I may have to stop teaching before I lose my last vestiges of Pittsburghese. My kids have me saying aunt different from ant, and they have me making words like foul, scowl, etc into two distinct syllables. Who knew that was a thing!
Honestly, I didn't know I had any traces of Pittsburghese left. I didn't start with much, not really, not compared to others. I've been known to say "arn" for iron, Picksburgh has slipped out (mostly when I'm angry), my friends in college made fun of me incessantly for saying pool the same as pull (I basically just try to avoid saying the word "pull" now, or rhyming words, because I just don't understand how it's supposed to sound). I try not to say roof like ruff or root beer like rut beer, but that's finding its way in on the edges.
All my o's have long been plump Minnesota O's. My a's are creeping into my nasal range (although I'm still fighting that one because gross).
I don't say uff da, but I often say uff, and then finish it, consciously, with the da. Some day the full (fool? ful? fu-ul? HELP!) phrase is gonna slip out without a thought.
It's joyful when I realize the roots of my language go deeper than I thought. When I am reading the spelling words and they say "huh? do you mean sco-wl?" Each word I didn't know I said different, it feels like a gift from my city, a reminder that I'm still a Pittsburgh girl in the depths of my soul. No matter how many hockey games I play, no matter how much I feel at home in day after day of 0 degree highs.
Except, I try to correct myself, so the kids understand me (and so my friends don't pick on me).
It's bittersweet, because in the very same act of discovering these pockets of language resistance, I essentially lose them for good.
