Our compatriots across the pond, the British and Irish, have many wonderful aspects to their language, not least of which is their multitude of accents. You've got the light lilt of southern England, the bouncy and jovial Cockney, the proper Queen's English, and the deeper Scottish and Irish brogues, to name a few. I love 'em all.
I have less love for some aspects of their grammar, on the other hand. In particular, I take issue with their use of the plural form of the verb "to be" in reference to a singular entity. Here's how it pans out.
When referring to, for example, football teams, the British headlines will read "Manchester defeat Leeds 2-1 in a fiercely-fought match." It's as if Manchester is a plural. To my mind, Manchester defeats Leeds. Manchester is a singular entity, regardless of whether we're talking about the city, or more precisely, the football team. If you want to use a plural correctly, then refer to a plural entity. Say "The players of Manchester defeat the players of Leeds."
Unfortunately, from what I gather, this would be a futile and uphill battle, were I to undertake such a battle abroad. But I have seen evidence of this inconsistency stateside, and I will oppose it. (Said our hero, shaking his fist at the universe.) Rolling Stone (the magazine) often uses this improper construction when discussing bands. "R.E.M. Begin Work on New Album," the headline will read, for example. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Spelling Bees and demographics
I'm potentially treading on thin ice here. Any discussion of superiority of race or nationality in one area or another is a lightning rod for controversy and flaming. So I will do my best to be sensitive, yet forthright.
It is no secret that Indians are dominating spelling bees nowadays. At the national level, the past five winners have all been Indian. Since 1985, when Balu Natarajan became the first Indian winner of the NSB, there have been 12 winners, 10 of whom have won since 1999. And at this year's bee, the top three spellers were all Indian. It really does beg the question: why?
I've been searching the Hexco website today. Hexco is a company that specializes in providing support and "educational tools for the serious student." The company originally specialized in just the spelling bee (I used their products back in my bee days), but has grown to include geography bees, computer education, and a litany of other subjects. And I found out, for the first time, all about the North South Foundation, which sponsors multiple competitions, including their own spelling bees. I recently found out about the South Asian Spelling Bee, also. Both cater exclusively to Indians.
At this point, I've just begun to explore this area, but suffice it to say that both of these institutions are catered to prepare Indian students for academic excellence. And aside from spelling bees, it is no accident that Indians are known for excelling in math, science, medicine, and yes...to bring up a stereotype, information technology. But I think that some stereotypes exist for a reason, and it's no quirk that Indians are exceedingly common in the IT world.
Back to spelling bees: if Indians place such emphasis on academic excellence, it makes you wonder: why not other demographics? I have no answer at this time. But I bet it has a lot to do with discipline, hard work, setting goals...really, no magic elixir, I'm sure. But the foundation for excellence is also placed in there.
It's interesting to note that in the history of the spelling bee, only one person of predominantly non-Indian Asian descent has won: Wendy Guey, in 1995. Interesting, because non-Indian Asians are also known for academic excellence, particularly in the realms of math, science, and -- perhaps moreso than Indians -- music. Again, why not spelling?
Jamaica, also, has traditionally been extremely competitive at the national level; although there has only been one Jamaican winner (Jody-Anne Maxwell, in 1998), this doesn't negate the fact that Jamaicans often are among the top spellers year in and year out. But they have an extremely dedicated coach who puts them through rigorous training; I had the pleasure of meeting him at this year's bee.
Is there a Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, written by an Indian, waiting to be published somewhere? Have priorities shifted for Americans of Caucasian descent?
It is no secret that Indians are dominating spelling bees nowadays. At the national level, the past five winners have all been Indian. Since 1985, when Balu Natarajan became the first Indian winner of the NSB, there have been 12 winners, 10 of whom have won since 1999. And at this year's bee, the top three spellers were all Indian. It really does beg the question: why?
I've been searching the Hexco website today. Hexco is a company that specializes in providing support and "educational tools for the serious student." The company originally specialized in just the spelling bee (I used their products back in my bee days), but has grown to include geography bees, computer education, and a litany of other subjects. And I found out, for the first time, all about the North South Foundation, which sponsors multiple competitions, including their own spelling bees. I recently found out about the South Asian Spelling Bee, also. Both cater exclusively to Indians.
At this point, I've just begun to explore this area, but suffice it to say that both of these institutions are catered to prepare Indian students for academic excellence. And aside from spelling bees, it is no accident that Indians are known for excelling in math, science, medicine, and yes...to bring up a stereotype, information technology. But I think that some stereotypes exist for a reason, and it's no quirk that Indians are exceedingly common in the IT world.
Back to spelling bees: if Indians place such emphasis on academic excellence, it makes you wonder: why not other demographics? I have no answer at this time. But I bet it has a lot to do with discipline, hard work, setting goals...really, no magic elixir, I'm sure. But the foundation for excellence is also placed in there.
It's interesting to note that in the history of the spelling bee, only one person of predominantly non-Indian Asian descent has won: Wendy Guey, in 1995. Interesting, because non-Indian Asians are also known for academic excellence, particularly in the realms of math, science, and -- perhaps moreso than Indians -- music. Again, why not spelling?
Jamaica, also, has traditionally been extremely competitive at the national level; although there has only been one Jamaican winner (Jody-Anne Maxwell, in 1998), this doesn't negate the fact that Jamaicans often are among the top spellers year in and year out. But they have an extremely dedicated coach who puts them through rigorous training; I had the pleasure of meeting him at this year's bee.
Is there a Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, written by an Indian, waiting to be published somewhere? Have priorities shifted for Americans of Caucasian descent?
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Wisdom from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
I watched this first of the Harry Potter movies last night. It's a wonderful movie, particularly for nerds like me. Through it, you live vicariously through a kid who has lived in dreary conditions for years, only to suddenly be swept up to a magical land where he is appreciated, even revered. But he has done nothing up to this point to earn any of it. He is told that he is an amazing wizard, and has been given, free of charge, the tools with which to create himself accordingly. And on a much more mundane level, he wanders through Diagon Alley with Hagrid, basically doing his back-to-school shopping. But for what other school do you require a pewter pot, an owl, and a wand? Magic suffuses this movie, and I'm not just talking about potions, herbology, or flying on the Nimbus 2000.
Along the way, he discovers, among other things, the Mirror of Erised. He sees his deceased parents in there, whom he has never known, beaming at him with pride and love. Understandably, it stirs his heart, and he begins to spend hours in front of the mirror. Perhaps days later, Professor Dumbledore finds him there, and tells him this about the mirror:
It shows us the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts.Keep in mind that Dumbledore is talking about the Mirror of Erised. (Spell that last word backwards.)
Remember this, Harry: This mirror gives us neither knowledge, nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it, even gone mad.
It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.
That is why tomorrow, it will be moved to a new home. And I must ask you not to go looking for it again.
For me, I must admit that the internet is a kind of addiction. I spend hours on it. It is my own Mirror of Erised. And I need to use it judiciously, to further my own goals, and not to get lost in my dreams.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Lightning vs. lightening
lightning (n): the flashing of light produced
by a discharge of atmospheric electricity from one cloud to another or from a
cloud to the earth; also : the discharge itself.
lightening (n): a sense of decreased weight and abdominal tension felt by a pregnant woman on
descent of the fetus into the pelvic cavity prior to labor.
I've seen far too many people (particularly on Facebook) use the word "lightening" to describe what happens during a lightning storm. PSA: please use "lightning" unless you happen to be an obstetrician, doula, or midwife describing what will happen during the last few weeks of pregnancy.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude - J.S. Bach
I'm a great fan of classical music. Actually, let me amend that. I'm a great fan of baroque music. Around the age of 11, I discovered how comforting and calming it can be, and how conducive it is to a great study atmosphere. Of course, there's a world of difference between, say, Tchaikovsky's boisterous 1812 Overture or Rossini's wild William Tell Overture (neither of which are baroque, of course), and calmer pieces like this.
Simply put, aside from the frequent ability for baroque music to create an ideal study atmosphere, it just puts one at ease. Give this a listen and see if it doesn't calm you down.
After the 2012 National Spelling Bee
So the 2012 National Spelling Bee has come and gone. I can't say that things turned out 100% as I would have liked. But I have very little room to complain, and after all is said and done, I'm immensely proud of Frank. Porwigle will haunt him to his dying day, but the sting of getting the one word he didn't know in the final rounds will slowly but surely fade. He performed tremendously, and definitely was a major contender. And hey...7th place in the nation? The highest placing first-timer from the US? Repeated accolades from Samir Patel (one amazing 5-timer from the mid 2000s) and Nupur Lala (1999 champion)? Nothing to bat an eye at.
I was so caught up in rooting for Frank that the winner, Snigda Nandipati, barely registered as a blip on my screen, so to speak. Especially after such killer rounds 5 and 9, everything else was, relatively speaking, nothing.
In the past, I've gone back and forth on whether Dr. Bailly's more jocular sentences were appropriate, but now that I've seen them in person, in an incredibly tense ballroom, I'm convinced that they really are appropriate...necessary, even. They are a great way to defuse some of the tension, and I'm grateful for them, actually. Even if a poor speller misses their word after hearing a funny sentence, the effort has at least been made to try and mitigate the sting of the bee.
And speaking of defusing tension with humor, this kid deserves a special award...and his place in bee lore is now secure.
The journey to the national bee was amazing, and the bee itself was agonizing, and perhaps not my favorite of all time, but still great. I'm happy to have been a part of it. I'm also very happy that studying is done and over with for now...it took a lot of time and preparation on my end. I'm taking at least a month off, and when I do start, it will begin at a slow, 2-hour pace, just like last year.
Yes, this is a short post. Hungry for more commentary from the point of view of a coach? Check the post I wrote for another excellent blog.
I was so caught up in rooting for Frank that the winner, Snigda Nandipati, barely registered as a blip on my screen, so to speak. Especially after such killer rounds 5 and 9, everything else was, relatively speaking, nothing.
In the past, I've gone back and forth on whether Dr. Bailly's more jocular sentences were appropriate, but now that I've seen them in person, in an incredibly tense ballroom, I'm convinced that they really are appropriate...necessary, even. They are a great way to defuse some of the tension, and I'm grateful for them, actually. Even if a poor speller misses their word after hearing a funny sentence, the effort has at least been made to try and mitigate the sting of the bee.
And speaking of defusing tension with humor, this kid deserves a special award...and his place in bee lore is now secure.
The journey to the national bee was amazing, and the bee itself was agonizing, and perhaps not my favorite of all time, but still great. I'm happy to have been a part of it. I'm also very happy that studying is done and over with for now...it took a lot of time and preparation on my end. I'm taking at least a month off, and when I do start, it will begin at a slow, 2-hour pace, just like last year.
Yes, this is a short post. Hungry for more commentary from the point of view of a coach? Check the post I wrote for another excellent blog.
Alex's Prayer
(Originally posted May 29, 2012.)
I'm here at the Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center just outside Washington, DC, again for the National Spelling Bee. And it is a wild time. It's always great to be back here. But for the first time, I am not in control of things, and this hits my nerves something fierce.
Let me explain. As a speller, yes, you are on stage, with all the cameras pointed at you, with everyone in the auditorium staring at you, as you try to spell words correctly. But you know if you know the word, and if you don't, you know if you think you can sound it out. As an audience member, you don't have that luxury. You can only hope the speller gets their word right. It's even worse if you are a family member, a friend, or a coach...you're not just enjoying the competition, you have a Vested Interest up there, and you want so, so badly for them to succeed, and you'll feel just awful if they don't.
For the last ten months, I have been coaching a young man whose father sent out a Craigslist ad asking for a spelling coach. This kid has been absolutely fascinated with the English language and all its intricacies. And with the help of movies, videos, and innumerable personal anecdotes, I have turned him on to bee culture in a HUGE way.
He won his district and state bees, and now he's here in DC, with 277 other peers, to compete. And as a visible previous national champion, I'm competing alongside him, also in a potentially very visible way. I may become a regular coach for spellers, and I've been slowly coming to the realization that with this bee rests a fair bit of my reputation going forward.
All the excitement in the world can be dissolved in an instant when you see your protege exit the written test round, mumbling slightly dejectedly about how he flat-out didn't know 4 of 50 words on the written test, and 2 others he kindasorta knew but still had to guess on. Here's the tough part: 25 of those words will count, and 25 are decoys. So this means that he could theoretically score as low as 19/25, or get a perfect score. If the former, then there is no chance he will make it to the semifinal rounds, which is his goal. If the latter, then his chances are virtually 100%. (See, he needs to spell two words out loud tomorrow as well, and hopefully get those right. Fortunately, those words are from lists he knows down cold.)
I'm trying to console myself with the thought that everyone will live and die by the same sword - the same 25-word test. And I'm probably overthinking and overdramatizing. But it definitely makes you pause: did I give him the right words to study? Did I give him the proper tools? Will he be okay? Suddenly, I find myself in the same position as other coaches...and more to the point, anxious parents who want their kids to succeed so badly.
So after this bit of unnerving news, and after some reflection, I walked down to the Hall of Champions, where banners show every winner at the moment of triumph from 1969 forward (along with their winning word). I'm up there, natch. There's also three displays with blurbs, pictures, and paraphernalia about the bee from its very inception forward.
Alex Cameron, for the previous generation of spellers (of which I'm a member), was the avuncular, comforting deep voice of the bee - literally and figuratively. His sentences were drier compared with Jacques Bailly's current jocularities. And he didn't radiate much charisma. But he was solid, stalwart, and reliable in a sea of chaos, and I really appreciated his presence and friendly nature throughout the bee. He unexpectedly died in 2003, after which a colleague of his wrote this poem/prayer in his honor:
God, bless all the keepers of words --
the most exotic of creatures --
because we need their precision to measure,
their colors to dream,
and their rhythms to sing.
Bless all the children learning to spell,
most of all when they are told
they must always go from left to right
and when they discover that every rule
at the worst possible time,
turns out to have an exception.
Bless most of all the children who stand alone,
moving a hidden finger along an invisible pad,
on a stage where the judges are armed with sentences
prepared in advance, and it is nearly impossible to be cool.
God, bless the words themselves,
as they flow through history
from the Himalayas, the Alps, and the Andes,
into the wide Midwestern river
where once, in a book,
a runaway boy sailed on an abandoned raft
and with a voice borrowed from servants,
spoke to a runaway slave,
and suddenly found the father he had always wanted
and the father he deserved.
God, help us to remember
the saints who sit on the porches of heaven,
practicing words like "euphuistic" and "pantagruelian,"
because they have lived in our world
and know that, sometimes, life is exactly like that.
Let them know that we are grateful
for every word
when we need to understand each other
and speak to you.
This poem is printed on one of those displays. It's a great reminder of the inspiration and legacy that Dr. Cameron left behind, and it somehow provided a bit of solace to me in the midst of the chaos at the bee right now. Bless these children up on stage, indeed, for they are about to go through a mighty crucible.
I'm here at the Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center just outside Washington, DC, again for the National Spelling Bee. And it is a wild time. It's always great to be back here. But for the first time, I am not in control of things, and this hits my nerves something fierce.
Let me explain. As a speller, yes, you are on stage, with all the cameras pointed at you, with everyone in the auditorium staring at you, as you try to spell words correctly. But you know if you know the word, and if you don't, you know if you think you can sound it out. As an audience member, you don't have that luxury. You can only hope the speller gets their word right. It's even worse if you are a family member, a friend, or a coach...you're not just enjoying the competition, you have a Vested Interest up there, and you want so, so badly for them to succeed, and you'll feel just awful if they don't.
For the last ten months, I have been coaching a young man whose father sent out a Craigslist ad asking for a spelling coach. This kid has been absolutely fascinated with the English language and all its intricacies. And with the help of movies, videos, and innumerable personal anecdotes, I have turned him on to bee culture in a HUGE way.
He won his district and state bees, and now he's here in DC, with 277 other peers, to compete. And as a visible previous national champion, I'm competing alongside him, also in a potentially very visible way. I may become a regular coach for spellers, and I've been slowly coming to the realization that with this bee rests a fair bit of my reputation going forward.
All the excitement in the world can be dissolved in an instant when you see your protege exit the written test round, mumbling slightly dejectedly about how he flat-out didn't know 4 of 50 words on the written test, and 2 others he kindasorta knew but still had to guess on. Here's the tough part: 25 of those words will count, and 25 are decoys. So this means that he could theoretically score as low as 19/25, or get a perfect score. If the former, then there is no chance he will make it to the semifinal rounds, which is his goal. If the latter, then his chances are virtually 100%. (See, he needs to spell two words out loud tomorrow as well, and hopefully get those right. Fortunately, those words are from lists he knows down cold.)
I'm trying to console myself with the thought that everyone will live and die by the same sword - the same 25-word test. And I'm probably overthinking and overdramatizing. But it definitely makes you pause: did I give him the right words to study? Did I give him the proper tools? Will he be okay? Suddenly, I find myself in the same position as other coaches...and more to the point, anxious parents who want their kids to succeed so badly.
So after this bit of unnerving news, and after some reflection, I walked down to the Hall of Champions, where banners show every winner at the moment of triumph from 1969 forward (along with their winning word). I'm up there, natch. There's also three displays with blurbs, pictures, and paraphernalia about the bee from its very inception forward.
Alex Cameron, for the previous generation of spellers (of which I'm a member), was the avuncular, comforting deep voice of the bee - literally and figuratively. His sentences were drier compared with Jacques Bailly's current jocularities. And he didn't radiate much charisma. But he was solid, stalwart, and reliable in a sea of chaos, and I really appreciated his presence and friendly nature throughout the bee. He unexpectedly died in 2003, after which a colleague of his wrote this poem/prayer in his honor:
God, bless all the keepers of words --
the most exotic of creatures --
because we need their precision to measure,
their colors to dream,
and their rhythms to sing.
Bless all the children learning to spell,
most of all when they are told
they must always go from left to right
and when they discover that every rule
at the worst possible time,
turns out to have an exception.
Bless most of all the children who stand alone,
moving a hidden finger along an invisible pad,
on a stage where the judges are armed with sentences
prepared in advance, and it is nearly impossible to be cool.
God, bless the words themselves,
as they flow through history
from the Himalayas, the Alps, and the Andes,
into the wide Midwestern river
where once, in a book,
a runaway boy sailed on an abandoned raft
and with a voice borrowed from servants,
spoke to a runaway slave,
and suddenly found the father he had always wanted
and the father he deserved.
God, help us to remember
the saints who sit on the porches of heaven,
practicing words like "euphuistic" and "pantagruelian,"
because they have lived in our world
and know that, sometimes, life is exactly like that.
Let them know that we are grateful
for every word
when we need to understand each other
and speak to you.
This poem is printed on one of those displays. It's a great reminder of the inspiration and legacy that Dr. Cameron left behind, and it somehow provided a bit of solace to me in the midst of the chaos at the bee right now. Bless these children up on stage, indeed, for they are about to go through a mighty crucible.
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