by Mark J. Drozdowski

Despite years of study, I never could grasp French. In college, I was a walking paradox: I had a great facility for English but couldn’t comprehend its Romance cousin. My trauma culminated with a trip to Paris, where I discovered that the only thing worse than knowing no French is knowing some French. I mistakenly muttered chien instead of jambon, in the process ordering a dog omelet and insulting the garcon, who wouldn’t return.

With that distaste still circling my palate, I waded into Language Magazine, the “popular periodical of language, education and communication.” I thought perhaps I could rekindle any flicker of interest I had in learning a new language, or at least discover why I had failed so miserably.

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