I’ve been at Middlebury College two and a half days.  And it feels like two and a half months!

I arrived on Friday afternoon.  It was easy to find the welcome center with signs everywhere.  It was easy to check in, get my student i.d., my dorm assignment, my room code (the doors have electronic locks), and my orientation schedule.  I’m such a Freshman!

The hard part was getting a 51 lbs. suitcase, a set of golf clubs (per my spouse’s advice.  Thanks, darling!), and a fan for my room up six flights of stairs.  100 year old colleges don’t put elevators in their old dorms.  They take pride in that fact.

My taxi driver had volunteered to help me with my luggage.  He made it to the fourth floor stairwell before he started gasping.  He conveniently mentioned his diabetes and his heart condition at which time I paid him and sent him on his way.  That left me with the suitcase on the fourth floor, the clubs on the 1st floor and the fan somewhere in between.  And it turns out I had gone up the wrong stairwell.  One hour later I was happily ensconced in my new dorm room.  Well . . . maybe not happily.  Maybe wearily, depressingly ensconced.  How about those adverbs?  But, I’m adjusting.

Today is Sunday and it’s the last day that I will be able to say or write a few words in English without fear of retribution (i.e., public humiliation in the college square, flogging, etc.) The Language Pledge that I was given yesterday at my oral interview–spoken in French–was signed in dark ink that I think was maybe the blood of ex-students.  These professors are serious about immersion.

I met my three (trois) professors today.  Simone, Corinne, and Véronique, all lovely ladies who are anxious for us to embrace the language.  I was thrilled that I understood about 60 percent of the instructions.  For the part that I didn’t understand, I’m going to emulate a lemming and follow the crowd.  Which brings me back to drowning.

In thinking about immersion (or maybe submersion–it’s all about going under and staying there), I’m hoping not to give in to a tendency to panic.  I just have to keep plunging into the language, prepare myself to make lots of mistakes, and learn from all of it.  The young students that I’ve met are so enthusiastic and happy to be here.  That’s what I want to be.  Especially since I can’t have my “20 something” neck and knees back.  (Have you ever looked at 62 year old knees?  It’s disturbing.)  However, I still have some of my brain and that’s what I want to work on.  Learning a second language is good for the frontal and temporal lobes, I’m told. But I’m not taking biology, so don’t depend on me for that information.

I think I’ve found a way to blog in French and have it translated by someone and then posted.  It may lose something in the translation. I really don’t care.  I need the therapy, and my family needs the laugh.  If it doesn’t work out, I’ll see you when I come up for air . . . English, that is.

A bientôt!

Debbie