Taking the DELF B2 Examination: What to Know and Expect

Me, headed into my first day of testing for the DELF B2. I felt even more nervous than I looked. December 14, 2021.

Less than a week before I took the DELF B2 examination, for which I’d frantically prepared over months, someone told me most people fail the test. He said he knew this from his own personal experience, as he’d failed it the first time and barely passed it on the second try.

This conversation did not build my confidence (and at a time when I needed all the confidence I could muster).

Because I don’t like surprises, preferring to go into everything with my eyes as wide open about what to expect as possible, I figured that I’d write up my experiences taking the DELF B2 for anyone else venturing into the same arena.

What’s the DELF B2 Examination?

The DELF/DALF tests come in all official European languages to officially measure competency according to the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages. (Note: They have different names in other languages; the abbreviation for the name of the test in French gives it its acronym in francophone regions.)

The language levels—and the tests—range from the A1 level through the C2 level, with A1 and A2 considered “beginner,” B1 and B2 considered “early intermediate” and “advanced intermediate,” and the C levels considered “mastery.”

All DELF/DALF tests take places over two dates, one of which addresses the oral portion of the test and the other covering the written sections. However, the time the test takes and the level of demand required for each test depends on the test’s level. The higher the DELF/DALF level, the harder and more complex the test and the grading scales.

The oral portion of the DELF B2 test involves giving a structured presentation on a topic chosen thirty minutes beforehand at random, after which you will discuss the topic in a debate or discussion with the examiner or examiners who listened to your speech.

The written portions include a test to assess how well you can understand oral French across a series of different recordings, a test to see how fully you comprehend and can interpret written French as provided in different texts, and a test of your writing ability in French, which requires you to understand not only how to structure arguments and use the correct format for the piece demanded in the prompt provided, but to use the correct spelling, accents, and a varied vocabulary. The written test segments take place in a row, all on one day, and in the listed order.

Grading for the DELF/DALF tests takes a few different forms and has qualitative (whether you got the question correct or incorrect) and quantitative aspects (whether the examiners determine that you did or did not meet the objectives listed).

Each of the tests has a minimum score you must achieve, below which you fail not only that segment of the test, but the entire examination. You cannot fail one section of the test, pass the other sections, and then simply take the failed section over again. You will need to take the entire test over again if this happens to you.

In addition to achieving a minimum score on each section of the test, you must achieve a certain overall total score across all tests. Therefore, you cannot get the minimum passing score across all examination sections and succeed.

For the DELF B2 examination, each portion of the test has 25 possible points, and you must get at least 5 points on a section to pass it. However, to pass the overall test, you must get at least 50 points (the overall combined possible score comes to 100).

What to Expect in Signing up for the DELF Examination

You can’t take the DELF exam (at any level) anytime you want or anywhere you want.

First, you need to find an examination center—you’ll discover fewer than you expect—and review its exam schedule as far in advance as possible. The DELF and DALF exams only take place three or four times a year. (Not kidding.) And each testing center has slightly different dates.

Further, as each test has a limited number of spaces available, you will need to register far in advance of the date—and far in advance of the application deadline, if you want to have a greater chance of getting a spot.

I cannot emphasize finding an examination center, learning the dates for its examinations, and registering for your exam as early as possible more strongly—especially if you need your examination results in time for something like a job, university application, or citizenship dossier. Note that, from what my examination center told me, it will take four to five weeks to receive my unofficial results and I will need to wait six to ten months to receive my official diploma. (In the end, it took 4.5 months from my exam date for the examination center to have my diploma available for me to pick up.)

I struggled to find an examination center in a city convenient to me. I could not find an authorized DELF/DALF testing center for French in Lausanne, my home base. I ended up needing to travel two and a half hours each way by public transportation to get to the testing center on the two days of my examinations. (Added stress during an already stressful process? You betcha.)

I sent in my paperwork (and registration money) to sign up for the examination three months in advance of the listed examination date. The testing center said that it would not confirm my registration until approximately ten days before the examination, which meant I had to prepare frantically for an examination that I didn’t know whether I’d get to take in the timeframe planned. Further, though I had the dates for the written examinations when I sent in my paperwork, the center said that it would not give me the date and time for my oral examination until it confirmed my test registration.

As it played out, I received my registration confirmation and my date and time for the oral-production examination exactly thirteen days before the oral examination (which came, in my case, before the written examinations).

Up until that confirmation, I did not receive any communication from the testing center confirming receipt of my paperwork or anything else. Worried that my information had gotten lost in transit, I followed up to confirm receipt two weeks after having sent it, at which point I learned that the wire transfer of my examination fee hadn’t arrived. I resent the wire and sent a follow-up e-mail with a transfer receipt, yet I received no confirmation or further communication in response. Talk about nerve-wracking.

When I received my confirmation of registration and my date and time for the oral examination, the testing center told me what to bring (my registration paperwork and a government-issued identification), but didn’t tell me what it permitted me to bring into the examination rooms (e.g., could I bring paper, writing and marking materials, water and a snack?) or give me instructions on how to find the examination center other than an address for where to go for the oral exam and where to go for the written exams. (Yes, these took place in two different buildings, albeit on the same campus.)

In other words, don’t expect any hand holding or much by way of communication from your testing facility.

Let the Exams Begin: The Oral Examination

I had my oral examination first in the series, two days before the written set of examinations.

I’d feared the oral examination the most, as I felt that my oral communication lagged far behind my other language capabilities (which my French teacher had confirmed, though not in an unencouraging way). I prepared for this section of the test more than for the others.

Yet when the test week arrived and the day arrived and then I finally made it to the testing center, I still felt very, very stressed.

The center had two rooms set up for the examination: one room for preparation and the other room for the presentation and discussion.

The Oral Exam Preparation Portion

Upon entering the first room, the proctor asked me to leave everything other than a single pen in a safe space. Though I asked, I could not bring extra blank sheets of paper or my highlighters with me—though the proctor did allow me to bring my water bottle when I asked. Next, I needed to show the proctor my official examination registration and a government-issued picture identification before signing next to my name on a provided list of registrants taking the exam. The proctor then explained to me the nature and the process of the examination. (Fortunately, everything she explained mirrored what I’d read on-line and in the DELF books I had used for preparation—so no surprises there.)

At the end of the table in the preparation room, the proctor had scattered slips of paper face down. The proctor asked me to pick two and gave me a few minutes to skim them both and choose one for my presentation. She then invited me to sit down at a place where she had placed blank sheets of paper for me to use to prepare my presentation. She handed me a form with my name on it, which she instructed me to give to the examiners at the time of my presentation.

The subjects of the two topics I received covered professional networking and slowing down cars in school-crossing zones. Though I could have spoken on either, I’ve spent many years in the corporate world, so I felt most comfortable giving my thoughts and opinions on business connections. (I lucked out on my topic options. I’d have had a much harder time with subjects about the French educational or legal systems, which I’d had crop up in my practice exams.)

The proctor then showed me the clock on the wall and told me I had thirty minutes to prepare. I took every minute provided. Two other people came in for their examination preparation during my thirty minutes of frantic brainstorming and note-scribbling and the testing center had a lot of noise in the hallway and even on the sidewalks outside the preparation room that stressed my focus—but I couldn’t do much about it. I really wished I had my highlighters to help distinguish my key points on my note sheet, as underlining didn’t seem like enough emphasis to catch the eye at a quick glance and I didn’t have enough time to create a second sheet with just a few keywords for each segment of my monologue.

I thought the proctor would return to flag me after my thirty-minute window, but when she didn’t come back and one of the other people in the room preparing with me got up to leave the room for the hallway, I wondered if I had the responsibility to keep to the thirty-minute window and exit the room when my time ended. I followed the other test taker out of the room, as I’d hit the time limit. The proctor, standing in the hallway, asked if we had finished. When we said yes, the other woman said I could go first. (I now wonder whether, if I’d demurred, I’d have had more time in the hallway waiting for my turn, thinking back through my notes.)

The Oral Examination Presentation

In the second room, I found two examiners. One took my identification paper and invited me to sit down. Both examiners had warm and welcoming attitudes, which helped me relax a bit—though only a bit. (My nerves had already forced me to scatter all my papers and belongings all over the floor of the other room, so… yeah.)

I did not find a wall clock, which would have helped me better time and pace the presentation portion of the oral examination without having to glance down at an analog watch—which I hadn’t thought to wear. All I could do is hope I took at least the minimum amount of time required.

The primary examiner (I call her such mainly because she said she’d lead the interaction—and did) explained the format of the presentation (again, nothing surprising, as I’d read up on it already). I asked whether I should keep or remove my mask and she said that I needed to keep it on and that they would ask me to repeat anything they could not understand. (Thank you, COVID times, for forcing me to give an oral presentation in a foreign language in a face mask.) She then prompted me to begin. I had only my notes, the slip of paper with the presentation-prompting paragraph, and my pen.

My nervousness didn’t help my fluidity for the presentation portion—a format I’d consider awkward in any situation and even in my native language.

The Oral Examination Debate and Discussion Segment

Once I’d finished my presentation, the primary examiner confirmed with me that I had finished and then we passed on to the dialogue portion of the examination. The primary examiner asked most of the questions, though the secondary examiner had a few questions for me as well. I tried to engage both examiners with eye contact and by directing responses to each—and I hope beyond hope I maintained the formal form and the necessary politesse. I’d guess I received about four or five questions in total.

Though I’d heard that I should prepare for difficult queries wherein the examiners challenged my positions, I didn’t get any questions that directly pushed against what I’d said in my discourse. I received mainly questions that asked me to explain more about my personal experience and the opinions I’d expressed.

I understood all inquiries the first time (without needing to ask to have the question repeated) and I felt as though I’d answered them reasonably well. (Note: I find dialogues in any language far easier than monologues. Exchanges just feel more relaxed and natural to me.)

Did I find the oral production examination harder or easier than expected?

Difficult to say. I lucked out on the topic, no question. I felt at ease with the subject and had a lot of experiences to share, which helped my confidence a bit. However, my nerves still caused me to get tangled with my thoughts, my pronunciation, and my verb conjugation.

The examiners signaled me when they had finished their questioning, thanked me for my time, took the sheet of notes I’d created for my presentation—promising not to read or grade it, but to simply destroy it so that, I suppose, I couldn’t give it to someone else to use (not that anyone else could have read my panicked handwriting)—and wished me a good day.

I walked out of the room, collected my bags, and left the exam center to make the trek home. On the train, I reviewed the grading system for the oral test to see how I felt I did… and I still couldn’t really feel certain of anything. I thought I’d probably passed, but not with particularly high marks; I guessed I maybe received 12.5-15 out of the eligible 25 points.

How did I actually do, when the scores came in? I received 20 points out of the section’s possible 25 points. Better than I’d thought!

And the Exams Continue: The Written Examinations

The written examinations happened two days after the oral examinations, on the same overall school campus but in a different building.

About half the people taking the test rushed into the examination room at the very last minute and out of breath, as they’d had trouble finding the examination room. Thankfully, I’d arrived well in advance—and I recommend you do the same. (Note: All these almost-late people had already taken the oral examination. Therefore, like me, they had some concept of the campus. So even if you think you know where to go, err on the side of caution and arrive as early as possible. Panic doesn’t set up anyone for success.)

As the written examination happened in an active school (filled with rowdy teenagers) in a classroom typically dedicated to adolescents, it had a strong high-school vibe: traditional individual desks, a white board at the front, and a bigger desk at the head of the room for the teacher. The exam proctor used the teacher’s desk as her base, from which she gave instructions and occasionally launched a walking tour of the room to check for cheating and hand out extra blank scratch paper.

When I arrived and signed in—providing, as on the first day, an official identification card and the form showing my registration for the examination, after which the two people overseeing the examination process allowed me to sign a paper next to my name—the proctor told me to find the desk with my name taped onto it and to take a seat. She instructed me to turn off my cell phone and then to put it, along with all personal belongings other than a pen, at the back of the room (far out of anyone’s reach).

I’d worn an analog watch for this examination, remembering that the room for the presentation and debate portion of the oral examination didn’t have one, and I didn’t want to get caught not knowing how much time I had left for each of the three written exam sections. Fortunately, the room had a wall clock.

The proctor handed out the examination packets and instructed us to fill out the bottom portion with our name and our number, which the testing center had taped above our name on our assigned desks. I wish I had waited to complete the form until I needed a break to think during the exam or even until after the examination time had passed—filling out your name and number doesn’t count against the examination time—rather than filling it out immediately. I could have used the few minutes provided for some deep breaths.

The Oral-Comprehension Examination

Though I’d had a lot more confidence for the written portion of the examination than I had for the oral portion, I found my nerves firing so ferociously that I couldn’t focus at all on the first recording the proctor played for the oral-comprehension examination.

In fact, I had the distinct feeling that I hadn’t understood a word of the recording, which only provoked deeper panic. It didn’t help that the examination center had given out a test in the old format—which all testing centers will have entirely phased out by 2023—and that I had mostly done practice tests for the new format.

I almost gave up in that moment and left the room—because if you fail one portion of the test, you fail them all. And at this rate, I couldn’t possibly pass the oral-comprehension examination.

Fortunately, when the first recording played for the second time, I’d calmed down enough to catch the dialogue between the recording’s interviewer and the interviewee. (Clearly, my problem with understanding the playback came solely due to my test-induced panic. Fortunately, I listen to a lot of podcasts in French.) I felt like I could answer the questions on the examination form successfully—if I’d only had more time before the second recording to fill it all in. I focused on answering the simplest questions and the questions that didn’t require me to write a sentence or two in response, so that I could get the most points possible from the multiple-choice questions in the limited time I had.

I fully understood the second recording, which the proctor played only once. My guess is that I gained most of my points from the oral-comprehension examination via the second recording. I just had to hope I’d gained enough points overall to give me at least a bare-minimum pass.

In terms of topics, the first clip contained an interview with a scientist researching language development in prenatal and early-childhood situations. It had background music and a lot of static throughout the recording—intentional, I believe, to make it harder for people without trained ears to comprehend. The second recording had an interview with someone who had started a ride-sharing company, explaining his inspiration for the business. It had far less background noise and a much shorter length.

In the final accounting on the ride home, I figure I squeaked by with at least the minimum number of points for the oral comprehension section (5), and guessed I’d received between 8-10 total out of the 25 possible points. The concern: Would I have received enough points on the other sections to make up for the low score on this section?

When I received my scores, I did better than I’d expected: I received 15.5 points out of the eligible 25 for the oral comprehension section. Better than half—though I still wonder what I could have gotten if I hadn’t panicked in the beginning and completely missed the first playback of the initial recording.

The Written-Comprehension Examination

For the written-comprehension portion, I can only figure that the test creators choose clips from texts that they then mashed together into a somewhat random, disjointed, nonlinear composite. If not, they choose poorly written and poorly organized texts on purpose.

And I can say this as someone who has—of all the things she’s done in French—read a lot of French.

Test takers get an hour for the written-comprehension portion of the test. For the format of test I received, I had two texts of about five-hundred words each in a newspaper-ish style (without photos), followed by a mix of multiple-choice, essay-response, and true-false questions that required support from recopying the relevant portion of the text into the line below it.

Topic-wise, I had one mish-mash of an “article” about research and theory into animals that work, including whether we can apply the concept of work to animals or whether “work” has application only to humans. The second jumbled compilation of paragraphs addressed exercise regimes via physician prescription, their possible benefits to society, and how to develop, encourage, and pay for these programs.

I didn’t need the full hour for this portion of the test, though I can tell they asked questions that intentionally tried to confuse us or required us to interpret phrases in a way that the exam reviewers would have to grade subjectively.

For that reason, though I felt relatively confident in my success with the written-comprehension test, I don’t think I soared through it in such a way that I’d get all possible 25 points. I guessed I’d get 20 points out of the possible 25.

When the scores came in, I’d actually done better than I’d thought: I received 23.5 points out of the possible 25 points for the written-comprehension test.

The Written-Production Examination

The proctor had formally prompted us to move on from the oral-comprehension section to the written-comprehension section, so I thought we would get the same prompt for the transition between the written-comprehension and the written-production sections.

However, I noticed that my neighbor had started writing frantically before the hour had passed for the written-comprehension test. As only five minutes remained between the written-comprehension and written-production sections, and as the proctor walked by, saw my neighbor in action, and said nothing, I decided to go ahead and get started. I’d heard that you can structure your time between the written-production and -comprehension sections however you like—and I guess you can, based on my experience.

Though I have a reasonable comfort level with reading and writing in French, I needed every minute I had for the written-production portion of the test. Not because I struggled with what to say or how to structure it, but because I wanted to have a rough draft to recopy in neater handwriting, and creating and organizing a rough draft and then recopying it in my best handwriting—who even writes that much by hand anymore?—took what felt like forever. I barely had time to get the recopying done before the proctor called the end of the examination time. I did not have time to reread my recopied text to check it for any needed corrections (though I had checked and corrected my rough draft).

I’d most hoped that I wouldn’t get a formal letter to write. In true Murphy’s Law fashion, I got a formal letter to write. I’m thoroughly glad I’d reviewed all the guidance around written forms of politesse in French—because I’d have gotten dinged on points for not following the required letter format otherwise. The prompt asked me to write a letter to my boss about a professional development opportunity I had learned about in a staff meeting.

Did I pass the written production section of the DELF B2 examination? I guess that I probably did—but I cannot imagine I got anywhere close to a perfect score. The French are very particular about how their language is written, and I didn’t have the time I’d have liked to review and correct my accents and punctuation in my final draft. I guessed I’d receive a 20 out of the possible points.

When I received my scores, I’d guessed exactly correct: For the written-production test, I’d received a 20 out of the 25 eligible points.

How I Prepared for the DELF B2 Exam

For a full review of the resources I used to learn French, including what programs, classes, and tools I took and used, click through to read this article.

As for how I prepared specifically for the B2 DELF examination, I worked with a private teacher to prepare for the format of the examination, to learn how to approach it, and to coach me through the different test segments via practice examinations. In addition, I purchased a book with further practice tests to go through on my own. I’d estimate I spent about five to seven hours per week preparing for the test for the three months leading up to the test. (This time does not include the time studying French in general. This counts time spent specifically on my DELF B2 preparation.)

Given that I’d had more opportunity to read, write, and listen to things in French and less time to speak it, my teacher and I mainly focused on the oral production section of the test in our time together. (Side note: Click here for a list of novels I read in French, by CEFRL level. For a list of the podcasts I listened to at different stages of my language-learning journey, click here.)

My French teacher tells me that she advises people to spend one year of study (at a reasonable level of intensity) for each DELF/DALF level. Therefore, if I hadn’t had such a focus on getting it done as quickly as possible (and COVID hadn’t made it easier to do nothing other than work and study French), it should have taken me four years of studying French to pass the DELF B2 examination.

Did I Pass?

In short: Yes!

Before I got my results, I absolutely did not know whether I’d passed the overall DELF B2 exam. My gut told me that I’d received at least the minimum note to pass for the oral examination and the reading and writing examinations. I hoped that I’d gotten at least the minimum required score for the oral-comprehension examination. And if I did get the minimum score for the oral-comprehension test, I desperately hoped that I’d managed to receive enough points on the other portions of the examination to give me the minimum overall score to pass.

The different tests, the different scoring scales, and the subjectivity of scoring meant that I had far too many moving parts to evaluate to know anything for certain about my success or failure on the overall exam.

Fortunately, I received more than half the points on all the examinations for the DELF B2 diploma, with an overall score of 79 points out of the total possible 100 points.

And what a relief, because I cannot imagine having to take it again!

P.S.—Learning French? If you’re interested in the resources I’ve used to learn French—or in stories about my language-learning journey—click here.

P.P.S.—A final note: If you found this article helpful in learning what to expect when you take the DELF/DALF, consider buying me a coffee. It helps me keep this site free (and free of advertising)!