Je ne parle pas bien français.

I was ready.  Pen in hand, an empty desk beneath my elbows, and sheer determination to ace that French test.  I’d studied the verbs.  I knew it.  Twirling my pen between my fingers, I leaned forward on my elbows as she grabbed a stack of papers from her desk.

I was ready.

She came around with the stack and dropped the packets on to the desk of the girl next to me.  Turning to look at me, she smiled.  (I must have looked rather bug-eyed.)  She placed three on my desk.  I stared at the top sheet.

I could do this.

“Ahem,” a voice sounded behind me.  “Jena, could you maybe pass those back?”

I nodded my head.  “Oh, right.”

Cringing, I passed back the other two.  I could do this.  I just had to wait for the go-ahead.

But it never came.  Instead, a sharp, blaring noise bounced off the walls around us.  Of course.  A fire drill.  Perfect timing…but, I’d been ready!  Dropping my pen on the desk, I stood with everyone else and filed out the door.  The exit nearest to us was blocked off and we panicked like ants about to be stepped on by a big boot.  (We’d always used that exit.)  Mr. Science’s chem class came out and had the same reaction. 

Someone finally pointed us to the front door of the school.  We strode out into the biting autumn air where we quickly formed what we like to call the penguin huddle.  No longer than a minute later, we were waved back inside. 

Up the stairs, back in our seats.  Miss French was the last to enter the room. 

“You may begin,” she told us.

I looked down at the first question.

Translate these sentences from English to French.

      1.)    We are travelling to Paris this winter.

What?  What?  What was the word for winter again?  I couldn’t remember.

I wasn’t ready.