
His students loved him because he'd agree to all their requests: longer breaks? "Oui." Skip homework? "Oui." His phone would translate their French 10 seconds too late, so he just kept nodding and saying "Très bien" to everything.
This worked for six months. He even got hired by the local high school because he "connected so well with French students." The truth? The kids were actually teaching themselves while my brother just played along with confident "Oui" responses.
The principal was so impressed that he entered my brother into the state's "Outstanding Foreign Language Educator" competition. My brother couldn't back out without blowing his cover, so he agreed to compete against actual French teachers from across the state.
The night before, I found him in his room having a breakdown, frantically trying to memorize basic French phrases from YouTube videos titled "French for Complete Beginners." He was practicing saying "Bonjour" in the mirror like his life depended on it.
Competition day arrived with three rounds: vocabulary, conversation, and cultural knowledge. During the vocabulary round, while real teachers were explaining complex grammar, my brother was just pointing at pictures and saying "Oui" or "Non" like it was a game show.
The judges kept praising his "innovative simplified teaching method." He'd just nod enthusiastically and repeat whatever French word they'd just said, but with more confidence.
Somehow, he made it to the final round against the state's top French teacher. The challenge was conducting a live parent conference demonstration—in front of 200 educators and the state superintendent of schools.
They brought in real French exchange students' parents who only spoke French. My brother was supposed to discuss their children's academic progress, behavioral issues, and future recommendations. The parents started rapid-fire questioning him about their kids' performance, and his phone couldn't keep up with the translation speed.
Then the school scheduled the actual parent-teacher conference—entirely in French.
When the first parent asked how their daughter was progressing, not understanding a word, he just did his usual confident "Oui," with a smile.
They asked if she was failing the class. Again, he answered with even more enthusiasm: "Oui!"
They asked if she needed to repeat the entire year. Still beaming: "Oui!"
The more horrified their faces got, the more he nodded, thinking he was absolutely nailing the conversation.
Next thing he knew, three sets of parents were screaming at the principal because the "French teacher" had just told them their kids were all failing and needed to repeat the grade.
It took one extremely embarrassed phone call to our French-speaking aunt to explain that my brother wasn't sabotaging students—just an idiot with Google Translate.
The real problem was Mrs. Jessica, the actual French teacher, who'd been inflating grades to hide her own incompetence. While my brother was accidentally "failing" everyone, she was the one actually not teaching them anything.
The principal laughed so hard during the explanation that he kept my brother as a "conversation partner," where—quote—"your enthusiasm can't accidentally destroy anyone's GPA."