I never did find out what became of Therese Desqueyroux. But I do remember painfully plodding through the book, French lesson after stultifying French lesson, for an entire academic year at the age of 16. As well as French, I studied German and Dutch and was shockingly bad at all three.
The idea of differentiating between pupils' preferred learning styles as they attempt to build their grasp of a language would have stunned my teachers, whose lessons ranged from inadequate to desperate. Terrified of a vicious comment if we made a mistake, we were rarely allowed to talk or interact in any way using a foreign language with classmates, and were drilled remorselessly in grammar without ever being introduced to the idea that being able to speak another language might be fun.
Continue reading...