Maybe it’s the never-ending cold inside and outside, but I keep looking for Master’s programs in French in warm climates… et voilà, I found the perfect program at the University of Arizona in Tucson. They offer a Master’s in Teaching French as a Foreign Language, which is exactly what I’m looking for before I decide if I want to do a PhD or not. They also offer classes in technology & the internet in language teaching which is obviously my specialty.

The application guidelines are pretty standard – letters of recommendation, transcripts, piece of writing in French, personal statement, GRE scores encouraged but not required (Yay!) – but they also require a recording of some passages in French and English. I haven’t seen many (ok, any) other universities that require this, but I think it’s a good idea since it is entirely possible to have perfect grammar and a good vocabulary, but a horrible accent.

Here’s one of the passages. Do you think they’ll admit me? (I’m not seriously applying since I have no idea where we’ll be next year, but Arizona is a nice dream…)

“Il ne s’agit pas, dans mon esprit, d’une satire de la mentalité petite bourgeoise liée à telle ou telle société. Il s’agit, surtout, d’une sorte de petite bourgeoisie universelle, le petit bourgeois étant l’homme des idées reçues, des slogans, le conformisme de partout: ce conformisme, bien sûr, c’est son langage automatique qui le révèle. Le texte de La Cantatrice chauve ou du manuel pour apprendre l’anglais (ou le russe, ou le portugais), composé d’expressions toutes faites, des clichés les plus éculés, me révélait, par cela même, les automatismes du langage, du comportement des gens, le ‘parler pour ne rien dire’, le parler parce qu’il n’y a rien à dire de personnel, l’absence de vie intérieure, la mécanique du quotidien, l’homme baignant dans son milieu social, ne s’en distinguant plus. Les Smith, les Martin ne savent plus parler parce qu’ils ne savent plus penser, ils ne savent plus penser parce qu’ils ne savent plus s’émouvoir, n’ont plus de passions, ils ne savent plus être, ils peuvent ‘devenir’ n’importe qui, n’importe quoi, car, n’étant pas, ils ne sont que les autres, le monde de l’impersonnel, ils sont interchangeables: on peut mettre Martin à la place de Smith et vice versa, on ne s’en apercevra pas. Le personnage tragique ne change pas, il se brise; il est lui, il est réel. Les personnages comiques, ce sont les gens qui n’existent pas.”

(Eugène lonesco, Causerie, 1958)

And here’s the English. Do I still sound like a native speaker? I know my accent has changed thanks to the British English pronunciation I have to teach…

“Come in,” she said. She pointed to a blue armchair with dark wooden feet carved like eagle claws. The room smelled like the white clay the people used for whitewash. It was cool. The curtain at the back of the room drifted in a cool steam of air from the window or behind it. The music came from behind the curtain too; the songs were soft and slow, without voices. Outside the thunder sounded like giant boulders cracking loose from high cliffs and crashing into narrow canyons. Sometimes the room shook, and the panes of glass in the window behind him rattled. He watched her read the note and wondered what she kept behind the curtains. He could feel something back there, something of her life which he could not explain.

(Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony)

Eesh, I hate both recordings. Maybe I’ll just stick to Italian and German from now on.