four years ago in my class on Paris and literature. After my semester, I left Paris and she stayed for a few months before ultimately going back to Berlin, where she got a job with MTV and then a few other companies. About a year after studying abroad, I came back to Europe and my main intention was just to stick around Paris and pretend like I was still living there. Instead, Eileen convinced me to spend three days in Berlin, and I also went to Pisa to see Justine (my former French teacher). Little did I know that those would be the three languages I would be learning in graduate school (French, Italian, German).
Anyway, Eileen's visit to Paris was pretty low key. My favorite part was on Thursday when we reprised our old Thursday night bar ritual. We went to Tribal (a bar in the 10th) where they serve free moules/frites (mussels and fries) at 9pm on the dot, and then headed over to the Moose. Even though it's been four years since Eileen lived here, all these bartenders still remember her, and we definitely got extra moules/frites at Tribal and plenty of free drinks at the Moose. At Tribal, they even gave us a table marked "reserved" because they were so happy to see Eileen. Four years ago, I was only 20 years old. The Thursday night bar hopping with Eileen didn't make me feel European, but it definitely made me feel like a "normal" college student since I couldn't go to bars in Baltimore (being under 21 and all). This time, the novelty of the drinking was gone, but it was still really nice to be back in familiar places and doing familiar things.
My second visitor was Alexandra, who was my college roommate and also spent a semester here in Paris at the same time as I did. With Alexandra, we did much more touristy stuff. She hasn't been to Paris in four years, seems to have forgotten a lot of her French, and didn't really remember her way around. Also, she didn't have a working European cell phone or anyone else in the city she knew. So, we went to Angelina's for hot chocolate (so good, so fancy, but so expensive!), Fauchon for drinks and cheese on the terrace, high-end shops (where she could afford things, but not me), and more. Then, when Rosalind (my scholarship donor and awesome Hopkins alumna friend) joined us, we continued to do touristy and classy things. We even saw a movie—Qu'est-ce qu'on a fait au bon Dieu, the same one I saw in Berlin which is apparently so popular that even though it's out on DVD, it's still in theaters!
Anyway, the trip reminded me of a younger me trying to get to know Paris. Now I do know Paris, have plenty of French friends, see how life actually works here, and although the touristy showing people around is fun, it's good to know that I actually know how to live here. And all the visitors left just in time for me to leave as well—on Thursday, I head back to America for conferences, meetings, etc. It will be my turn to be the visitor!
My first visitor was Eileen. In case you don't remember, I met Eileen four years ago in my class on Paris and literature. After my semester, I left Paris and she stayed for a few months before ultimately going back to Berlin, where she got a job with MTV and then a few other companies. About a year after studying abroad, I came back to Europe and my main intention was just to stick around Paris and pretend like I was still living there. Instead, Eileen convinced me to spend three days in Berlin, and I also went to Pisa to see Justine (my former French teacher). Little did I know that those would be the three languages I would be learning in graduate school (French, Italian, German).
Anyway, Eileen's visit to Paris was pretty low key. My favorite part was on Thursday when we reprised our old Thursday night bar ritual. We went to Tribal (a bar in the 10th) where they serve free moules/frites (mussels and fries) at 9pm on the dot, and then headed over to the Moose. Even though it's been four years since Eileen lived here, all these bartenders still remember her, and we definitely got extra moules/frites at Tribal and plenty of free drinks at the Moose. At Tribal, they even gave us a table marked "reserved" because they were so happy to see Eileen. Four years ago, I was only 20 years old. The Thursday night bar hopping with Eileen didn't make me feel European, but it definitely made me feel like a "normal" college student since I couldn't go to bars in Baltimore (being under 21 and all). This time, the novelty of the drinking was gone, but it was still really nice to be back in familiar places and doing familiar things.
My second visitor was Alexandra, who was my college roommate and also spent a semester here in Paris at the same time as I did. With Alexandra, we did much more touristy stuff. She hasn't been to Paris in four years, seems to have forgotten a lot of her French, and didn't really remember her way around. Also, she didn't have a working European cell phone or anyone else in the city she knew. So, we went to Angelina's for hot chocolate (so good, so fancy, but so expensive!), Fauchon for drinks and cheese on the terrace, high-end shops (where she could afford things, but not me), and more. Then, when Rosalind (my scholarship donor and awesome Hopkins alumna friend) joined us, we continued to do touristy and classy things. We even saw a movie—Qu'est-ce qu'on a fait au bon Dieu, the same one I saw in Berlin which is apparently so popular that even though it's out on DVD, it's still in theaters!
Anyway, the trip reminded me of a younger me trying to get to know Paris. Now I do know Paris, have plenty of French friends, see how life actually works here, and although the touristy showing people around is fun, it's good to know that I actually know how to live here. And all the visitors left just in time for me to leave as well—on Thursday, I head back to America for conferences, meetings, etc. It will be my turn to be the visitor!
PS: Here is a picture of me looking like a very pious tourist in the Sainte Chapelle. Beautiful, no? Thanks to Eileen for the picture!
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Modern Hebrew (pour débutants)
At the end of my first Modern Hebrew class on Monday night, I decided to ask the teacher a few questions. She was pretty impressed with my ability to reproduce the Hebrew alphabet and read things phonetically, so I wanted to explain why I could do that but still definitely belonged in the beginner class. I told her how Jewish children in America are sent to Hebrew school, and how those schools are almost always a monumental waste of time. I told her that, once or twice a week, I was instructed at copying the letters, reading the letters, memorizing prayers, and doing other useless things that weren't doing anything to help my mind absorb the language—and given that is the age when children's minds are absorbing all the language they can get, I find it absurd that Jewish children in the US aren't taught any Hebrew in Hebrew school. In any case, she assured me that next week, we will finish learning the alphabet and start learning to speak, which means that we will have about 11 more weeks to complete beginner's Hebrew.
Perhaps it's because I teach language at the university level, or because I have learned 3 foreign languages now, but I do not find this setup sufficient for language acquisition. Let me tell you how the course began. Once we were done wasting 20 minutes (of the 2 hours) finding a room where the lamps had light bulbs (yes, even the Grandes Écoles seem to be poorly funded in terms of classroom supplies), the professor decided to spend an hour telling us about the philosophical stakes of the Hebrew language. We discussed the difference between ancient Hebrew and modern Hebrew and how the latter came about. Then, we discussed the notions of "spoken language" and "mother tongues." This is apparently crucial to understanding Hebrew, which was primarily a written language used for religious purposes all throughout the middle ages and Renaissance, was then considered a literary language that could be analyzed by philosophers such as Spinoza, and which was then finally resurrected by Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, who seems to be some sort of mythical figure for the Hebrew language. This man took the dead language and revived it, adding new words, simplifying the grammar, and finally raising his son in complete isolation, surrounded by only people who would speak to him in fledgling Hebrew so that he could be the first native speaker. I wonder how that kid turned out psychologically speaking. At least nowadays he would have one killer college admission essay, but he wouldn't be able to write it in English.
Anyway, this discussion was interesting, but there was one major problem: it was in French. How can we learn Hebrew like this? Then, another hour of learning to draw symbols I already knew and the class was over. So, back to the beginning of my post. I was walking out of the ENS with my teacher, telling her that I was going to have to miss two classes for a conference I was going to, but wouldn't miss any more after that. Then, she told me that she is always impressed by students like me. I asked why, since she doesn't really know anything about me except that I can draw the Hebrew alphabet letters after years of rote memorization. She said that she could never imagine learning a foreign language in a foreign language. Alternatively: she couldn't believe I wanted to learn Hebrew in French!
I thought about that for a minute. What an interesting thought! Yes, that was interesting! I mean, when I learned Italian, I definitely relied on my French knowledge to give me a head start on the grammar (which is more or less analogous), thought in French, and then translated the sentences into Italian. That type of reasoning made sense, since Italian is syntactically much closer to French than to English. But, I didn't learn Italian in French. In fact, I only learned Italian in Italian! My teachers almost never spoke English, which is more or less the way I teach French to my students as well. At first, sure, you speak a bit of English so they don't get overloaded, but the longer the course goes on, the closer you get to speaking to them 100% in the target language. I never would have spent an hour of a two hour class speaking to my students about the history of the language, then the second hour explaining the alphabet also in English. That would have been a waste of time, though now that I look back on it, at least we have time to waste in American language classes. 5 hours a week is much more than 2, and the fact that the students hear the language five days a week is already much better than one.
All that going through my head, I didn't even know how to respond to the professor. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I found the very nature of the course insufficient. So, I just said I was always up for a challenge, and really wanted to learn about the relationship between the Hebrew letters and numbers and numerological interpretations (Kabbalah).
So there you have it: language classes in France. Now I guess you all see why French people don't speak English very well. I suppose it's not their fault—who can learn a language one day a week?
Perhaps it's because I teach language at the university level, or because I have learned 3 foreign languages now, but I do not find this setup sufficient for language acquisition. Let me tell you how the course began. Once we were done wasting 20 minutes (of the 2 hours) finding a room where the lamps had light bulbs (yes, even the Grandes Écoles seem to be poorly funded in terms of classroom supplies), the professor decided to spend an hour telling us about the philosophical stakes of the Hebrew language. We discussed the difference between ancient Hebrew and modern Hebrew and how the latter came about. Then, we discussed the notions of "spoken language" and "mother tongues." This is apparently crucial to understanding Hebrew, which was primarily a written language used for religious purposes all throughout the middle ages and Renaissance, was then considered a literary language that could be analyzed by philosophers such as Spinoza, and which was then finally resurrected by Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, who seems to be some sort of mythical figure for the Hebrew language. This man took the dead language and revived it, adding new words, simplifying the grammar, and finally raising his son in complete isolation, surrounded by only people who would speak to him in fledgling Hebrew so that he could be the first native speaker. I wonder how that kid turned out psychologically speaking. At least nowadays he would have one killer college admission essay, but he wouldn't be able to write it in English.
Anyway, this discussion was interesting, but there was one major problem: it was in French. How can we learn Hebrew like this? Then, another hour of learning to draw symbols I already knew and the class was over. So, back to the beginning of my post. I was walking out of the ENS with my teacher, telling her that I was going to have to miss two classes for a conference I was going to, but wouldn't miss any more after that. Then, she told me that she is always impressed by students like me. I asked why, since she doesn't really know anything about me except that I can draw the Hebrew alphabet letters after years of rote memorization. She said that she could never imagine learning a foreign language in a foreign language. Alternatively: she couldn't believe I wanted to learn Hebrew in French!
I thought about that for a minute. What an interesting thought! Yes, that was interesting! I mean, when I learned Italian, I definitely relied on my French knowledge to give me a head start on the grammar (which is more or less analogous), thought in French, and then translated the sentences into Italian. That type of reasoning made sense, since Italian is syntactically much closer to French than to English. But, I didn't learn Italian in French. In fact, I only learned Italian in Italian! My teachers almost never spoke English, which is more or less the way I teach French to my students as well. At first, sure, you speak a bit of English so they don't get overloaded, but the longer the course goes on, the closer you get to speaking to them 100% in the target language. I never would have spent an hour of a two hour class speaking to my students about the history of the language, then the second hour explaining the alphabet also in English. That would have been a waste of time, though now that I look back on it, at least we have time to waste in American language classes. 5 hours a week is much more than 2, and the fact that the students hear the language five days a week is already much better than one.
All that going through my head, I didn't even know how to respond to the professor. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I found the very nature of the course insufficient. So, I just said I was always up for a challenge, and really wanted to learn about the relationship between the Hebrew letters and numbers and numerological interpretations (Kabbalah).
So there you have it: language classes in France. Now I guess you all see why French people don't speak English very well. I suppose it's not their fault—who can learn a language one day a week?
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