My Metamorphosis

As my time with Luke draws to an end, I have come to realize the enormity of my utter transformation. I don't mean into anything quite as grotesque as a monstrous vermin, but there is no doubt that I have changed. I have suffered a metamorphosis into a blubbering, cooing, baby-talking, stroller-pushing Nana. I have completely earned my grandma card.

For the last two mornings, I have cried over the most inane stories on The Today Show. I, who had previously never watched day-time television, sobbed over the human interest report of the woman whose face had been reconstructed after an unfortunate encounter with a chimp. Tears rolled down my face as I watched the reports of disabled children. I find myself recounting the statistics of mothers with infants: did you know that over 50% of young mothers would rather have a full night's sleep than sex? I know the inside jokes of Kathy Lee and Hoda (Winsday has never been so fun); Al Roker should have never let Morales put him through that boot camp thing.

Yesterday, I edited a former student's personal statement as part of an application to Teach For America. Part of his response was how he would measure success. How have I measured success for the past four weeks? I take personal pride in eliciting a deep belly-burp. I've worked hard on that technique. I'm pleased beyond measure when Luke takes 5 - 6 ounces instead of his usual 4. I have bragging rights that Luke is now wearing 3 month sized-onesies, at only 2 1/2 months! Success for me is in Luke's sweet grins in response to the most inane language on my part.

Luke in his 3 month onesie - with almost a smile

Another alarming transformation on my part regards music. I, who have sung polyphonic chant and Rachmaninoff with my church choir now sing "bath-time, bath-time: everybody takes a bath!" with Max. This jolly tune also works with "pick-up, pick-up: everybody picks up toys!" Max and I dance to the insipid tunes which emanate from Scout, his lime-green digital dog. We madly wag our tails or do the rhumba. Late at night, "Me and My Friend" loops through my head - a terrible tune for an ear worm. Maybe even worse is how often I've listened to classical tunes on Baby Einstein. The tinny version of "Fur Elise" with chirping birds may drive me to distraction. Carmen on a night-time cd - really?? 

While this time with my adorable grandsons has been immeasurably pleasurable, soon I'll need to wear another hat.  In less than a week, I'll be instructing seniors in high school on composition and literature. I only pray that I don't slip and say words I've become accustomed to use lately: "poopie," "potty," and "where's that burp?" among them. I am trusting that this upcoming metamorphosis will be less all-encompassing than my Nana transformation. 

"It Is a Sugar-coated Satan Sandwich": Confessions of a Word Prig

I have been thrilled a number of times since I first heard Rep. Emmanuel Cleaver state that the budget compromise was a "sugar-coated Satan sandwich." I love colorful colloquialisms, and I plan to work that juicy, unfamiliar saying into my comments in class as often as possible. After all, I've also been known to say that doing something remiss is the "moist kiss of Death." Certainly, I am a self-confessed word prig, a phrase coined by the great wordsmith, Dick Cavett. I delight in language and love both the purity and flexibility of English. I consider myself both a "lexophile" and a "verbivore," While I appreciate good grammar with the best of English teachers, I also rejoice in euphemisms, colloquialisms, and current slang.

In my classroom, I take pride in being articulate and clear. Sometimes, though, to my dismay, students tell me they don't understand me, and that I use words that are too big. In the past I've also had administrators ask me to translate what I've just said; thank goodness I have been blessed with administrators lately that are intelligent and intelligible. I tell my students to consider my class a "full immersion" one; just as in a foreign language, with constant usage, the listener will eventually come to understand my diction. In fact, one of my favorite lessons to teach is on word choice, levels of diction, and specificity (yes, that's a word). I try to make clear the difference between colloquial level of language, slang, and popular - that level at which college essays are written. I enjoy teaching about trite diction, deadwood, and cliches. While I may use colloquialisms in class, I would not in a formal essay. But, I will in this blog!  I also delight in current slang, and take a perverse pride in knowing the proper spelling of "thug lyf" (sometimes "lyfe") much to my daughter Alexa's chagrin. I love the nuances of  language.

I also love the development of language. Spending time with my baby grandsons has reaffirmed how important beginning language is for communication. That's why it's so wonderful that babies are learning simple sign language for concepts such as "more" and "down" and "thank you." Max is articulate at those words, and also at "Mama," "Dada," and - I think - "Nana." When Max goes to sleep at night, it is to a cd of music; I adore hearing him sing along in short, consonant-driven syllables that mean something only to him. Luke at two months is limited to cooing, but that's as powerful a language as one could ever hope.

I wonder if you can determine a baby's character from his or her first words? Alexa's first words were not until she was 18 months old. That plus the fact that she was not yet walking at 18 months did cause us concern. But her first word came shortly after the CAT scan, when she also started walking. Her first word was "duck" which says a great deal about Bill's covert hobbies when we were living in the town of Liberty. After "duck" came an entire language unique to Alexa: her blanket was "babadi," Sesame Street was "dagadi" and she called herself "Ayucca." Natalie's first word was "no." That also says a great deal about our second-born, as well as the fact that a barrage of language soon followed.

Remembering that rhetoric is the art and study of language's persuasive power, I advocate both the music of well-chosen and well-crafted language as well as its levels of meaning. I build my lexicon by following writers such as Susan Orleans on Twitter. I supplant my slang by following Andy Borowitz. I also subscribe to various word-of-the-day sites. I look forward to new words and phrases in our evolving tongue. I abhor jingoism, but am interested in jargon. I anticipate with eagerness and joy what the new week will bring in the colorful world of language:
Words that Shaped Last Week