One thing I have never (and will never) like doing is admitting my mother was right. But I feel like this time, I have to. Despite how confidently I told my parents I wouldn’t be happy here, and how adamant I was about never making friends. Well, it turns out I was sorely mistaken on both counts. Yes, mom, you can say I told you so…
Looking back at my experiences here, if there was one thing that kickstarted my growth at the French International School of Beijing (LFIP), it would be “French” math. Weird? Yeah, but hear me out: I sat in the front row of math class and watched in confusion as concepts I thought I knew were explained away by completely different methods. Simply put, it made absolutely no sense.
Why do we use vectors to solve everything? Were all the steps taken to get to the solution even necessary? But there are faster ways to do these problems! It was this rigidness and inflexibility that slowed me down in the beginning. I was flying through the pure calculation problems with ease and failing miserably at the ones laced with complicated French vocabulary. What was the difference between “sens” and “direction”?
Nevertheless, it was this stark difference in math notations and expression that forced me to take my first steps towards integrating into French culture.
So, the first thing I had to learn was how to hold my tongue. You’d think that for someone with such a diverse background, adapting would be easy. But it wasn’t. As the English-speaking girl who understood roughly 50% of the French being spoken around her, the American in me still wanted to offer my opinions and start a discussion in lecture-based classes. Instead, however, I had to swallow my words every time an opinion began to rear its head. Thankfully, I had a history-geography teacher who selflessly took the time to engage in probing after-class discussions using a mix of French and English. Satiating my need for intellectually stimulating conversation, we would speak at length about history, philosophy, and current events. In fact, one time we got so sucked into a riveting conversation about Europe’s refugee crisis that it bled halfway into the lunch period. Each discussion pushed me to think in unique ways, and I eagerly awaited the next one.
Luckily for me, my English Literature classes echoed the familiar Harkness method that I was used to in the States, and here’s where I think all of the students found their voices. By having profound discussions about life through personal experiences and stories, we were able to better understand the nuances of each masterpiece. As a result, I realized that at LFIP, my peers come from such different backgrounds that everyone has a unique story to share. Through them, I’ve learned to appreciate their struggles and triumphs, and I have found myself taking a step back and becoming a better listener.
Had I never learned the art of “expecting the unexpected,” I would’ve resigned myself to never making friends, many of whom I’ve needed more than ever over the past few months. Frankly, I’d be lying if I said I could make it through the year without them, and without their singular ability to make me laugh in a way I haven’t experienced since I was a little kid. Surprisingly enough, most of the people I’ve been laughing with are the same guys that tower over me at an average height of 6 feet tall. Intimidating and fiercely protective, underneath their tough exteriors, they were actually all just big teddy bears with hearts of gold. Always there to help and make me laugh, always there with a constant supply of food, without their unconditional support I would probably be in a very different state of mind right now. These giants have really fulfilled my mantra: They never left my side when I needed them the most, they loved me like they had known me all their lives, and above all, they fed me like I was Garfield. They’re my people.
As I’m sitting here writing this article, I’ve realized just how much I’ve grown at LFIP. Even though I was sent here to improve my French, it seemed like everyone’s English had improved instead. Regardless, sitting through hours of French each day, my level of comprehension grew exponentially, and with the encouragement of my peers and teachers, I have become a bit more confident using the language to express myself. I think, no matter who it is that I’ve gotten to know here – whether it be teachers or students – they have made me see the world a little differently. At the end of the day, no matter how much I struggled in my first few months at LFIP, I wouldn’t change my new friendships for anything. I’m looking forward to seeing what the remaining three months will hold for me.
KEEP READING: What Am I Doing in a French School?
Images: Courtesy of Emily Hellqvist
