It seemed like all the students in Introductory French were about to sneeze all together as their professor lifted her nose like a bunny rabbit, acting as the conductor of her class to the word un. While there was no grand finale, the symphony continued as everybody attempted to mimic that same nasal inflection. To Professor Beloucif, hearing these American accents in unison spooked her since un sounded like the letter a. As soon as she made a face, her students stopped in embarrassment and began to laugh. In order to help them achieve that sound, she scrunched up her nose again and asked everyone to say it as if they meant “on.” Several people looked at her in confusion, almost as if they didn’t want to look silly in front of the person who will decide their fate in the class. Against their reservations, they went along in defeat and they let out a large un. This time around, a couple of students were able to produce the desired sound. However, to ensure that every student was able to say it confidently, the nimble instructor traveled to each desk to hear everyone out on their own. It’s not easy learning a new language, especially with one so phonetically different.
No one should ever have to walk in the bitter cold, but that’s New York for you. Even when the weather is harsh we still trek to our destinations. Yet it was just my luck that on my day off, that Friday hosted one of the coldest days of the season. It would be one thing if I was only outside for a couple minutes after leaving the bus or if the walk to the campus was short. But that would be too easy, and frankly this isn’t a fairytale for that to actually be the case. I waited at the 125th Street stop for the CCNY shuttle, which isn’t always reliable. The long wait, coupled with the extreme cold, meant that this was a punishment for leaving the warm comfort of my home. Unfortunately, this was just another day of school; minus the scalding breeze.
As I entered the NAC building, I glanced at my phone to see where this classroom was located. To my dismay, the sight of the seventh floor worried me for two reasons: most of the escalators were not running, which meant that I would have to walk the entire way up, and it was already 9:28. The warmth of the building and the thickness of my jacket made me feel uncomfortably hot as I rushed upstairs. Luckily, the escalator to the sixth floor was running just fine, so I was able to catch my breath for a few seconds on that quick ride. As soon as I reached my destination, I realized that I was on the opposite side of the floor.
9:30.
I started power walking.
The imaginary ticking of the clock bombarded my thoughts and consequently made me sweat a little more than I had to. It did not help that room 219 was located inside a labyrinth that was difficult to navigate. All the hallways seemed to lead to dead ends or to doors that led to the stairwells. It wasn’t until I stood near the elevators that I saw an unfamiliar door. Then it clicked for me: I had been going around in circles and completely missed the array of classrooms to the right of the elevators. As soon as I opened the door to the classroom, I was met with some resistance from the other side. I checked the room number to make sure I wasn’t at the wrong place and then my phone to see if it was the right time. It was 9:33. Before I could take a step back, the person behind the door opened it slightly and asked me something that I couldn’t understand. I began to doubt my ability to read the information I was given on this class until I was told to say the mot de passe. “What password,” I asked. As soon as the professor popped her head out of the door, she smiled sheepishly, apologized for confusing me as one of her students and welcomed me into her class. Those ten minutes after my arrival made me understand why you shouldn’t come late to her French class as I witnessed four other students facing the same situation I was in.
