This is the Bescherelle. Professor Carole said every school-age child in France grows up with one of these little red books. Inside is every verb possible, and once you find it in the index, the book directs you to one of the 88 possible ways it might be conjugated. It's a little bit of a nightmare, but handy when doing homework. Unfortunately, Madesmoiselle Carole does not believe in open book tests, even though I tried really hard to convince her using my basic french and some pie charts.
But conjugations are only the tip. With french grammar, there are definite rules, with absolutely no exceptions ("never never never"), that one must not stray from in order to master the language. As soon as these non-breakable rules start making sense, the your professor tells you all the exceptions ("well, mostly never except when:"): sometimes a word is masculine, sometimes femenine, sometimes neither, sometimes you pronounce the last letter, sometimes you don't, sometimes you can write a word but if you say it in conversation you get hit in the head with a stale baguette. Where's the humanity?
But conjugations are only the tip. With french grammar, there are definite rules, with absolutely no exceptions ("never never never"), that one must not stray from in order to master the language. As soon as these non-breakable rules start making sense, the your professor tells you all the exceptions ("well, mostly never except when:"): sometimes a word is masculine, sometimes femenine, sometimes neither, sometimes you pronounce the last letter, sometimes you don't, sometimes you can write a word but if you say it in conversation you get hit in the head with a stale baguette. Where's the humanity?
