Eustace and the Lion

"I knew it was a well because you could see the water bubbling up from the bottom of it: but it was a lot bigger than most wells--like a very big, round bath with marble steps going down into it. The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. But the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don't know if he said any words out loud or not.

"I was just going to say that I couldn't undress because I hadn't any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that's what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.

"But just as I was going to put my foot into the water I looked down and saw that it was all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as it had been before. Oh, that's all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I'll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this under skin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.

"Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good."

"Then the lion said--but I don't know if it spoke--You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat on my back to let him do it."

"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right through into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything else I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know--if you've ever picked the scab of of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Edmund.

"Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off--just as I thought I'd done it myself the other three times, only they hadn't hurt--and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly looking that the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me--I didn't like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on--and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I'd turned into a boy again..."

From Voyage of the Dawn Treader, "How the Adventure Ended" by C.S. Lewis

Language as a Legacy

Every parent knows that if Mommy or Daddy says bad words, so will Baby. Children first parrot what they learn from those around them, then begin to create their own phrases and sentences using the vocabulary, grammar, spelling, and punctuation available to them. This is fairly evident in, and easily proven by, immigrant families. Teachers these days, especially in the grade school level, face a dozen challenges with the children of non-English speaking parents. These hurdles come in all shapes and sizes, varying from the child who has no English because of this to the child whose parents cannot foster a strong language education... and beyond, into nightmares that schools and teachers struggle with daily.

I've been thinking lately about language as a legacy, and how our interactions with everyone around us affect literacy and language development. For instance, on a very small level, every time Cameron hears a "big" word, he subconsciously stores it away in his brain for future use; and future use for him is about thirty times in the week following that acquisition. Despite the fact that, often times, he knew the word before, could have given an accurate definition, and used it in a sentence, it's the hearing it that prompts him to incorporate the new word into his daily speak.... And he will go out of his way to do so.

We blame "schools these days" and fallen American education for the degradation of the English language, but I say we stop pointing the finger for a moment and consider what we've done to contribute. Every day, I deal with dozens of intelligent people--people who have MS degrees, who are CEO's of companies, who write professionally, even--and shake my head at the disgrace brought upon the tongue I speak. Sure, I sound like an English snob now; I've never denied that I am a purist in this. But hear me out: When we get sloppy, it gets noticed. Sometimes I think that we get so used to living in a world where virtual communication is acceptable that we don't stop to think about what we're communicating.

There's a small, publicly-traded company I work with based out of Costa Mesa. The Director of Human Resources, a perfectionist whom nearly everyone in my office can't stand, regularly sends me emails with typos. Huge, easy-to-spot typos. Sloppy typos. Things like, "Please check Josh's reference's," or, "There going to interview him Tuesday." I know, small things to you, yes? But this person is the face of her company to me. My opinion of her company is formed based on my interactions with her... and she doesn't care enough to give her email a once-over for that? My guess is that she's very intelligent and has at least one degree; these are just sloppy mistakes, and if someone else sent them to her... well, that would be the end of the world.

Here's another annoyingly common trend: adverbs. I totally enjoy adverbs and their ability to transform a sentence. In fact, I'm a firm believer that adverbs completely help to emphasise a point. But realistically, I've just written four sentences that would have been just fine without an adverb, but used one anyway. The overuse of adverbs is a trend noticeable in recent years, likely attributed to the "valley girl" dialect and popularised by shows like Beverly Hills 90210. In case you didn't notice, there are six adverbs in this paragraph. Literally. And I think things would have been okay without them.

I could go on and on, but I'll refrain. It comes down to this: Pull yourselves together, team. What you say and write is noticed. Go ahead; do the unpopular thing and proof read that text you're about to send. I'm not saying that I never have typos; God (and my boss) know I do. Certainly, I am not perfect in anything I do, even this, which I am passionate in. But language is a legacy, and though it evolves (in the sense that it changes constantly), it seems to me that "devolve" is the proper word in this instance. We are allowing laziness to punctuate our IMs and emails; God forbid you type "see" rather than "c" in that text.

Language is contagious. Get it right. You are commissioned; go and do.