Tag Archives: Stephen Fry

Vocabulary 101

Activity Being Avoided: Lesson prep for the week
Music In My Head: Highway – David Francey
Tea Being Drunk: I can’t get any tea because I’m lying on my stomach and there’s a cat sleeping on my back
Books Being Read: Mama’s Boy — David Goudreault, Her Body and Other Parties — Carmen Maria Machado

When I was a child–about six or seven years old–my sister and I were in the back seat of the car, insulting each other.

“You’re despicable!”

“No, you’re despicable!”

“You’re despicabler!”

My parents were ignoring us; my uncle, whom we had just picked up at the airport, (I assume our performance was for him) had one eyebrow raised.

“Do you two know what that word means?”

“Yep! It means you’re pregnant!” (My sister would have been four or five.)

“It means you’re really bad. But we can say that word and Mum doesn’t get mad.”

Where had such young children learned that word? From Daffy Duck, of course. He said it to Bugs Bunny all the time. It was a great word that came with an optional saliva-spraying lisp.

I think about situations like this when I get a new student. New students are always asked why they think they need an English tutor. The answer invariably involves some variant of “I want to improve my vocabulary”. They have lists of SAT words and vocabulary workbooks. They set goals such as learning 100 new words per week.

I didn’t have SAT word lists or vocabulary workbooks when I was growing up. I had the illicit Batman TV show that we watched at a friend’s house, during which the Joker taught me “Foiled again!” and “You have thwarted my nefarious plans for the last time!” I had Rudyard Kipling and his ‘Stute Fish. I had Maurice Sendak’s Wild Things that gnashed their teeth.

I had a mother who, when I didn’t like dinner or my sisters or the way my life was going, asked, “Are you being persecuted?” If I answered, “Yes”, her retort would be something about it putting carbuncles on my soul.

I had a father who said, “That’s ludicrous!” rather than “You stupid child, what were you thinking?”

As Albert Cullum points out in Push Back the Desks, children in Kindergarten pick up on the language that’s fed to them. If you drop a sheet over your head and say, “I’m a friendly apparition”, they’ll make the ghost connection in a couple of minutes. If you flap your arms and say, “Pinions”, they know what you’re talking about. The concept of waiting until a child is “old enough” before we speak to them in an intelligent manner is particularly short-sighted.

Growing up, there were people I would purposefully listen to because I admired their linguistic skills. When I ask my students whose vocabulary they admire, I’m met with blank stares.

What goes in, comes out.

Sometimes I get a student who clicks right away, and they’re able to focus on the best voices available to them. Their vocabulary improves within six months or so.

Other students are convinced that word lists are still the way to go. They remember the words for a couple of weeks, and then the words are gone. I have the students read Calvin and Hobbes comics, and watch Corner Gas and Brit-coms. Eventually, they might see the light and embrace Stephen Fry as their linguistic deity, but we’ve lost valuable time.

We want our children to be “above average”, but we only give them access to mediocrity. It seems to me that in our crusade to make children’s culture entirely educational, positive and uniform, we’ve forgotten to include versatile language.

 

 

The Hemingway Voice

Activity Being Avoided: the list is almost endless
Music In My Head: Danse Caribe – Andrew Bird
Tea Being Drunk: none.  Yeah, you should make a 911 call.
Book Being Read: Equus – Peter Shaffer

I should not be blogging.  I should be doing one of the thousand other things that’s waiting for my undivided attention.  I should be productive for the thirty minutes before I have to see another student.

Not happening.

One of the other teachers in the ESL school told me about The Hemingway App.  The theory goes that Ernest Hemingway demonstrated the perfect, simple writing voice to which we should all aspire; while that’s certainly up for debate (a very short debate), the app claims to help you keep your writing at the green-zone Grade 7 level.  I snorted.  Then, after I’d wiped my derision off the computer screen, I tossed all thoughts of the app aside.

But we all know that when Sheila gets overly snobby, the universe wet-noodles her across the face.

Enter “David Fry”–so-called because if you put David Foster Wallace and Stephen Fry in a blender and turned it on, you’d pour out this student.  I can’t seem to explain to him that mind-bogglingly complicated is not always the best goal in sentence construction.  While I love reading his essays, a lot of people probably get migraines when the see his name at the top of the page.  My own temples throbbed The Hemingway App to the front of my brain.

“Grade 17,” it said.  “In the flashing neon red zone,” it said.

“Ha!” I said, vindicated by a free app.  (I’m a highly-trained tutor.)  I suggested he get try to get it down to Grade 10.

The lowest he got was (an age-appropriate) Grade 12.  David Fry, you’re the only one wearing a tuxedo in a room full of people in pyjamas.  You got work to do if you can’t write pyjamas.

Following David Fry was Y.W. (“Yeah, whatever”), a Grade 7 student who constantly rides that slippery slope between pyjamas and embarrassingly nekid.  Y.W. couldn’t make it up to Grade 7–and he’s trying to get into a couple of overly-demanding public schools.

The teacher who suggested I check out the app uses it to make sure her selected tests are at a reasonable grade level–which I think is a perfectly acceptable cheat, but not for me.  My distaste for it has to do with unnecessary categorising (why would you look for numbers when you can revel in the words?), as well as a general suspicion of anything that doesn’t like passive voice.  I’m also not a Hemingway fan; if they’d called it The Timothy Findley app, I’d have no problem with it.

(Please note that this blog entry registers as “Good: Grade 7” on The Hemingway App.)