One Hundred 0’s or One Hundred A’s
Lessons from High School French Class
Maybe my high school French teacher was a genius, bestowing wisdom on teenaged minds too immature and self-centered to understand. Amongst students, we referred to him by his first name, Ted.
Ted was a short man with a round yet not particularly large belly. He had a very distinct gait, though I could never put my finger on what made his gait so distinct.
He commandeered hallways just by being present. I recall seas of students parting just so Ted could walk through. Ted was admired by students and staff alike because he was the athletic director, balancing athletic life while teaching dozens of students.
Ted was someone to be respected, feared, and loved all at the same time. He taught French militant-style. Imagine a line of students standing at the ready to recite French on command.
I’m not sure what students in other high school French classes learned, but I learned things in Ted’s French class that I have never and will never need. The Canadian national anthem in French? The US Pledge of Allegiance in French? I’m not sure what sort of situation would ever require either.
I still remember bits of our Pledge of Allegiance in French to this day as it was so thoroughly drilled in me. “… fidélité au drapeau des États Unis d’Amérique… indivisible, avec liberté et justice pour tous.” I can still see the too-many-times copied handout, typed in Times New Roman.
Every December, Ted would load up his French students on a bus. We would go to nursing homes and sing Christmas carols in French, of course. I can only recall the phrase “nez rouge” or red nose from one song about a particular reindeer. I remember Silent Night being the most difficult of all the songs.
I wonder now how we sounded. Were we in tune? Or were we all so worried about pronouncing correctly while staying on beat that tune was the last thing on our minds? I wonder what the residents of the nursing homes thought as a bunch of teenagers sung unfamiliar words to familiar jingles. I giggle at the thought of it now.
Ted was a stickler for correct pronunciation of vowels and vowel blends. “If you can say the vowel sounds, you can speak French,” was his motto. So, we would learn French vowel sounds, reciting a vowel or vowel blend over and over until the sound came out easily. Then, we would move on to the next vowel sound.
Our tests often consisted of being lined up, and him calling out vowels or vowel combinations in English. We would say the sound in French, to the best of our ability.
If a student hesitated too long, stumbled repeatedly, or self-corrected too many times, he would shout, “One hundred zeros! Go to your desk!”
If a student pronounced the sounds correctly, he would shout, “One hundred A’s!”
I remember my first oral test. I was so nervous as I stood at the front of the class with a handful of other students. The two students immediately before me had received 100 zeros. My first sound was O-U. I nervously emulated the sound, focused intently on the classroom clock. When I was done, I looked at him. He nodded approvingly, “100 A’s!”
No, I didn’t luck out or guess. I knew the high stakes of the pronunciation tests, and I’d spent a considerable amount of time practicing the sounds, mimicking the way he moved his lips.
Ted’s French classes taught way more than French vowel sounds, though.
Lesson #1
Perhaps Ted was harsh. In hindsight, however, there was a valuable lesson to be learned that I carry with me still. Often in life, there’s 100% effort, and anything else is just “other”, just “less”; it doesn’t matter what it is if it isn’t 100%.
My employer certainly doesn’t want me to show up with anything less than a 100% effort. If I don’t give a full, concerted effort, who cares if my effort was at 40% versus 60%? Sometimes, it really is all or nothing.
Lesson #2
There is a significant lesson to be gleaned from Ted’s unconventional grading method. One hundred zeros is hard to overcome. Failing to give 100% effort can result in long-lasting consequences; sometimes, you may not be able to recover in time (ie, before the quarter ends). In short, it’s best to do your best the first time around.
Lesson #3
The next lesson I learned is that the opportunity to learn is anywhere and everywhere if you pay attention.
Learning Christmas carols in French, I later realized, was useful in its own right. For example, we sang “nez rouge” and when translated word for word in English is “nose red”. In French, the descriptor goes after the word it is describing.
We honed our pronunciation skills, expanded our French vocabulary, and were exposed to sentence structure via Christmas carols. There were a lot of hidden nuggets in Ted’s classroom.
Lesson #4
Finally, the last significant lesson I learned in high school French class is that no matter who I stand alongside, I have to be accountable for my own actions. Ted would line us up to quiz us. It didn’t matter who was up at the front of that classroom with me. When it was my turn, my grade depended on my actions, how much I practiced beforehand.
I couldn’t cheat. I couldn’t look to a friend to mouth the answers to me. I couldn’t hide behind guesses on a true-false test. I had to know the material, and I had to be confident.
High school required two years of a foreign language. My school was set up so that Mr. Johnson taught first year French, and Ted taught second year French.
Rumors about Ted’s teaching methods were circulated annually and with great fervor. Many of us (myself included) went into his class at the beginning of year two just wanting to get it over with- with as little embarrassment as possible.
I planned to take French my sophomore and junior years only. But, Ted provided so much tough love, compassion, and jokes that I enjoyed his class. He invoked such a love for learning a foreign language that I was compelled to take French III my senior year when I could have gotten a study hall hour.
Many students, in fact, took French III and a handful of students took French IV, just to have more time with Ted.
I went on to take two full years of French in college. One of my professors, a native French speaker, complimented me on my pronunciation on more than one occasion. Maybe Ted knew exactly what he was doing.
I still see Ted from time to time. Last, I bumped into him at Target. “Bonjour!” He greeted me. I replied, “Bonjour!” With a big smile, he warmly said, “One hundred A’s!”
