A somewhat peripheral story about textbooks. I was in seventh grade at JHS 202 in Queens in 1969. My first French textbook was a large format book, reddish-purple, and contained a practice dialogue at the end of each chapter. I took French through JHS, HS, and for one year in college.
Fast forward to 1997. Our daughter comes home from her first day at middle school in Merrick, Long Island. I see a very familiar looking reddish-purple textbook, and ask if that's her French text. She says yes, I ask her to open it to the dialogue at the back of chapter 1, and I begin to recite the dialogue. I can remember it today - "Bonjour, Jean, comment vas-tu?" Tres bien, et toi?" "Pas mal, merci." She and my wife were both pretty amazed. And, as the old gag goes, I can remember that, but I can't remember why I walked into the kitchen.
A somewhat peripheral story about textbooks. I was in seventh grade at JHS 202 in Queens in 1969. My first French textbook was a large format book, reddish-purple, and contained a practice dialogue at the end of each chapter. I took French through JHS, HS, and for one year in college.
Fast forward to 1997. Our daughter comes home from her first day at middle school in Merrick, Long Island. I see a very familiar looking reddish-purple textbook, and ask if that's her French text. She says yes, I ask her to open it to the dialogue at the back of chapter 1, and I begin to recite the dialogue. I can remember it today - "Bonjour, Jean, comment vas-tu?" Tres bien, et toi?" "Pas mal, merci." She and my wife were both pretty amazed. And, as the old gag goes, I can remember that, but I can't remember why I walked into the kitchen.