HELP!!! Where Is The English Grammar We Were Taught?
Five years ago, I wrote a column titled, “In Defense of Grammar: The First in a Series.” It was a light-hearted, but pointed, reflection on the misuse of the English language. I was not referring to the vernacular associated with a particular region of the country, nor turns of phrase that are often part of a social group within the population. Rather, I was bemoaning how, bit by bit, incorrect grammar was becoming the norm. At the time, I reminisced on my five years of grammar lessons in grade school and middle school, lessons that incorporated diction, and even etymology. I surmised that my dear teacher, Sister Ann Mary, would likely be rolling over in her grave, (metaphorically speaking) were she to hear how the rules of the language she had taught with such distinction, precision and authority were no longer respected.
My hope had been that the tide might turn and English grammar would return to its rightful place in the primary and middle school curriculum of all schools across the country. How naïve could I have been! Since I penned that column in 2021, I have become disheartened by the reality that there is no going back to English grammar in America as it was taught in the mid- and late-twentieth century. Call me a fuddy duddy, and I won’t argue with you—at least not on the matter of language.
There was a time three or more decades ago when being an editor—at a newspaper, a magazine, or a book publisher—was a highly respected career. The editor’s skills were a crucial part of the production of a headline news story, an opinion piece, or a book—fiction or otherwise. However, the role of the editor has, for all intents and purposes, disappeared since the early 1990s, as newspapers and publishing houses were acquired or merged out of existence. Think: Random House and Penguin; Time Inc and Warner Communications (now Hachette); Harper & Row and Collins (now Harper Collins). On the cutting floor of those takeovers lay the role of the editor, deemed dispensable in a world that valued profits over literary excellence. It is now a common occurrence to find grammatical errors in Op-Ed columns in the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal and the Washington Post. All I can do is sigh, and, on occasion, text my tribe of four siblings to vent my frustration, as the five of us share the same grammatical scholastic heritage.
In spoken English today (at least in the U.S.) the part of speech most subjected to egregious misuse is the poor pronoun. Just a week ago, I heard a teenage boy shout to his mother, “Mom, me and him are going to the movies.” I simply sighed, and under my breath I whispered, “He and I.” But that became the motivation for today’s column. And when was the last time you heard the word “whom” used? It appears to have vanished from our language entirely. Is it laziness, or has it fallen out of favor because it takes a little thought to know when to use “who”—in the subject or after the verb “to be” versus “whom,” which is the object of a verb or a preposition. Is it too difficult to say, “Whom should I ask?” instead of “Who should I ask?”
I wonder at times if some of the most common pronoun errors take place in speaking because we tend to talk faster than we think. Speaking takes little forethought; one just blasts out a sentence. Writing, on the other hand, happens at a pace that is far slower than thought. It’s occurred to me that if an easily misspoken statement, e.g. “Her and me are going bowling,” were left as a note on the kitchen counter, might it more likely read “She and I are going bowling.” Perhaps that is just wishful thinking.
When my children were younger—much younger—I repeatedly corrected their grammatical errors, most of which were misuses of pronouns. My hope was that by the process of osmosis, they would catch on, and by and large they did, which I found rewarding. It was particularly gratifying when they would correct each other.
Other grammatical pet peeves of mine: converting verbs into nouns— “I’ll be sending out the wedding invites tomorrow.” I’ve learned to hold my tongue despite aching to say, in schoolmarm fashion, “It’s an invitation, not an invite.” On those few occasions, when my frustration gets the better of me and I give vent over the misuse of that word, I’ve been met with a “So what?” kind of stare. Because I believe in polite society, I have learned to swallow my frustration.
My newest vexation is the misuse of the past tense of the verb “to go.” “He should have went with you,” I was told the other day. My back bristled as though five fingernails had scratched the length of the blackboard. What is wrong with the word “gone?”
When I feel morbid about the state of the spoken English language in this country, I must admit to myself that some four centuries ago those very pronouns that I cherish today—you, your, yours—did not exist. Instead, thee, thy, and thine were once common usage, but went through their own metamorphosis and ultimately became today’s you, your, and yours.
And I accept the fact that I face a certain dilemma today. When it sounds weird to speak grammatically correctly, and I find myself at an uncomfortable fork in the road, I admit that I will occasionally take the “less proper English” path. When someone calls out, “Who is there?” I know that the grammatically appropriate response is, “It is I.” But I chicken out by replying, “It’s me.” I can hear Sister Ann Mary’s dulcet voice in my ear. “My dear, you should never be afraid to do what is correct.” But at the age of seventy-eight, I sometimes accept the fact that there are bigger, and perhaps more valiant, battles to fight.
