Monthly Archive for February, 2007

I do not think it means what you think it means : Student Essay Edition

then - Used to speak about temporal or causal relationships, for example, "First you write the bad paper, then I kill you," or perhaps "If you don’t effing figure this out soon, then I will be forced to feed you to my dog.  He is a tiny dog and your death will be slow."  See?

than - Used for comparisons, for example, I might use this word when I have to explain that your friend got an A and you got a C- because your friend’s paper was better than yours.  Your friend seems to actually know how to read, so yeah.

site - As they say in real estate, it’s all location, location, location.  Like a website: a place on the web where I write mean things about you.  Or maybe a dig site: the place in the ground where future archaeologists will be digging up your remains, marveling at the tiny, dachshund-shaped gnarl-marks all over your bones.

sight - One of your five senses, or a thing you see with that sense. A noun, mostly. Your paper was a sad, sorry sight.  For example, you know?

cite - The thing you didn’t do in your paper, which caused you to fail. A verb. Cite your effing sources next time, asshat.

heel - The part of your foot opposite your toes, a command for a dog, or, idiomatically, the body part over which your head (stupidly, but not the point) is said to be when you fall in love. Head over heels, people; over heels.

heal - Get better, repair, recover, stop being sick.  You’ll need time to heal after the dachshund is through with you, I am saying.

Albania - A Balkan country on the Adriatic sea.  This is in Europe.

Algeria - A North African country on the Mediterranean sea. In Africa.  This is the country in which The Sheltering Sky was set.  Remember all that talk about the desert?  The Saharan desert?  The desert that is not in Europe?  Yes.

ruff - A lacy collar with deep, ruffly folds, like Shakespeare used to wear.  Hint: ruffle.

rough ? Apparently, this is how your week was, what with the dead grandmothers and flat tires and the nasty case of Dengue fever you claim to have contracted on your trip to Albania (all of this, of course, preventing you from turning up to class or handing in your essay).  Yes, a rough week.  It?s going to get even rougher if you keep insisting your week was really, you swear, just like Shakespeare?s collar — literally!  Then I?m going to have to release the hound.

figuratively - involving a figure of speech, like  metaphor.  For example, ?After incorrectly referring to Albania when he meant Algeria, the student had egg on his face,? or ?The student?s essay was a nightmare.?  These are figures of speech, see; they?re not really, literally, true.  Unless, of course, I decide to crack an egg on the kid’s face, or I have a nightmare that takes the form of a student?s essay.  Now that I think about it, neither of these is too far outside the realm of possibility.

literally - In a manner in accordance with the strict, real, actual meaning of the word.  Stop saying things like ?I lit a fire under his ass ? literally!? or ?I have a bone to pick with you ? literally!?  The word literally is not meant to be used to amplify your meaning or emphasize your depth of feeling on the matter of the metaphorical fire you lit under your colleague’s ass.  Unless, of course, you did, literally, light him afire in the assular region, and in that case, he likely deserved it.  Well done.

whippersnapper wordsmithery

Do you think it’s significant that my students insist on calling Humbert Humbert "Humpert"?

in which i reveal myself to be a complete bitch to strangers from the internet

I have long been curious about the bafflingly clumsy google searches through which people have arrived at this site. Today, for example, some unfortunate souls got here by searching for “bain of my existence definition” and “gold lame capri.” Of those two, whose life is worse? You be the judge. Another search string had the profound and oddly soothing claim, “I myself was grammar” — one of the countless grammar-related searches that arrives at this site, where the unsuspecting googler is only going to be insulted and called an asshat or a chowderhead.

Overall, though, the most common search strings seem to be just improper uses of google — cases where someone has treated google like a person with whom one can converse. They interrogate google, demanding to know “how did tyra banks get so fat?” or “what is onanism?” Faced with questions of the first sort, I just have to wonder why they care, and hope they will find my rant about Tyra and her fatsuit edifying. For the second inquiry, I find myself wishing I could answer them somehow; I want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them and shout DICTIONARY DOT COM YOU FOOL DICTIONARY DOT COM. It’s because I like helping people, see?

Sadly for all involved, there is usually no way to do this. Unless, of course, the clumsy googler, after having searched and arrived at my blog, decides to click that email link over to the right and send me, Alfina the Vague, a personal email asking that very same question. Yes indeedy, this really happened! Imagine my glee!

On the same day someone searched ask.com for “what paul simon song title deals with thermodynamics,” I received the following email in my box:

To: Alfina The Vague

From : Karats1@internetcompany.com

Subject: question

what paul simon song title deals with thermodynamics hope u can answer thanks

k

For some bizarre reason still unknown to me, I decided to respond. Probably I was in the throes of a desperate procrastination attempt, trying to put off some grading or even some research of my own. I include below, for your possible amusement, the email conversation that ensued (I have replaced URLs with links to make this look nicer; that’s the only change I’ve made):

To: Karats1

From: Alfina

Subject: question

Learn how to use a search engine, not to mention a shift key.

[link to a more appropriate search string]

- - - -

To: Alfina

From: Karats1

Subject: question

Thank you for your prompt reply.

I did use my search engine that is how I found you.

Though you may not appreciate my use of the shift key, I hope that I have not insulted you into ignoring just one more question. Is the song Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes the correct answer?

Thanks whoever you are.

K

- - - -

To: Karats1

From: Alfina

Subject: question

>> Is the song Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes the correct answer?

No, it is not. I seriously can not believe your ineptitude with the search engines. You searched

what paul simon song title deals with thermodynamics

on Ask.com, right? No, I am not psychic, but the internet works in amazing and mysterious ways. Your search question doesn’t take into account how to get the kind of results that will be helpful to you. Try searching:

“paul simon” AND thermodynamics

It will give you these results.

The fourth search result down contains the following sentence:

“As both Paul Simon and the laws of thermodynamics remind us, ‘everything put together sooner or later falls apart.’ “

Thus leading me to conclude that the song you refer to is “Everything Put Together Falls Apart,” from Paul Simon’s self-titled album of 1972. The title of this song refers to entropy, a concept central to the second law of thermodynamics. Read more about entropy here. Find a list of all Paul Simon’s albums and song titles here.

The whole thing took about five minutes, including writing this email.

- - - -

To: Alfina

From: Karats1

Subject: question

Thanks so very much we appreciate it.

Want to try question 2?

What scientist was brutally murdered by Christian minks on the way home from the world’s greatest library?

K

At this point I was completely baffled by this person’s behavior, but curiosity got the better of me. I searched for the requested information (changing “minks” to “monks” based on genius-like insight alone) and, what do you know, the answer was contained in the first of many useful results. I decided initially not to respond, but, soon enough, my itchy typing fingers got the better of me, and I sent this response, which had the perhaps unfortunate result of killing the conversation:

To: Karats1

From: Alfina

Subject: question

You know, the whole point of that exercise, for me, was to demonstrate how easy it is to find information on the internet. You have access to google. You have access to the same internet I do. And yet, you use search engines poorly, and essentially give up. How many search results did you click before you wound up at my website?* How long did you try to research this before you asked a STRANGER on the INTERNET to solve your problem for you?*

What do they teach you people in school these days?*

Good lord.

*NB These are rhetorical questions to which I neither want nor expect answers.

Sadly, now here I am, left with so much unresolved — in retrospect, I shouldn’t have added the snide little NB about rhetorical questions, because I am strangely dying to know: how many results did they click before mine? How long did they work on this question? What does it take to be desperate enough to email a stranger from the internet to do your homework for you?

I did suspect this was homework of some sort, by the way. The original email has “HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT” written all over it, and my active little imagination quickly created some hypothetical scenario where students had to do some kind of (internet?) research assignment of a scavenger-hunt-like design — something I have heard of before in classes like “Library Methods” or “Writing for Research” or similar. Guess what, though? The owner of that particular username at that particular ISP turned out (on more cursory googling) to be a middle-aged schoolteacher in New York. Well, I’m sure she’s doing a great job, right? Right?

(classroom, discussion)

I wanted to thank you guys again for your contributions to the Lolita discussion over the weekend — it’s nice to hear all your thoughts and to have some confirmation of the fact that I am not, in fact, crazy. I should also tell you that the first day of discussion went very well. This may be attributable to the fact that on the first day of a new book, half of the class time is taken up by my initial lecture, leaving only an hour for discussion, so things go by awfully fast and there is less time for whine, whine, whining. I also think my lecture made it completely clear that I love my Nabokov, which might have made them think twice about saying anything too obnoxious.

They seemed fairly engaged; they talked; they debated; miraculously, they all seemed to have read the assigned portion. I’m sure it didn’t hurt that I was over-prepared (anxiety will do that to me) or that the kid who last week, in anticipation of the book, moaned aggrievedly and at length about his eleven-year-old sister and how woe is him! he did not like to think about his eleven-year-old sister while reading this book and gnash! she is his sister and wail! she is eleven.

I hope it will all go so well tomorrow. In anticipation, I will be spending the night (Valentine’s Night!) reading again about H.H. and his torturous, painful love for Lolita, Lo! Lee! Ta! Reader, I ask you, imagine.

some people ain’t got no couth

I have probably mentioned that I am an unrepentant lurker on Ask Metafilter — one of my favorite topics there, partly because it generates so many widely-ranging responses and thus so much debate, is etiquette. I am certainly no Emily Post, but I think I have a decent sense of appropriate behavior in most situations, so I am often surprised to see that people often have such different ideas.

One question I remember reading a while back (but can no longer find, d’oh!) dealt with the issue of whether it is polite to ask your guests to remove their shoes inside your house. I myself would never dream of asking guests to take off their shoes — granted, there are certain situations when I might expect them to do so (like if they came in from outside with some nasty-ass muddy rain boots, for example), and I would hope they would without being asked. (Side Story: I dated this guy in college who never took off his muddy shoes and was forever getting dirt on my BED, because he would kick back on the bed to watch some “Prices” [aka The Price is Right] with his nasty boots still on, all “See you when you get back from class; I’m gonna watch some Prices!” Needless to say I got shut of him quickly.) Likewise, I have removed my shoes in other people’s houses without complaint, and without being asked, when I saw that was their policy — it’s kind of hard to miss a pile of 40 pairs of shoes by the front door when you arrive at a party — they didn’t have to put themselves in the uncomfortable position of asking me. I am perfectly willing to respect other people’s shoe policies, but, at the same time, I think it’s rather rude when someone insists on the shoe removal, berating their guests into de-shoing, as depicted in one episode of Sex and the City, and as enacted at several parties I have attended in Zembla. Such a host places her guests in the often uncomfortable situation of putting their socks — or worse yet, bare feet — on awkward display.

The reasons I feel this way will probably become clear once I get to the real topic of this post, which, believe it or not, even after all that chat about shoes, is not actually shoes. One of the most insightful answers I have seen on Ask Metafilter was in response to this etiquette question, where a man was wondering how to politely refuse a woman who had invited herself to stay with him and his wife while in town. After a flurry of responses, some criticizing the woman for inviting herself to stay with these people (who were not her close friends) and some arguing that there is nothing rude about asking when the person can Just Say No, one poster finally nailed it:

This is a classic case of Ask Culture meets Guess Culture.

In some families, you grow up with the expectation that it’s OK to ask for anything at all, but you gotta realize you might get no for an answer. This is Ask Culture.

In Guess Culture, you avoid putting a request into words unless you’re pretty sure the answer will be yes. Guess Culture depends on a tight net of shared expectations. A key skill is putting out delicate feelers. If you do this with enough subtlety, you won’t even have to make the request directly; you’ll get an offer. Even then, the offer may be genuine or pro forma; it takes yet more skill and delicacy to discern whether you should accept.

All kinds of problems spring up around the edges. If you’re a Guess Culture person — and you [the original poster in the thread] obviously are — then unwelcome requests from Ask Culture people seem presumptuous and out of line, and you’re likely to feel angry, uncomfortable, and manipulated.

If you’re an Ask Culture person, Guess Culture behavior can seem incomprehensible, inconsistent, and rife with passive aggression.

Obviously she’s an Ask and you’re a Guess. (I’m a Guess too. Let me tell you, it’s great for, say, reading nuanced and subtle novels; not so great for, say, dating and getting raises.)

Thing is, Guess behaviors only work among a subset of other Guess people — ones who share a fairly specific set of expectations and signaling techniques. The farther you get from your own family and friends and subculture, the more you’ll have to embrace Ask behavior. Otherwise you’ll spend your life in a cloud of mild outrage at the Cluelessness of Everyone.

As you read through the responses to this question, you can easily see who the Guess and the Ask commenters are. It’s an interesting exercise.

I really responded to this theory, since I had never thought about it quite this way, and it seems to explain a lot — I am a Guess-Culture person, and I generally find the sort of Ask-Culture behavior exhibited by the would-be house guest here quite rude. As a few other respondents (apparently also Guessers) noted, the Asker (woman inviting herself to stay) has put the Guesser (potential host) in an uncomfortable position: he must either do something he doesn’t want to do, or he must say no, both of which are undesirable actions for him.

As that commenter notes, Guessers who are asked to do things by Askers tend to feel uncomfortable and manipulated when this happens, and I can certainly vouch for that. It’s not that Guessers don’t like to do things for other people, but we like to be able to keenly sense an opportunity to offer something to someone else when it’s appropriate. Boundaries blur, of course, when we’re dealing with close friends or family — people who know they can comfortably ask with the expectation that we’ll say yes. If the Asker in the Metafilter situation had been a close friend of the couple, rather than merely an acquaintance, the couple would likely have felt more comfortable saying yes. As it was, they were uncomfortable saying yes, and just as uncomfortable saying no.

Guessers, I think, generally don’t like to be in the position of saying no; saying no is rude, so Guessers would rather make a polite, if untruthful, excuse when they are put on the spot. The respondents in the thread who were apparently Askers found this ridiculous: why lie about something when you can Just Say No? If the lady asked a question, she surely must expect that she might be turned down. Not to a Guesser, though: a Guesser rarely asks for something outright unless they know (or strongly suspect) the answer will be yes.

This is a huge part of why I hate asking strangers for things (”strangers” not being just people I have never met before, but people to whom I haven’t been properly introduced or whom I know only in limited context). I shudder at the idea of asking professors to serve on my committee if I haven’t taken a class with them, for example. I hate having to ask a waiter for something he should have brought me anyway, like (hello!) silverware or more water. (That treads into different territory, though, and I don’t think you all want to hear about what I think is appropriate or inappropriate about different styles of table service.) Guessers not only sort of sense our way through the social world by “putting out delicate feelers,” but we expect that other people do, too, and when others fail to read our signals, things can get messy. Guessers can be overrun by our Asker acquaintances and wind up getting more and more irritated when the Asker doesn’t pick up our signals. Askers, or so I guess, may think Guessers are alternately passive aggressive or pushovers, or simply big fat Milquetoasts who refuse to state a preference (”Where do you want to eat?” “Oh, I don’t know, where do you want to eat?” and on and on that goes).

It seems I am going to have to learn to be an Asker, but frankly, I don’t wanna. I still think Asker behavior is rude and I can’t foresee changing that opinion any time soon. I do think, though, that perhaps starting to think more about the kind of person I am dealing with may help me figure out how to approach those totally uncouth, raised-in-caves, Asker-types.

I still stand by my shoe-removal beliefs, though: if you come over to my house all caked in mud and you don’t figure out you should remove your shoes without putting me in the position of asking you to, I will cut you.