Today I Am Stealing

Frequently I throw larger vocabulary terms at my students, especially my honors classes, to see if they can pick up on them and start to use them. Some do. Most stare blankly, even when I provide an easy definition in context. They whine that I use words that are "too big;" they don't understand what I say. My general retort falls along the lines of reminding them that intelligence shines through vocabulary. Then I provide yet another definition or analogy or strategy that they can use to figure out what I've said. I then make a concerted effort to use the same word in multiple contexts throughout the remainder of the lesson, or sometimes even over the next few days.

Students, and the rest of humanity these days, are losing their overall command of a potent vocabulary. So I turned to an expert to find out if what I am modeling for the students and providing for my students is effective, or to investigate if I needed to ramp up what I do as a classroom teacher in order to satiate my need to fix a growing trend in shrinking student lexicons. (By the way, I'm not doing too poorly.)

So...as per the title of this post, I am taking from Laura Robb's book Vocabulary Is Comprehension (2014), which I have found to be practical and applicable for every grade level--even post graduate studies:

Ten Ways Students Can Expand Their Vocabularies

1.      Become a nonstop reader: Read e-books, print books, blogs, and online articles. The more you read, the greater your background knowledge and the more your vocabulary will grow. Through reading, you’ll meet words in diverse contexts and come to know their multiple meanings.

2.      Use new words or lose them: Include words in your conversations, text messages, IMs, and writing. Without use, new words you’ve learned just fade away into the land of forgetting.

3.      Develop curiosity about multiple meanings: When you meet a new word in one situation, take a few moments to consider its multiple meanings. Use an online dictionary or thesaurus to explore multiple meanings. Text a friend to see what he or she knows about the word.

4.      Bond with a dictionary: If you come across an unfamiliar word, jot it on scrap paper, and when you have a free moment, read about it on an online dictionary.

5.      Play vocabulary games: It’s easy to find word games online through Google. Play games with friends, siblings, parents, and on your own. While you’re having fun, you’ll learn new words and revisit old friends.

6.      Broaden your interests: Try to branch out and read beyond your interests and hobbies. Read online newspapers, take a virtual tour of a museum, castle, or city. Listen to music you love; then listen to other kinds of music. When you learn about a range of topics, you can enlarge your vocabulary.

7.      Ask questions: If someone uses a word or expression you don’t understand, ask that person to tell you about it.

8.      Talk: Talk to friends and family; use a video chat program such as iChat to talk online; have conversations with yourself. Make talk an important part of your day, and you’ll meet and learn new words that you will use as you communicate with others.

9.      Listen: Listen during a conversation, lesson, speech, sermon, newscast, play, movie, video; listen to the words others use to convey meaning and communicate ideas. Mull over ideas and words you’ve heard—new words, familiar words—and discover what listening has helped you learn.

10. Visualize words: You can picture, see on the screen of your mind, what you understand. Once you can use meaning and situations to picture new words, you’ll be able to use them when thinking, speaking, reading, and writing.

There is so much research about effective vocabulary and the benefits thereof, but I'm not going to blog about that. It would take a millennium to sift through all of it. I'm just going to stick with this list and invite everybody to expend their own (oral and written) phraseology.

(Picture taken from thelearningcoachonline.com)

A Little of What's Been on My Mind Lately

Don’t worry, I’m not going to preach to you today, but this post is somewhat philosophical. But it does have videos and links, so get your finger off that back button. Be ye warned, however, that I ramble.

In honor of one of the biggest flops on my blog—I point you to my endeavor of imparting vocabulary knowledge in December of December 2014—I’d like to start by defining a word:

ekphrasis: (noun) a literary commentary or description or reaction to a visual work of art

Mrs. Nielsen loves to have her students write ekphrastic poems after they have meandered through the art museum.

Despite purists who might debate my laxness in my expansion of this definition, I say that an ekphrastic work merely uses another’s medium as an influence, or a starting point, if you will. It can be the same medium, or it can be derived from a different type of art. And I am going to do just that. I’ve had bits and pieces of a few thoughts percolating in my head since April when I was reading Jennifer A. Nielsen’s concluding volume of her Ascendance Trilogy: The Shadow Throne.

See, Mumford and Sons had released a new single from their latest album Wilder Mind: “Believe” (March 2015), and it had started gaining airplay on Pandora and local radio stations quite rapidly. Its catchy, repetitive chorus hooked me, but as I soaked in the lyrics, I saw how they permeated everything I was reading with Jaron in The Shadow Throne. Not to divulge many spoilers, but the events of his young, tortured life—lost love, lost country, betrayal, broken promises—came to life for me as the lyrics cracked through my car speakers:

“I had the strangest feeling

Your world's not all it seems.

So tired of misconceiving,

What else this could've been?

“I don't even know if I believe [x3]

Everything you're trying to say to me.

“So open up my eyes.

Tell me I'm alive.

This is never gonna go our way

If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind.”

These lyrics and Jaron’s thoughts (and actions) became one resounding message about life: intentional and unintentional misdirection and deception may create many marvelous plot twists in this story, as they do throughout the series (See also Megan Whalen Turner’s Attolia [The Queen's Thief] series), but they really screw up real life. Miscommunication creates questions of loyalty, love, life, self-doubt, self-awareness, and the (un)fairness of life. So much turmoil and strife and uncertainty could be simplified with veritable communication. Why is it so hard to be honest? To speak truth? I wish I had tangible answers to share.

The music video for this song actually reminds me of a time when I was 15 and wandered aimlessly around London with some friends. Looking back, I wasn’t really sure where I fit into the grand scheme of life, or what I even stood for. It brought me back to that confusing, crazy, introspective time in my life—my own Bildungsroman, if you will. I was looking for truth. 

I could go on about the changes in tempo and volume and other symbolism about driving and maturing and such, but I’ll refrain from geeking out too much here.

After I finished that book, I picked up Walter Dean Myers’s Invasion, a story of a U.S. soldier about to land on Omaha Beach on D-Day. If you’ve read some of Myers’s other war stories, i.e., Fallen Angels or Sunrise over Fallujah, etc., you see similar coming-of-age themes. Josiah starts to question basic tenets of his life: his relationship with his family, a girl back home, and his platoon. The value of life and death, racism, and even the purpose behind the war itself begin to blur as the troops storm the beaches, cross mine fields, and encounter enemy resistance. Just like Mumford (and Sons), he doesn’t know if he believes everything people have tried to say to him in the past, in the present. The book weighs heavy with some of the aforementioned themes and places them on the same playing field as the inner turmoil Josiah has about the need to swear and act “like a man.”

Internal conflict, the essence of good, relatable characters (at least, for me) in fiction and in real life, helps define who we are. One of my all-time favorite novels, ChoosingUp Sides by John H. Ritter pits a preacher’s son against the beliefs his father preaches, his uncle’s life philosophies, what the star athlete and the cutest girl in school have said, and what he feels in his heart about good and evil, right and wrong, baseball, and life. This conflict is good, if we can deal with it, move on, and grow from the struggle as we redefine ourselves and our beliefs.

Sometime in May, the song came on the radio—it had hit the airplay saturation point by this time—and my innocent eight-year-old growled out loud (and punched the car door, much to her chagrin). “Rrrrrrrrrrggggh! I hate this song! I mean, how can you not know what you believe?”

Her frustrations have a point…if you have never stopped to question what you believe. I assert that each soul that dwells on this earth needs to come to know what he or she believes, and then live it. However, there comes a point when too much questioning hinders instead of refines one’s thoughts. Not to share any sensitive details, lets just say that I’ve seen too many associates (close and otherwise) lose their faith, their jobs, their families over vacillating too long over minutia attached to philosophies, practices, or doctrines. Dieter F. Uchtdorf, a wise ecclesiastical leader, recently pleaded, borrowing from F.F. Bosworth’s Christ the Healer, “Please, first doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith.”

To missionaries who are about to leave their families for two years to proselytize and share the gospel of Jesus Christ, I advise them to lose themselves in the work but to never lose themselves. Sometimes, though, we need to stop and step outside ourselves in order to find who we really are. Questioning what we really believe, or have been brought up to believe, helps to understand if we really believe and have the faith enough to do something about it.

Introspection and self-analysis are good common practice, as long as you wind up in a better place in the end. Recently, I attended an educational conference with a team from my school. The first keynote speaker was Diane Ravitch, an educator who had worked in Washington and promoted standardized testing and the like, but realized that what she believed about educational practices and what was working for students wasn’t true; she immediately went to work on the other side of the issue, saying that the evidence didn’t really turn out how she and several other experts predicted. Yong Zhao, another presenter, also presented the need for a major change in the way we look at education and the needs of students and society need to be reexamined. After listening to these two, I spent the next breakout session in a semi-comfortable overstuffed lobby chair making lists of my educational beliefs and what I needed to do to change my practice to fit my philosophies.

Needless to say, I also bought both their books. No, I haven’t finished them or become zealous disciples of their ways—I’m not ready to join the commune—but I found what they have to say intriguing. A big push in schools is for students to engage in critical thinking. I also deem it necessary for society to do the same when it comes to educational reform. There are many opinions and ideas floating out there—some more solidly grounded than others. And the more informed you are, the better decision you can make. Sometimes, it’s not a bad idea for teachers and administrators (and everyone) to reexamine their professional practices. I come back to the adage that you can teach for twenty-five years, or you can teach one year twenty-five times. Blech! I can’t do that. I get bored teaching the same thing a handful of times the same day. I change what I teach and how I teach depending on the needs of my current students.

I have always had different philosophies about testing and standards and what is best for students than what seems to be trending in the district or the nation. People who will remain nameless stopped inviting me to certain meetings after they found out where I stood and how I run my classroom. I also never drink the Kool-Aid. I don’t think that what I am doing is rebellious, impetuous, or crooked in any way. I just haven’t followed the sheep; I have stayed my own course—true to what I believe.

Even though our personalities and mannerisms are fairly different, I find myself in the same thought camp as Kelly Gallagher, who said (paraphrased, with my added slant) at a presentation he made a few years ago at BYU, that if you can take a student, and accept her with her abilities wherever they are when she walks in your classroom, and you give her the strategies and opportunities to read well, think well, and write well, she will do fine on standardized tests, or anything else that may arise from the legislature. Where some of my colleagues across the country bang their heads on black, metal filing cabinets or artificial wooden teacher desktops about testing scores, I do absolutely zero direct test prep and consistently have students who score at or above the average scores of the school, the district, and the state.

And so what started as an ekphrastic commentary about how Mumford and Sons connected with what I had been reading led me to question my own teaching philosophies and practices. As I stand on a precipice between two educational worlds: the public schools and upper academia, I also question what I believe. My doctoral work has forced me to look at myself through different theoretical frameworks as I approach my own research. Maybe I’ll share some of those findings one day (if anyone cares).

If you want a fun exercise for thought clarification, try NPR’s “This I Believe” segment. It can work with any age group and helps to clarify your beliefs about a particular subject. Maybe I’ll give it a try in the near future. But knowing me, I’ll probably write about my beliefs regarding bacon, haiku, or something obnoxious that nobody else cares about.

I don’t do things quite like I’m supposed to. That’s why I’ve moved on to X Ambassadors’ “Renegades.” 

Yeah, right.

Disingenuous

disingenuous: (adjective) without sincerity or honesty; giving a false appearance of being sincere or honest

The students' disingenuous efforts for their research presentations nauseated Mr. Anson.

          I'm back with a little vocabulary today. No real story--just the truth of the current situation with my 9th graders. And I wonder if the station is a reflection on society in general, or if I just have a bunch of lazy teenagers in my classes this year. I know that I am cramming them all into a false stereotype, but I think that the work ethic of students in general has depreciated over time. Is it the demand for instant gratification brought about by fast food, instant messaging, and on-demand entertainment? Or am I just becoming a decrepit old fart? Does anyone invest themselves in anything any more? Or is society's answer just a mouse-click?
          When I was a 9th grader, my dad was 35, a veteran, and the person who knew the most about anything in the world--at least as far as I was concerned. I am not too far removed to acknowledge that on more than one occasion (more like three quadrillion), my efforts regarding school, scouts, church, sports, and everything in between were rather disingenuous as well. This confession manifests itself in tales housed in the annals of previous posts. (Sorry, no link; you'll have to scroll back if you want a story today.)
           So if I was able to pull my head out from when I was a disingenuous, bull-headed punk, there is still hope for most of these disengaged-from-life students that currently frequent my classroom. I'm not too cynical to realize that not all students are rotten, not all politicians are corrupt, and not all bloggers are brilliant. I do have have good kids.
          But sometimes, I just want to see a little more effort (even from myself).

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.