Tracing North

Towards my Acadian and Québécois roots | Vers mes racines acadiennes et québécoises

Margot is a librarian and researcher based in Western Massachusetts. Her writing explores connections between heritage and place, blending research with personal discovery. She finds inspiration in the local food movement, walks in the woods, books that mix storytelling with facts, and seasonal celebrations that bring a touch of everyday magic.

  • Un chant de Noël

    I discovered parallel texts on my language-learning journey. On one page is your native language (L1); directly opposite is the target language (L2). Reading this way creates a side-by-side experience that supports comprehension as you move through the text. Although parallel texts have their critics, I enjoy them.

    Here’s what the TeachVid blog says:

    “Much of what is written in support of parallel texts is along the following lines:

    They allow users to directly compare the L1 and the L2, which helps promote ‘noticing’.
    The ability to compare the way vocab and structures are formed and combined in the L2 with reference to the L1 equivalent promotes this noticing of differences which may not happen if students only had access to the L2 text.

    They allow users to access texts beyond their level.
    Readers can read an L2 text and have constant recourse to an L1 equivalent so that they can check that they are understanding what they are reading.

    Parallel texts can indeed be a powerful tool, if used by motivated language learners who really are using the time with the texts to understand how the L2 works, forming hypotheses and checking and confirming that they understand correctly what is happening with the language.” ~ In Support of Parallel Texts

    Critics argue that parallel texts make it too easy to lean on the L1 page for understanding—and I get that. I see the same impulse in my French class at the International Language School. We all breathe a sigh of relief when we slip into English to work through the challenges of L2.

    As researcher Andira Abdallah notes in her paper:

    “Based on my experience as a second language instructor, it is very hard, if not impossible, to eliminate the first language use during the collaborative work of students in a second language learning environment especially when the majority of these students share the same L1.” ~ Impact of Using Parallel Text Strategy on Teaching Reading to Intermediate II Level Students

    Josh, my French teacher, encourages us to read stories that are already familiar to us. While he doesn’t explicitly promote parallel texts, he strongly affirms the underlying principle: knowing the storyline reduces cognitive load, making it easier to engage with and absorb the target language.

    Here’s a bit from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Without access to your L1, can you understand what it says?

    “Un chant de Noël, Chapitre 1

    Le spectre poussa encore un cri, secoua sa chaîne et tordit ses mains fantastiques. 

    << Vous êtes enchaîné ?  dit Scrooge tremblant ; dites-moi pourquoi.

    – Je porte la chaîne que j’ai forgée pendant ma vie, répondit le fantôme. C’est moi qui l’ai faite anneau par anneau, mètre par mètre ; c’est moi qui l’ai suspendue autour de mon corps, librement et ma propre volonté, comme je la porterai toujours de mon plein gré. Est-ce que le modèle vous en paraît étrange ? >>     

    Scrooge tremblait de plus en plus. 

    << Ou bien voudriez-vous savoir, poursuivit le spectre, le poids et la longueur du câble énorme qui vous traînez vous-même ? Il était exactement aussi long et aussi pesant que cette chaîne que vous voyez, il y a aujourd’hui sept veilles de Noël. Vous y avez travaillé depuis. C’est une bonne chaîne à présent ! >>    

    Scrooge regarda autour de lui sur le plancher, s’attendant à se trouver lui-même entouré de quelque cinquante ou soixante brasses de câbles de fer; mais il ne vit rien.”

    Dickens, Charles. A Christmas Carol / Un chant de Noël: Bilingual Classic (English-French Side-by-Side). Odéon Press, [2017]. ISBN: 9781973451723

  • Making Sense of My AncestryDNA Results

    I received my AncestryDNA results last week and I am learning how to interpret what they actually mean. Ancestry.com identifies “Regions” where my DNA most closely matches their genetic reference panels. None of my Regions came as a surprise, but understanding how they arrive at those numbers has been instructive.

    As Ancestry.com explains:

    “A reference panel is a set of people whose DNA is typical of DNA from a certain place or group. When you take an AncestryDNA® test, we compare your DNA to the DNA in our reference panels to identify your ancestral origins. For example, to determine your ancestral regions, we find the reference panel DNA that’s most similar to each segment of your DNA. Then, we assign your segments to the regions they resemble.” — Ancestry.com

    In other words, Ancestry.com assigns my DNA to regions even if my ancestors didn’t live in that exact location. My Quebec assignment, for example, appears because my genetic profile closely matches the modern descendants of the French founders who settled there in the 1600s. That lines up with what I know from my family history.

    My report also shows small percentages from England and Norway, even though (as far as I know) none of my ancestors came from those countries. These small percentages simply mean I share slight genetic similarity with the people in those reference panels.

    Another important point: we inherit a random mix of DNA from each of our parents. So the heritage I know from family records won’t necessarily line up with the DNA that I randomly received. And my parents inherited a random mix from their parents. I will never get 100% accuracy. There will be missing pieces.

    With that in mind, I compared what I know about my family history with what my DNA report showed:

    Irish: Four of my great-grandparents were Irish. That makes me 50% Irish. My mother’s grandparents were Irish immigrants, and on my father’s side both his maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather came from Irish families. My DNA shows 57% Irish, specifically from the Munster and Connacht provinces.

    Québécois: Two of my maternal great-grandparents were descended from Quebec immigrants. I am 25% Québécois. My DNA shows 16%. From the results-by-parent chart, it appears that I inherited a larger share of my mother’s Irish DNA than her Québécois DNA.

    Danish: My father’s maternal grandfather emigrated from Denmark. I am one-eighth, or 12.5% Danish. My DNA shows 11%, which is remarkably close.

    German: My father’s paternal grandmother was born to German immigrants. Another one-eighth or 12.5%. My DNA shows 10%, a second close match.

    In the end, my DNA results didn’t reveal any big surprises—but the report did add depth to what I already know. The results show which parts of my heritage were passed down to me, and in what proportions, while also pointing to historic communities that my ancestors belong to. It’s a starting point for more research, and a reminder that DNA is one more tool for understanding where we come from.

    The photo above shows my teenaged daughters walking through a tunnel in Ireland in August, 2002.

  • Learning about Champlain

    A book, audiobook, and laptop on a table.

    I grew up in Massachusetts. As a child, my understanding of history was Massachusetts-centric. The Pilgrims. The Salem Witch Trials. The Boston Tea Party. The Battles of Lexington and Concord. I had one World History class in high school. I retained little beyond Martin Luther’s 95 Theses, posted in 1517.

    My understanding of the world broadened in adulthood, yet those early themes of migration, injustice, and revolution still shape my interest in history.

    All my ancestors arrived in the United States from Europe or Canada between 1840 and 1890. The Canadian side came from Quebec to Maine; the Québécois branch had originally migrated from France in the 1600s. During recent travels to Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia, I learned about the French explorers and settlers who shaped that region.

    A visit to Port-Royal National Historical Site sparked a renewed interest in Samuel de Champlain. Years ago, I had purchased this book at a used bookstore in Brattleboro, VT:

    Fischer, David Hackett (2008). Champlain’s Dream: the European Founding of North America. New York: Simon & Schuster. ISBN 9781416593324.

    At over 800 pages, the book overwhelmed me, and I put it aside. After visiting Port-Royal, I borrowed the abridged audiobook version from my local library. The storytelling quality was the charm. I listened while driving—my attention drifted at times—but the narrative rekindled my interest in returning to the full book.

    Since listening to the audiobook, I’ve watched several videos featuring Fischer discussing his research methods and findings. All three modes—visiting the site, listening to the audiobook, and watching the author speak—are helping me digest the dense history of Champlain’s journeys and the early French settlements of Nova Scotia and Quebec.

    I plan to return to the book and give myself time to absorb its deeper descriptions of the period.

  • un, deux, trois

    While vacationing in Prince Edward Island, I noticed bilingual—sometimes trilingual—labeling everywhere. French, English, and Mi’kmaq appeared on roadside signs and in the national parks. French and English on every box and bag in the grocery store. That got me thinking about learning French.

    I studied two years of French in high school and two years of German in college. Back then, language study felt useful mostly for showing me the roots of English grammar and vocabulary. French and German helped me understand my own language.

    In my forties, while working as a librarian in a town with many Spanish speakers, I signed up for a few lessons in Spanish to help me understand basic phrases. Struggling to speak another language gave me empathy for English language learners.

    Now, in my sixties, I hadn’t really considered returning to language study—until I saw that bilingual package of Robin Hood flour on the shelf in Sobeys. The idea of studying French intrigued me. I knew that the International Language Institute in Northampton, Massachusetts, had a stellar reputation. I pulled up their website on my phone and registered for a class.

    Learning a new language is a workout for the brain. New vocabulary draws on semantic memory (the meaning of words) and episodic memory (the context in which words are used). Research on the cognitive benefits, specific to foreign language learning for older adults, is inconclusive thus far.

    What is beneficial? Getting out of the house, being social, and learning something new.

    “The brain operates via principles of neuroplasticity. In other words, your brain is responsive to use—that’s when connections form. Connections strengthen your cognitive health, and it’s to your advantage to continuously build up those sets of connections, whether it’s through hobbies and skills, maintaining complex tasks, learning new information, learning new languages, or whatever is of interest to the individual. In the long run, this practice will be very beneficial compared to individuals who are intellectually sedentary.”
    — Roy H. Hamilton, MD, MS, McKnight Brain Research Foundation

    Ah, but forming a new habit…

    I began French lessons last year. For the first three months, I fumbled. Most of my classmates were 60+ years old. Josh, our instructor, clearly understood the challenges we faced—searching for words, unfamiliar pronunciations. He kept us engaged with fun, active learning techniques.

    After a few months, I realized that I wouldn’t improve unless I studied between classes.

    I am still inconsistent with this. To some degree, I’ve had success with a technique called habit stacking—linking a new practice with an established routine. For example, I always (always, always) have a mug of tea in the morning. My tea needs to steep. While it steeps, I usually do a bit of yoga or a set of crunches. I talk myself out of it sometimes, but I do it often enough that yoga during steeping has become a secondary habit.

    I’ve tried to apply this idea to language study, though I haven’t found the perfect pairing yet. With one exception: when I do my crunches, I count in French.

    I’ll keep experimenting—and I’ll update you on my progress as I build stronger French study habits.

  • Welcome to Tracing North

    My recent travels to Atlantic Canada piqued my curiosity about the Acadian and Québécois roots that run through both my husband’s family and mine. Although our heritage differs—his Polish and Acadian, mine Irish, German, Danish, and Acadian/Québécois—our matrilineal lines share a history of migration from France to Atlantic Canada to New England.

    This blog, Tracing North: Towards my Acadian and Québécois roots | Vers mes racines acadiennes et québécoises, will document my journey northward. I will explore three intertwined paths—genealogy, language, and history. Through genealogy, I hope to learn more about where my ancestors came from. I want to understand how their circumstances shaped the generations that followed. My French language study will help me read and understand French language resources. History will explain the broader forces—migration, displacement, resilience—that defined the Acadian and Québécois experience in New England. 

    I grew up knowing only a little about this part of my family. My grandfather died when my mother was very young, so I never knew him. I invite you to follow along as I learn and document what it means to discover a cultural lineage.