6:30 am. Wednesday morning, September 2014. It was my first day of eighth grade. I don’t know if anyone else had this same experience, but for me, eighth grade was that awkward year where I felt too old for middle school but still a tiny bit too young for high school – the high school felt so big, yet I felt so small. To have the eighth graders become better acclimated to the “high school life,” we were allowed to take a language class in the high school with REAL high school students.
When choosing which language I would take, there was zero debate – I had my heart set on taking French. My parents tried to convince me to take Spanish because they believed that I would use it more often than French or Latin and because it could have helped me with the SAT, but I was determined to take le français (French). Luckily, I eventually convinced my parents to allow me to take French and I truthfully could not have made a better decision for myself.
"Little did I know that the very first time I would walk into my French class that I would find something that has since continued to bring me joy every single day."
Photo Locations:
Bormes-les-Mimosas, France; Paris, France; Paris, France
Walking into Flynn 105 alongside only one other eighth-grader, who was luckily one of my best friends, I was definitely effrayée (scared). The idea of being in a legitimate high school French class with real high schoolers, and a high school teacher was extrêmement (extremely) intimidating. Walking into the French classroom, my friend and I were greeted with a firm “Bonjour,” and an extremely warm smile. Little did I know that Madame, my French teacher, would help me discover my spark which in turn helped me find myself. For three years, Madame not only taught me the ins and outs of the French language and culture, but she taught me to be true to myself and to follow my dreams.
~~ Faythe Shulte, Class of '23
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