I met my tutor for breakfast, we had a quick conversation in french to get me ready, and off I went.
This was my third attempt. When we all did the first attempt, we went in cocky. We had heard there was an examiner named Jacques, “Jacques le Couteau” was his nickname, and we all wanted Jacques. We were ready, send in the heavyweight. None of us had him and we all failed. For the second test, it was just a blur. For my third test, I just wanted out. I was a bundle of nerves, and I was focused on remembering my structures, rules, stories even. I was ready, but still nervous. I was introduced to the examiner, and he said, “Bonjour, je m’appelle Jacques” and I just about soiled myself.
Jacques? Anyone but Jacques! I was doomed.
We started off a bit rusty, I was reeling with it being Jacques, but I recovered when we moved past the chitchat warmup and into the actual test. I was ready. I had my techniques ready. I knew how to tell a story, and open doors where I could talk about more in that area, while shutting others that I didn’t want to get tangled up in.… Read the rest

