French Fluency or Bust? New Language Rules Spark Debate in Québec

Is saying “Bonjour!” enough to renew your visa? Québec might think so, if recent proposals are any indication. In late 2025, the ongoing debate over language and integration in Québec has kicked into high gear, with the provincial government pushing bold new French-language requirements on newcomers. The Coalition Avenir Québec (CAQ) government isn’t just tweaking immigration numbers – it’s making fluency in French a centerpiece of its immigration policy. From a law that limits English public services for new immigrants to a plan requiring temporary foreign workers to speak French to keep their jobs, these measures have ignited both applause and anxiety across the province. Supporters argue such rules are essential to protect Québec’s francophone identity. Critics worry they will drive away much-needed talent and leave newcomers feeling unwelcome. This long-form post explores the buzz around Québec’s new language rules, how they affect daily life for newcomers, and why everyone’s talking about French fluency (or else) as we head into 2026.

Protecting la Langue: A Brief Context

Québec has a long history of defending the French language. Ever since the 1977 Charter of the French Language (Bill 101) made French the predominant language of work, education, and public life, language laws have been a defining feature of Québec society. Fast-forward to 2022, when the CAQ government passed Bill 96, officially titled “An Act respecting French, the official and common language of Québec.” Bill 96 doubled down on Bill 101’s goals, declaring French “the common language of the Quebec nation” and “the language of integration”migrationpolicy.org. The law established new rights like access to French language learning services, and crucially, set limits on the use of English in public services and workplaces. For instance, as of 2022, all businesses with 25 or more employees must operate primarily in French (lowering the threshold from 50 employees) and comply with strict francization rules by June 1, 2025 galileopartners.cagalileopartners.ca. Companies have to translate employment documents, provide French training materials, and ensure French is the default language in the workplace. Employers can no longer require knowledge of another language (like English) for a job unless it’s truly essential. These changes, fully in force by mid-2025, mean even small firms in Québec have had to scramble to “prioritize French in workplace communications, job offers, customer service” and more cfib-fcei.ca.

On the public service side, Bill 96 introduced what many newcomers jokingly call the “six-month rule.” This provision mandates that six months after an immigrant’s arrival, government services will be provided only in French, except for emergencies, health care, or matters of natural justicemigrationpolicy.org. In other words, new immigrants get a six-month grace period during which they can access, say, provincial forms or help lines in English (or another language), but after that it’s French uniquement. This measure, intended to encourage rapid francization, has been contentious. Even some business leaders have called it “an unrealistic deadline” given everything newcomers face on arrival. We’ll hear more on that shortly.

Bill 96 and its associated regulations set the stage: in Québec, French is not just the official language, it’s the default expectation. By law, it’s the language of government, commerce, work, and public life. But the CAQ government didn’t stop at Bill 96. In 2025, with French still in perceived decline and immigration on the rise, Québec’s leaders began ratcheting up the pressure on newcomers to integrate en français faster than ever.

Raising the Bar: CAQ’s New French Language Proposals

This year brought a flurry of new proposals linking immigration status to French proficiency, sparking heated debate. The most headline-grabbing idea came in June 2025, when Immigration Minister Jean-François Roberge unveiled Québec’s proposed immigration plan for 2026–2029. Among the measures was a first-of-its-kind requirement: temporary foreign workers (TFWs) would need to attain a minimum level of French to renew their work permits. Essentially, Québec wants those on temporary status to prove they can speak French if they wish to continue working in the province beyond three years.

This proposal was part of a broader package of immigration changes. Roberge announced plans to reduce the number of temporary foreign workers in Quebec (from 72,000 down to 65,000 over four years) and cut the number in Montreal by half. He emphasized prioritizing existing temporary residents who speak French for permanent residency slots. The clear message: Québec is doubling down on a “French-first” approach to immigration. “Becoming a Quebecer is a privilege, not a right,” Roberge declared, underscoring that speaking French is key to earning that privilege.

Under the draft plan, a TFW in Québec would have up to three years (the typical work permit duration) to reach the required French level. Officials indicated the target level is roughly “Level 4” in oral French – basically the ability to carry on simple conversations on familiar topics. In practical terms, that’s intermediate proficiency (often compared to about B1 on the European scale). The rule would apply to all sectors except primary agriculture, and there’d be a transition period: although slated to take effect in late 2025, no worker would actually be denied a permit renewal for lack of French until 2028, giving current TFWs a window to prepare. Still, the prospect is daunting for many. For the first time ever, Québec is tying temporary status to language ability – a significant expansion of language requirements beyond permanent immigration.

Why is Québec doing this? The government’s rationale is that requiring French will improve integration and encourage people to stay long-term. Officials argue that language barriers slow down workplace integration, and that if TFWs speak French, they’ll be more likely to sink roots and remain in Québec rather than move elsewhere. It’s also framed as a logical extension of Québec’s mission to “promote and preserve the French language”, treating French not just as a cultural cornerstone but as a practical tool for labor force retention. In essence, Québec wants temporary workers to become permanent francophone residents.

However, even the government admits this policy could create some friction. Imposing a French test on TFWs might make Québec a less attractive destination relative to other provinces (none of which demand local language proficiency of temporary workers). In fact, Québec’s own briefing on the proposal acknowledged it may “impact business competitiveness, especially compared to other provinces that don’t require French for temporary workers”. We’ll delve more into those economic concerns later.

Language requirements are tightening across the board. It’s not only temporary workers feeling the heat; permanent immigration programs have also shifted to “French first.” The CAQ government has set a goal that by 2026 or 2027, virtually 100% of economic immigrants admitted will already know French . (Economic immigrants mean skilled workers, investors, etc., and they make up roughly two-thirds of Québec’s newcomers.) In 2023, Premier François Legault bluntly stated the aim: “By 2026, our goal is to have almost entirely Francophone economic immigration. We all have a duty, as Quebecers, to speak French, to transmit our culture daily, and to be proud of it.” . Quebec’s Immigration Minister at the time, Christine Fréchette, even quantified it: 96% of all economic immigrants should be proficient in French before arrival by 2027. In practice, this has meant raising the French language criteria in selection programs and possibly even requiring French tests for certain applicants who used to be exempt.

Meanwhile, in early 2025, Québec tabled Bill 84, a proposed law on “Québec common culture,” which while not exclusively about language, reinforced the expectation that newcomers adopt Québec’s values and language. Bill 84 declares that integration is a “shared commitment” and defines a “common culture of which the French language is the principal vehicle” . It signaled that beyond just speaking French, immigrants are expected to embrace the francophone cultural fabric. “Newcomers have a ‘moral duty’ to adhere to Quebec culture,” Minister Roberge said when introducing the bill, pointedly noting that multiculturalism may not be Québec’s approach. The government has hinted at updates to the existing immigrant values test and even making integration classes mandatory as next steps. All of these moves form a pattern: the CAQ government is putting French front and center in the immigration and integration process, more so than ever before.

For supporters of the government’s vision, these measures are the tough medicine needed to secure the future of French in Quebec. For many newcomers and businesses, though, they raise pressing questions: How hard is it to actually learn French “quickly”? What happens if you don’t? And will these rules make newcomers feel more integrated – or just more pressure? Let’s look at life on the ground under Québec’s French-first regime.

Living en Français: Newcomers on the Front Lines

For immigrants arriving in Québec, the message is clear from day one: French, French, French. Whether it’s navigating government paperwork, job hunting, or just buying groceries, newcomers find themselves immediately immersed in a French-majority environment. That’s part of the adventure of moving to Montreal, Quebec City or beyond. But the official pressure to become fluent fast adds an extra layer of stress to the newcomer experience.

Take José, a recent immigrant who arrived in Montreal in late 2024. Enrolled in a government French class within weeks, José genuinely wants to integrate. “We really want to adopt the culture,” he says of himself and fellow newcomers, “but sometimes we feel rejected by [society] because when people [hear] our French [is not] very fluent, they don’t want to speak to us.” José is trying his best – he’s even learned to say bonjour with the proper Québec accent – but breaking into francophone life is challenging. People switch to English on him (common in Montreal if someone senses you’re struggling in French), or worse, they just avoid conversation. “I opened my mind…I like to respect [the host] country’s policies and culture, and I also like to be respected,” José told a CityNews reporter, hinting at the frustration when his efforts aren’t acknowledged .

Under Bill 96’s six-month rule, by the spring of 2025 José could no longer get services in English from the provincial government. When he went to renew his RAMQ health card or asked for information at a government office, he was expected to communicate in French. “The requirement under Bill 96 to learn French within six months imposes an unrealistic deadline,” an open letter by Quebec business leaders recently argued, “as newcomers [are] juggling multiple challenges related to a life-changing move”. José would likely agree – six months flew by in a blur of finding housing, looking for work, and yes, attending French classes. He still didn’t feel confident handling official documents in French on his own. Many newcomers in Québec share that timeline stress. It’s not that they question learning French – almost everyone recognizes it’s necessary – but being expected to “get it” in a matter of months is tough. As the business leaders’ letter noted, immigrants have to “juggle multiple integration challenges” in those first months – everything from securing childcare to adapting to winter – so rapid language mastery is easier said than done.

Despite these hurdles, newcomers are working hard. Melissa Claisse, who works at a Montreal immigrant welcome center, sees it daily: “Every day I see newcomers…who work so incredibly hard to learn French quickly,” she says . In her view, the government sometimes overlooks these efforts. “I think this law sends a message to newcomers that [Quebec] doesn’t recognize those efforts.” The “law” here refers broadly to Bill 84’s ethos of requiring cultural integration and likely Bill 96’s stringent rules. Claisse worries that the rhetoric around newcomers “not integrating” ignores the reality that thousands of immigrants are attending classes, practicing with apps, and nervously using bonjours and merci’s with their new neighbors. They are trying – but fluency doesn’t happen overnight.

One of the biggest challenges is that language classes, while available, may not be sufficient or accessible. Québec does offer free French courses to new immigrants (with financial allowances in some cases). However, demand far exceeds supply. In late 2023, there were over 36,000 temporary immigrants on waitlists for a spot in a French class . Benoît Dubreuil, Québec’s French Language Commissioner, reported in 2024 that “most temporary immigrants who do not know French have not enrolled in courses… Of those who have, many have not been offered a place. And of those who did get a place, most only took part-time courses for a few months, which is not enough time to learn to speak French fluently.” . In fact, Dubreuil estimated that the total hours of instruction being delivered were only 5–6% of what would be needed for all temporary immigrants to become fluent. These statistics reveal a harsh truth: even if you’re motivated to learn, the system might not have a class seat for you.

José experienced this bottleneck firsthand. He was lucky to get into an initial course, but after finishing the beginner level, he found the next level course was full. Months went by and his name sat on a waitlist. Meanwhile, to pay rent, many newcomers like him take survival jobs – often in restaurants, warehouses or cleaning – which can conflict with class schedules. A recent analysis found a 23% dropout rate in Quebec’s workplace francization program, largely because many participants start from zero French while working full-time . Dubreuil candidly noted that the way workplace French training is offered currently does “not offer the majority of participants a realistic path to integrating into their workplace in French.” . He recommended that employers be obliged to give workers more time during work hours to attend French courses. After all, expecting someone to work 40 hours and then do intensive language classes at night is a recipe for burnout.

The government has been investing in francization (including a new centralized service called Francisation Québec to coordinate classes), but progress is slow. Dubreuil caused a stir by estimating it would cost $10 to $13 billion to bring all current temporary residents in Québec up to an intermediate French level . “Learning French takes a lot of hours – about a year of full-time study,” he pointed out. Not many adults can afford a year of full-time study, especially not temporary workers supporting families. Dubreuil floated ideas like more financial aid for students, employers giving paid time to study, even perhaps newcomers themselves reducing work hours (though that last suggestion is unrealistic for those living paycheck to paycheck) .

For many newcomers, the stakes of learning French are now higher than ever. It’s not just about fitting in socially or improving job prospects – it could determine whether they’re allowed to stay in Quebec at all. A temporary worker who doesn’t reach “Level 4 French” by 2028 might face the heartbreak of having to leave despite years in Quebec, if the CAQ’s proposal becomes regulation. “They want us to integrate faster… Francisation is not enough. A culture is part of a life; it’s not just the language and we don’t learn it overnight,” José lamented. He feels integration is a two-way street: newcomers are willing to adapt, but society needs to give them time and also actively include them. “We need more time, we need other activities and programs to actually learn the culture,” he argues. Language classes teach grammar and vocabulary, but what about making friends or understanding local jokes? Those take longer. The newcomer experience can thus be a race against the clock – to learn French, secure stable employment, and feel a sense of belonging before the goodwill (or legal status) runs out.

“French or Flight?” – Economic Fears and Talent Drain

Beyond the personal stories, Québec’s new language rules have triggered a broader debate about the province’s economic future. Will strict French requirements scare off international talent and investment? Or can Québec have its (Gateau) cake and eat it too: a vibrant economy and a fully francophone society? Opinions are sharply divided.

On one side, many business leaders and economists are sounding alarms that an overly rigid approach could drive away talent. The tech sector in particular has been vocal. In mid-2023, as Bill 96’s measures loomed, a group of Quebec tech CEOs published an open letter warning that the law could do “enormous damage to the province’s economy”. They noted that Quebec faces an “unprecedented labour shortage” and that tech companies rely on international recruitment to find highly specialized skills. If multilingual innovators feel unwelcome in Quebec due to language barriers, they won’t come – or they’ll leave for more anglophone pastures. “If the best and brightest innovators… gravitate to Toronto, Edmonton, Vancouver or Halifax instead of Montreal and Quebec City, it will do permanent damage to our province’s prosperity. This is already happening,” the letter stated bluntly. In other words, the brain drain has begun, and language laws are partly to blame.

One specific pain point for businesses is the six-month French rule for public services. The open letter described that requirement as “imposing an unrealistic deadline” on newcomers and added: “attracting newcomers to Québec is more difficult under the new language law” . The CEOs even expressed support for the spirit of protecting French, but pleaded with Premier Legault to pause implementation of Bill 96 until proper French tutoring supports are in. They argued you can’t demand integration without offering the tools to succeed – and currently, the tools (like fully ramped-up Francisation Québec services) lag behind the demands.

These business voices align with a common concern: Quebec could become isolated in the competition for global talent. A human resources commentary put it this way – “If the French language requirements under Bill 96 seem too daunting, highly qualified foreign candidates could choose to work outside of Quebec.” In fields like AI, gaming, or aerospace, the “best and brightest” often have many options. Toronto, Vancouver, or countries like the U.S. can lure them with English-only work environments. The fear is that companies in Montreal or Quebec City will lose out on hiring top engineers or researchers if those candidates worry about meeting French tests or navigating a French-only bureaucracy for their family’s healthcare and schooling.

Another voice in the debate is the small-and-medium business community. Not all SMEs have the resources to run in-house language programs or to wait months for an immigrant hire to reach fluency. A survey and open letter by a coalition of Quebec employers in 2025 indicated “employers are extremely concerned” about the impact of stricter language law on hiring preply.com. Especially for SMEs outside Montreal, finding bilingual or francophone specialists can be tough. Bill 96 also mandates that employers can’t require a new hire to know English unless absolutely necessary, which, ironically, can make it harder to hire immigrants from abroad, since you’re basically saying they must speak French instead. Some employers have resorted to offering language training as a perk: providing free French classes or hiring private tutors for their recruits. The Quebec government encourages this – it even suggests employers “should have incentive to bring in people who are not at level zero [in French]. Because once people have started to work at level zero, it’s very hard to make up the time”, as Commissioner Dubreuil commented. Indeed, many businesses are now investing in corporate French training to help foreign hires meet the new bar. But for smaller firms or startups, that’s a significant burden to carry on top of everything else.

On the other side of the debate, supporters of the CAQ’s language-first strategy argue that these economic fears are overblown – or at least, that protecting French is worth some economic trade-off. They point to signs that without strong measures, French will decline in Quebec, fundamentally altering the province’s character. Premier Legault has repeatedly framed it in existential terms. In 2022 he infamously remarked that significantly raising immigration levels would be “suicidal” for the French language. The data he and others cite is sobering for francophones: projections show the share of Quebec’s population with French as a mother tongue or primary home language is dropping. By 2036, francophones could be as low as 69% of the population (down from about 78% in 2021). In the greater Montreal region – where most immigrants settle – French is even less dominant; only 48% of Montreal island residents primarily spoke French at home in 2021 . With birth rates low, immigration is the main source of population growth, and if most newcomers integrate into English-speaking life, the balance could tip swiftly. For many Quebecers, especially francophone Quebecois, these trends justify taking strong action now. They feel “we must go further” than past governments did, to quote Legault.

There’s also a fairness argument made by proponents: learning French is presented as a reasonable expectation, even a duty. “We all have a duty, as Quebecers, to speak French, to transmit our culture,” Legault said, positioning existing Quebecers and new immigrants as having a shared responsibility. The CAQ government portrays French not as a barrier but as the key to fully participating in Quebec society and success. If anything, they argue, not insisting on French would be setting newcomers up for a harder life. Quebec is North America’s only majority-francophone society, they note, and maintaining that milieu is what makes Quebec unique (and arguably what justified having a distinct immigration policy in the first place).

Public opinion on these issues is split, often along linguistic lines. Polls around the time of Bill 96’s adoption showed a large majority of francophones supported stricter language laws, while anglophones and allophones strongly opposed them. In an Angus Reid survey, about 77% of francophones agreed with Bill 96’s measures, compared to only 14% of anglophones (and roughly one-third of allophones). For many French-speaking Quebecers, policies like the six-month rule or requiring French for certain jobs seem like common-sense ways to ensure newcomers join the francophone community, rather than forming parallel anglophone communities. They often point out that learning French unlocks better economic opportunities in Quebec too – after all, high-paying public sector jobs and many professional roles require it. In their eyes, encouraging immigrants to stick to English would relegate many to a kind of second-class status in Quebec’s job market.

Some Quebecers also bristle at the suggestion that these policies are unwelcoming. They would counter that Quebec offers a wealth of integration support – free language classes, cultural orientation, etc. – and that newcomers are indeed welcome, just on the condition that they make an effort to learn the local language. In a sense, the debate boils down to competing visions of integration: One side emphasizes accommodation (e.g., provide services in English, accept bilingualism, let people take time to adjust), the other emphasizes assimilation or “interculturalism” (e.g., insist on French quickly so that immigrants become part of the French-speaking majority). Québec’s current government firmly leans toward the latter.

Finding the Balance: Integration in Practice

Caught between these viewpoints, what is actually happening on the ground? Quebec in late 2025 is essentially running a real-time experiment in integration policy. New measures are being rolled out, their impacts debated, and adjustments considered.

For one, the Quebec government has recognized that support must accompany requirements. The creation of Francisation Québec, a one-stop agency to handle all French course registrations and language integration programs, is a step to fix the previously fragmented system. The government is also investing in expanding class capacity (though, as noted, waitlists persist). Dubreuil, the language commissioner, recommended standardized courses with measurable outcomes and better access, and those recommendations are on the table . There’s even talk of leveraging technology – more online classes or apps – to reach busy workers. So, while the stick (rules and consequences) has been highly publicized, the carrot (improved learning opportunities) is slowly being worked on.

Employers, for their part, are trying to adapt constructively. Many larger companies now offer corporate French training programs to help newcomers hit the required proficiency. This can range from paying for private tutors, to setting up in-house class sessions during lunch hours, to giving employees a few hours a week off work to study. Some have gotten creative with immersion: for instance, pairing new non-francophone hires with francophone “buddies” in the office who will speak only French with them for practice. A few companies even offer incentives like bonuses or raises for employees who achieve certain French certifications. The open letter from tech leaders mentioned that employers are “ready to support cultural integration… by bringing French teachers into the office” – but lamented that “this type of support is difficult to obtain” widely. Small companies can’t easily afford that, and even big ones might struggle to find enough qualified French instructors to come to workplaces. Nonetheless, it’s encouraging to see some in the private sector stepping up to make the government’s French-before-renewal rule more attainable in practice.

Newcomers themselves are also finding their own ways to cope. Peer support networks and community organizationshave become lifelines. Groups like the Welcome Collective (where Melissa Claisse works) connect newcomers with volunteers and mentors who can practice French with them in casual settings – over a coffee or while doing a joint activity. There are also informal conversation circles in many neighborhoods, often hosted at local libraries or community centers, where immigrants can practice French in a friendly, no-judgment zone. These aren’t government-run, but they fill a crucial gap by providing that cultural immersion José talked about – learning the culture, not just the language textbooks. For example, a conversation circle might discuss hockey or Quebec music, helping newcomers pick up references that locals grow up with.

Meanwhile, advocacy continues. Opposition politicians and immigrant advocacy groups in Quebec argue that integration should be incentivized rather than enforced punitively. They suggest ideas like “offer more incentives to asylum seekers and all new arrivals for francization” (as one opposition member, Guillaume Cliche-Rivard, put it). This could include higher stipends for attending full-time language school, or fast-tracking permanent residence for those who demonstrate French proficiency and commitment to staying in Quebec. There’s also pressure on the federal government: Quebec has asked Ottawa to adjust federal programs, for instance by adding a French requirement to certain temporary worker streams. (It’s worth noting the federal government in 2024 did impose a nationwide cap on temporary residents due to housing pressures, and Quebec is leveraging that to also demand language considerations.)

As of November 2025, the public consultations on Quebec’s 2026–2029 immigration plan (the one with the new French requirements) have wrapped. The government is expected to publish its finalized plan soon. It will reveal whether they stick to the most hardline ideas or soften some aspects based on feedback. Given the split opinions, we may see some compromises. For example, the threshold of French proficiency for TFWs might be fine-tuned, or more exceptions carved out for industries struggling to hire. The implementation timeline could also adjust if businesses and newcomers say they need more time.

One idea floated is a “French learning visa” extension – essentially, if a worker’s permit is expiring and they haven’t reached the required French level yet, they could get a one-time short extension solely to continue French studies (without work rights during that period). This would acknowledge effort and avoid outright expulsion of someone who is on the cusp of fluency. It’s not official policy, but such creative solutions are being discussed in policy circles as ways to humanize the requirements.

Embracing French, Finding Belonging

For newcomers in Québec, the path to belonging inevitably winds through French language. The new rules make that path steeper, but not impassable. Many immigrants have succeeded in becoming fluently bilingual, if not trilingual, and contribute richly to Quebec society. Their stories often involve a mix of formal classes and informal practice – and almost always, a helping hand from local Quebecers who welcomed their halting attempts at French. As José insightfully noted, “A culture is part of a life… we don’t learn it overnight.” Culture and language are intertwined, and integration is a gradual process.

Quebec’s debate in 2025 isn’t just about language tests and laws; it’s about what kind of society Quebec wants to be. Is it a place that patiently teaches you to say « Bonjour » and welcomes you when you try, or a place that demands you speak perfect French at the door? The answer, depending on who you ask, could be either. Public opinion remains divided, and even within the immigrant community there are varying perspectives – some newcomers wholeheartedly embrace the push to learn French as quickly as possible, while others feel it’s an undue burden during an already stressful life transition.

One thing is certain: the conversation isn’t going away. French fluency in Québec is more than a linguistic issue; it’s wrapped up in identity, economics, and politics. Late 2025 has brought this into sharp focus with tangible policy proposals. As the government moves forward with its plan, expect continued debates and perhaps adjustments along the way.

For those who have chosen Quebec as their new home, the best advice might be a blend of pragmatism and open-mindedness: Take advantage of every opportunity to learn French, but also don’t be afraid to kindly insist on your dignity as you integrate. Use the free classes, join a conversation group, practice with colleagues over lunch. It’s normal to make mistakes (even lifelong Quebecers still argue about French grammar!). Most locals appreciate the effort and will support you – after all, many Quebecois know what it’s like to learn a second language (English) and can empathize.

And for Quebec society at large, a bit of empathy in return can go a long way. The more that newcomers feel encouragedrather than coerced, the more they’ll develop that personal attachment to French. In a way, achieving the government’s goal of a French-speaking Quebec might rely as much on bonjour and smiles as on laws and regulations.

Late-night talk shows and newspaper op-eds in Montreal these days toggle between joking about absurd scenarios (“Will we have ‘French police’ checking accents at Tim Hortons?”) and serious reflections (“How do we ensure French thrives without closing ourselves off?”). It’s a real-time, living debate. As we approach 2026, one might say Québec is at a linguistic crossroads, trying to secure the future of its past (the French language) while navigating the realities of globalization and diversity.

In the end, whether it’s « Bonjour, Hi » or just « Bonjour » at the shops, Quebecers and newcomers will keep negotiating how they live together. The hope among many is that with goodwill on all sides, Quebec can remain a francophone stronghold and a welcoming place for people from around the world. It’s a delicate balance – French fluency or bust is a provocative slogan, but the reality on the ground will likely be more nuanced. One thing’s for sure: anyone coming to Québec in 2025 knows that learning French isn’t just a hobby, it’s practically a survival skill. But as thousands of successfully integrated immigrants can attest, it’s a skill that opens doors to truly feel at home in La Belle Province.