Chicanery

chicanery: (noun) deception by artful subterfuge or sophistry; actions or statements that trick people into believing something that is not true.

          The number of students who resort to chicanery rather than do honest work is incredible.

I've been battling with plagiarists today. That's all I'm going to say. We're trying to keep this a family show.

Lugubrious

lugubrious:(adjective) exaggeratedly or affectedly mournful; dismal

                Traversing Nevada’s lugubrious landscape tends to lull me to sleep.

                As a senior at Mascoutah Community High School I took five semesters of English: AP Literature (2 semesters), Advanced Communications, Creative Writing, and Detective Fiction. When I registered for school that summer, the counselor had wanted to place me in honors physics and calculus (based on my past course work), but my math ACT score guaranteed that I didn’t need any more arithmetic training, and science and I didn’t get along very well, so I told her where to put those classes since I already knew what I wanted to do with my life. Granted, she wasn’t very helpful with finding scholarships after that.

                Needless to say, that year I read multifarious literature, and a disproportionate amount was dark and brooding—some by choice, others (like Ethan Frome) not. The first mystery we read in Detective Fiction was “The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841)” by Edgar Allan Poe, considered by some to be the first true detective story. I’m not sure if it was in that story, or one of the other stories involving brilliant investigators and their involvement in the lugubrious details of the dregs of criminality, but I came across the word lugubrious in context and instantly became enamored. It triggered something deep down in my writing self and began a lugubrious period of my writing. Heart of Darkness—now that’s lugubrious! I worked the new word into a several poems (that I no longer have) and into conversations until my communications teacher told me I was overusing it. She didn’t like me anyway. (I have witnesses to back me up.)

from http://imgkid.com/flying-raven-drawing.shtml

Yeah, I was kind of experimenting with writing darker, deadlier drama, when, introspectively, my life was neither difficult nor dreary. Ms. Wessel, the creative writing teacher said I started to sound like Joseph Conrad in my descriptions.

                And that isn’t cool enough, in Disney’s Hercules, the henchmen Pain and Panic refer to their lord Hades as “Your Most Lugubriousness.” Who wouldn't want a title like that? Don’t all raise your hands at once. And don’t worry; I’m not as lugubriously-minded as I thought I was as a senior.

Abridge (The Unabridged Edition)

abridge: (verb) to shorten (a book, a play, etc.) by leaving out some parts

            Mr. Anson does not allow his honors students to read abridged editions of classics over the summer. (What a jerk, right?)

http://www.victorianweb.org/technology/bridges/towerbridge.html

At the beginning of 9^th grade, I was placed in first period Honors English with Mrs. Uram. I settled in on the first day, received an unabridged copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, and given an enormous list of vocabulary words. I was surrounded by many friends from middle school, and was quite content; I was in my element.
The next day, I was pulled out of class before it even started, along with two other fellow freshmen. We were escorted to the counseling department where we were curtly given new schedules.

“Why?” Brent ventured to ask.

“You’re being put into a more advanced math class,” was the only reply we received from the secretary, who promptly lost herself in the clackety-clack of her typewriter, an obvious dismissal.

We trudged slowly across campus to our new geometry class where Mr. London put us to work with equations immediately. We didn’t have time to think about the rest of our schedules, but one thing we did notice was that were the ONLY freshmen in a group of sophomores and juniors. A couple of remedial seniors lurked in the back. It looked like the beasts hadn’t been fed in a while either.

The bell rang soon enough and I remembered to check my new schedule: English with Mr. McGowan. My jaw dropped. I wasn’t in Honors any more. I asked Brent and Jenny about their lots, but they just had Honors English later in the day. I marched straight back to the counseling office.

After waiting for half of infinity to even get someone to talk to me, my presence was deflected with a “It was the only English class that fit with your electives.” In the words of Mr. Keating, “Excrement.” But there was nothing I could really do about it. I wasn’t a confrontational person.

So I went—tardy—to Mr. McGowan’s English class. Apparently I interrupted the bearded giant’s great bellowing lecture about timeliness and respect and honor of the gods and mythology and stuff, and I was banished to the penultimate (vocab word to come) row, as it was the only open seat.

I put my head down on the desk behind the high dark curls in front of me. I jumped when Zeus (as we came to call him under our breaths) began to bluster again. I slunk back down when it became obvious he wasn’t really watching us but focusing on his own performance.

A tap on my left shoulder. “Aren’t you going to say hi?” I had been too distracted to pay attention to my classmates. Alicia was to my left, Danielle in front of me, Armando to the right. Maybe this class wouldn’t be too bad after all. I don’t remember who sat behind me, though, but I do remember that he didn’t do much of anything.

I know this because each Monday, five new vocabulary words stared at us from the chalkboard on the side of the room (many of which I still remember). We were supposed to define each and write a sentence correctly using it. Complete sentences were required; no abridgements allowed. Test was every Friday. Distinctly, I recall the very initial word of the year was “abridge.” Not too hard. We were given a little time (once) to use the archaic lexicons under our desks to search for definitions, so I raced through my work, and began to doodle out of boredom. Geeky me started sketching a rough bridge abstractly similar to Tower Bridge in London. Then I set the bridge on an a blue inky fire to “abridge the bridge.” I cracked myself up a little too loudly because Zeus overheard the snickering and made me confess my deeds.

With his fiery eyes burning behind his Coke bottle glasses, his immensity started to fill the room. I gulped because I knew I was going to die.

Fortunately, instead of offering me up as a sacrificial oblation to the dictionary gods, Mr. McGowan guffawed and made me explain it to some of the students around me, including the nameless dude behind me. If I remember correctly, he just blew his hair out of his eyes while he rolled them.

Yes, there you have it: I am a word geek. Then again, I have never forgotten my word because I made a visual connection. Dang. That’s another awesome vocab building strategy.

Sadly, my 9th graders try to abridge everything they do, especially when it comes to writing and thinking.                                       

You Can Never Have Too Much Pie

multifarious:(adjective) of many and various kinds

                  My multifarious reading interests and endeavors rarely allow me time to finish one book, as I am usually working on eight or nine simultaneously.

                  So, to be completely honest, I just looked this word up today. I was questing for a new word (another good vocabulary acquisition tool—insatiable curiosity) to describe all the types of pie I consumed over Thanksgiving Break. And I was flat-out tired of “various” and “multiple.” “Sundry” didn’t quite feel right either, so I looked in a thesaurus to unearth something new and shiny (almost as good as Christmas)

Hint: Make your thesaurus your friend. Don’t over-rely on him, but know where to find him when you need help.

Now back to the pie. We had pie at school before the break. We consumed pie on Thanksgiving. However, in our family, the biggest pie ingestion fest comes the day before Turkey Day. We get together with my mother-in-law’s side of the family for the Puckett Pie Palooza every year! It’s a literal pie smorgasbord with such a multifarious assortment of pies, the lesser experienced get lost before they even pick up a plate. Needless to say, much pie is consumed, sometimes a la mode, sometimes without the extra scoop of vanilla creaminess. Of course, I always opt for ice cream.

With the three pie-eating events established, along with the pies the youth of our ward made one evening, I shall now compile my list of pies (in alphabetical order) that have passed my lips lately:

1.     apple (2 varieties)

2.     banana cream

3.     blueberry cheesecake (Yes, I know, it’s technically not pie, but who cares?)

4.     cherry (2 varieties)

5.     chocolate (2 varieties)

6.     chocolate peanut butter

7.     coconut cream

8.     lemon

9.     Oreo

10.  pecan (2 varieties)

11.  pumpkin (4 varieties)

12.  strawberry

13.  turtle

and…German chocolate cake for my birthday. (Again, it’s not pie, but it’s tradition!)

            Before I go too much longer, I have to say that my favorite pie this year, because it just hit the spot, and because it was scrumptious, was an apple pie made by my wife’s cousin Skyler. Well done, sir. Your pastry satisfied my multifarious needs in an excellent pie.

            And on a side note, since I looked up this word, I have used it in multifarious situations, even though it may not have fit perfectly. I’m having multifarious meaningful interaction with my new word.

P.S. I’m not including any pictures today because I don’t want to be responsible for you shorting out your device from all your drool.

P.P.S. If you want to post some of your own pictures of pie in the comments, I'll allow it.

To Dream the Impossible Dream...

quixotic: (adjective) hopeful or romantic in a way that is not practical (To dream the impossible dream,  right?)

                Mr. Anson still holds to his quixotic dream that all students will learn to love writing.

Several days ago, a few students in my Honors English class asked me if I had ever read any adventures of Don Quixote. Apparently they had been discussing it in their advanced Spanish class, and had even read a few abbreviated selections from Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra’s magnum opus. They were confused about a few things and wanted some clarification.

Alas, I have never read the classic work in its entirety, only an abridged version, but I had seen the musical The Man of La Mancha both on screen and on stage. I knew all the songs at one point. (“Little Bird, Little Bird” is floating through my mind as I type.) I even saw some of La Mancha’s famous windmills as I drove across the landscape of the novel’s bleak setting. So I was able to help my young acolytes with their questions, and they being honors students inquired further about my experiences in Spain and with Don Quixote de La Mancha.

Serving as an LDS missionary in southern Spain, my last proselytizing area was the city of Granada, a center for mixed cultures. The Alhambra, resting atop the hills overlooking the city, was the last Moorish stronghold before Ferdinand and Isabella united Spain. Good ol’ Chris Columbus sought audience with them in a small pueblo called Santa Fe, which lay just outside the main city. I became intrigued by the history of the cultural mush pot, and asked permission to do some reading regarding the surrounding area. I started with Washington Irving’s Tales of the Alhambra, which he wrote while staying on the palace grounds a few hundred feet up the mountain above my little apartment. They contained wonderful fictional tales set in the palace, beautiful descriptions of the actual grounds I had walked; they also contained a few essays about the peoples of the area: native Spaniards, Moors, French, gypsies, merchants, and other sundry travelers.

http://www.spain.info/en_US/que-quieres/rutas/grandes-rutas/rutas/ruta_del_califato.html

One day, while perusing an open-air book market for more history, I came across a hardbound volume of El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quixote de La Mancha on a clearance sale: the whole thing, unabridged, untranslated, for around fourteen bucks! It was written in Old Spanish, a semi-equivalent of reading Old English. I viewed the tome as an instant challenge intellectually, linguistically, and educationally. However, I only read about 70 pages or so before my brain coerced me to abandon the text posthaste. It literally made my head ache after reading for 10 minutes each day. I didn’t remember the condensed edition being so dense (bad pun). I never finished, although it still resides on a shelf in my basement.

And so the day after I shared my experiences with Don Quixote, the Merriam-Webster Word-of-the-Day email was delivered to my phone with the day’s entry: quixotic. “Cool,” I thought. Fate was throwing in a teaching moment. The word wasn’t necessarily new to me, though; I knew what it meant. However, I had always pronounced it “key-ho-tick,” like it would be in Spanish, and I felt awkward trying to fit it into conversation. Masters Merriam and Webster saw to it to correct my misguided ways with its cool little pronunciation key, and I now know it’s pronounced “quick-saw-tick. Since then I’ve been able to roll it into a plethora of formal and informal discussions.

I shared that coincidence with my honors class, bringing the book for show and tell. Many of them marveled at the manuscript while others thought the coincidence was creepy. But since then, I’ve had many of these students share cool words they have discovered in their outside reading with me and with each other. They’re creating meaningful uses of new words. That’s how you build vocabulary. They’ve started using “quixotic” as well, especially when I talk about helping them improve their writing. Go figure.

Helping students to improve their vocabularies should not be such a quixotic quest. It’s almost easier than reaching the unreachable star.

Kerfuffle

So here’s the deal. Thanks to those who commented when I asked what I should do for a gimmick this December, but I decided yesterday in the shower—a favorite thinking spot of mine—to go a different route. Oh, I’ll occasionally post a great inspirational quote or scripture or something on Facebook (Are you my friend?), and I’ll continue to do my brief book reviews on Goodreads.com (Again, I ask if you are you my friend?), but my focus this year’s binge writing will be vocabulary.

Yes, you heard me. Vocabulary. You remember that part of school that you didn't really think was much more than a waste of good socializing time, don’t you? Those Friday tests that required nothing more than a regurgitation of a definition? Unfortunately, we were mistaught through those definition-vomiting sessions to detest, abhor, despise, and loathe new vocabulary, especially is spelling and perfect repetition played any part. Well, I can attest that there is more to acquiring an expanded vocabulary than “test and release.” Just ask anyone who has taken the GRE or any post-grad test like unto it. Vocabulary is a measurement of one’s intellect. Just ask my students who insist I make up words just so they can’t understand. (Confession: I do invent words, but not ones they don’t understand; I usually invent them so they can understand in their own special little ways.) Proper usage of one’s lexicon commands respect, and might even get you hired faster in certain circles (as long as you’re not an arrogant cretin about it).

So, here’s the drill. Each day I will start the post with a word, its part of speech (or at least the one I’m using), a definition, and an examples sentence or two. This will be the bare minimum. Occasionally I’ll have a story to go along with it, similar to my piece about learning to correctly pronounce the word “epitome” the hard way. Some words will be educational; some will be just be fun words to say, while others will reflect the mood of the day. Sorry, if you’re disappointed, but here we go!

I’ll start with a short entry, as I have a story for tomorrow’s word. Don’t forget to check the link to Merriam-Webster’s site for more fun with this word (including pronunciation and etymology).

kerfuffle: (noun) a disturbance or fuss

                Shelby caused quite a kerfuffle when she came into class with blue and purple streaks in her blond hair.