Oops! I Didn’t Know It Meant That!

In my experience, mathematicians, even foreign-born mathematicians with heavy accents, rarely misuse English words, whether sesqipedalian or highly colloquial. Perhaps this comes of the profession’s insistence on precision and the eschewal of vagueness or mere approximation in its own discourse.

I am currently studying for the GRE. I consider myself to be well read, but many of the GRE vocabulary words just seem completely unnecessary to me. When I read them -or worse- hear them in speech, I always find myself thinking, “Ah, someone else who had to study those damned vocabulary words.” Now that they know them they seem compelled to use them, as if to continuously prove that they did, in fact, pass the GRE. Personally, I think the GRE is ruining academic writing. I have never believed in an ivory tower. All writing should be as accessible as is reasonably possible considering the topic at hand. Peppering our writing with what I alternatively call “GRE-speak” or “Gratuatese” does not serve to “spice it up.” It only serves to add another layer of separation between academics and the general public. In an age when many in the public (and in pundit land) are inclined to dismiss science and academics, spicing up our writing and speach with incomprehensible words – especially ones that can easily be replaced with common words – only adds to the divisiveness.I, for one, intend to memorize those infernal vacabulary words, take the test, and then promptly forget them. When I communicate, I prefer to communicate with as many people as possible. Not just those who have been forced to waste their time memorizing a bunch of extraneous words.

Thanks, goxewu.I never claimed to be a great typist or proofreader.

ksledge is more or less on target, except that there is no official arbiter of meanings. It’s us.

We all do this, of course; the question is how often, how much, how long it goes on. I used to work with a man who liked the expression “in lieu of,” which he used to mean “in light of.” Ever noticed that, if we misuse a word, we tend to (mis)use it frequently? I was out of school, had been teaching five years, and thought I had a pretty good vocabulary when I found out that “pedophile” did not mean “foot fetishist.” Duh. Okay, I had and have no interest in either, but still, it’s embarrassing. And therefore probably a character builder.Now, about pronunciation. I used to do something with “Realtor” and “reverberate” that has long prevented my laughing at people who say “nucular”; at least they get the number of syllables right. I only recently learned that “interstices” sounds like “inter the bees” not “winter spices.” Off the mark and off the topic.

How about this: Let’s all say what we mean, in the simplest speech possible. No one is really all that impressed with the big words anyway.

The English language should be allowed to change and grow at its natural pace, but should not be subject to distortion and contortion through locutions born of ignorance and laziness. At this point, your word processor will easily provide you with definitions, usage, pronunciation, and even etymology without undue strain on your part. There is no excuse for linguistic barbarism, especially on the part of academics. No shame attaches to being punctillious in such matters, nor does any glory accrue to the all-too-frequent practice of speaking and writing misshapen English in order to affirm one’s credentials as an anti-elitist.

I’ll confess to two similar “late revelations” of the true meaning of words that I consistently hear others using incorrectly, but feel that I’m in no position to correct them. First, “penultimate” does NOT mean the best or nearly the best, but actually means 2nd from the worst. Yeah…been using that one about 25 years incorrectly. Second, it’s for “all intents and purposes” NOT for “all intensive purposes”. Just informed about that one a month ago (although I did know that it wasn’t “chester drawers” but indeed “chest of drawers”. Boy was I really chagrined (hope I used THAT right)!

Yes, the language does change and new phrases come in fashion. It’s embarrassing to use them incorrectly, e.g., the time a friend went up to her parish priest and said he was her favorite “eye candy” when she thought it meant “sweet person.”

BIG wrong, mizzou!!”Ultimate” = “last.” “Penultimate” = “Next to last” (not “Next to worst”). “Antepenultimate” = “second to last.” There is no “worst” about any of those. I.e., “_Abbey Road_ is the Beatles’ penultimate album” is a statement of fact, not a critical estimation.And the first citation of “anxious” as a synonym for “eager” in OED? 1742.

“The English language should be allowed to change and grow at its natural pace, but should not be subject to distortion and contortion through locutions born of ignorance and laziness. At this point, your word processor will easily provide you with definitions, usage, pronunciation, and even etymology without undue strain on your part. There is no excuse for linguistic barbarism, especially on the part of academics. No shame attaches to being punctillious in such matters, nor does any glory accrue to the all-too-frequent practice of speaking and writing misshapen English in order to affirm one’s credentials as an anti-elitist.”1. What’s a “natural pace” other than, well, what the pace is?2. The people who try to prevent the general acceptance of “locutions born of ignorance and laziness” are often vindictively labeled–even by academics commenting on “Brainstorm”–as “the language police.” Or they’re accused of not allowing the English language to “change and grow at its natural pace.”3. Linguists say that “usage dictates grammar,” which is really a polite way of saying that in language “might makes right.” If enough ignorant, lazy people speak and write a certain locution, it becomes accepted and, in a while, the norm.4. My word processor, and everyone else’s, will inevitably be updated and revised, likely to include many locutions born of ignorance and laziness.Apropos a comment about “I could care less”: That’s usually spoken, and hardly ever written except as dialogue. Spoken even without inflection, the sentence carries with it an ironic tone making clear that the speaker means, “(It isn’t possible that) I could care less.” The same matter of tone applies almost as completely to “Yeah, right.”Re 22235928 (is it O.K. to call him or her “Two Twenty-Two” for short?) and “How about this: Let’s all say what we mean, in the simplest speech possible. No one is really all that impressed with the big words anyway”– O.K.: “Let’s say what we mean in simple words. Big words don’t impress anybody.”And finally, as long as I have fossil’s attention: The reason that I pointed out the misspelling of “sesquipedalian” was not to book fossil on niggling charges of failure to type or proofread well. It was to say that when one throws around conspicuously arcane words (I sure as hell didn’t know what “sesquipedalian” meant in fossil’s comment, until I looked it up), one should, at the very least, spell them correctly. It’s not so much a service to the reader as it is to the writer, who is otherwise revealed as a pretentious overreacher.

“niggling charges”That sort of language is unacceptable.

I grew up believing the hoi polloi were those with a great deal of money and breeding and that “in mufti” meant “in disguise.” Worse yet, a political scientist had to point out that I was mispronouncing “short-lived.” I’m not certain my pride has ever recovered.

Okay, I admit to giving an oral book report on the “Soo-ex” Indians, but that was back in fourth grade. What really annoys me these days is misuse of the phrase “begs the question” which means “avoids the question, or avoids the logic that would answer the question” not “forces us to ask the question.” But it’s probably a lost cause.

After not smoking for a year, my mother (degrees from USC and Columbia) started again, explaining that she had become so cranky she “annihilated” all her friends. I was pretty sure she meant “alienated” but since she was perfectly capable of either, and never wanted to be corrected anyway, I let it be.

I beleive nobody here would not like the movie “Idiocracy”

It is something of a barbarism to say or write “the hoi polloi.” The Greek phrase means “the common people,” with the definite article included. So, rferring to “the hoi polloi” is rather like speaking of the Rio Grands River,

More pet peeves:1. irregardless–a common hybrid of ‘irrespective’ and ‘regardless’2. epitome–usually used as ‘height of ..’ or ‘the ultimate’ (not penultimate) when it really means ‘typical’ or representative’ or ‘concise summary’.3. forte–someone’s strong point–is pronounced fort, not forté–a music term meaning loud, forceful.

Here’s my pet peeve.When people ask for example: “Do you not like that?”If you do not like it, you are supposed to agree and say, “no.” But of course if you are to answer the question to the word, you should say “yes”

When a term from a foreign language, e.g., hoi polloi or Rio Grande, is included in the English language, i.e., becomes an English (or “American”) term, does the grammar of its original language obtain, or does English grammar? Interesting question.”The hoi polloi,” while ungrammatical in Greek and redundant in Greco-English (or Anglo-Greek), certainly sounds better than “the polloi” or “hoi common people.” And “the Rio Grande river” is informative to an English speaker who might not know what the words “Rio” or “Grande” mean in Spanish. Lest fossil think I’m a complete anti-snob snob, let me admit that as a full professor (though not of English), I continued to pronounce “exacerbate” as “excaberate (too much King Arthur as a kid) and “ostensibly” as “obstensibly” until corrected in company. At the same time at the same gathering. Not pretty.

Then there’s the matter of pronunciation (and whether popular song lyrics are a good guide to grammar–but we’ll let that one pass).Shouldn’t it be:”I’m an old cowhandayFrom the Rio Grande”?

My partner teaches comp, and likes to occasionally introduce her students to new words. One day she mentioned that there’s a word for that space between your eyebrows, and before she could say what it is (“glabella”), a sudent shouted “Oh, I know! I know! Perineum!”

Well, my thing, as someone trained in philosophy and theology, is the misuse of terminology, usually Greek, by specific disciplines. The term “Kineisis,” in Greek, does not mean “movement” in the merely physical sense, but “coming-to-be-this-particular-kind-of-thing.” Thus, the discipline of “kinesiology” is inappropriately named. “Metabole” does not mean, “processing nutrients” but “alteration.” Thus, “metabolism” is not specific enough to communicate its actual concern, scientifically. “Forensics teams” do not normally put on plays and public recitations, no matter what M.Ed.’s and Ed.D.’s say. They construct legal argumentation, which is normally a post-secondary school activity. Outside of a mock trial or a college class in constitutional law, most people don’t do this until they’ve been through at least a couple of years of law school. We say “forensic science” because this is the application of scientific investigation to the construction of legal argumentation.I could go on, but that’s enough on that topic. My other thing is that there are really far fewer true synonyms in the English language than we think, and the thesaurus does not exist to help us find them. It exists to knock the word we’re really searching for off the tip of our tongues and onto the page. We’re supposed to say, “It’s kind of like ‘elucidate’, but that’s not really it. It’s not quite ‘explain’, but something like ‘explain in a way that provides clarity and insight into the concept’. Oh, here it is, ‘elucidate’: that’s what I want to say.

In my comment above, I meant to say, “explicate” at the end, instead of “elucidate.” But you get the picture, I think.

The meanings-in-the-original-language* commenters are swimming away from the dock. Whatever a word or phrase might have meant in Greek or Latin or French or German, it’s in English now. (Unless it’s an italicized lift from another language.) Its spelling (especially when it comes from a different alphabet), pronunciation, and meaning change in English. Over time, they change greatly. Since we know that’s true in the review mirror, we ought to see it through the windshield as oncoming.*Of course, there’s no original-original language. (Unless it’s that whirring/clicking one in “District 9,” and who knows its history?) Words in whatever language came from words in another, migratory or previous and historically overlapping language. And those words came from grunts, growls, screams and cries.

The meaning of a word in its language of origin is, indeed, relevant, on some occasions. My gripe is really with words taken deliberately from other languages–usually ancient languages like Latin or Greek–to designate a technical, “scientific” meaning.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable this thread! While there has been the occasional spot of “one-upsmanship,” there have been no revolting and abusive _ad hominem_ attacks–a rarity in the cyberworld. Many excellent comments!Let me just add a few of my own: In the category of “the Rio Grande River,” there is a road in Kansas City named “The Paseo;” my brother (former Spanish major who studied in both Mexico and Spain) insists, every time we drive past it, that “The” is redundant, because “Paseo” already means “the way” or “the road.” In the category of usage, one of the really annoying things I hear constantly from my students (and even colleagues) is “me and her” in the nominative, as in, “Me and her went to the mall.” It’s a double barbarity to me; I was always taught to mention the other person before myself. (I usually try to rewrite any sentence I write that begins with the pronoun “I.” Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but I’m just sayin’ . . . [!] Just a personal phobia, I suppose, but one of those old-fashioned courtesies.)Another old-fashioned courtesy that has died is the euphemism. At my Grandmother’s house we weren’t allowed to say, “I’m going to the bathroom;” it was, “I have to pay a call.” Now, it seems, people have to tell us precisely what they were doing there. I’m still nonplussed to hear an attractive woman in public announding, “I’ve got to pee.” As they say, TMI!One of the most commonly mispronounced words is “ecsetera” (for “et cetera,” “and others”). Nobody who ever took Latin could mispronounce it that way, and nobody who reads English ought to. Depending on my audience, I sometimes use usw (“und so wie”) in writing, just to avoid another mangling of etc. (It annoys them enough to provide a “teachable moment,” whatever THAT means.)But the worst is the general use of the word “schmuck,” usually to mean an ingorant, useless person. Of course, in German it’s “jewel,” but in Yiddish it refers to the most prominent part of “the family jewels” and is an obsenity. (Check Leo Rosten’s “The Joys of Yiddish.”) People who would never use the word “prick” in polite conversation cheerfully use “schmuck,” almost always in ignorance of its meaning. (I learned this the embarrassing way in grad school, when I used it to a Jewish friend in the presence of his girlfriend.)Enough for now.

To goxewu:I meant exactly what I said. On some occasions, but not all, language of origin is of great relevance. And ancient languages, for example, Latin and Greek, but not necessarily restricted to Latin and Greek, but inclusive of others, e.g. Hebrew, are frequently farmed for terminology in the interest of uniformity and precision, but without due care for the meaning already attached to the words.Some languages are, of course, better suited to theological discourse than others are, because they include words for concepts that cannot be expressed in other languages. This is one of the reasons that attempts to translate often lead to huge distortions in meaning. In any event, theology can be extraordinarily precise, if only in what theological language is intended to negate. Some people find that annoying, but they usually go into other fields. I hate memorization, so I opted not to go into medicine. Besides, I don’t want someone to die in my office if I make a mistake. I like the kind of mistakes I can remedy with another paper, or even an email.Anyway, it’s true that there are concepts that stretch language to its breaking point (and this is not a phenomenon restricted to theology), but that does not mean that we cannot be precise about what must not be said. This is the really interesting thing about the “anathemas” attached to most conciliar documents until the second Vatican Council. They exist because it is understood that our positive articulations will never be completely adequate, so the negation of what must not be said is necessary. We can be very precise about that.Again, this bothers some people, but it’s a lot like the statement, “I love you.” What does that mean, exactly? The moment I try to be “precise” in what I’m saying, I undermine my meaning. I may say something “precise,” but not, in the end, “accurate.” If you ask, “what is it that you love about me,” you ask for precision, but your question has nothing really to do with love. I do not love anything about you–not some attribute, some ability, some idea in your mind–but YOU.To fossil:My point isn’t to tell people they should stop using their professional terminology. It’s to draw attention–and here I’m concerned more about my students than my colleagues–to the way in which terminology is often discipline-specific, so students will not draw inappropriate conclusions about meaning based upon the familiar sound of a word. My students usually enjoy these discussions, even when their primary area of study is something like nursing or even business.

To new_theologian:”I meant exactly what I said.”No, you didn’t. You meant, “On some occasions, but not all, language of origin is of great relevance.” (There’s a difference in emphasis and tone between that and “…its language of origin is, indeed, relevant, on some occasions.”) And if “On some occasions…” was “exactly” what you meant, you would have said exactly that. It’s sort of the flip side of Robert Frost (I think) being asked what a certain poem of his meant, and his replying, “You mean you want me to say it better?”Getting into a debate about matters linguistic with a theologian (as opposed to an anthropologist of theology) though, is sort of like getting into a debate with a three-card monte dealer about interpretations of Hoyle. Mumbo-jumbo by any other name is still mumbo-jumbo. (Granted, such mumbo-jumbo impacts an inordinate number of people in an inordinately intense way, but that just seems to be one of life’s little problems, like mosquitos and $299 for the “extended warranty.” We civilians just have to deal with it.)For the record, I estimate that 1,312,046.05 angels can dance on the head of a pin.

To goxewu:Perhaps you can explain what you mean by, “There’s a difference in emphasis and tone.” What difference in emphasis and tone, exactly? You’re not being clear, since, in both cases, “on some occasions” appears in the sentence, and that is exactly what I meant to say. You seem to me to quibbling over a stylistic matter, not a matter of substance.Also, what is this sudden assault on my discipline? What provoked that? Characterizations of what you imagine theologians do is no fair ground upon which to reduce an entire discipline to “mumbo-jumbo.” Keep in mind that this is the discipline that gave us the concept of “person” that we use today in all our moral discourse. If that’s mumbo-jumbo, we’re in serious trouble.To fossil:I did not say that we cannot speak. I said that language is not finally adequate. There’s a difference. Try marriage without the words, “I love you,” and see how well that goes. Try marriage with nothing more than that and see how well THAT goes. I think you’ll find that you need both what little you can say, and a lifetime of constant refinement if you hope to get it right.But to be fair, theology isn’t the only discipline like that, is it? Philosophers tried to tell astronomers centuries ago that space could not be nothing, since nothing cannot be extended. They didn’t listen, and only later discovered that their theories were inadequate to express the reality. They finally concluded that the philosophers were right, and that space is not nothing. What is it? The philosophers called in “ether.” What’s that? Who knows. Space? What’s that?

To me, the biggest problems with academic writing are insistence on the third person and on passive voice. The combination makes writing vague, evades responsibility and makes the written word boring. We need a lot more first and second person in academic writing, and consistent use of active voice.

vfichera: Danke schoen! Touche’! d_f_b makes an obvious point, similar to one earlier in the discussion: “there are a bunch of Englishes that work well in different contexts.” Apart from the use of argot, however, there is a common “educated” or “elevated” English which intelligent people who care about language are expected to know–and to use in appropriate contexts, such as communicating with each other. Call it a class marker if you like, but it’s an intellectual class marker, not economic or hereditary. We adapt, more or less instinctively, just as when we enter a shop in Germany: we use our German (inadequate though it be!). When I’m having a beer with loggers in a redneck bar (and I use that term with affection!), I certainly don’t use the same language, vocabulary, or diction I use when presenting a paper at a professional conference. (For that matter, I don’t wear the same kind of shirt in the two locations!) My goal with my students is not to eradicate their “normal” speech patterns, but to _expand their repertoire_ so that, when appropriate, they can sound/write like “educated” people. To recognize “a bunch of Englishes” does not mean that educated English is useless, or pompous, or affected. The question that concerns most of us on this thread is more like, “How can we preserve our particular type of English so that we don’t end up talking like loggers or advertising copy-writers all the time?” I’m still trying to figure out if the linguists want us all to talk and write like bikers or Valley Girls.

@goxewu: When I said that dictionaries and usage manuals are reactive, I meant exactly that–they react to developments in the language, they don’t lead them. (There are a very few notable exceptions, such as the attempt to forbid split infinitives, which have been a part of the English language since it developed two-word infinitives. However, those attempts tend, happily, to spectacularly fail.)And yes, there are a bunch of different Englishes out there, and I meant that without going all postmodern-y on issues of interpretation. Even standardized forms differ depending on whether you’re in North America or Britain or Australia, and within North America depending on whether you’re in Canada or the US, and in fact even regions within those regions–the standard forms for expressing necessity of action differ in, say, central Ohio and northern California.Just accept that Chaucer was right with his “in forme of speche is chaunge”, relax when people use language differently than you do, recognize that effective communication still occurs, and move on to something that’s actually worthy of stressing out over.

Fossil, if you’re still checking in, please let me know about that book: DKirklin@LibertyFund.orgThanks.

“Nothing, I suppose, is more tedious than disputation with an absolute relativist.” Well goxewu, maybe there are some things… and “at a commercial, not academic, publisher”. Good.On an unrelated note: we (The Academey) are taking nominations for this year’s Pompous Ass Award, the coveted ‘Poseur’, held all these many 12 months by someone called “Inexplicably Tenured” I think. I may have that wrong. Something Tenured. Anyway, vote for your favorite; don’t let me be the only multiple winner.