THE ILLUSION OF FLUENCY
I believed I could speak French before I moved to France.
I had studied it for years in school at the French Institute, watched French movies with subtitles, and practiced conversations with classmates and language apps.
I could write essays, conjugate tricky verbs, and order coffee with perfect pronunciation in my head, I even tutored a few persons back home. French, I thought, was one of my strengths.
So, I felt prepared amd confident when I received my admission letter to study in France. I was excited to finally test my language skills in the real world. I imagined myself chatting casually with locals, understanding every announcement in the metro, and maybe even making French friends easily. After all, how different could it be?
The answer came quickly. As soon as I landed at the Bordeaux-Mérignac
Airport and conversed with the airport taxi driver, I realized: I didn’t speak French the way the French do.
THE ARRIVAL SHOCK
My first few days in France felt like watching a movie where everyone spoke too fast with no subtitles available. I arrived with polished phrases and perfect grammar stored neatly in my head. But what I heard on the streets, in shops, and especially on the tram stops, was something else entirely — fast, colloquial, full of abbreviations, slang, and expressions I had never encountered in any textbook.
I remember my very first interaction at the airport when the driver asked, “Vous avez quelque chose à déclarer ?” It sounded like one long word: Vouzavekelkshozadéclaré?” I froze before managing to mumble “Non,”.
My confidence had taken its first hit!
Later, at the hotel where I had first settled in before moving into my student Appartment, I confidently told the receptionist that I wanted a room for 3 nights, only for the lady to fire back a question I couldn’t understand at all. I smiled, nodded, and she handed me a
flyer with the price of their rooms.
At school, where I expected a more formal French, my classmates spoke quickly, casually, with so much slang it felt like I was starting from scratch. Words blurred together. Sentences skipped logic. My ears were working overtime just to catch one or two keywords.
It was humbling. And frustrating. I knew the language — or thought I did. But now, I realized: knowing the rules of French and surviving in real-life French were two very different things.
I became frustrated because even though lectures were 100% Anglais (English) my classmates made me feel it was in French because literally all our rehearsals for the Devoirs (Classworks /Assignments) were carried out in French that most times I found myself lost and unable to contribute during the presentations. It got so bad that most times I would tell our professors that I wouldn’t want to be in any group but
will do my devoirs alone.
THE EMOTIONAL JOURNEY
At first, it was funny — in that awkward, “smile and nod” kind of way. But after a few days, it got frustrating. I felt like I had been tricked. How could I have studied French for so long and still not understand what people were saying?
There were moments when I felt deeply isolated. I’d sit in a classroom or walk through a store and feel like an outsider, unable to fully participate in what was going on around me. Simple tasks like opening a bank account, asking questions in class (my classmates not the professors) or even making small talk became huge challenges. I began to avoid speaking unless necessary — not out of fear, but out of exhaustion.
And then came the self-doubt. Maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I’d made a mistake coming here. For someone who was used to being articulate and expressive, being reduced to short, hesitant phrases was frustrating and sometimes even embarrassing.
But strangely, that discomfort also lit a fire in me. I didn’t come all this way to be silent. I started to pay more attention, to write down new words, to listen more carefully. Every misunderstood sentence became a puzzle I was determined to solve. And little by little, the panic turned into persistence. Because underneath all the awkwardness was a quiet but growing belief: I can do this — just not overnight.
LEARNING TO ADAPT
Realizing that my formal French wasn’t enough, I had to shift my approach — from learning French as a subject to living French as a language. I stopped obsessing over being perfect and started focusing on being understood.
One of the first things I did was start listening — really listening. I watched French TV shows without subtitles, even if I only understood 40% at first. I tuned in to French podcasts during commutes and started following French influencers on social media. It wasn’t always easy, but over time, my ears adjusted to the rhythms, the filler words, the
slang.
I also made a conscious effort to speak more — no matter how unsure I felt. I forced myself to have small conversations in shops, with classmates, even strangers on the bus. I joined a local conversation group for immigrants learning French. We were all in the same boat —mixing up genders, using the wrong tenses — but we laughed and learned together. Some shared their sad stories on how they had gotten a countless “DÉSOLÉ” (Sorry) whenever they applied for any job due to their zero comprehension of the French language.
Eventually, I began picking up phrases and expressions that no textbook ever mentioned. I learned that “c’est ouf” meant “that’s crazy,” that “t’inquiète” was short for “don’t worry,” and that “ouais” was same thing as saying oui (yes/yeah).
French stopped being a subject I studied. It became something I lived.
BROADER REFLECTION
The more I adapted, the more I realized that learning a language is never just about grammar or vocabulary. It’s about rhythm, tone, cultural context, even body language. French wasn’t just a tool for communication — it reflected how people relate to each other, how they argue, joke, flirt, comfort, and express emotion.
In Nigeria, I was used to being confident in conversation. I could express complex ideas, joke in multiple languages especially in English and broken English and navigate social cues instinctively. In France, I had to rebuild all of that from scratch — like a child learning to speak again. It was humbling. But it also taught me patience. It taught
me to listen more than I spoke. To observe, absorb, and accept that understanding culture takes time — and courage.
I also realized that struggling with a language doesn’t make you less intelligent or less capable. It makes you brave. It forces you to sit with discomfort and keep showing up anyway. And in that vulnerability, you build resilience. Even in my Appartment, most times I let my colocs (flatmates) do the talking leaving them to believe that I am the quiet type; little did they know that the language was restricting me.
Moving forward, I learned that integration is not just about speaking French. It’s about being open to the unfamiliar, learning the unspoken rules, and allowing yourself to grow — even when it feels slow.
CONCLUSION
Today, I still make mistakes when I speak French. I still pause to search for the right word, still trip over unfamiliar expressions, struggle to conjugate verbs with the right tense, and sometimes, still, miss the joke. But now, I don’t panic or feel embarrassed — I laugh, ask questions, and keep going.
Because what changed is not just my language skills — it’s my mindset. I no longer see fluency as a destination, but as a process. A conversation. A relationship with the language that deepens every day I choose to engage with it.
I came to France thinking I was ready but, in many ways, I wasn’t. But that’s okay. I didn’t just come here to speak perfect French. I came here to grow — as a student, as a migrant, and as a human being.
And now, when I speak French — mistakes and all — I speak it with the confidence of someone who has lived it, stumbled through it, and found their voice in it.
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***Odueh Dorathy Ngozi is a Nigerian living in the wine city of Bordeaux and is passionate about languages and finding one’s place in a new
world.
the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places…Ps.16:6
