It helps that I'm moving away from this place that I grew up in and don't like being in on October 3. Less than two weeks away. There's a light at the end of the tunnel.
There is a God.
Today, we're going to talk about something that many people don't talk about very often, even though we use it every day. Language.
Language, like so many other things in this day and age, is tumbling downhill drastically. I mean, perhaps my vocabulary is more extensive than most due to my love for a good book, but I would argue that that is no excuse.
A child who is read aloud to by a parent has twice the vocabulary of its counterpart who has not been read to by age six. The disparity is significant as well, 2,500 words as compared to 5,000 words. You want your child to be able to read "See Spot Run"? Read to them.
"According to the 2003 National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), 37 percent of fourth graders and 26 percent of eighth graders cannot read at the basic level; and on the 2002 NAEP 26 percent of twelfth graders cannot read at the basic level." (readfaster.com/education_stats.asp)
This among other things contributes to our quickly declining vernacular.
Those of us who are well-read and can read more quickly than the average, are often stunted by those who are not. Inevitably, we are forced to define ourselves.
My former roommate once commented that she often had to look up words I say because she was too embarrassed to ask again what a word means. Apparently, when I define words, I occasionally use equally obscure terms that she then has to go look up because she doesn't want me to explain myself again.
I don't think the phrases I use are particularly extravagant. My boyfriend does accuse me of using "three inch words" but in the time we've been together, he's grown used to it and has altered his stance from complaining to questioning. I am his very own personal dictionary. I get text messages and phone calls asking me to define this word or the other.
It's precious.
I love it.
I love him.
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| (We're Giants fans) |
Luckily, I think that stance is adorable rather than tiresome. It challenges me to put to words that which I know on a deeper level. I don't usually know the exact meaning as I've more often than not gleaned the usage from the context of the text. A few I've learned over the course of my life and have been defined to me using the same rudimentary terms I use when speaking to him or others. The challenge is to define words that I can use in a sentence and get the context correct but have never seen a definition for. That challenge is a thrill for me, though sometimes it drives me to dictionary.com.
It has become more and more rare for me to have to go look up a word that I don't understand. It does still happen, however, but when it does I'm often surprised. The most recent — and only one I can recall with any surety — happened when I was reading Hope and Hard Times by Ted Bernard (I mention it in a previous blog) and I came across this word and for the life of me, could not figure it out. I thought at first that it was a typo, but the context didn't make sense.
"Posits: v. used with object: to lay down or assume as a fact or principle; postulate. n.: something that is posited; an assumption; postulate."
And now I have a new word with which to bewilder my audience. Hooray!
I suppose the thing that most discombobulates me about the state of our national vocabulary is the stubbornness with which people who should know better cling to misconceptions and incorrect assumptions.
When I was fifteen and a sophomore in high school, I had no less than three — and quite possibly as many as five — arguments with my English teacher about the legitimacy of "gooder."
Gooder — as I argued then and will more vehemently attest to now — is not in any way, shape, or form, a word. Good, better, best. Not good, gooder, goodest. The travesty was that the teacher presented the argument that I knew what he meant and therefore the correctness of the word didn't matter.
It made me want to scream.
I wish I could remember the title and author of the children's book that drilled that in to me at a young age (complete with beautiful illustrations of chicken and such), because then I would direct you to it. I also had a teacher in fifth grade who was a stickler for grammatical accuracy who made sure that was in my brain and that it stuck.
Say it with me now, "Good, better, best...NEVER good, gooder, goodest." Gooder and goodest — as my spell check is protesting with that angry red line beneath them — are not words. You can say them all you want, but that doesn't make them words. You will never win points in Scrabble with them.
Another anecdote which is more brief as it didn't happen to me, but rather to a friend of mine. This was with another English teacher — which says so much for their credentials — a couple years later. We may have been seniors. We had written papers and my friend, who I learned the "walking dictionary" portion of my personality from, had used the word "peruse" in her paper. Our teacher marked it as the incorrect spelling and usage of "pursue." It wasn't until my friend presented our teacher (privately of course, so as not to embarrass her) with a dictionary and the definition of peruse that the teacher capitulated and admitted she was wrong.
My last complaint is the gross usage of "funner." Even worse, "more funner" and "funnerest."
Want to see my face twist with disgust and hear me choke in protest? Use those words in my hearing and prevent me from correcting you.
I have a friend who uses those words out of sheer perversity because she likes to see me squirm. I know she does it on purpose, and my protests fall upon deaf ears. I've heard her speak to others and she uses the correct "more fun," only with me does she wield the ungainly and ugly "funner."
If I ever speak with you, and in some bumbling state of ebullience, I rush through a word or phrase that is unintelligible to you, please, stop me and have me define myself. I am more than happy to. In fact, I enjoy it. It's a challenge.
In the meantime, don't expect me to dumb down my vocabulary to fit with the local vernacular, because I just won't do it. I'd rather die an ignominious death than see more words be lost to the tomes of Webster and Merriam, never to see the light of day or an agile tongue.
Wow, that sounds almost dirty. Somehow, I think you'll get over it.
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