As my semester abroad draws to a close (where did the past few months go?), I have started compiling in my head a list of all the things I will miss about France, things that I will never be able to experience anywhere else in the world. Right up there with food and architecture, I was surprised to see “French manners and formalities.”
I am not trying to contradict my last blog post here, where I talked about the way in which the French like to appear unfriendly and inaccessible to outsiders or even among themselves. Here I am talking about the beauty of the French language, and how syntax and vocabulary—yes, grammar—can define or even change interpersonal relationships.
Those who have studied French will know that there are two ways of saying “you” in the singular form—tu and vous. In short, one uses tu when addressing close friends and family (or, more recently, colleagues and fellow students as a means of showing camaraderie), and vous when addressing acquaintances, strangers, or superiors as a means of showing respect.
The nuance between tu and vous is a common topic often discussed by visitors to France, but one that is timeless and constantly evolving nonetheless. Based on my own experiences, I have been amazed at how much the choice between using tu and vous can affect interpersonal relationships.
When I first arrived at my host family’s house in September, I was expecting to address everyone, including the teenage kids, in the vous form, and even started betting with myself at what point both sides—I and the family—would be comfortable enough in each others’ company to use tu with one another. I was pleasantly surprised to see that they all immediately started addressing me in the tu form, like I was already part of the family. It made me feel much more welcomed and at home. In this aspect, I truly lucked out: some exchange students I have met here tell me that, even now in November, they still employ the vous form with their host family, and that meals remain formal and rigid. (Of course, I don’t know how much—if any—of an impact the tu/vous nuance has on the quality and quantity of the interaction between my friends and their respective host families, but it certainly would be a large one for me.)
I have also noticed that the utilization of tu versus vous used at school plays a huge role in individual student-instructor relationships. It is certainly interesting how I actually feel a difference between my attitudes in classes, depending on whether the instructor uses tu or vous with the students. My professor in my "Introduction to Architecture" course has been addressing us individually with tus since day one and also uses a lot of slang in his teaching. ("Jean, ce croquis est vachement joli!" [Jean, this sketch is bloody beautiful!]) As a result, I have taken a much more lax attitude towards learning in that class, and have caught myself being insouciant about deadlines and punctuality. In contrast, the TA in one of my history classes remains adamant in employing the vous form despite having known and interacted with all of us individually many times over the past few months, and I have noticed myself to be much more cautious—even terrified—in front of him, and as a result trying harder and working more seriously in class.
I am convinced that it is the informal tone that my architecture professor takes with me, suggesting that he sees me more as an equal than an inferior, that makes me think it okay to adopt an equally informal attitude towards his class. (Or maybe because I have no interest in becoming an architect one day, but am a History major back at Georgetown, so the history class “costs” more for me in terms of GU credit. Who knows.) Nonetheless, it is fascinating how the employment of certain words and formalities can reveal so much about people and relationships.
I will certainly miss this about France—hearing when I am addressed or when I address others with a tu or a vous to determine the status of my relationships with them, or even hearing myself be addressed with a respectful vous on the street, even if it's just the grocer selling me my chewing gum. Despite all the social, political, and economic changes that France must inevitably face in this increasingly globalized world, this is one of the things that will forever remain typically and definitively French, and it is certainly something to be proud of.