grammar and my past

I have been showing the "I Before E" poem to a lot of people, and they have all found it wonderfully amusing and agree that many rules in our language are plain stupid.

Last night I actually dreamed about a moment in my childhood that cemented the fact that these rules made so real sense: I was back in second grade, and we were having a spelling test. I would get a perfect score; I was truthfully the best speller in my grade. I was sitting next to my friend Dina, who was spelling all the -tion words as -shun (lotion, etc). I leaned over and whispered the correct suffixes, because I knew she'd fail without them. She asked why it was like that when it made "more sense to spell it like it sounds." I said I had no idea.

Speaking of the English language:
Mom recently revealed things about my Brooklyn grade school years that I had completely forgotten: I was, essentially, the most gifted child in that entire elementary school. My English, writing, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar scores were so completely off the charts that they had never seen anything like it; in second grade I should have been attending tenth grade English classes. In comparison to the rest of the students, I was a phenomenal creative writer, I could pull whole universes out of my head and make readers' jaws drop, at a very young age. Unfortunately, my math skills were abysmal. I was legitimately disabled, I had severe dyscalculia. I could not be transferred to a "gifted school" or "gifted program" because of it. They didn't know what to do with me. So, Mom said, they built an entirely new curriculum just for me. I had my own English classes, my own English textbooks, my own English tests. Every time my grade had an English class, I would be removed and sent up two grades to that grade's English class. However, I hated it. I fought it like a wildcat. I felt too isolated. Too singled out. I was teased constantly. Combined with being taken away from classes for private cerebral palsy physical therapy, the deaths of grandparents, the death of my beloved dog, the lack of friends, the inability to socialize, and the cruel teasing by other children, I became clinically deeply depressed and spent a year going to a child psychiatrist.
I had never meant any other kids like me. I didn't realize that being gifted in certain areas was such a common thing. All I knew was that I was too different to be accepted by my local peers.
By the end of fifth grade, my parents decided we needed to move, because this school system was obviously not helping me and they were getting worried for my mental and emotional health. I was socially inept and emotionally immature. At ten years old I couldn't even speak to another kid my age without total fear and panic. I could get along amazingly well with adults -- I might as well have been a miniature adult. But there were really only two other little girls I was friends with, Rina and Karin, and that was only because they had approached me first and broke through my barriers. They were from Russian immigrant families and didn't have many friends in the US to begin with.
I began sixth grade in Sag Harbor's only elementary school. I was surrounded by dozens of fellow gifted kids. I still had the highest scores in English, writing, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar, but now there were other students just like me. I should have felt in my element. But I was teased for my appaling lack of social skills. I was ridiculed for my clothing, my limp, my silence, my shyness. The only person I became friends with was the girl nobody wanted to be friends with. She was a math genius. And still, she and I didn't really click. She teased me for being horrible at math, and for not being religious (she was very Catholic and would later become born-again Christian).
In high school, things got a little better, but not by much. I started believing I was at fault. I decided I wasn't worth having friends or a social circle. I had my books and my little worlds. I had my budding witchcraft and magic talents, although I didn't realize.
College was a real eye-opening breath of fresh air. Om my god -- friends. People who truly cared. Who reached out and would not let me shrink back or hide. Still... it was like a dog who had been beaten one too many times and suddenly found itself in the arms of honestly loving people. I had no idea what to do. I was so skittish and clumsy with people. Especially after my relationship with Adam began and I met all his friends. They were exactly like me, but with better social skills. And they made me laugh; they were a group of extraordinary people. And they scared me. Would they accept me? How did I seem to them, with my shyness; my withdrawn, reserved, seemingly dull personality? How could I begin to socialize with them? It was a matter of social and emotional survival. I needed to grow a backbone. I need to be strong. I couldn't lose these people. I was becoming... accepted.
I think my "girls" and my goddesses were instrumental. I had encountered Bast as a child without knowing so; Danu and Brigit came to me in college. And Ariana, Sirena, and Dana were inside me and guiding me even if I didn't know who and what they were. Still... it was up to me in the end. It was all me.
Thank the gods Adam had such extreme patience, understanding, and compassion. He knew. He had been there. I could stop feeling afraid and alone. I had no reason to. Hell, it was stupid to dwell on any of it. Nobody cared. They wanted to know who I was as the person among them, not the child and teen I used to be. Nothing else mattered.
And I have to say, I am eternally grateful that they all -- that you -- stayed with me. You didn't have to.

*pause*

And I went off on a tangent. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.
The actual point of this all was to explain how well I related to that wonderful poem, and to show that while I am a natural when it comes to the English language, I still think the rules leave much to be desired.

grammar and my past

I have been showing the "I Before E" poem to a lot of people, and they have all found it wonderfully amusing and agree that many rules in our language are plain stupid.

Last night I actually dreamed about a moment in my childhood that cemented the fact that these rules made so real sense: I was back in second grade, and we were having a spelling test. I would get a perfect score; I was truthfully the best speller in my grade. I was sitting next to my friend Dina, who was spelling all the -tion words as -shun (lotion, etc). I leaned over and whispered the correct suffixes, because I knew she'd fail without them. She asked why it was like that when it made "more sense to spell it like it sounds." I said I had no idea.

Speaking of the English language:
Mom recently revealed things about my Brooklyn grade school years that I had completely forgotten: I was, essentially, the most gifted child in that entire elementary school. My English, writing, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar scores were so completely off the charts that they had never seen anything like it; in second grade I should have been attending tenth grade English classes. In comparison to the rest of the students, I was a phenomenal creative writer, I could pull whole universes out of my head and make readers' jaws drop, at a very young age. Unfortunately, my math skills were abysmal. I was legitimately disabled, I had severe dyscalculia. I could not be transferred to a "gifted school" or "gifted program" because of it. They didn't know what to do with me. So, Mom said, they built an entirely new curriculum just for me. I had my own English classes, my own English textbooks, my own English tests. Every time my grade had an English class, I would be removed and sent up two grades to that grade's English class. However, I hated it. I fought it like a wildcat. I felt too isolated. Too singled out. I was teased constantly. Combined with being taken away from classes for private cerebral palsy physical therapy, the deaths of grandparents, the death of my beloved dog, the lack of friends, the inability to socialize, and the cruel teasing by other children, I became clinically deeply depressed and spent a year going to a child psychiatrist.
I had never meant any other kids like me. I didn't realize that being gifted in certain areas was such a common thing. All I knew was that I was too different to be accepted by my local peers.
By the end of fifth grade, my parents decided we needed to move, because this school system was obviously not helping me and they were getting worried for my mental and emotional health. I was socially inept and emotionally immature. At ten years old I couldn't even speak to another kid my age without total fear and panic. I could get along amazingly well with adults -- I might as well have been a miniature adult. But there were really only two other little girls I was friends with, Rina and Karin, and that was only because they had approached me first and broke through my barriers. They were from Russian immigrant families and didn't have many friends in the US to begin with.
I began sixth grade in Sag Harbor's only elementary school. I was surrounded by dozens of fellow gifted kids. I still had the highest scores in English, writing, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar, but now there were other students just like me. I should have felt in my element. But I was teased for my appaling lack of social skills. I was ridiculed for my clothing, my limp, my silence, my shyness. The only person I became friends with was the girl nobody wanted to be friends with. She was a math genius. And still, she and I didn't really click. She teased me for being horrible at math, and for not being religious (she was very Catholic and would later become born-again Christian).
In high school, things got a little better, but not by much. I started believing I was at fault. I decided I wasn't worth having friends or a social circle. I had my books and my little worlds. I had my budding witchcraft and magic talents, although I didn't realize.
College was a real eye-opening breath of fresh air. Om my god -- friends. People who truly cared. Who reached out and would not let me shrink back or hide. Still... it was like a dog who had been beaten one too many times and suddenly found itself in the arms of honestly loving people. I had no idea what to do. I was so skittish and clumsy with people. Especially after my relationship with Adam began and I met all his friends. They were exactly like me, but with better social skills. And they made me laugh; they were a group of extraordinary people. And they scared me. Would they accept me? How did I seem to them, with my shyness; my withdrawn, reserved, seemingly dull personality? How could I begin to socialize with them? It was a matter of social and emotional survival. I needed to grow a backbone. I need to be strong. I couldn't lose these people. I was becoming... accepted.
I think my "girls" and my goddesses were instrumental. I had encountered Bast as a child without knowing so; Danu and Brigit came to me in college. And Ariana, Sirena, and Dana were inside me and guiding me even if I didn't know who and what they were. Still... it was up to me in the end. It was all me.
Thank the gods Adam had such extreme patience, understanding, and compassion. He knew. He had been there. I could stop feeling afraid and alone. I had no reason to. Hell, it was stupid to dwell on any of it. Nobody cared. They wanted to know who I was as the person among them, not the child and teen I used to be. Nothing else mattered.
And I have to say, I am eternally grateful that they all -- that you -- stayed with me. You didn't have to.

*pause*

And I went off on a tangent. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.
The actual point of this all was to explain how well I related to that wonderful poem, and to show that while I am a natural when it comes to the English language, I still think the rules leave much to be desired.

grammar and my past

I have been showing the "I Before E" poem to a lot of people, and they have all found it wonderfully amusing and agree that many rules in our language are plain stupid.

Last night I actually dreamed about a moment in my childhood that cemented the fact that these rules made so real sense: I was back in second grade, and we were having a spelling test. I would get a perfect score; I was truthfully the best speller in my grade. I was sitting next to my friend Dina, who was spelling all the -tion words as -shun (lotion, etc). I leaned over and whispered the correct suffixes, because I knew she'd fail without them. She asked why it was like that when it made "more sense to spell it like it sounds." I said I had no idea.

Speaking of the English language:
Mom recently revealed things about my Brooklyn grade school years that I had completely forgotten: I was, essentially, the most gifted child in that entire elementary school. My English, writing, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar scores were so completely off the charts that they had never seen anything like it; in second grade I should have been attending tenth grade English classes. In comparison to the rest of the students, I was a phenomenal creative writer, I could pull whole universes out of my head and make readers' jaws drop, at a very young age. Unfortunately, my math skills were abysmal. I was legitimately disabled, I had severe dyscalculia. I could not be transferred to a "gifted school" or "gifted program" because of it. They didn't know what to do with me. So, Mom said, they built an entirely new curriculum just for me. I had my own English classes, my own English textbooks, my own English tests. Every time my grade had an English class, I would be removed and sent up two grades to that grade's English class. However, I hated it. I fought it like a wildcat. I felt too isolated. Too singled out. I was teased constantly. Combined with being taken away from classes for private cerebral palsy physical therapy, the deaths of grandparents, the death of my beloved dog, the lack of friends, the inability to socialize, and the cruel teasing by other children, I became clinically deeply depressed and spent a year going to a child psychiatrist.
I had never meant any other kids like me. I didn't realize that being gifted in certain areas was such a common thing. All I knew was that I was too different to be accepted by my local peers.
By the end of fifth grade, my parents decided we needed to move, because this school system was obviously not helping me and they were getting worried for my mental and emotional health. I was socially inept and emotionally immature. At ten years old I couldn't even speak to another kid my age without total fear and panic. I could get along amazingly well with adults -- I might as well have been a miniature adult. But there were really only two other little girls I was friends with, Rina and Karin, and that was only because they had approached me first and broke through my barriers. They were from Russian immigrant families and didn't have many friends in the US to begin with.
I began sixth grade in Sag Harbor's only elementary school. I was surrounded by dozens of fellow gifted kids. I still had the highest scores in English, writing, reading, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar, but now there were other students just like me. I should have felt in my element. But I was teased for my appaling lack of social skills. I was ridiculed for my clothing, my limp, my silence, my shyness. The only person I became friends with was the girl nobody wanted to be friends with. She was a math genius. And still, she and I didn't really click. She teased me for being horrible at math, and for not being religious (she was very Catholic and would later become born-again Christian).
In high school, things got a little better, but not by much. I started believing I was at fault. I decided I wasn't worth having friends or a social circle. I had my books and my little worlds. I had my budding witchcraft and magic talents, although I didn't realize.
College was a real eye-opening breath of fresh air. Om my god -- friends. People who truly cared. Who reached out and would not let me shrink back or hide. Still... it was like a dog who had been beaten one too many times and suddenly found itself in the arms of honestly loving people. I had no idea what to do. I was so skittish and clumsy with people. Especially after my relationship with Adam began and I met all his friends. They were exactly like me, but with better social skills. And they made me laugh; they were a group of extraordinary people. And they scared me. Would they accept me? How did I seem to them, with my shyness; my withdrawn, reserved, seemingly dull personality? How could I begin to socialize with them? It was a matter of social and emotional survival. I needed to grow a backbone. I need to be strong. I couldn't lose these people. I was becoming... accepted.
I think my "girls" and my goddesses were instrumental. I had encountered Bast as a child without knowing so; Danu and Brigit came to me in college. And Ariana, Sirena, and Dana were inside me and guiding me even if I didn't know who and what they were. Still... it was up to me in the end. It was all me.
Thank the gods Adam had such extreme patience, understanding, and compassion. He knew. He had been there. I could stop feeling afraid and alone. I had no reason to. Hell, it was stupid to dwell on any of it. Nobody cared. They wanted to know who I was as the person among them, not the child and teen I used to be. Nothing else mattered.
And I have to say, I am eternally grateful that they all -- that you -- stayed with me. You didn't have to.

*pause*

And I went off on a tangent. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.
The actual point of this all was to explain how well I related to that wonderful poem, and to show that while I am a natural when it comes to the English language, I still think the rules leave much to be desired.

speaking of

On the American version of English, a quote by James Davis Nicoll:
"The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary."

speaking of

On the American version of English, a quote by James Davis Nicoll:
"The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary."

speaking of

On the American version of English, a quote by James Davis Nicoll:
"The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary."