When I was 12, my father signed me up for a distance learning program in French. It was very successful in imparting to me a detailed and sophisticated knowledge of the French grammar but you can’t learn to speak if all you do is write and read.
When I moved to the French-speaking Quebec a decade later, I was hoping to buff up my conversational French but I met with reluctance and mockery of the native population. Today, I’m a different person but back then I was a painfully shy little wallflower and didn’t react well to people laughing at me. It’s strange because in Ukraine, which is also a country battling to preserve its language from a larger, more dominant culture, if a foreigner says even just a couple of words in Ukrainian, he’ll be feted and love-bombed but in Quebec it’s nothing of the kind.
I tried enrolling in French courses at the university but ran into the problem of the proficiency test. Once she saw my answers on the test, the French professor said, “You are a native speaker. You don’t need language courses because your French is perfect.” I tried to explain that I’m the opposite of a speaker. I can conjugate flawlessly but I can’t say sentences. I tried to demonstrate my speaking impotence by speaking in my very faulty French but the professor was convinced I’m faking it to get easy credit and I was banished. This is how I ended up in a situation where I can read and enjoy Maupassant in the original and understand people speaking about Maupassant but can’t say, “Excuse me, where are the toilets?”