Why English spelling is so damn hard — Part 3

Please read Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven’t already done so.

In this third and final part, I’m going to discuss the specific difficulties faced by learners (and native speakers!) of English when it comes to spelling.

In English, the same sound can be spelt in different ways. For instance, the long -ee sound (iː) can be spelt ee (see), ea (tea), ey (key), ei (ceiling), ie (chief), y (happy), plain e (legal), and even eo in the very common word people. That’s eight possibilities, and there are probably others I’ve missed. There’s almost no logic you can apply here – there’s no rule like “this is a verb, so it must be ie” – so you have to learn the spelling of each word separately. It must be said that English isn’t the only major language with this problem. French also suffers from this, and I’ve heard that Norwegian has numerous ways of spelling the “sh” sound as in ship.

English also suffers from the opposite problem, in that the same letter, or combination of letters, can represent different sounds. This is where English differs from French. If you say a French word that I’ve never heard of, I might not know how to spell it, but if I read a new French word, I’ll very likely know how to say it. English fails, miserably, in both directions. To show you what I mean, take the word dreat. It’s a highly obscure technical term, so you probably don’t know it. How do you think it’s pronounced? To see the problem, here’s someone staying at a hotel, talking about how he plans to start the day:

A full English breakfast with a cup of Earl Grey tea? Great idea.

 

The ea combination appears five times in the sentence above, and if you listen carefully to the recording, you’ll notice that it’s pronounced a different way every time. (The ea in the word “Earl” is also affected by the following R.)

So how do you say dreat? You might expect it to rhyme with heat. But perhaps it rhymes with great. Or maybe sweat. Or who knows, something else? Here I’ve recorded some possibilities for the pronunciation of this word, and at the end of this post you’ll find out the answer.

 

Another source of difficulty are double consonants. In fact they’re a real pain. Sometimes double consonants serve a purpose – they can indicate that the preceding vowel is short (as in little), while a single consonant usually follows a long vowel (as in title). Other times, they are created by prefixes and suffixes that modify an existing word, such as in the adverb occasionally, which is formed by adding -ly to the adjective occasional. Occasionally, as with the double N in the word openness, the double letter is actually pronounced as a long consonant. It’s almost like we say the N twice. Much of the time, however, double consonants serve little purpose, as is the case with the double R in embarrass or either of the pairs of double letters in accommodate. Native speakers make mistakes with single and double consonants all the time, so don’t be too concerned if you also have difficulty with them. At the beginning of Part 1, I said that my best performer (so far) in my spelling tests is an Italian guy, and the fact that double consonants are very common in the Italian language might have been to his advantage. (In Romanian, double consonants are pretty rare.)

I wouldn’t want to go here. It would make me thirsty.

…and the sign looks so professional.

You saw the word “millennium” everywhere in the UK around the year 2000. Loads of people got it wrong.

Then we have the schwa. What’s a schwa, you ask? It’s a short, neutral vowel sound, which corresponds to the a in alone. In the International Phonetic Alphabet, or IPA, the schwa is represented by ə (an upside-down e). For all you Romanians out there, it’s close to the sound you write as ă, the main difference being that it’s sometimes stressed in Romanian but is always unstressed in English. The schwa seems so harmless, but it’s just as big a source of spelling errors among native speakers as double consonants, and here’s why. The words normal, golden, pencil, bacon and album all have the schwa sound in the second syllable, but in each case the sound is represented by a different vowel letter. You could even include y by adding zephyr (which is a word for a gentle breeze) to the list, giving us six possible representations for the schwa sound.

 

There are other possibilities too, mainly vowel combinations like the ai in mountain. This is just like the situation with the long -ee sound I talked about at the start of this post, but as the schwa is the most common sound in English (yes, really), I thought it deserved its own mention.

Last but not least, there are silent letters. As the name suggests, these are letters that make no sound at all, like the B in debt and doubt that I mentioned in Part 1, or the W in wrong and answer. Occasionally, like in debt and doubt, these letters were falsely added for etymological reasons, but mostly the letters were pronounced at one time, but aren’t anymore, and (perhaps unfortunately) the spelling hasn’t been updated to reflect that.

This series of blog posts might not have helped you much with English spelling, but I hope they’ve given you a greater appreciation (that’s with double P) of why it’s such a minefield, and make you feel less bad about it if it’s something you struggle with. Oh, and by the way, dreat is word I just made up.

Why English spelling is so damn hard — Part 2

If you haven’t yet read Part 1, please do so.

The English long vowel sounds went through some major changes. This happened gradually, over a period of about 400 years starting in the 14th century. The word time was once pronounced just like team is today, while what is now team used to be pronounced similarly to today’s tame. This process is known as the Great Vowel Shift. While the sounds shifted, the spellings of words generally didn’t, and that’s why the pronunciation of English vowels can confuse learners, even in words that are spelt in a consistent way. It also explains why, when I try and spell words to non-native speakers, they are often confused by the letters A, E and I. To complicate matters further, some words escaped the vowel shift, or only shifted partially, and that’s why road and broad don’t rhyme, and neither do bear and hear.

English spelling wasn’t standardised until the 18th century, which is relatively recent. If I’d given my students those spelling tests (see Part 1) 300 years ago, they all would have got 100%; the idea of “right” and “wrong” spelling didn’t exist then. William Shakespeare famously wrote his name in about a dozen different ways, which included just about anything you could think of except, apparently, Shakespeare itself! When spellings were eventually set in stone, they weren’t done so in any logical way. Now we might decide to put cheese in the freezer, but we could just as easily be putting cheeze in the freeser. That cheese got an S while freeze got a Z was essentially random.

There have been attempts to modify and simplify English spelling (there were several in the early 20th century) but with one notable exception, none of them have worked. English spelling has remained an untamed mess. There are reasons for this. What sort of changes would you bring in? A small one (removing silent k, say) or a transition to an entirely phonetic language, wër yoo end up wiθ sumθing laik ðis? How would people agree, on both sides of the Atlantic and everywhere else in the world where English is spoken? If New Spelling became a reality, how would you search documents or web pages that might be written in Old or New Spelling? What would happen to QWERTY keyboards? How would you deal with words that have multiple pronunciations, like vase, which I pronounce /vɑːz/ but others pronounce /veɪs/ or /veɪz/? Here you can hear all three common pronunciations of vase. All of these factors make any systematic spelling changes almost impossible to achieve. Other languages have undergone spelling reform, as Romanian did on a fairly minor scale in the early 1990s, but none of them faced the challenges that English would. The one reform that did succeed, by the way, was lexicographer Noah Webster’s changes in American English: colour became color, centre became center, and so on. But in other parts of the English-speaking world, the old spellings stayed the same.

That’s it for Part 2, but be sure to check out Part 3, where I talk about some of the specific features of English spelling that make it so confusing.

Why English spelling is so damn hard — Part 1

Warning: This post is directed at upper-intermediate and advanced learners of English.

In the past few months, I’ve given my intermediate-level students (and above) a multiple-choice spelling test. My best students have also attempted a second – harder – test, showcasing some common words that are often misspelled, even by native speakers. My students’ scores have varied quite a bit, with the average being somewhere in the 60–70% range for the first test, and 40–50% for the second. As I keep telling people, these are not terrible scores. Native speakers often struggle their whole lives with spelling, and I’m going to spend this series of three posts explaining why. (The best performer on both tests so far is a young Italian man. As you’ll see in Part 3, that might not be a coincidence.)

So just why is English spelling such a nightmare?

English is a real mish-mash. In the last 1500 years, it has acted like a vacuum cleaner, sucking up words from anywhere and everywhere. It started out as a Germanic language, which already had its fair share of Latinate words. When the Vikings arrived they added their own twist, then the Norman Conquest brought many thousands of French words into the mix. Later, English became swamped by Latin and Greek words as educated people began to travel more (and learn Latin and Greek!). Most recently, English has adopted words directly from languages as diverse as French (faux pas), Japanese (kimono) and Sanskrit (karma).

Why is this a problem? Well, for a start, it increases the number of words in the English language that you have to learn and could potentially spell wrongly, but more importantly, every time you borrow from a new source, you borrow whatever spelling rules that language happens to have. And they might be completely different from anything your own language had previously. Take the word pizza, for example. I recently read that this word has only existed in English since 1935. It’s incredible, really, to think that when my grandparents were growing up, English had no word for what is now an extremely popular food item. When the word did enter the lexicon, they were suddenly confronted with a double Z that stood for a “ts” sound. That might sound fine, but English already had a number of double-Z words, like fizz, puzzle and blizzard, where the double Z represented a simple “z” sound. So this one new word added an extra complication to English spelling all by itself. (The English language could have got round this problem by spelling pizza phonetically, but unlike other languages it has a strong tendency not to do this, and anyway, what spelling would it have adopted? Peetsa? Peetsuh?)

As English borrowed more and more words from its various source languages, it took its sounds from those languages at the same time. Standard British English, which I speak and teach, has 44 sounds (24 consonants, 12 vowels, and 8 diphthongs, which are basically two vowel sounds pronounced as one). That’s a lot. But English never let go of the Latin alphabet, which only has 26 letters! To enable an undersized 26-letter alphabet to spell every word in a language with 44 sounds, you have to allow either (a) some letters to stand for more than one possible sound, throwing all hope of a phonetic alphabet out the window, or (b) employ digraphs or trigraphs: two or three letters that are used together to make a single sound. Unfortunately, English has done both, and in a very unsystematic way. Of course, English could have done what many other languages have done, and use diacritics like é or ç, or other weird letters from outside the standard Latin set, but by the time anybody might have thought to do this, English spelling was already such a mess that adding a few lines and squiggles wouldn’t have achieved all that much.

When English was swamped by all these new Latin and Greek words, some crazy people successfully changed the spellings of existing English words to make them look more Latin or Greek, even when the changes were unjustified. The word island used to be spelt without an S, but the S was added to make it look more like the Latin word insula, even though the word doesn’t have Latin roots. The same thing happened with debt and doubt, which were once (sensibly) spelt without a B. The influx of Greek words brought the ph combination (for the “f” sound) into play, and these same mad people started putting ph into words that weren’t Greek-derived at all (like nephew) just because they thought it looked more impressive. While having nothing to do with Latin or Greek, another example of a spelling becoming more complicated for unjustified reasons is the word hiccup, which is that feeling and noise you get in your throat that you can’t stop, and is often caused by fizzy drink or spicy food. Some people thought it would be a clever idea to include “cough” in the spelling of this word, so hiccough was born, even though the pronunciation remained the same. Thankfully sanity seems to have prevailed with this word, and most people now spell hiccup in the original way.

That’s more than enough for Part 1, but please check out Part 2 for more background into the weird and wacky world of English spelling.