I'm just going to say it: I have absolutely no clue what's going on in my French culture class. I know I say that about all my classes, but in no class is this more true than in culture where in the span of a single conversation we are given information about poetic forms and how the Germanic invasions helped to shape the French language. It's enough to make anyone confused and, if looks are anything to go by, being lost as I am, I am not in the minority in that class.
To make matters worse we each have to make a presentation in front of the class on a topic related to French culture that's given to us a week before. This wouldn't be a bad thing were it not for three things: 1) I absolutely hate speaking before a class, 2) oral French is the area I am the weakest in and 3) the requirements that accompany these presentations are equally confusing as the class itself.
Last week's presentation topic: francophone authors.
Having taken an entire course on francophone women writers my second semester at VCU, I decided that it was as good a time as any to get my presentation over with.
That was last Monday.
The time between then and now has mainly been spent either actively avoiding preparing the presentation or completely dreading it. But this morning as I was reading the information one last time I suddenly stopped caring about whether or not the presentation was horrible - actually my thoughts were a little more explicit than that, but in the interest of time and language I prefer the generic.
I raised my hand first when it was time to present and walked to the front of the class. Ten minutes later I sat back down. And I remember little about what happened between those two points. I know the presentation wasn't perfect or probably even good. I remember hearing mistakes come out of my mouth even as I was speaking, but the prof didn't correct anything more than a few lapses in diction.
And now the presentation is over. I don't feel like a weight has been lifted or that I've suddenly overcome some insurmountable obstacle. No, what I feel is far simpler than all that. What I feel right now is the quiet contentment of having made it through the day and being able to once again prepare myself to start all over again tomorrow.
To make matters worse we each have to make a presentation in front of the class on a topic related to French culture that's given to us a week before. This wouldn't be a bad thing were it not for three things: 1) I absolutely hate speaking before a class, 2) oral French is the area I am the weakest in and 3) the requirements that accompany these presentations are equally confusing as the class itself.
Last week's presentation topic: francophone authors.
Having taken an entire course on francophone women writers my second semester at VCU, I decided that it was as good a time as any to get my presentation over with.
That was last Monday.
The time between then and now has mainly been spent either actively avoiding preparing the presentation or completely dreading it. But this morning as I was reading the information one last time I suddenly stopped caring about whether or not the presentation was horrible - actually my thoughts were a little more explicit than that, but in the interest of time and language I prefer the generic.
I raised my hand first when it was time to present and walked to the front of the class. Ten minutes later I sat back down. And I remember little about what happened between those two points. I know the presentation wasn't perfect or probably even good. I remember hearing mistakes come out of my mouth even as I was speaking, but the prof didn't correct anything more than a few lapses in diction.
And now the presentation is over. I don't feel like a weight has been lifted or that I've suddenly overcome some insurmountable obstacle. No, what I feel is far simpler than all that. What I feel right now is the quiet contentment of having made it through the day and being able to once again prepare myself to start all over again tomorrow.
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