Fun With Frenglish

Teaching English to the French does funny things to my brain. It not only helps me learn French (as my students often provide translations of certain words and idioms), but it also simultaneously strengthens and weakens my English. The strengthening part should be fairly obvious—I can easily articulate the grammatical structures of the language, which I’ve never been taught but have learned intuitively (like most native speakers). But the weakening part can be best explained by sharing with you the English I hear day in, day out. And so, it is with a teacher’s loving (and only lightly mocking) heart that I bring you the latest compilation of English gone awry, French style.

Let’s take a journey through what could be a typical conversation on the job (sans teacherly interjections to correct any mistakes):

Me: Can you recommend a good restaurant?
Student: Yes. I am happy to give you the good address. Can you precise me the cuisine you want?
Me: A bistro would be great.
Student: I propose you a bistro, not so touristic, in the first arrondisement. He has very typic French cooking. I suggest you also a sympatic wine bar, not expensive, on the same street. There is a very funny atmosphere.
Me: What are some of the bistro’s specialties?
Student: I always choice the confit de canard. It’s very tasty. And they have sorbets of many unusual perfumes.
Me: Great. And where is it located?
Student: I explain you how to go there. But can you say me your nearest Metro station?
Me: (Give the details)
Student: (Gives directions). And those are all the infos you need to know. Please say me how was your meal. I am very interesting in your feedbacks.

You’ve no doubt noticed what appear to be glaring English errors—but these are mostly instances of the French imposing their own grammar and vocabulary on English. I hear “I propose you…I explain you…I suggest you…I confirm you…” countless times, but that’s just French grammar rearing its head. Say vs. tell is a natural point of confusion. The expression le bon addresse is the French way of saying ‘a great place to go.’ Calling a restaurant “he”? All nouns have genders in French. You can probably guess what 'touristic' and 'typic' should be. 'Sympatic' is derived from sympatique, the French word for nice. Perfume translates to parfum, which could be Chanel No. 5 or a flavor. Info and feedback are always singular in English, but countable in French. Owing to phonological similarity, “choice” and “choose” are frequently confused (my husband got an email from a work event organizer requesting him to “choice his lunch”). In addition, many people don’t realize there’s a distinction between funny and fun; rather, the word funny is used as a catchall, as is done in French. But “I am very interesting” is just a bald-faced mistake, with no language-transfer justification. (I get a kick out of explaining to my students that starting off a sentence that way can cause the false perception that they have highly-inflated senses of self.)

Needless to say, these typical errors are so commonplace that I’ve taken to jokingly using them in my home life, far away from the burning ears of my students. (I know, it’s bad.) I will ask my husband to propose me what he’d like to eat for dinner or to look up infos on the train schedule for our next vacation destination. He’s right there with me, responding in kind, as he hears these same errors every day at his office. The thing is, it’s like the old warning parents give children: if you keep making those faces, one day, they’ll stick. Yes folks, my English skills are starting to deteriorate. Ruh roh.

Let’s go in further depth with Frenglish to show you just how far the rabbit hole things have fallen.

False friends. That’s what the French call English words that appear to have French equivalents, but in reality have different meanings altogether, or no meaning at all. I constantly have to correct my students’ use of these phonies, explaining that people work at companies, not societies; that getting into car accidents can hurt people, not bless them; and that a business can be profitable, not rentable. At a shop, an employee—in an effort to practice his English—asked me if I had any money, because he “have not money.” It seems like a rather obvious, albeit bizarre, question to a customer, right? What he meant was, he was out of small change (in French, monnaie), so did I have any I could pay with? My all-time favorite: a student once said that a certain solution wouldn’t be very “sweatable” (the French souhaitable, sounds just like it if said Anglo style, but it means desirable). It’s all very funny until false friends come unintentionally tumbling out of your own mouth. I once complained to a colleague about the poor organization skills of a ‘formation’ (ahem, training) manager at a client’s office, and on another occasion told someone about the unthinkable scenario I had to face at a certain ‘agency’ (that would be, branch) of my bank. Although these slips have been rare, they give me pause. If my vocabulary is starting to go, what’s next?

The answer to that question lies in certain ubiquitous expressions the French use in English that, while not incorrect, are just a little off. “Normally” is in heavy rotation. For example: How do you like your coffee? “I normally take my coffee with no milk.” How do you get to the Louvre? “Normally, you should exit the Metro and turn on the third street on your left.” Well, normally, Anglos would say ‘usually’ or ‘generally.’ The usage doesn’t mangle the speaker’s meaning, but it’s just different enough. It sometimes slips into my speech when I explain how to use a certain verb tense: “Normally, we use present perfect for actions that…(etc).”

Whenever a French person wishes to confirm something, they’ll undoubtedly say, “It’s OK for me.” Can you meet next Tuesday at 10:00? “It’s OK for me.” Do you mind picking me up from work today? “Yes, it’s OK for me.” While the sentence seems innocuous, it’s not something native English speakers would actually say. Those questions would probably be answered with, “That works for me” or “No problem.” What does being OK have to do with it? But lo and behold, after reading a difficult passage in an article during an English lesson, I’ve started asking students, “Did you understand that? Is it OK for you?” Gah! It makes me cringe a little every time.

But the most amusing offender (if we can call it that) is the standard phrase used to express a positive opinion. Should abortion be legal in Catholic countries? “Yes, why not?” If you find a wallet on the street containing a large sum of money, but no identification, is it justifiable to keep it? “Yes, why not?” This response suggests a rather flippant attitude toward the controversies at hand. We’re not dealing with whether we should choose a Burgundy rather than a Bordeaux. Even though I’m quite accustomed to receiving it as an answer to most opinion-based questions, it still makes me snigger inside every time I hear it. And while I’ve actually never inadvertently used the expression in English, whenever I use its equivalent pourquoi pas? in French, I crack up a little bit, leaving the French person I’m talking to slightly perplexed.

Idioms and slang are two components of my English that have remained, thankfully, 100% intact—which doesn’t make it any less funny when I hear my dear students make verbal guacamole of certain English expressions. The most recent parade of hits include “It is just the small part of the iceberg” and “It isn’t written in the rock.” Fabulous. There’s also the student who commiserated with me over getting sunburns: “I cannot support the sun.” (I know—its policies on immigration are way over the line. It’s not getting my vote this year!) Or take my sexagenarian student who laments the fact that she never speaks English with her British husband, but said when they met, she “was attracted by his English tongue.” Uh…TMI?

The best is when a student has clearly used a translation engine in order to write an email in English. I tell my students again and again that those engines never work, but it doesn’t prevent people from using them anyway—to hilarious effect. I received a real head-scratcher from a student with whom I was trying to schedule lessons. She wrote:

“I am going to try but sometimes with transport I have difficulty in being there at 9:00 am. If it is your only schedule disponnible roaches. When think of courting you, because I have to try to find a room what is not always easy.”

OK, we can overlook some of the grammar. And disponible means available in French. But “disponnible roaches”? Who invited them to the lesson? And who’s trying to “court” me—is this the 19th century? Please tell me it’s not the roaches, however available they may be.

Even if Frenglish has started pecking away at my own English, even if my students’ verbal blunders keep me on my toes, and even if I do sometimes stoop to the level of discreet mockery, I still find all of these linguistic slips quite endearing. It’s OK for me.