French; Spare me...

[Deandra Collins]

Deandra sat, tapping her favorite lime green gel pen on her desk. The French teacher, Mrs. Desmond, walked over to her desk.
"Deandra, please tell us a little about yourself... In French."
Deandra sunk in her chair.
Ughh.. please spare me the embarassment...
She thought, but stood up when Mrs. Desmond gave her a look of death.
"Errmm.. Je m' appelle Deandra."
"Bonjour Deandra. ça va?"
Deandra thought for a minute.
ça va.. ça va... means... HOW ARE YOU!
She thought.
"Er- ça va bien."
Mrs. Desmond smiled in disbelief.
"Bien, bien. D'où venez-vous?"
Deandra drew a blank for a second, then remebered.
"Je viens de Grande-Bretagne."
Mrs. Desmond was realitively pleased with her display of knowolodge.
"Avec qui êtes-vous?"
Deandra stopped.
Great. What was that? How is the weather? I'l just go with that...
"Errmm... Il fait beau."
She answered. The class giggled.
"Oh, Deandra, you were doing so well... I asked you with whom you are visiting..."
Deandra looked at the teacher.
"I'm not visiting anyone. I moved here from Great Britian... Duh..."
She said, and sat back down. Mrs. Desmond walked to the front of the class.
"Now would anyone like to show Miss Collins the correct way to carry on this conversation?"
She asked the class. Deandra just glared at the teach, her arms crossed.