This morning was my first final exam for this semester and it was in English. I was an English major in college. I’ve worked as a newspaper reporter and a columnist. I write a blog. I asked the administration if I could test out of this class like I did last semester’s Introduction to Keyboarding snoozefest but was told English class was required attendance. The instructor, a seasoned veteran, called me over to her desk after being told I was trying to place out of her class and assured me with an arched eyebrow that she would try to make the material as worthwhile as she could for someone with my experience and expertise. I’ve never been told to get over myself with an eyebrow before.
The class was a bitch. Did you know there are SEVEN rules for commas? I use one rule and it wasn’t even covered: If I have to pause to think of the next word I use a comma. If I have to think a really long time I use a semicolon. Did you know that words beginning with semi are only hyphenated if the next word begins with an ‘i’, like ‘semi-invalid’? Are you aware that the sentence I just wrote didn’t even require a comma but I used one anyway because I live my life with that kind of reckless abandon? Don’t you envy my freewheeling style? Do you think freewheeling is a compound word or would you go with a hyphen? Do you give a shit?
I didn’t think I did either but Mrs. D’s English class kicked butt with a capital B which is not to be confused with the capitol that has an ‘o’ and means the building in which the government operates. The money it uses to operate? That would be the capital with an ‘a’. Also known as ‘our’ money which has an ‘o’ so it gets confusing. Try and put any unnecessary commas in my sentences and I will chop off your hand, I swear I will, unless I chop your hand off, which makes the verb either active or passive or does something to the noun and it doesn’t matter anymore because the test is over.
English was my first class this semester, beginning at 8:30 every morning, another reason I hoped to test out so I could sleep in. But any grogginess was cured by Mrs. D’s booming voice and her compelling desire to guide us down the path of proper grammar, truly the road not taken these days. Halfway through the semester she revealed to us that she was 80 years old, which blew us all away since we had her in her late 60’s at most. And sharp? I was routinely 5 minutes late to class every day and would try and slip in while she was taking attendance. One day she looked up at me and then consulted one of her lists.
Mrs. D: What zip code do you live in?
OSV: The same zip code as the school.
Mrs. D: There are students in this class who take trains and buses to get here. How long does it take you to get to school in the morning?
OSV: About 10 minutes.
Mrs. D: And yet you’re 5 minutes late every day. Why is that?
OSV: I miss the light?
There’s that eyebrow again.
Thanks (comma) Mrs. D. You were worth waking up for.
And to atone for not arriving on time, the theme today for Daughter’s Featured Fotos is transportation.
bikeview
L train Montrose stop
New Orleans post-Katrina
planeview