English for Insane People

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I understand this disdain for my profession. I know that English classes are tough. I know that literature can be hard to understand (for example, why is it that NO piece of poetry ever written lets a tree simply be a tree, rather than the poet’s symbolic representation of humanity’s hatred of its parents?). I know that writing an A-quality essay is more difficult than saying the words "President Barack Obama" without spitting up your adult beverage. Knowing all this, let me offer my sincere apology to both English- and French-speaking Canadians by saying: “Hey, it’s not MY fault the English language sucks!” I’m kidding, of course. The English language doesn’t suck. The English language, despite all of its quirks and difficulties, despite its crazy spelling and grammar rules, despite its weird pronunciations, REALLY sucks. And it’s even worse for French Canadians than for us native English speakers. If I were to enroll in one of those “English for Insane People Who Actually Think They Can Ever Learn This Language” courses, all the professor would have to do would be to write these three words on the board:

• THOUGH
• THROUGH
• THOUGHT

And then try to explain why each word is pronounced the way it is. At that point I would turn around, walk out the door, and return to Quebec and spend the rest of my life telling my friends and neighbors that it’s no wonder English-speaking Canadians are so weird; their language slowly drives them all insane. And it does drive us insane. How are we supposed to stay clear-headed when we have to decide whether we went THROUGH a tunnel or THREW the tunnel, whether to rob a bank would be to BRAKE the law or BREAK the law, or whether I can HERE the music or HEAR the music. This especially drives us English professors insane, because we are supposed to be the guardians of the language. And to be honest, I’ve had it. So I am announcing today, as an English professor, that it no longer matters how you spell or misspell any words. Just get your general point across, okay? So if you want to go brake the law, due it! Want too here some good music? Go ahead! Have ice cream for desert, go buy some knew carpeting and have a peace of pie. Get to no somebody knew by telling them you love there hare. Skip work to right a knew song, then sing it threw your lover’s bedroom window. Where your pants over your underewhere. I don’t care! But for now I’d better go. This column is do at too o’clock.

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