Upon moving to québec i discovered, to my chagrin, that French is one of the official languages. At Crookston, French lessons were as complicated as algebra lessons. How far would bonjour je m’appelle héléne and je m’assoire take me. On the other hand, the French spoken in Quebec is rooted in old French and sounds like the language that molière spoke. Oh what a panic was in my breastie. Determination came to forefront. the first French teacher I had, a French lady from France who didn't speak like molière, asked the class whether we wanted to learn to speak and understand French or if we preferred to learn French grammar. The students voted to learn to speak and understand French. Lucky for us the teacher was patient. The first time I understood what someone was saying in French was when I was in restaurant. May I have the salt please will always be music to my ears.