70 French Property News August 2019 http://www.completefrance.com
I
’ve come close to applying for French
nationality a few times in the past, but was
always put off by the prospect of grappling
with French bureaucracy on such a grand scale.
The collection of documents you need to
submit (known as le dossier) is substantial, to
put it mildly. It will dwarf any paperwork I’ve
put together so far and, believe me, I’ve handed
in some impressively huge and weighty dossiers
concerning family and work-related matters
during the 13 years we’ve been here.
Over that period, dealing with red tape and
the fonctionnaires who tie it into knots, if not
nooses, has become easier and slightly less
intimidating, but it’s still not something you do
for fun. However, the looming spectre of Brexit
has keenly focused my mind and made me
realise I’m way more French than British in
outlook. I’m also frustrated at being
disenfranchised (I’ve been an expat for 27
years, first in Ireland and then in France) and I
want to have a voice in my adopted country.
The time is right to become officially French.
Early days
The process didn’t get off to a good start
though. The first step is to take, and pass, the
TCF ANF, the test de compétence du français
pour l’accèss à la nationalité française (or, for
those of you who don’t speak French, the
language competency test to obtain French
nationality). With my remaining British
efficiency, I sent in my booking form,
accompanied by a cheque for the fairly hefty
fee, to the nearest language test centre in plenty
of time. I also put in a letter saying I was
applying for the May session. That bit was
underlined to make it absolutely clear.
I was hoisted by the petard of my
enthusiastically early application. A week later,
I got a reply from the test centre saying I’d been
booked in for the April session, and giving me
the times of the two exams I’d be taking – an
individual oral test at 10.50am, and an oral
comprehension test with the other candidates
at 11.30am. Big sigh. I’d specifically not wanted
to face the ordeal in April since the allotted day
coincided with a rare visit home from our
nomadic daughter.
Exasperated, I phoned up to request a date
change. I was told this was impossible for a
whole load of complicated reasons – but mainly
“Something To Do With Paris”. I could cancel
the April date, if I wished, but I’d have to make
a new application for the May exam session,
and pay the fee again. So, with much
reluctance, I stuck with April.
The level of French you need to attain for
nationality is B1, pre-intermediate, which is
considered what you need to get by on a daily
basis. Well, I’d made it through 13 years, albeit
with a slight-to-middling aura of bewilderment
on occasion, so surely my grasp of the language
was good enough to pass? I mean, I managed
to phone up the language centre to try and
change my booking. Was that, perhaps, a secret
part of the test? It should certainly count for
something, in my opinion.
There was no alternative but to knuckle
down and prepare for my first exam in,
literally, decades. My last ones had been my
accountancy finals in 1991, which I had failed
resoundingly. Not the greatest springboard.Exam time
A Wednesday in April saw me hovering
nervously outside the test centre in Limoges.
My eldest son, who lives in the city, was
hovering with me as moral support. We ended
up hovering for quite a while until we were
finally let in. My anxiety mounted with me as
we climbed to the second floor, and I suddenly
felt woefully unprepared. Never mind that I’d
been revising hard for about six weeks, taking
various online tests and doing a MOOC (an
open online course) that looked relevant, not
to mention watching more French TV game
shows than is good for anyone!
My son stayed with me until my group was
called in for the oral expression element of the
two-part test. The examiner was very pleasant
and very calming. She explained what we
would be doing, then put a small recording
device in front of us and also her phone to act
as a timer. The examiner would be grading us
herself, and then sending her results and the
recordings to CIEP (Centre Internationale
d’Etudes Pédagogigues), which administers the
TCF on behalf of the French Ministry of
Education. They would get a second
assessment there.
The 15 minutes galloped by. First of all, I hadREAL LIFE
Having lived in France for over a decade, Stephanie
Dagg has finally decided that now is the time to become
a French citizen. Here is her expat-to-exam story!
) %n)
into a nation
PART
ONE
Stephanie with Trousers, a Brahma cockerelThey live near the town of
Boussac in Creuse