Renaissance Me

One day, I mentioned to a discussion group how I’m dying to go back and really learn physics and trigonometry and all the things I skimmed through in school, and then tackle the things I skipped altogether, like calculus and quantum mechanics and molecular biology.  It excites me to think how much of God and his world is knowable if you do the work to learn about it.  And it irritates me to think how we were all led to believe we were in either the Math/Science or the Language/Arts camp and should stay where we belonged.

One of my friends noted that this approach was the opposite of that put forth by a strength-finders class she’d taken, which apparently suggests that we focus on our strengths so as not to waste time dabbling.  (I should note that this may well be a terrific class.  I haven’t taken it and can’t judge.)

As usual, I had no retort, this probably the result of not reading enough.

 

 

But then I got to thinking how a Renaissance man could research astronomy one day and theology the next, and how he might produce paintings and sculpture that were the direct results of his mathematical and scientific research, and how he might write eloquently about all of it.  And all of this without stopping to wonder if it was allowed, if he were legitimately, you know, a “math person.”

The difference is detaching from the quantifiable-results equation.  When we focus our energies on what is profitable, on those of our skills that are most salable, we become single-function production robots.

Developing a human being, on the other hand, is highly impractical. 

I think of John and Abigail Adams and how between farming without machinery, raising and educating children, helping to birth a nation and developing its nascent philosophies, they made time to read everything available enough times over that they could quote with facility.  Abigail wasn’t even formally educated, but she never doubted her ability to read, understand, grow, and pass on her knowledge, nor the value of doing so.

In fact, I think that reading and learning widely, inside and way, way outside our prescribed realms, is the primary way that we preserve humanity and culture.

Ok.  I have to go read now.

 

Grammar Gripes: Numero Dos

What ever shall we do with me?  This one is the doozy of our age, not because the others aren’t just as rampant, but because I think it poses the greatest danger to the integrity of English.  And the fact is, it’s not all that difficult.

Here’s what happens.  We don’t drill grammar in U.S. schools, so we emerge unsure about the basic roles of, say, I and me.  But since, as kids, we were all chastised for misusing me, we err on the side of the smarter-sounding I.  This is the psychology behind the problem.  But if we use I incorrectly, we don’t really sound any smarter, so the gamble doesn’t pay off.

Instead, it can just be really annoying.  Examples:

Annoying: Want to come to the store with Jim and I?

Correct: Want to come with Jim and me?

Annoying:  The kids don’t listen to Mike and I.

Correct:  The kids don’t listen to Mike and me.

Annoying: This is an article by Ms. Sommers and I.

Correct: This is an article by me. (Ms. Sommers won’t collaborate with grammar dunces.)

Also annoying, I’ve watched three different shows and movies in the last few weeks in which characters (educated ones, like lawyers) use I as an object pronoun.  This galls me, because it implies that among all the people on a big Disney movie set, not one picked up on this really basic error.  It should have been writers and editors, but really?  Nobody?

But let’s not panic.  We can fix it!  My first plan was just to point it out publicly, but I hear that’s rude, so instead, here’s the grade-school trick that still works, every time.

Subject/Object error usually arises when there are multiple objects.  So take out the other person.

For instance: The dog relies on Jack and _________.

Now take out Jack and see what sounds better.

The dog relies on I?  Sounds silly.  The dog relies on me, of course.  And, therefore, when Jack helps out, the dog relies on Jack and me.

Simple, yes?  Even if you are stuck in an I-overuse rut, you actually do know your objects from subjects, so long as you take out the confusing third party.  Subjects, like I, do the action.  Objects, like me, receive the action or follow prepositions like with and to.

Now go on.  Kick Jack out of the equation.  You can do it.

Sleeping Dogs

One of the little grammar hang ups that had me, well, hung up for years was the whole "lay, lie" situation.  Which didn't bother me, even when writing for newspapers, because there was always a handy reference guide and an editor to make the save.

Then I had kids.  And heard myself yelling, night after night, "LAY DOWN!" 

Which is incorrect.

Now, I've noticed that my kids say things like "yeah" and "like" a lot.  They say what I say, and it's less than ideal and we're working on it.  But a lot worse [read: harder to root out] than yeah and like are clear grammar errors that will plague them forever and make them look dumb to people who know. 

Since this is a common one (when we studied both verbs in CC last year, a lot of moms were confused) I'm going to lay it out for you, as the first of a few grammar blogs.  I hope someone takes it to heart because fixing things in ourselves (not just grammar, but attitudes and behaviors too!) is the best way to instill good habits in our kids.

Ok. The reason I was wrong when I yelled "lay down" is because to lay means to put.  It was like yelling "drop it!" when I meant to yell just, "DROP!"

To lay is to put.  To lie, on the other hand, means to recline.  Put differently, you lay other things; you yourself lie.

All the drama comes from the past tense, because, in a cruel twist, the past tense of to lie is....lay.

So, today I will lie on the couch just as yesterday, I lay on the couch.

But I will lay my plate of cheesecake beside me, just where I laid it yesterday.

And at the end of the day, as I lie by the cheesecake that I've laid on the couch, I probably will have to yell, "LIE DOWN!"