You speak good American.

At a party this weekend, a French boy said to me (in French),

“I don’t understand you and your friend when you talk, because you don’t speak American well.”

I have thought about this comment a lot. I have tried to put myself in this boy’s place.

If I was in America, and I couldn’t understand a French person speaking to his or her French friend, would I accuse that person of speaking bad French?

NO, beause that would be ASININE, because obviously the problem would be my French comprehension. People do, after all, tend to speak their own native languages well.

A very kind French friend of mind, seeing that I was upset, tried to comfort me by saying, “Oh Kristen, don’t worry. You speak very good American!”

Well, thanks, but…

…the truth is, as I’m sure this boy knew, is that he was not able to understand us when we spoke at an excitedly conversational pace, and he didn’t want to admit it. I know he meant no harm. But the comment just brought to mind some statements I’ve heard during my time in France regarding American English as opposed to British English.

As an American in France, you do develop a thick skin. But once in awhile, inevitably, you just get blindsided by something you can’t help but find too offensive to overlook. A French person once said to me that American English isn’t “real” or “true” English.

Outside of the US and Canada, I’ve not been to any other country where English is an official language, so I have relatively little experience with or knowledge of other kinds of the language. I don’t claim that American English is superior. There is a different accent, and of course there are differences in vocabulary. The English say “petrol,” Americans say “gas.” The English say “lorry,” American’s say “truck.” Whatever. As far as I know–and please, correct me if I’m wrong because I would sincerely like to know–the essence (French for “gas!”) is the same.

I guess the real difference is that American English comes from America, which is a place some French people don’t like.

Now, let’s get scholarly. In East of Eden, John Steinbeck wrote, “In the old lands they say of us that we go from barbarism to decadence without an intervening culture. Can it be that our critics have not the key or the language of our culture?”

The resentment other countries sometimes have towards America is understandable. And to a French person, infiltration of American pop culture–particularly through music, television, and cinema–must get bothersome. However, it’s popular. They like it. My students are obsessed with Prisonbreak. And I’ve seen them at McDonald’s, too. And it’s not just the youth–I have seen the French-est, beret-wearing, poodle-walking, cigarette-smoking people in McDonald’s. And I don’t really even eat there–I just walk past it every day, because it’s smack-dab in the middle of town. Which is the town’s choice, even. French towns can refuse to have a McDonald’s in their vicinity; my friends who work in the big-deal wine town of Beaune say it refuses to let one be built. Good for them. But my point is, McDonald’s wouldn’t be in my town if it didn’t have customers, and those customers are French.

One day, I asked my students, “Tell me about French culture! I want to learn. Who would you say is the most famous French actor?”

And you know what they said?

“Johnny Depp!”

I didn’t have the heart to break it to them that he isn’t French. Some of them honestly seemed not to know.

The lines are blurring. 300,000,000 people are speaking the “wrong” English. What is the world coming to?

I studied the “wrong” English for four years in college. And for twenty-three years I’ve been speaking “bad” American. Why didn’t anyone tell me?

And I’ve been in France seven months and still can’t find Budapest.

But, France:

quand-même.