Confessions of a Second Year Language Student

When I was on holiday I once went into the sea and jumped waves because it was frickin’ awesome. However, even with my gold badge from ‘Park swim school’ I was almost engulfed by the mother of all waves and emerged just about intact.

This is the only analogy that seems to encompass planning a year abroad with any degree of accuracy. If successful you’re going to spend a year abroad, as cool as jumping a wave. You will be able to actually converse in the language you’ve been learning for eight years as opposed to the awkward conversations prevalent in oral classes as the teacher desperately reminds you not to speak in English. However to get there, you risk being drowned. Because planning a year abroad is something akin to entering a cold, dark, dank river where there exists few of those desired fishes and much hated slime, sludge and that horrible moss substance that you find in open water.

This is not an exaggeration. Unless you apply for a teaching assistantship, and who truly wants to work with bratty children for a year, you are royally screwed. Whilst the year abroad assistant desperately pleads with you not to be an au pair you trawl the internet looking for something that might actually help further your career. Folly, sheer stupidity.

It seems to me that you should take the first job you can find and be pleased that someone was willing to hire you when most of your French linguistic experiences consist of doing ‘role plays’ in class. And forget dignity. I have sent both a shameful amount of pleading emails and “desperate” texts (to people who happen to have links with the French world.)

And then there’s the issue of finding accommodation. Most of the final years I’ve spoken to basically went to their chosen country and stayed in a hostel until they could find somewhere to live. My dream of living with French native speakers to really immerse myself in the culture (and other such clichés) is dying a slow, painful death. In general, these students lived with other English students, some not even having the possibility of leaving the Durham bubble, just transferring it to their respective foreign cities.

Basically, you need contacts. Someone who is willing to offer a job you are not really qualified to do and to help you avoid the risk of homelessness, which right now seems like a strong possibility. In fact, I just took out 'down and out in Paris and London' to prepare me for this eventuality.

To say I am petrified would not be an overstatement. I very much want to spend a year in Paris I just fear emerging from the process soaked, humiliated and struggling to breathe. So, if anyone happens to have any contacts in Paris (preferably in the media industry) please contact me. But, don’t judge me.