By Dana Kennedy
Globe Correspondent / February 18, 2007
VILLEFRANCHE-SUR-MER, France -- We are seated in
a magnificent villa perched on a hillside on the French
Riviera with a spectacular view of the Mediterranean
in the distance. And we are terrified.
Tuition for the suggested four-week course is about
$3,100 through April and about $3,800 May-November.
more stories like thisSome of us are expert at not
showing fear. Others, like Susan, who works in London
as the assistant to actress Hayley Mills, are a bit
more transparent.
It is the first day of class at the Institut de Français
in this gorgeous fishing port between Nice and Monaco.
Most of us underestimated what it would be like to
speak French, and only French, for eight hours a day,
five days a week. And not just for one week. We've
signed on for the school's month-long immersion course,
considered one of the best in the world.
Despite the fear factor, the institute is so popular
that some people book months in advance and return
again and again. Queen Sonja of Norway, actresses
Kathy Bates and Kate Capshaw, and assorted diplomats,
ambassadors, and international CEOs are also alumni.
Word has it everyone loved hairstylist Vidal Sassoon
when he was here.
Some couples attend; some come with a parent. Some,
like me, are second-generation students. My mother
studied here 15 years ago.
In theory, my class has it easy. After being carefully
tested in audio comprehension and writing and speaking
ability upon arrival, we landed in one of the two
advanced classes. We have been deemed superior to
the debutantes who can't speak a word or even the
intermediates, who are struggling with the basics.
But Susan, at the moment, looks as if she might not
make it to lunch, never mind through all four weeks.
She is gazing up at our patient, yet sardonic teacher,
Jean Segarra, who is standing in front of her expectantly.
All he has instructed her to do is ask a fellow student
how he got to school that morning. But the problem
is, she has to ask the question in French. No other
language is allowed while we are here; in fact, students
are fined a euro if they are heard speaking in another
tongue.
Right now, nothing is coming out of Susan's mouth
except a stream of nervous giggles. Which makes the
rest of us laugh . Which makes Segarra crack up.
"Susan," he says in French. "You look
as though you're headed to the guillotine. But why?
Look out the window, the birds are singing. It's a
beautiful day. Everything is fine."
He's right, but I know how she feels. When Segarra
turns to me and asks me where I come from and my nationality,
I manage to answer. But inside, I'm struck at how
scary it is to be stripped in public of the one thing
you can count on: your language.
"It's a very humbling experience," says
Frédéric Latty, one of institute's directors,
who began here as a teacher 17 years ago. "You
can't cling to your ego. And we don't promise miracles.
But if you play the game here, you will make very,
very rapid progress in French."
Tuition for the suggested four-week course is about
$3,100 through April and about $3,800 May-November.
more stories like thisFortunately, our group of nine
students -- ranging in age from 22 to 66 and hailing
from England, Wales, Japan, Switzerland, the United
States, Australia, and Morocco -- is in good hands.
Segarra has been teaching at the institute for 24
years and is often so hilariously funny that you forget
you are in a classroom.
"Our teachers have personality," says Latty.
"I can't tell you how many people tell us at
the end of their four weeks that they had the best
teacher. Then they come back another year and get
another teacher and this time say, 'I had the best
teacher.' "
The institute was founded in 1969 by Jean Colbert,
a science professor at Columbia University and UCLA,
and his wife , Madeleine. Colbert used a scientific
approach to come up with his teaching method, which
is based on adults learning language the way children
do: by ear.
After placing microphones in French subways, offices,
and stores, Colbert came up with a list of the 1,200
most commonly used words and based the institute's
teaching program on that select vocabulary.
"We want you to open your mouth," teacher
Vicky Greco tells us on the day we arrive. It is the
only time she will address us in English. "Everything
is correct. It depends on how you use it. We want
you to be able to ask for fish and not for poison."
(The word for fish in French is "poisson.")
The day begins around 8 a.m. when students start
streaming in from nearby school-run apartments, most
of which are also perched on the hillside with exquisite
views of the sea. We eat breakfast together in a big,
cafeteria-style room. Class begins at 9 a.m. sharp
-- and the teachers don't brook latecomers. The day
is divided into classroom work, a noon hour spent
in the language lab, or "la chambre de torture,"
a typically long French lunch (teachers are stationed
at every table to make sure everyone speaks French)
, and post prandial " séances."
The best séances involve adult parlor games
or charades, watching and analyzing French movies,
or listening to a history of cheese that ends with
a sampling of different types and sipping wine. The
worst sessions require students to huddle in the salon,
listening to news taped off the radio.
Ultimately, the process is a paradox, one of the
teachers warns . The more you learn, the more overwhelmed
you feel, and the more you think you still don't know.
Then something magical happens. After 10 days of
classes, I went to bed one night, and everything I
dreamed was in French. I'd walk along the Villefranche
harbor at sunset after school and realize I was starting
to think in French. It's almost as if the language
has gotten into your blood.
"To me learning French opened up a whole new
window in my brain," says Greg McNair, 37, of
New York, who has attended the institute three times
and now considers himself fluent. "I feel like
a different person when I speak French. For instance,
in English, I'm kind of a serious person. But a flirtatious
part of me comes out when I speak French that I didn't
even know existed."
That French alter ego develops rapidly as a result
of the immersion process. The results become visible
quickly when you leave the school grounds.
The school arranges a day trip to the charming hill
town of St. Paul de Vence where students visit the
Fondation Maeght, the magnificent modern art museum.
Students are also encouraged to see a play, usually
something by Molière in Nice.
But most of us also took weekend sightseeing trips
by bus or train to nearby towns like Antibes or Cannes
-- and felt our ease and facility with the language
grow exponentially each week.
When our month came to an end, everyone in my class
agreed the time had gone by too fast. The fear I felt
at the start of the course was replaced by a feeling
of angst over having to leave.
Many people enjoy their time at the institute so
much that they buy property in the area. They are
almost like institute groupies.
"We call it the French connection," says
Latty. "The same students keep coming back and
coming back. And then they wind up living in the area
part of the year. Villefranche and the Institut are
the ultimate picture-perfect cliché of the
south of France -- and people just can't get enough."
