Vive la France!

France and everything French. This would be such an important thing in my life and I have yet to figure out why.

My adoption papers said that my birth mother was English and French.

My adoptive grandmother would teach me French when I would do her nails as a young girl. She would say speak to me in French, “merci beaucoup” when I would bring her some coffee.

And then there was French class in high school.

I’ve always had a pretty good aptitude for language and so French class was pretty easy. Getting along with my French teacher was quite another thing.

My French teacher was thus tall, thin, super white, uber religions and blond haired, blue eyed man. And when he was mad, he turned bright red and it seemed as though steam would come out of his ears. I don’t know why in didn’t like him or he didn’t like me, but I think I made it my goal to agitate him.

My name in French was Monique. And it was always funny that we would have to say the names and act all in French class, but I would always get everyone to laugh all class period. And thus really annoyed my teacher.

So one day I got my teacher steaming mad. And I think this had to have been after I said “Jesus Christ” in his class and got detention. Even though I argued that they were violating my religious rights, I served that detention.

So he was already kinda ticked off at me anyway. So he told me that if I didn’t behave I would have to go to the back of the classroom. I must’ve kept at it because sure enough, I got sent to the back of the classroom.

This made my mom furious. She went to school about this. She told.that teacher he better not put me in the back of the bus..ummmm…..classroom. I think she had been wanting to say something to someone for a while about this. I was proud of her.

She didn’t have to.come back and talk to the teacher ever again and he and I actually ended up in a one in one course together when I was the only student that took French 4. I think I amazed him at my ability to really be able to speak, read and write French.

I thank my grandma for that. Because the stories she told me as a child that they were descended from French royalty. And so it was their tradition to teach the young French and genteel manners. Everyone said that she didn’t know what she was talking about. But it is true. So I love her for sharing that part of her family with me.

And my mom for coming to school and setting things right for me and my teacher. Because I wouldn’t have continued on in French if I felt this teacher could mistreat me because of the color of my skin. I don’t have to like someone to learn from them, but I have to feel as though I am being treated fairly.

Because my birth information was wrong. My birth mother was not French. That I know of so far.

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About sjwoods318

Mother of six children - five girls and one boy; wife; community organizer, family chauffeur, philosopher, trans-racial adoptee, Deadhead, person of mixed racial heritage, artist, poet, writer who loves to swim, read, and run around with my family.
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