adding another language to your happy home

Bonjour from Lac du Bois, where even if the little kids are having a blast, some of them will refuse to smile for a group photo

Coming soon: stories of my summer at Lac du Bois, running the Maternelle (the program for children ages 0-6) at an amazing French immersion camp in Minnesota!  In the meantime, an article I wrote for their blog with suggestions of how to incorporate a second language into a monolingual home:

http://www.concordialanguagevillages.org/blog/ventfrais/adding-another-language-to-your-happy-home#.WmERBLaZNp8

parle-ing francais in the north woods

Saturday afternoon, small town in northern Minnesota, gas station.  My friendly mother smiles and says "merci" to the lady who holds the door for her.

Sunday morning, small town in northern Wisconsin, my "hopelessly monolingual" (his words!) husband nods at the stranger passing him in the hallway and says "bonjour."  And then a minute later, exclaims, "Did I just say bonjour?!"

Nearly every evening since then, as we continue our family vacation, our children ask to sing "Bonsoir les loups" at bedtime.

Why?  Because for the previous five days, all five of us were immersed in the French language at Lac du Bois Family Week, near Hackensack, MN, and it's hard to kick the habit.  The mercis and bonjours just keep slipping out on their own!

Can't wait to write more about this amazing experience at one of the Concordia Language Villages.  Stay tuned...

When immersion doesn't mean immersion: How not to organize a French class for children, part III

In which our beleaguered heroine (part I of this saga) gives in to the pressure from the camp organizer (part II) and creates a play in French that includes the campers' violin accompaniment, and it even kind of makes sense.

So here's how I pulled it all together....

the Pinterest board that I used to collect resources and ideas

I had developed the entire French immersion class for kids around the story Roule Galette, a folk tale similar to The Gingerbread Man, about a cake that rolls itself off the windowsill where it's cooling, through a forest, narrowly avoiding being eaten by the denizens of various fairy tales (the bear, the wolf), where it finally succumbs to the wily fox with a sweet tooth.

The students heard the story a different way each of the five days: first with me relating it in very simple French using pictures of the main characters and main ideas and lots of gestures and movements;

8.5 x 11" print-outs of the salient ideas, slipped into plastic sheet protectors

then by watching this short animated version of it;

by working together to arrange sentences in English telling the tale into chronological order;

I used a total of about ten sentences; the older students read them to the non-readers.

next, by listening to me read the story from the book, pulling out my pictures to illustrate the main characters and main ideas, but not simplifying it otherwise (the video below shows the exact text I used);

by assigning homework to create a very short comic strip based on the story;

I wrote the narration in each box in French, figuring that the kids knew the story and had heard the key words repeated often enough; their job was to illustrate each panel

and finally, by reading and acting out the simple play I had written based on the story.  The narrator speaks English, but the action takes place in French: the child playing the old man who wants to eat says "J'ai faim" (I'm hungry), the galette introduces itself politely to each animal, asking "Comment t'appelles-tu?" and "Comment ca va?" (What's your name?  How are you doing today?").  Plus, the galette sings a little song each time, which all of the actors could chime in on.

By organizing the class around the story, that meant that I could really exploit its themes: other songs that take place in the forest ("Dans la foret lointaine" and "Promenons-nous dans les bois," for example), simple description words (grand, petit, chaud, froid, vieux, jeune, beau, delicieux), numbers 1-10, and greetings, introductions, and leave-takings.

Oh, I do like contextualized language learning--who wants to memorize vocabulary lists and flip through flashcards when they can play with puppets that threaten to eat each other when they meet?!  (Each kid held a puppet during the class, since that tends to cut down on feeling self-conscious when speaking another language.)

But then being told--after the camp had started--that the students' performance on the fifth and final day of the camp had to incorporate songs that they were learning to play on their violins during the rest of the camp, well, that made me start pulling my cheveux out!

(And in the meantime, the music teachers were panicking too, because almost all the campers were brand new students as young as four who couldn't play much of anything!)

How did we do it?  I decided that there was a river with a bridge over it in the forest that the galette flees through and taught the kids to sing and dance "Sur le pont d'Avignon."  This classic folk song has a familiar, easy melody, plus verses that are easily adaptable to the characters from the story.  (Instead of "Les belles dames font comme ca," the lovely ladies curtsy like this, for example, we had "Les ours font comme ca," giving the campers the opportunity to get in touch with their inner bears, roaring and striking each other with their paws, and so on.)

The violin teachers then picked an easy-to-play phrase that became the galette's theme.

Putting it all together meant pulling the two very cool older boys to the side to play all the theme music and the dancing song (they were too cool to act in a play with little kids, anyway), keeping the narrator and the characters, and then having the galette cross the bridge in the middle of the woods so that the children could join together to sing and dance while the boys played "Sur le pont d'Avignon."

We could have used several more days of rehearsal.

(And that is an understatement.)

But the class was finally over, I had learned what not to do when organizing (and teaching) a French immersion class for kids (especially on the first day), I had developed a nice little set of lesson plans and materials that I was able to use within a couple of months with some private tutoring clients, and I had the chance to see my children (because they came to class with me) dance and do some very cute wolf impressions.

And that's what I learned when immersion didn't mean immersion.

When immersion doesn't mean immersion: How not to organize a French class for children, part II

Now, to be fair, it should have occurred to me to wonder what the campers' parents understood about the first half hour of their children's French-themed violin day camp, if they realized that a separate teacher had been hired to do a series of French immersion lessons with the  kids each morning.

Dear reader, they had not.  According to the shockingly short description of the camp, we would "Celebrate the rich culture of France through music, art, and games."

So of course some of the kids and parents were taken aback when I bonjour-ed them, puppet in hand*, invited them to sit on my Tour Eiffel blanket, and started singing and holding up pictures of les animaux in the song.  And continued thusly, even reading them an entire story, entirely in French.  For a demie heure.

(Note: the camp organizer and the other main teacher were not taken aback because they weren't actually observing my lesson, much less participating in it.  Which made her criticism of my approach especially hard to swallow.)

(Another note: You may recall that she told me over the phone that she had no idea that I would actually be speaking in French for the "French immersion class" that I had been asked to teach.  When I stopped sputtering, I gently reminded her what "immersion" means.  Her response?  "Well, a lot of fields use specialized vocabulary that doesn't mean the same thing to a layperson."  Fair enough--but not teaching.  And not "immersion."  Immersion always means immersion.)

My husband, who is very smart and puts his engineering mind and management experience to work when he sees me in distress, pointed out that had I known that the campers didn't know what to expect, I could have started the class much differently.  That is, the organizer could have introduced me to the group, explained why I was there and what I was doing, and so forth, so that the madame with the marionnette didn't seem quite so freaky.  Moreover, it would have been so much better if we had built in a "debriefing" time afterwards so that I could answer questions in English and highlight what I wanted them to take away from the lesson.

But how does my monolingual rocket scientist** husband know about the importance of debriefing in English after an initial language immersion lesson?  

Because that's what we did on our fourth date.  But that's another story.***

Anyway, whenever I taught French 101, I barraged the students with the language from the minute they walked in the porte with my excrutiatingly-well-prepared lesson designed to show them how much they can indeed glean without any English translations or explanations at all, relying on gestures, drawings, photos, cognates, and context.  And then afterwards, we would talk (in English) about how they acquired their first language via immersion (listening for 2+ years before forming coherent sentences) and how I would do my best to recreate that experience (but speed it up) in my class and what strategies they could use to make it a little easier on them and how to let me know that I needed to slow down or spend more time on a topic.

I should have realized that if I needed to be that explicit with college students, I certainly needed to explain and debrief with these four-to-ten year olds!

So that's what I did first thing on my second day of camp.  I also handed out colorful paper question marks on popsicle sticks that the kiddos could hold up whenever they didn't understand, and I told them that while everything I said while we were sitting on the Eiffel Tower blanket would be in French, I could also step off it and speak English.

Additionally, I swallowed my objections and included non-French games from them on.  With only 30 minutes a day, I wanted to maximize our French time, but the camp organizer insisted that I play familiar games like "Red Light, Green Light" and "Duck, Duck, Goose" in French with the campers. With some creative license, I even figured out how to make them all fit the theme I had picked for the class (based on the story that we were "studying")!

Speaking of that theme, I had already planned to revisit the story each day so that the children would be able to perform it as a little skit on the last day of the camp--the one explicit request that the organizer had made when she hired me.  But during that fateful phone call after my first class, she added that our French skit needed to be integrated with the music lessons that she was doing with the students.  Except that only one of them had ever touched a violin before, so they didn't know how to play anything yet, much less, say, one of the French folk songs that I was already teaching them to sing to accompany the story.

I know I used this image in my previous post about the camp, but it's too perfect not to include again.

Stay tuned for part III of this series, in which I do figure out how to make the play work with performances by the beginning violin students and also vow never to teach this camp again (at least, not for the $75 they paid me for the week).

(Feel like you're missing something?  Read part I of this series here.)

*Whenever I tutor children in French, I bring along a puppet named "Henri" who sings, dances, demonstrates, repeats after me, and (on a good day) makes them laugh.  I highly recommend that you find your own Henri if you're teaching another language to your own children!

**Oh, haven't I mentioned that he's an aerospace systems engineer?

***And one of my favorite ones, at that.

When immersion doesn't mean immersion: How not to organize a French class for children, part I

1.  Be suspicious when a woman you have never met overhears you talking about French, tells you that she's teaching a French-themed music day camp for ages 6-10, and asks if she can hire you to teach the French immersion lesson portion of the camp.

Why?  Because a person who is willing to hire a complete stranger to spend time with your children without even asking for a CV or background check is perhaps not someone you want organizing a camp for kids.  And because if one aspect of the planning makes you go, "hmmm, that seems odd," then you can probably expect more "hmmmm"s (and even a few "WTF"s).

(For the record, in case any future employers are perusing this blog, I should state that my background checks are flawless and my CV and references confirm that I have been teaching or tutoring since age 22.)

2.  When the only directions that the organizer gives you is that you should prepare fun 30-minute lessons with songs that will lead into a little performance on the last day, don't think, "Wow!  She has confidence in my abilities and isn't going to micro-manage!"  

Rather, ask yourself why she hasn't shared more about what she is anticipating, explained how your class fits into the big picture of the music camp, or given you anything in writing.

3.  Don't spend a week's worth of naptimes developing a series of lessons plans centered around a French folktale, finding pictures to illustrate the story, making puppets and cute little activity sheets, and choosing songs that mirror the setting and characters in the story.  And don't bother typing up the song lyrics and making a little packet for the kids to take home.

Because it will turn out that the camp enrollment is so low that the organizer ends up letting in kids as young as four and five.  So all those materials you create under the assumption that participants know how to read?  Well, they don't, so you will need to make changes along the way.  A lot of changes.

4.  Even after your first class, when you go all out with your puppets and songs and stories and time-tested techniques for conveying meaning in the target language without ever resorting to English, getting the campers engaged and participating while the organizer does paperwork and chats with parents, don't think for a minute that you're doing a good job.

Because the organizer will call you at home at 8:00 pm that night and tell you that she has "received complaints" that the children didn't understand what you were saying, that she was expecting you to teach "songs and games and French culture," not whatever it was that you actually did (remember, she didn't actually observe your class, and neither did the parents), and that she doesn't understand why you spoke French the whole time in the class.

Well, you will explain, it's because she specifically hired you to teach a French immersion class.  And you did indeed use songs and a story and a game from France.  Which she would have noticed.  Had she or any of the other music teachers been present.

Then she will protest, "But I didn't meant that you shouldn't speak English!"

But, dear clueless lady, that's what "immersion" means.

5. Dear clueless Sarah, if you ever agree to do something like this again, please get directions in writing and submit your lesson plans for approval ahead of time!  (And ask for more money, while you're at it.)

Coming soon: part II, wherein she tells me to "do French games like 'Red Light, Green Light' and off-handedly mentions that the performance at the end of the week will also need to include music that the campers have learned this week.

Followed by part III, wherein I share the lesson plan for my cool contextualized five-part class about the French folktale, plus some video clips of the campers' performance.

And then we'll conclude with a happy ending: a description of the wonderful French day camp that my son attended at a local private school later that summer!

for when you're not leaving on a jet plane

When told to put a couple of toys for the plane in his carry-on bag, Griffin, age 3, filled his suitcase with stuffed animals.

French playgroup always empties out over the summer: many of the families spend as long as two or three months back in Europe once their kids are out on vacation.  Some of the kids can even enroll in summer school over there, very inexpensively, and they all come back with renewed fluency in French, new books, new music, new favorite foods, new slang, new friends.  Those weeks or months of 24/7 immersion and attention from the extended family seem to make the challenges of traveling overseas with young children--and paying for it--entirely worthwhile.

But my husband and I don't have relatives in France whose homes we can visit.  Without French citizenship, our kids wouldn't be allowed in the state-supported daycare or schools.  And even if we did, we don't have enough vacation days to go to Europe for weeks at a time!

But while I'm certainly envious of those who can, we've managed so far to help our son hang onto his bilingualism without ever having visited a francophone country.  Maybe next summer, when I'll be celebrating a milestone birthday and our younger child, Gwyneth, will be almost three and (hopefully) more independent and less shrieky....

But in the meantime, here are some ideas of what those of us who can't travel abroad regularly can do to help keep our kids in the target language at home:

1.  Regular video chats (such as Skype) with families whose children are approximately the same age as yours.  As long as they speak the target language, it doesn't matter what country they call home!

(We don't do this yet, because Griffin can only Skype for two minutes without getting antsy and wanting to go play.  Soon, perhaps.)

2.  Hosting a foreign exchange student from a country where the language is spoken.

(We haven't done this yet, as most of the agencies that organize exchange programs prefer that the visiting student stay with a family whose child is around the visitor's age.  No one sends toddlers and preschoolers overseas to stay with strangers!)  (Not to say that we haven't been tempted....)

Or, if a commitment of a semester or more is too big--and your home isn't too small--why not invite another family to visit for a week or two?  For example, if your American friend's French husband's cousin and her kids are touring the US, but your friend lives in a one-bedroom apartment, maybe they could stay with you.

Or, if you can afford it, how about hiring a nanny who is a native speaker of the target language?

I have also been tempted by "home exchange" programs, especially since traditional hotel rooms tend to be awful for young children--constantly squeezing past the crib which takes up most of the available floor space, nothing is babyproofed, the indoor pool (when there is one) is always too cold for the youngest child (and also my husband), you can't cook anything for your picky eaters, and you have to turn out the lights and go to bed when the kids do (or else hang out in the bathroom or hope the baby monitor works in the lobby bar).

When told to unpack his suitcase on a trip earlier this year, Griffin laid out his five books, one pair of shoes, and Pooh Bear.  He doesn't care about the clothes.

How great would it be to take a toddler to another country and stay in a house with age-appropriate toys, dishes, and books, whose upholstery is stained enough that no one can prove that it was your kid who was fingerpainting with pureed carrots, whose mattresses boast waterproof covers in case a child wets the bed, whose vehicles already have car seats installed?!  Now that sounds like a low-stress vacation to me.

Has anyone with young children ever tried home swapping?  I'd love to hear more about it.  (Here's an article about a retiree's positive experience in Paris, by the way.)

3.  Attend a residential immersion camp, like the phenomenal Concordia Language Villages in Minnesota.  I'm a proud alumna of Sjolunden (spent two weeks at the Swedish village) and Lac du Bois (a month at French camp allowed me to skip the entire year of French 2 at my high school).

Concordia has also recently started offering day camps for children as young as six (Griffin could attend next summer!), plus week-long and weekend camps for the entire family!  In fact, the latter would actually be possible for us, especially since my parents live within a day's drive of the French camp sites.  I could see us flying to Minneapolis, renting a car, doing a camp, driving to spend time with the family, and then flying back out of Minneapolis.  If we could coordinate it with time off work and during school vacations, that is!

Oooh, and Griffin could do Spanish camp, too, to reinforce what he's learning at his immersion school....

Renowned school Middlebury College (Vermont) also offers summer programs for children: day camps in three languages for 5th-8th graders and residential camps in five languages for 8th-12th graders.

I imagine that other similar programs exist in the US and abroad--recommendations?

4.  And, of course, don't forget about all the things that we do on a (semi) regular basis in hopes of raising multilingual children:  target-language songs, books, interactive computer games and apps, movies and TV, and other materials, plus playgroups, playdates, storytimes, classes, and babysitters who speak (or are studying) the language, along with (of course, and most importantly) input from you!

Would it be ideal for our would-be bilingual kiddos to spend lots of time in a country where people speak the target language?  Sure.  Is that an impossibility for some families?  Yes.  Should they despair if they can't get there?  Mais non!

Your thoughts and advice?

my first summer French camp!

And all I have to do is plan five 30-minute immersion classes!

My most loyal readers may remember that while I adore my part-time job coordinating a reading enrichment program at the public library, I've also toyed with the idea of offering French classes for young children.  But with two little kids at home, that's just not possible right now.  (I mean, I can't even sustain a free storytime in French!)

But then last week, while I was waiting during Griffin's early childhood music class and chatting with another mom about how I got interested in French, a violin teacher introduced herself and said she was looking for someone to teach French for a half-hour a day for her week-long France-themed violin camp for ages 6-10!  ("Celebrate the rich culture of France through music, art, and games," says the camp description.)

And she will pay me!  And I can bring Griffin and Gwyneth along (and thus not spend more in childcare than I would earn)!

So that was an easy decision, n'est-ce pas?

Once they let me know in early June if the class has met its minimum enrollment, I'll start figuring out what to do. I can already tell that 150 minutes won't be nearly enough.....