So, I had this bright idea a while back. My two little nieces were coming to stay for a whole week, and I thought, hey, let’s make it educational! Fun, but with a sprinkle of learning. My grand plan? Introduce them to some basic French. Yeah, I know, ambitious for a seven and a nine-year-old with the attention spans of goldfish, but I was feeling optimistic.
I went out and bought a couple of those colorful kids’ French books, you know, the ones with cute animals and basic words. I even downloaded a few apps on my tablet, thinking we could do interactive stuff. I pictured us all sitting around, diligently practicing “bonjour” and “merci,” maybe even learning a little song. I cleared a space in the living room, laid out some cushions. Looked like a proper little learning nook, or so I thought.
Well, day one. The “classroom” lasted all of five minutes. The younger one, Lily, decided the French book about farm animals would make a better hat. The older one, Mia, discovered the tablet had games hidden way more interesting than my “Say ‘chat’!” app. It was… chaotic. I was trying to get them to focus, they were trying to, well, be kids. It felt like I was trying to herd cats, or maybe, more accurately, trying to fit three very different agendas into one tiny, metaphorical bed. My agenda: Learn French! Their agenda: Pure, unadulterated fun, preferably involving running or sugary snacks.
It really felt like that “three in a bed” situation. Me, with my lesson plan, Lily with her artistic interpretations of learning materials, and Mia, who just wanted to know if “le chien” could beat her high score in whatever game she was fixated on. Nobody was comfortable, and definitely, nobody was learning much French beyond me muttering “Oh là là” under my breath a lot.
I remember trying a few things to get it back on track:
- Scheduled “French Time” – they vanished when the clock struck.
- Tried sticker charts for correct words – they just wanted the stickers.
- Attempted to make it a game – which quickly devolved into a game of “let’s see who can annoy Uncle the most.”
By day three, I was ready to throw in the towel, or “jeter l’éponge,” as I ironically learned while trying to find a French phrase for “I give up.” My grand educational experiment was nose-diving. It wasn’t working. The kids were bored with my attempts, and I was getting frustrated. This whole “French for three in a bed” idea was turning into a bit of a nightmare. The “bed” was just too crowded with my expectations and their boundless energy going in a totally different direction.
Then, something clicked. Maybe it was Lily asking me, totally out of the blue, “How do you say ‘blue car’ in French?” while we were just playing with her toys, no pressure, no “lesson time.” It hit me. I was going about it all wrong. I was trying to force this structured learning thing, this very adult idea of “lessons,” onto them. The “bed” wasn’t the problem; my rigid plan was taking up all the space.
So, I scrapped the formal stuff. No more dedicated “French Time.” Instead, I just started slipping French words into whatever we were already doing. We were drawing? “Can you pass me the crayon rouge?” Playing with cars? “Wow, a big camion jaune!” We sang silly songs, and I’d just throw in a French nursery rhyme I vaguely remembered. If they asked, I told them. If they didn’t, I didn’t push it.
And you know what? It kind of worked. They started picking up words. Mia proudly told her mom on the phone that she knew “chat” and “chien.” Lily would randomly shout “Bonjour!” when she entered a room. It wasn’t the immersive French language course I’d initially envisioned, not by a long shot. They weren’t having philosophical debates in Parisian French. But they learned a few things, and more importantly, we actually had fun doing it. The “three in a bed” situation became less of a struggle and more of a slightly chaotic, but ultimately cozy, cuddle.
Looking back, it taught me a lot. Not just about how to (or how not to) teach kids French, but about expectations. Sometimes you go in with this big, perfectly mapped-out plan, and reality just laughs in your face. The key, I guess, is to be able to toss that plan out the window and just go with the flow. The “three in a bed” wasn’t about mastering French; it was about connecting with those kids and maybe planting a tiny seed of curiosity. And honestly, that felt like a much bigger win than them acing a vocabulary test.
