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Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

In Grammar, Learn Rules But Don’t Fear Them

Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Revie

Strictly from the standpoint of homework, my children would have preferred a research physicist for a father.

A research physicist would have been a double threat, indispensable for both the math homework and the science homework. Instead, they got a humor writer, which is akin to having Pauly Shore around to help with the pre-calculus.

However, at one time I harbored a wild fantasy that, as a professional writer, I could make up for this shortcoming when it came to English homework. I could dazzle my children with my rich knowledge of the written word. I could share my secrets as a craftsman of fine, custom-made English.

Then one day my daughter came home and said, “Dad, what’s an indirect object?”

Oh, damn. That’s right. English homework involves “grammar.” So much for that wild fantasy.

Grammar is the main subject which junior high English students are tortured with, or should I say, with which English students are tortured. Secondary-school English consists of three years of learning the rules of grammar, followed by three years of reading authors such as Shakespeare and Hemingway who routinely ignore the rules of grammar.

Anyway, my daughter has been coming home every night and asking her father, the professional, such questions as, “What is the past-perfect?”

“That would be a form of the perfect tense which is more generally used to connote things that have occurred in the past,” I say.

“So how is that different from the pluperfect?” she asks.

“Well, it’s not different, much, at all, except for the ‘plu,”’ I say.

“Never mind,” she says.

“It tends to be a little more plu-er than the past-perfect,” I say.

“Dad, I told you, never mind.”

I sense that she is a bit disappointed in me.

Yes, it’s true, I do not possess a faultless grasp of grammar, as a certain retired English teacher delights in informing me. I’m sure you know the kind of retired English teacher I’m talking about; the kind who keeps a red pencil close at hand while reading anything, even the church bulletin.

Still, years of constant writing and even more constant reading have given me an instinctual grasp of the vital concepts of good and bad writing, and not only that, I have the uncanny ability to know a run-on sentence when I write one.

However, I have never been particularly brilliant at diagraming sentences. For instance, let’s diagram the lead sentence of this column: “Strictly from the standpoint of homework, my children would have preferred a research physicist for a father.”

The sentence begins awkwardly with a prepositional phrase, which careens recklessly toward the subject “children,” which it strikes in a tragic rear-end collision, which is followed by the verb “preferred,” which is muddled up by “would have,” which is some kind of subjunctive vice-participle and then the entire sentence wraps up with a conjugal phrase containing a propositional interrogatory suffering from a bout of conjunctivitis.

See? I can’t even diagram my own sentences. This is a problem when it comes to homework, but not actually when it comes to writing. If I tried to diagram all of my sentences, I’d never have any time left for writing them.

Maybe this is the true bit of wisdom I should impart to my children about their English homework. Yes, it’s a good idea to know your pronouns from your conjunctions. Yes, the parts of speech are important, and some rules simply must be followed if you expect to be literate. Grammar is indispensable.

On the other hand, don’t let yourself be tangled up in all of that grammar. Don’t be so afraid of making a mistake that you become paralyzed. Read a lot, write a lot, and read a lot more. Pretty soon you’ll be able to “hear” what’s correct and what isn’t.

When you can do that, you can do what Shakespeare and Hemingway did. You can quit worrying about rules and concentrate on saying something, which - correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Retired English Teacher - seems to be the whole point of English.

To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

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