Today I am correcting study guides, which means that the students generate answers to some reasonably straight-forward questions about a short piece of literature. This is as much an exercise in following directions as it is in writing, so any corrections for one student most probably mean these corrections will be repeated again through the class, spreading bad grammar like a bad case of the flu.
I am calling out as I work:
No random capitals!
Apostrophes are your friends!
Commas are free!
Spelling is important!
Restate the questions in your answers!
What goes at the end of a sentence?
It is in the spirit of camaraderie that I allow small groups to work together, reminding them over and over of the grammatical pitfalls of which they should be wary. It seems to be going well until one group of young men becomes very agitated. There seems to be some kind of debate raging about the way they are wording their answers and punctuating their sentences.
Suddenly Sean yells out proudly, "Kevin has his PERIODS!"
We all stop what we're doing, and there is pure silence in the room. Perhaps no one heard him, I lie to myself. Truth be told, everyone heard him. They may well have heard him in the classroom next door, too. I wait for the moment to pass. I subbed in eighth grade health for a while, so I know just how awkward this can get. Slowly, like a wave rippling across the surface of the room, the girls start giggling.
It takes a few moments before Sean realizes how his words came out, and he stammers just a bit in an attempt to correct himself. Meanwhile, Kevin hasn't moved a muscle. I'm not even certain he's breathing. Anything, anything at all not to draw attention to himself.
Within seconds, though, the entire room has dissolved into a fit of laughter.
"Aw, come on," I finally manage to say amid my own amusement. "This is English class. If you can't have fun with language, what good is it?"
Ah, syntax. It's not just for heathens and bad Christians, anymore. (Baddum-boom)
