Thursday, September 9, 2010

Dyslexia and social networking

One of the great thing about web 2.0 and social networking is the connections and people you meet (although not really)! Luqman Micel commented on Sarah's dyslexia blog recently, inviting her (and us) to see his blog on dyslexia, teaching and learning from Malaysia. No air tickets required, and of course I was able to click and read his content which was very useful, challenging exisiting practices and adding to the melting pot that defines different approaches to individual learning needs. You can read Luqman's blog here. Social networking allows people with dyslexia and learning difficulties to communicate with confidence as it is about the message and the content, not necessarily the accuracy.

One humourous posting on Luqman's blog was this poem on the complexities of the English language...

We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,
Then shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!

Let's face it - English is a crazy language.
There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger;
neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren't invented in England .
We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes,
We find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square,
And a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing,
Grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend.
If you have a bunch of odds and ends
And get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English
Should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.

In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?
We ship by truck but send cargo by ship.
We have noses that run and feet that smell.
We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway.
And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same,
While a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language
In which your house can burn up as it burns down,
In which you fill in a form by filling it out,
And in which an alarm goes off by going on.

And, in closing, if Father is Pop, how come Mother's not Mop?

And if people from Poland are called Poles
Then people from Holland should be Holes
And the Germans, Germs.

And lets not forget the Americans, who changed s to z, but that's another story.

Thank you Luqman

1 comment:

Luqman Michel said...

Hi Andrew,
I looked for your e-mail and could not find it and finally decided to write to you here. Sorry for this.

I have written to all the ministry of education around NZ and have told them that I do not agree with what they have said about dyslexia in their site - Phonological awareness deficit is the cause of dyslexics being unable to read.

I have told them that I had written to Prof. Tunmer and that he does not respond and one of the Ministries which replied me asked me to contact Mr.Tunmer.

Please read my current article and if you can see my point please give a gentle nudge to the Education minister to look into what I am saying.
Wish you well.
Luqman Michel