August 2015
Dear Finley and Henry,
You are probably wondering why your mother and I have enrolled you in a French school and daycare even though we aren't French and it means you are going to have to take the bus every day to hang out with a bunch of people you don't know or understand.
This was a tough decision for us, by which I mean your mother was absolutely certain, but she had to do a lot of work to convince me.
On the one hand, I think the value of a second language is pretty indisputable. It would certainly help you if you followed my footsteps in the public service of Canada, though I don’t want to presume that you will. And it would no doubt be an asset in the world of international business. It also significantly increases the number of people with whom you can communicate. There are few enough people on the planet capable of carrying on a worthwhile conversation - no point limiting yourself to only those that speak English.
On the other hand, sending a child to French school is not unlike extraditing him to a foreign country where he is imprisoned 8 hours a day for the crime of not speaking the language.
But mostly, my reluctance is all about me. Or, more accurately, about what I imagined for your school years. I had all these pictures in my head of me walking you guys to the school down the street. And then one day you would turn to me and say that you could walk by yourselves. And I pictured all your school friends living in our neighbourhood. And I saw myself helping you with your homework. And I would get a seat on the PTA and manage to convince everyone that selling chocolates to support the school is stupid, so I would never have to do that.
And now all I can picture is you guys getting on a bus to go to a school with strange kids, where you don't speak the language. And I can't really talk to the teachers. And I can only half-assedly help with your homework. And you have to go on playdates because your friends all live far away. And I’m ineffective on a French-speaking PTA so your mother and I end up selling chocolate covered "fund-raisins" for the rest of our lives like a couple of greasy multi-level marketers. For the record, “fund-raisins” might be my best idea ever, but zut alors the pun doesn't even work in French! Also, some arsehole is already squatting on fundraisins.com
So you’re going to French school. I’m asking you, at a very young age, to take on the extra challenge of learning a second language that I struggle with greatly. And I’m challenging myself to learn enough French that I can be as helpful as I want to be. We’re in this together little buddies. Bordel de merde, we are in this together.
Love,
Your Dear Old Dad.