If you know Emzy today, you would probably never believe what I am about to tell you. She started learning French in the seventh grade and by high school was well on her way to being a fluent speaker. By the end of her junior year she had developed quite a talent for the language, but if you ask her she'll never admit. Just like she will never let on that she was a very adept flutist at one point in life.
But I digress.
As a freshman, Emzy was already in French II. Which is cool from a proud little sister's perspective. But from where she sat, she was the only freshman in a class full of sophomores, juniors, and seniors. And when it came time for a group project, I think she was equal parts excited and terrified. You see, Emzy is one of those people who is happiest breezing through life unnoticed by others. She prefers to go about her business without drawing attention to herself. And she is still embarrassed if my voice and laughter get a little on the loud side in public.
The class project was to work together to make a traditional French meal, share it with the class, and talk about it in class. In French, obviously. I don't really know what the other kids in her group made, but Emzy was tasked with making French bread. She was standing with her group in front of the class, having memorized her lines and waiting her turn to speak.
It is this point in the story when I wish I had also been a student in the class. The presentation was going along smoothly. The other students were occasionally stumbling over their words, I'm sure. And all of a sudden it starts raining French bread. Because Emzy was standing there, nervous as hell, and next thing she knows, she's on the floor and there are pieces of bread EVERYWHERE.
Like I said....as if freshman year isn't awkward enough already.
No comments:
Post a Comment