Tag: language

This week we’ve been reading Bierce’s “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” the tale of an imaginative spy’s hanging. At one point in the discussion, a student asked an interesting question: “Why do they say, ‘they hanged a man’ instead of ‘they hung a man?'”Rather than just make something up, I decided to go off the lesson plan (winging it is really where the best teaching happens anyway) and help them figure it out. Besides, I wanted to know.

We went online to look for an etymological dictionary and found this. Looking up “hanged” produces this result:

a fusion of O.E. hon “suspend” (transitive, class VII strong verb; past tense heng, pp. hangen), and O.E. hangian (weak, intransitive, past tense hangode) “be suspended;” also probably influenced by O.N. hengja “suspend,” and hanga “be suspended.” All from P.Gmc. *khang-, from PIE *keng– “to waver, be in suspense” (cf. Goth. hahan, Hittite gang– “to hang,” Skt. sankate “wavers,” L. cunctari “to delay;” see also second element in Stonehenge). Hung emerged as pp. 16c. in northern England dial., and hanged endured only in legal language (which tends to be conservative) and metaphors extended from it (I’ll be hanged).

Fascinating for me and also for my kids, many of whom never thought about the fact that each word we use actually has a history and a story about why it is spelled and pronounced the way it is.

Being smart researchers, we decided to check a second source, dictionary.com, which had this:

Hang has two forms for the past tense and past participle, hanged and hung. The historically older form hanged is now used exclusively in the sense of causing or putting to death: He was sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead. In the sense of legal execution, hung is also quite common and is standard in all types of speech and writing except in legal documents. When legal execution is not meant, hung has become the more frequent form: The prisoner hung himself in his cell.

So, we decided, the correct answer to the original question, as it is for so many is: Lawyers.

The kids enjoyed the exercise, though after having improvised my lesson for the day, I was left to wonder if I had winged it or wung it.

It’s not uncommon for students to protest that they aren’t used to “old English,” that it’s too hard. I frequently hear this while teaching Shakespeare, Poe, Lord of the Flies, or anything else written prior to 1985. I try to explain that everything I’ve taught is modern English, but today, I thought it would be fun to show them.

When I was student teaching, I learned how to read the prologue to The Canterbury Tales in Middle English, and I had an overhead with some side-by-side comparisons, but I thought it would more powerful to use something the students would likely be familiar with. While browsing Wikipedia, I found the Lord’s Prayer in Old English:

Fæder ure þu þe eart on heofonum,
Si þin nama gehalgod.
To becume þin rice,
gewurþe ðin willa, on eorðan swa swa on heofonum.
urne gedæghwamlican hlaf syle us todæg,
and forgyf us ure gyltas,
swa swa we forgyfað urum gyltendum.
and ne gelæd þu us on costnunge, ac alys us of yfele. soþlice.

I figured most of them would be familiar with the modern version of this, so I hunted it down in Middle English to show the transition, first finding a version here, and then discovering Words in English, which had already done my work for me:

Oure fadir that art in heuenes,
halewid be thi name;
thi kyndoom come to;
be thi wille don in erthe as in heuene:
gyue to us this dai oure breed ouer othir substaunce;
and forgyue to us oure dettis, as we forgyuen to oure gettouris;
and lede us not in to temptacioun, but delyuere us fro yuel. Amen.

The modern version comes from my memory:

Our Father, who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
They Kingdom come.
Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

I spent a lot of time staring at this, comparing words and lines, fascinated by the evolution of this wonderful living language and wondering where it would go next. I often joke that I’m teaching a dying language, but it’s probably just evolving. Though, hopefully, not into something as utilitarian and artless as this:

dad@hvn
ur spshl.
we want wot u want
&urth2b like hvn
giv us food
&4giv us
lyk we 4giv uvaz.
don’t test us! save us! ok

I shared all this with my kids, attempting to pronounce the Middle English as best I could based on what I learned from Canterbury Tales, and they thought that was cool. They enjoyed seeing the Old English, and sadly, the text message version made perfect sense.

And, now that I think about it, I realize I’ve written about the texting of literature and its effect on language before.

Years ago a friend of mine amazed people at parties with his ability to say and spell the longest word in the English language: Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

These days, I use it at school as a way to practice dealing with unfamiliar words since it seems so intimidating to the kids, but when broken down is really easy to understand. Via Wikipedia:

• pneumono = related to lungs (Latin, from Greek)
• ultra = beyond (Latin, as in “ultraviolet”)
• microscopic = extremely small (Latin/Old English, from Greek mikron, small, and skopos, view)
• silico = silica (Latin)
• volcano = volcano (Latin)
• coni = related to dust (Greek: konis, dust)
• osis = disease / condition (Greek)

So basically, a lung disease caused by breathing the silica dust from volcanoes.

Though the word has been included in dictionaries, it is considered a ‘fake’ word that has never actually been used in medical literature. Apparently the only purpose for this word is to answer the question, “What’s the longest English word?”

According to A Collection of Word Oddities and Trivia, the longest non-scientific word other than the nonsense word Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is floccinaucinihilipilification followed by antidisestablishmentarianism.

Ultimately, going back to Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, we wind up begging the question: Is a word a word if it’s only ever used as an example of a word?

Perhaps I could answer by saying, “Bkk-de skinb plewd blerty uloufopoly,” but then I’d just be making up nonsense words.

I’d have to remember that if I were suffering from a case of Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, I could use that term to describe my condition even if my doctors only referred to it as silicosis.

My verdict: if the word can be used to convey accurate meaning, then it is a word, and if you disagree, then bkk-de skinb plewd blerty uloufopoly to you!

Pimp. It’s an interesting word that one hears quite often especially around high school students. Of course, they don’t use it to mean “a man who manages women in prostitution, often street prostitution, in order to profit from their earnings”(wikipedia). It’s generally used as a compliment as in: “Mr. Brush is cool. He’s a pimp.” There’s no implication here that I might be managing the business of prostitutes. I’m just a cool guy.

Interestingly it can also be used as an adjective as in “Did you see his pimp ride?” or “That ride was pimpin’.” Both statements essentially mean that he had a cool car.

The most fascinating use that I’ve heard is when it’s used as an adverb as in: “Did you check out his pimp tite ride?” Here, ‘pimp’ is the adverb modifying the adjective ‘tite’ (‘tite’ of course means really cool. One might even say as cool as a pimp).

Most adjectives can be adverbed just by taking the advice of “Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, Get Your Adverbs Here” and adding an ‘-ly.’ Unfortunately, this approach would turn the adjective ‘pimp’ into potential adverb ‘pimply’. That would never do.

No pimp should ever be pimply. A potentially pimply pimp wouldn’t ever be pimp much less a pimp pimp even if the pimply pimp was pimping pimply and had a pimp tite ride such as a pimpmobile. The pimply pimp probably would receive a pimp-slapping by a real pimpin’ pimp who can pimp properly without being pimply. (One hopes our pimply pimp wouldn’t be tied to the pimping post.)

by Professor Truth J Brushefeller