U R now entering an evolutionary debate

I don’t know have much expertise in the scientific debate about evolution, but  I do feel absolutely certain in concluding that languages evolve, and they usually evolve toward simplicity.

To most 21st-century readers, Shakespeare is somewhat comprehensible, Chaucer is rarely comprehensible, and Beowulf is incomprehensible (OK, George Will’s columns and Beck’s “Loser” can seem incomprehensible at times, too, but that’s a different evolutionary discussion).

Even while I teach students the nuances of Associated Press style (is it website or Web site?), I’m aware that if a majority of them continue making the same mistakes — especially spelling and grammatical mistakes — those common mistakes eventually will evolve into correct usage. I already sense that the who/whom battle is over and whom lost. I do not fear ain’t, but I do fear that they will become an acceptable pronoun reference for everyone. Everyone does it because they can’t seem to distinguish between singular and plural nouns and pronouns.

On one side of the teaching debate is a red-pen prescriptive approach that meticulously prescribes to students how language should be used properly. On the other side is a laid-back descriptive approach that merely describes how people commonly use the language. Proponents of the prescriptive approach believe that a language’s evolutionary process is a descent into lower-class linguistic chaos, while supporters of the descriptive approach welcome evolution as a liberating force for more efficient communication.

My own actions suggest I am a fence straddler.  I regularly use a pencil instead of a red pen to grade student papers. Thus, I prescribe correct usage, but I don’t want to record my prescriptions in permanent ink. And now that I have a BlackBerry, my remedial thumbs have become an obstacle to efficiency. They would be happier typing u for you and r for are, but my language arts background won’t allow it — yet.

L8R

A few comments about comments

As readership increases, online news sites (it’s hard for me to call them newspapers anymore) are struggling with legal and ethical dilemmas involving reader comments. Our campus student media site, the Baker Orange, is certainly no exception. The staff recently adopted an online first policy for major stories, which has created an impressive spike in the number of online visitors. The spike has been accompanied by an increase in comments, many of which have been hateful, vindictive, obscene, unintelligent and/or racist.

A few sites force readers to register before they are allowed to post comments, but this still does not ensure that a commenter uses his or her true identity. As the online age of journalism evolves, most users clearly prefer to post anonymously.

Minnesota Public Radio has an in-depth discussion of the issues. With or without registration, I have found the editorial choices are complex:

1. Turn off all comments. A recent essay appearing at gawker.com suggested that online newspapers are a more formal, official news source than blogs and thus should not allow comments. Overzealous readers often attach false, misleading or inflammatory comments that detract from the noble ideal of journalism. The problem with this suggestion is that it likely decreases readership.

2. Moderate closely, deleting any comments that do not enhance the original article and turning off comments for articles that generate too much hatred. This sounds great in theory, but many newspaper cannot afford to hire staff members who do nothing but monitor comments. Even at our tiny campus newspaper, the editor has been spending a disproportionate amount of time checking for inappropriate comments.

3. Use a laissez-faire approach that green lights all comments except those that blatantly disregard human decency. Because this policy is often financially easier and may be legally safer, many sites feel most comfortable with it. Ethically, though, the problem is that this policy undercuts the journalism ideal of seeking truth and reporting it. Many online comments are anything but truthful, and many people who make those comments would be lousy reporters because they don’t verify their claims or clearly disclose their sources.

Based on my observations in the last couple of years, I have no doubt that online comments drive readership. If a local story is really hot, some readers return multiple times just to read the most recent comments. But what is the ethical cost? As I survey the comments on the Baker Orange site, I have a hard time feeling as if they are generating healthy, intelligent debate that encourages an informed citizenry. And I don’t want editors to feel like guest hosts for the Jerry Springer show.

I didn’t feel naked, but I did feel hopelessly disconnected

During a recent evening of performing loud rock music, I paid plenty of attention to my Stratocaster and not much attention to my BlackBerry. As a result, I spent a sleepless night thinking that I had lost my cell phone.

I would describe the feeling as one of hopeless disconnection. Syndicated columnist Leonard Pitts Jr. experienced similar feelings of cell-phone deprivation at an airport. He wrote, “Had I found myself standing there in my underdrawers, I don’t think I’d have felt more naked.”

I can’t say I felt naked, but I did feel panicky. I don’t diligently back up my cell phone data, so most of my contacts and calendar would have been lost, and some of the contact info would have been irretrievable. More importantly, I imagined important people calling me with important information, leaving important messages that I now couldn’t hear.

In the days of landlines, I had lots of other people’s phone numbers memorized. Today, I struggle just to remember my own cell phone number. Memorizing several 7- or 10-digit phone numbers has been reduced to memorizing a few single-digit speed dials.

The story has a happy ending. After much tossing and turning, I awoke early the next morning and found the phone had somehow fallen into a small rip on one of my equipment bags. It was a fluky place for the phone to hide. Now I’ve returned to speed dial and avoided the wrath of my wife, who likely would have taken away any future cell phone privileges and made me surrender my iPod to avoid another similar catastrophe in the future.

Ultimately, I learned something about myself. After only a couple of months with a BlackBerry, I’m (I apologize in advance for once again abusing the upcoming verb) addicted to it. Had I found myself with no iPod, TV remote control, GPS device, or garage door opener, I don’t think I’d have felt more disconnected.

It’s all about me on Facebook

A recent article in USA Today poses an interesting question: Are social networks making students more narcissistic? The article is based on a survey conducted by Jean Twenge, associate professor of psychology at San Diego State University and co-author of The Narcissism Epidemic.

I briefly asked the same question to 35 current students in an introductory mass media class this week. Most nodded their heads in agreement. I’m not sure I agree, though. I remember hanging out with a few selfish idiots when I was in high school and college. In fact, I would probably classify myself as a selfish idiot at times, so I am not convinced that this is a generational or Internet-induced phenomenon.

Twenge’s essay is not a totally new idea. Christen Rosen wrote in The New Atlantis a couple of years ago that, thanks to today’s social networking sites, “self-portraits are painted from pixels rather than paint.” We portray ourselves on Facebook as we want others to perceive us.

Certainly, lots of us use social networking sites for self-promotion. Ultimately, though, I think most social network users still recognize and appreciate honesty. A favorite student who recently graduated is my favorite Twitterer because her posts are entertainingly honest, such as when she said she “receives more rejection e-mails from employers than spam e-mails these days.”

Since I can’t back my argument up with any hard data, I’m cutting this week’s post a bit short. I need some extra time to doctor my Facebook profile picture in Photoshop (goodbye, gray hair).