I used to spend hours a day reading. Sometime in elementary school, the patterns of the words, the punctuation, and the formatting of text in books clicked into place in my mind. Many people have that experience with, say, math or engineering; it’s a way of looking at the world that just makes sense. I saw the visual feasts of the stories themselves, but I also simultaneously saw the mechanics of the superficial layer: ink on paper.
Throughout my youth, I was repeatedly flouted in my attempts to express my passion for writing mechanics. A teacher, flustered, answered that she didn’t know why that comma needed to be there. My classmates liked to antagonize me by making purposeful mistakes. I called myself the Spelling Phantom and celebrated a victory when I could correct an error on a whiteboard with nobody noticing.
Throughout my youth, I was repeatedly flouted in my attempts to express my passion for writing mechanics. A teacher, flustered, answered that she didn’t know why that comma needed to be there. My classmates liked to antagonize me by making purposeful mistakes. I called myself the Spelling Phantom and celebrated a victory when I could correct an error on a whiteboard with nobody noticing.
Lest you think I was kidding, here’s an excerpt from a 2006 notebook of mine.
My parents gamely tolerated my corrections of their speech, my tirades against a flawed sign or newsletter or commercial. I felt that “people” simply didn’t care. They didn’t understand how important the clarity of communication is. I lost a few friends by correcting them both personally and on public forums; they felt personally attacked, unheard, and defensive. I channeled my energy into editing my high school newspaper, eager to escape and learn more about this passion.
The Grammar Cop.
Primary emotions: bemusement, rage, fierce glee.
Primary activities: vigilance, vigilantism, pestering friends and loved ones.
Primary emotions: bemusement, rage, fierce glee.
Primary activities: vigilance, vigilantism, pestering friends and loved ones.
But a funny thing happened when I got to college. As a Professional Writing major, I was surrounded by others who cared about writing and others who were gifted at editing. One might think that I would be further entrenched into the grammar cop mindset: Ha, fellow wizards of words, look at all the riffraff and all the rules they ignore! It had the opposite effect. I found myself becoming a grammar hippie.
The Grammar Hippie.
Primary emotions: curiosity, compassion, appreciation for oddities.
Primary activities: analysis, discovery, vigorous nodding.
Primary emotions: curiosity, compassion, appreciation for oddities.
Primary activities: analysis, discovery, vigorous nodding.
Why? I have a couple guesses.
Realizing that there are, indeed, people who care about the same things I do was unexpectedly therapeutic. It was validation in the way that repeating a toddler’s desires back to her is therapeutic. Sometimes we just want to be heard.
I also made a few discoveries. I am not an expert in all things grammar or spelling or punctuation. I can’t always tell why a sentence feels wrong; I just know it needs to be fixed and how to fix it. (I wish everyone loved grammar diagramming as much as I do, but alas, that will never be the case.) And, most importantly, I learned how stunningly arbitrary so many “rules” actually are. That’s not to say my passion doesn’t matter—it just means that getting furious about rule breakers is misdirected energy.
Realizing that there are, indeed, people who care about the same things I do was unexpectedly therapeutic. It was validation in the way that repeating a toddler’s desires back to her is therapeutic. Sometimes we just want to be heard.
I also made a few discoveries. I am not an expert in all things grammar or spelling or punctuation. I can’t always tell why a sentence feels wrong; I just know it needs to be fixed and how to fix it. (I wish everyone loved grammar diagramming as much as I do, but alas, that will never be the case.) And, most importantly, I learned how stunningly arbitrary so many “rules” actually are. That’s not to say my passion doesn’t matter—it just means that getting furious about rule breakers is misdirected energy.
Grammar diagrams: puzzles with words!
In more official terms, a grammar cop could be called a prescriptivist, while a grammar hippie could be called a descriptivist. The former enforces rules and guidelines and attempts to preserve correctness through the generations (have you ever seen someone change “each other” to “one another”?). The latter seeks to find patterns in current usage of language everywhere (hey, a lot of people are spelling it “alright” [shudder]).
I am now far less of a grammar cop than I used to be, but I am certainly not a full-fledged grammar hippie. If I were, I’d have a harder time doing my job. But being more of a hippie than a cop has saved me a lot of aggravation in recent years.
There’s a place for both cops and hippies, but I find that I’m happier on the outskirts of hippie land. And, of course, we all need to find a way to communicate with *cough* one another, because, after all, isn’t that our common goal?
I am now far less of a grammar cop than I used to be, but I am certainly not a full-fledged grammar hippie. If I were, I’d have a harder time doing my job. But being more of a hippie than a cop has saved me a lot of aggravation in recent years.
There’s a place for both cops and hippies, but I find that I’m happier on the outskirts of hippie land. And, of course, we all need to find a way to communicate with *cough* one another, because, after all, isn’t that our common goal?
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