Separated by a common language

Whilst my Arabic has fallen by the wayside recently, due to end-of-the-year craziness and Madame L going on maternity leave, I have been keeping up with my other language project: learning enough Australian English to communicate effectively with my humanities teaching buddy, Aussie. (Note the extremely effective use of "whilst" in the topic sentence of this paragraph.)

In the same way we all discovered regional differences in American English with those "pop" vs "soda" discussions during our freshman years of college, international Anglophones never tire of pointing out national variations in that worldwide linguistic stew known as English (see the graphic above for a comprehensive overview). As usual, Americans come in dead last in knowledge of other people's English, whilst they know plenty about ours, thanks to TV and movies. So, Aussie didn't need me to tell her that Americans say parking lot instead of carpark, but I sure as shootin' was surprised when she referred to an eraser as a rubber. Let's not even get started on how startling it is for Australians to hear us speak of fanny packs.

Over the course of this year, I have developed a profound admiration of Australian English as a language, if not an accent (though there's nothing wrong with the accent either). That country's mastery of the unique and descriptive turn of phrase goes far beyond the chipper exclamations you've heard from any crocodile-ish export (both Hunter and Dundee). It's contagious, too, like the very best slang always is. Aussie has been a patient teacher, favoring the full immersion method. In other words, she just talks like she always does, and I pick up what I can. Usually, it's a mix of California and Victoria (Aussie is from Melbourne), such as the following phrase I uttered in public just today:

Me: Hey mate! What up? I just saw that lesson on introductions you put together. Ripper! Let's roll it out tomorrow.

Disclaimer: please understand that I do NOT' now speak with an Australian accent (in the least). I sound the same way I always do. This is an entry about sharing vocabulary, not butchering other people's speech patterns.

And speaking of butchering, as with all languages, there are some words that non-native speakers just can't pull off no matter how hard they try. "Bloody hell," for example, is impossible to pronounce properly with an American accent. Sometimes I use it, for effect, but I have no illusions about how bizarre it sounds. Aussie can pull off an excellent "dude," though she sounds a bit awkward when she says "roll it out" (A phrase she finds hilarious and can't stop using...who knew?)

The other two 6th grade teachers, as regular readers know, are Ocanada, who says "a-boot" and "oot" with the best of 'em, and the RET (the T is for Texan), whose use of colorful Southisms is often stunning. And, as many Southerners do, she refers to every carbonated beverage as a Coke. I'm sad that Aussie is moving up to high school next year, to be replaced by another American. There goes the need for Who's-on-first-style discussions about school supplies. (In Australian, binders are called folders, and folders are called file pockets and agendas are called diaries...and you can see why it took two hours to hammer out the supply list.)

I'm sure some of you have international Anglophone stories to add to the mix, classics like the various meanings of the word "pissed" (angry in American and Canadian; drunk in British, Irish and Australian); and "knocked up" (pregnant in American; the action of knocking on someone's door to visit them in British) and others more obscure. Do share and add to the endless conversation...perhaps the only thing that truly unites us.