Pardon my French

Learning French in the Ozarks is a treat because the local accent adds so much to foreign languages.

“Paaaaahr-laaaay vew luh frown-saaaayuhs?”

But we didn’t just speak it in ways it wasn’t meant to be spoken. We heard it in ways it wasn’t meant to be heard.

One day Mme. Lang was introducing a few new vocabulary words.

“This one  you should be able to understand right away: rah-dee-oh,” she enunciated.

“Rodeo!” came a voice from the back of the class.


Radio, radio, radio.

About Carrie

Writer by day, writer by night. Urban farmer/dog mama/baby mama/bicycle enthusiast/oenophile the rest of the time.
This entry was posted in Country Grammar, People, School. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Pardon my French

  1. Michelle says:

    I just got caught up… it’s been a few weeks since I’ve visited. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I LOVE your blog. Thanks!!!

  2. Carrie says:

    Hey, thanks! I can’t take too much credit, though. Everyone lived their dramas aloud. I just listened.

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