There's no use

In my final sprint around the mountain, I am laughing about my own writing. Once upon a time, I thought I knew how to communicate with words, but the more I write, the more perplexed I am about the grammar rules I'm supposed to follow. I taught English for many years and, if letters from students is any indication of my performance, I seemed to know what I was doing. Yet, I only had one teacher, in 7th grade, who taught out of a grammar book. Otherwise, grammar instruction never occurred.

And I read how grammar can't be instructed unless it is in the context of what a student writes. I envy anyone who can point to the names of what things are called when they pin point the exact errors in a student's grammar. I'm like my kids. I say, "I do that because it simply sounds right. It's how I hear people talk."

Unfortunately, this is not the practice of language nazis and I am jealous that I was never in the bootcamp to learn specific rules. Instead, I was taught to be creative and to find my own way to express what I mean.

I suppose, too, I should give extra credit to all the Catholic School kids reading this who are very able to note exactly where my prose falls apart. Such individuals will always have great power over me. I don't know what it's called when I make moronic mistakes with my writing. I simply admit, "Yep. I'm an idiot."