I grew up near Kapuskasing (kap-us-KAY-sing). On the Mattagami River (ma-TOG-uh-mee). Not far from Opasatika (op-ah-SAT-ih-kah).
Thus, I’m used to peculiar place-names that are a problem to pronounce. Or so I thought. Then I went to South Carolina. To Beaufort. Which I pronounced ‘Bo-for’, as any proper Canadian would do. Nope. Bew-furt.
Just now Mr. Sierra was talking about Worcestershire, which he insisted on pronouncing as though it were written Worcestershire. Totally grating on my nerves. “Dear. I can’t stand this. Please say ‘Wooster’, ok?”
Thanks to the Bugs Bunny cartoons, I pronounce Yosemite correctly. But for ages I thought it was ‘pan-tone-y’, you know, the colour system some bright Italian person invented. Um, no. Pantone. Pan. Tone. Tone like ‘what tone of blue do you want?’ Duh.
I used to teach ESL. One day a student asked me about Satan. So off I go on a long explanation of religion to a guy who hadn’t been exposed to any. My student looked confused. “Um… shiny party dress?”
As a kid I said ‘Febuary’, because getting from the ‘b’ to the ‘r’ of the correct pronunciation just felt wrong.
Kindly share with the class your own stories of adventures in pronunciation, or, rather, mispronunciation, which is where the fun tends to come it. Did a mispronunciation of your own cause trouble for you? Did you itch to correct another person’s pronunciation?
Inspired by this article in the Guardian, and by its 23, oops, no, 24 now, pages of comments.
Image via Wikimedia.
.png){kind=link}