The Ludicrousness of Linguistics (part 1)

It’s quite well known that I am referred to as a bit of a word nerd.  Yes, I do devote myself to all things related to language.  Yes, I've made peace with that moniker.  On an everyday basis I try to comprehend how it is that certain phrases, words, et al. become ingrained in our culture.  That said, this is the first in a series (understand this may be a considerably vast amount of posts) of questions for you to ponder.  I know I do. 

First up, and I’m certain you’ve heard this one.  Why is that we drive on something called a parkway, but we park in a driveway?  Does this make sense?  Not in the least.  

I posed my lack of understanding for this cliche to many of you during the spring semester.  How did the verb phrase boils down to come into existence?  The word boil is a verb and when something boils, such as water, don’t the bubbles rise as does the temperature? 

Do retail establishments really believe you’ll stop in and buy something if you‘re given a free gift?  Isn’t this a bit redundant?!  A gift is always free.  

Here’s a word I use often during the course of a semester – discombobulated.    Discombobulate is a transitive verb that means to confuse.  Dis is typically used as a prefix and, while it has various uses, one meaning it has is as the opposite of something.  So, if I’m not confused in any way, does this mean I’m combobulated?!

Leaves a Sour Taste

While listening to one of those 24-hour, late-breaking, cable news channels this morning, I heard the newscaster convey the story of a young woman on trial for murder.  As I was not fully vested in the story, I listened with one ear, but this proved enough to detect a slight faux pas.   He noted that the perpetrator of this alleged crime had a “dour expression” on her face as she was being led into the courtroom.  This was not an incorrect word choice here as this fits.  It was his elocution.    

The word dour can function as an adjective, adverb, or noun.  The first use dates to the 14^th century and became widespread in 16^th and 17^th century New England oftentimes describing the Puritan advocates.   An exultant bunch?  I would presume not.  Life must have been demanding then for such a dismal word often used to describe them. 

In the above-noted phrase, dour is functioning as an adjective meaning gloomy, grim, or stern.  True, one certainly could display this when on trial.  However, in the traditional sense, the word when pronounced does not rhyme with sour.  We are not talking lemons here.  Rather, the pronunciation is closer in rhyme with the word tour. 

If you’re going to use a word this archaic, take it old school and express it in original form.  Your listener may cheer you for it. 

Touchstone

It has been an exhilarating academic year for me.  It began in August of last year when I had to add a class to my repertoire with a mere week to prepare and somehow managed to do so, and ended in mid-May with the frenzy of packing one cardboard box after another full of books and paperwork, along with dismantling my computer.  I swear there were many days I found myself channeling my inner Tasmanian Devil.  The one mainstay  for me during this time – my office mate, Gina Crace.  She has been the end-all, be-all to the craziness that defines me.

To backtrack for a moment, as those last days of summer edged closer to ending, my apprehension increased with thoughts of meeting the person I was to share an office with on a daily basis.   Would she cringe each day when she heard the click clack of my shoes as I made my way down the hallway?  Would she find my boisterous personality  and vociferous voice too much to handle? 

None of my eccentricities fazed this big-eyed, curly haired, fair-skinned, young lady.  For all of my hyper-energy, she was slow-paced.  For all of my scattered paperwork, hers was stacked and organized.  For my passion of all things Johnny Depp, she matched it with Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man. The many conversations we had -- from ramen noodle expertise (she was the Queen of her college dorm) to the stress of grappling with the everyday kinks of life -- filled our shared domain.  Competition would take over on Mondays as we revealed which one of us discovered the best bargain during weekend shopping excursions.  At times, we would both have a student nestled in our respective comfy chairs while other students waited patiently on the other side of the wooden door. 

For these things and many others G.C., I thank you.  As you embark on your new adventure, know that I will never be able to listen to a Cypress Hill track again without smiling, nor will I forget how you told me you despised onions only after eating them in my homemade pasta salad!  TU is losing a wondergirl in the classroom, but her students are better for having had her as their professor.  I am losing a friend at the office, but I am better for having known her as more than a colleague. 

Wordsmith

Of all the things I read on a daily basis, one particular theme recurs -- many students wish to increase their vocabulary.  After much deliberation on my part, I've decided to use my blog for teaching moments. In order for me to do this, though, I have to reverse something I've always embraced during class times.  Yes, I still want you to use Plain English when you write.  Yes, I want your writing to be clear, concise, and coherent.  Yes, I want you to have perfect grammar.  Those things will never change.  What will be different is this.  If you find a way to incorporate new words you learn, whether from this blog or somewhere in your travels, I say just do it (actually Nike says that, but I'm borrowing here and giving the illustrious corporation its props)!  Impress your friends, family, professors, and foes!  Twitter it, Facebook status it, YouTube a video about it. 

Let's utilize the traffic light analogy.   If you think a word is not an appropriate choice, i.e. one that just does not fit the theme or appears odd in the sentence, slam on the brakes for the red light.  Proceed with caution through the yellow light (or perhaps speed up to get through it) if the word has the power to perhaps excite your reader.  And, of course, if the word is spot-on perfect, give it some gas and go.

Ahhhh...

The drought has ended.  The ban has been lifted.  Those 46 days (1104 hours) are now behind me (until next year).  I've already downed a large iced mocha latte with sugar and whipped cream along with too many Reese's PB cups.  Now I'm eyeing the ears of a solid chocolate bunny and cannot wait to indulge.

That's all I can write for now as I have an addiction to feed.

I'll Show You Mine...

Over my semesters teaching at TU, I have asked many of you to create a bucket list.  One problem that this generates is that most of you are young (Yes, I’m still young, too – holding at 29 always!) and you have difficulty identifying with things to do before your demise.  So I say look at a bucket list in terms of what you’ll achieve in life. 

Here’s mine and these are not in any particular order. This list is short but I’m leaving some room to add to it over the years.    

Learn how to play the drums.  As a child, I played the flute.  What fun is this?!  I wanted to rock out and still have that chance.  Maybe I’ll form a band with other moms.  Yeah!

Own an Audi R8.  I must own this sweet ride one day.  How I don’t know since it’s well beyond my means.  I would have to win the lottery, but that won’t be possible because I seldom play.  I could sell a kidney as one of students suggested.   That’s plausible. 

Travel to Ireland.  This has been a dream of mine for a long time; however, I don’t know if it’s possible since I hate to fly.  I’m over my fear of it now, but I still abhor this mode of travel.

Take up ballroom dancing.  Yes, I find this very exciting.  Sorry. 

Put a smile on someone’s face every day.  I’m happy when others are. 

Never judge anyone and see the good in all people.  This one I’ve already achieved and continue to do on a daily basis.   

Sell one of my screenplays and procure a bit part in the movie.  It would, of course, have to be a part that is totally out of character for me.

Live long enough to see my grandchildren.   I’m on earth for the long haul.  I want to reach 100 years!

Learn to play golf.   I already play putt-putt golf.  Does that count for something?

Make a difference to my students.  I realize I’m a bit of a hard-nose when it comes to grading, but this is because I want to see all of you achieve what I know you can.  You may not like to write, but after you leave my class, my hope is that you’ll have a better appreciation for this craft I know so well and love so much. 

Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead

After having conferenced with each of you this semester, I had several decisions to make.  Listening to all you had to say, it is now painfully obvious to me that my classroom policies are much too harsh.   I do thank all of you for your feedback and value it more than you may be aware. 

You’ll be happy to know that The Queen has been dethroned, overthrown, ousted, usurped and must now go into exile unless I implement a new doctrine.  In order to meet the demands of my students, both current and future, I present the following. 

No longer will I assign homework.  I now recognize that this is such a burden on all of you.  Asking you to read short essays and respond to them does take more time than you have to dedicate to this task as Facebook stalking and Twitter talk takes precedence over what I require.

No longer will I worry about punctuation problems in your formal essays.  Who really does care that there are 17 uses for the comma?!  Surely I shouldn’t expect you to know that fact or where the proper placement is of this dreaded feature within your sentences.  This will no longer be corrected in my trademark green or purple ink.

No longer will I require MLA formatting.   A student once asked me why there can’t be one uniform style across the board for every college department.  I wished I could answer that question, but alas I could not.  Papers turned in with 2-inch margins, no name or date, and a 25-point font are A-okay with me. 

No longer will I give you a mere week to write a first draft and then a another week to complete the revision.  I understand that this simply isn’t enough time for you to rearrange your schedule.   Although for the life of me, I can’t fathom why this is the case.  I beg and plead of you not to wait until the 11^th hour and tell you that my assignments must be put before all else.  So, whatever fits your schedule will work perfectly.   

No longer will I ask you not to text while in class.  I always catch it, but that doesn’t seem to stop anyone.  When I see you smile, chuckle, or grin while looking at your lap I assume that is what you’re doing.  Unless…

No longer will I require you to do a presentation in class.  You’d rather come to class, sit in the chair, listen to my voice, take notes, and leave.  This is so much more exciting than hearing the interesting facts your classmates are showing you.

No longer will I take attendance.  If you wish to come in, do so.  If not, so be it. 

No longer will I worry if your argument is sound.  You can commit every writing fallacy known, but it will no longer matter.  If you have words on the paper that make some sense, it’s all good. 

I hope this appeases all of you as it is my aim to please those who live in my Queendom.  I have made my peace with the issue.  Once you approve this list, I am cognizant that it must be adhered to each and every day. 

You must be fully aware that today is dedicated to tomfoolery, AKA The Day for Fools – something you shouldn’t take me for. 

Gotcha!

Bugstink!

While talking to my colleague and good friend, I felt something hit my hair, drop down onto the rim of the glasses and then disappear from sight.  Now the fact that anything was near my hair was distressing enough, but when I looked on the floor in front, to the side, and back of me, and didn’t see anything other than the faded-tile floor, the situation I found myself in became more alarming.  I shook my head, picked at my hair, and even had my colleague take a look-see for me, all to no avail. Whatever it was that entered my peripheral vision was no longer trying to hitch a ride with me through the hallowed halls of Linthicum. 

Something told me to continue looking, and when I raised the stack of papers I had in my arms, lo and behold, there it was – a gray stink bug clinging to my sweater.  Oh the drama that ensued.  I shouted and flicked the offending creature to the floor with a swift motion.  It landed belly up, legs flailing, spinning helplessly around in tiny half-circles in an out of control motion.  I’m certain this bug must have known what was coming next.  Surely this is why it was desperately trying to right itself.  I raised my right leg about 6 inches and came down hard, and then just for good measure, I dragged my foot across the floor for a bit.  I had to make certain this sucker was down for good. 

It was.  A squished speck of bug guts and broken legs was all that remained.  Not wanting to leave it there, I decided to give it a proper burial.   From a black desktop tape holder, I ripped a long piece of Scotch tape and pressed this onto its now mutilated body cavity.  I then proceeded to close the tape around the nasty mass and with not a smidgen of guilt, threw it in the trash can. 

This rather illustrious stink bug made a mistake trying to invade my space.  It had a lot of nerve; I’ll grant credit for that.  But in the end, that nerve was wasted on this savvy quick thinker with a fast foot.