The Day I Quit Duolingo and Reclaimed My Life

One thousand six hundred and eighty days ago, I met a woman on a train. I don’t remember her name, or anything else we talked about, but I do remember her saying that she was learning Spanish on an app called Duolingo. Impressed, I told her I might find it helpful because I’d been learning Italian.

The truth is, I was not learning Italian. All I was doing was watching films like ‘Cinema Paradiso’ and ‘Malena’ and wishing I could understand them without subtitles. It’s a beautiful sounding language and I loved the idea of being able to speak it.

I downloaded Duolingo.

Photo by appshunter.io on Unsplash

For a week or two, I had an incredible experience. I could finally speak Italian. “Io Mangio una mela,” I would say to anyone who came close to my personal space. “Vorrei un caffè, per favore,” I would say to the Italian owner of Papa Bagel, in East London.

But then, the cafe owner would say something back in the language. Something complex and difficult to understand, like ‘Come stai?” (how are you?) and I would be floored by the gaps in my knowledge.

I did a short Italian course at City Lit, and bought a few language learning books from Amazon.

Whenever I would meet other language learners, they would often have a great reason for learning. Such as:

“I want more job opportunities.”
”My boyfriend is Japanese and I don’t understand what he says to me.”
“I’m moving to France.”

My own reason and motivation was, “I like a few Italian movies.”

Over time, this motivation didn’t hold.

Luckily, Duolingo knew that I was lazy, easily bored, and lacking in academic capability. So every day, without fail, it would subtly and gently notify me that I need to do a lesson. The way it does this is really sweet — Duo ambushes you via phone notifications, emails, and insults from your friend Emma who you haven’t spoken to in five years but who happens to also be on Duolingo and has pressed a button in-app, shaming you for not doing your lesson. This is the notification you get at 11pm reminding you to not be pathetic.

And it worked.

Duolingo is the perfect mix of habit forming, behavioural addiction, and perceived shaming from your social network. It’s language learning with a gun to your head.

I’m four years into it and I’m still unable to hold a real conversation in Italian. The only way it has helped me was one meal in Bologna two years ago - when my wife was momentarily confused by a menu and I happened to be able to point out that ‘vongole’ means clams.

For the first two years, I paid for a subscription for ‘Super Duolingo’, and then for the past two years I used the ‘Family’ option, where a mix of actor and writer friends chipped in £15 each and we shared the subscription.

Each year, as it came time to renew, I’d message my friends to see if they want to continue, and then I’d renew the purchase.

But then Jessica quit.

“I’m not doing it, I’m quitting,” she said.

I was floored by the response. It never occurred to me that people could get out. I tried to pressure her into renewing and keeping up her streak, but she said no.

I felt many things but mostly, it was jealousy. Someone had managed to quit Duolingo. I went to Google and my searches confirmed it: other people have quit too.

So I dramatically messaged the four friends who were waiting for me to renew the subscription and announced:

I’m quitting Duolingo. Giving up my 1680 day streak, and returning to the living.

None of them have responded. They’re too deep in the addiction and they don’t realise how much they’re suffering in their lives. In time, they’ll have to figure things out for themselves.

Goodbye, Duolingo. Finalmente sono libero.