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Monday, January 17th, 2011

The English language fascinates me. Unlike French or Italian, English lacks a lyrical or sensual structure, even when coming out of Kiera Knightly. Yet, whenever I think I should really learn another language I’m reminded how much I really don’t know my first one.

I don’t remember learning English. I’m sure I was full of questions about it, but I truly have no memories of asking about a word or learning a new phrase. For me, vocabulary exercises are linked to those specially hellish memories of classes which couldn’t end fast enough. Yet, now that we’re spending time parroting things for my son I’ve gained a new perspective on the enormous mountain of learning associated with English. In fact, maybe I need to learn something else because the scale can’t be larger than the jumbled mess of rules and exceptions which make up my native tongue.

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