Via Facilis

"Whatever the questions about Bronx Latin, membership in a rarefied group that can decode a dead language is a source of pride that is a powerful motivator."
By Joseph Berger

First off, let me say, Bronx Latin, you rock.
And Ms. Pineiro of Bronx Latin, you rock, too.

As for you, Joseph Berger, you don't.

Berger's comment is questionable, at best. It shows that aggressive ignorance is alive, well, in fact thriving in the world - ignorance about kids, ignorance about the study and acquisition of Latin. Yeah, it's true. Kids love to know something that nobody else does. This is the nature of a kid. Know how to motivate the kid, your school works.

My blog today has to do with the insidiousness lurking in this assertion and generally in the New York Times article (by the way, "insidious" is derived from Latin, of course, particularly the Latin noun insidiae, which means "treachery, ambush"). There is the perception out there, and even in here, that Latin is only for those who are the "best" and the "brightest."

The "best" and the "brightest".
Those who fall into this category are...who?
I've never met them.
Are these the students who are able to immediately absorb information like sponges?
And do I really want to have a conversation with a sponge?

Latin is for everyone. Truly.
It is not a difficult language to learn. Truly.
Unless it is introduced that way. Truly.

"But people who have studied such schools wonder if idiosyncratic — carpers might say gimmicky — missions like teaching Latin can sustain themselves once their founders move on. " Again Berger.

My comment here - if people have studied such schools, why don't they know?
Teaching Latin is "idiosyncratic"? Thanks be to those ancient Greeks for lending a vocabulary item that writers of modern English can so readily access to make themselves look credible even smart.

Here is another entry that I read recently:
"The Rogue Classicist blogged a NY Times article on a public middle school in New York that is teaching very average students Latin (at a Bronx School...)"

At first I was taking severe umbrage at "The Rogue Classicist," mistakenly believing that it was he/she/it that was the culprit. Then I realized that the RC was simply doing his/her/its job. The tag "very average students" had nothing to do with our friendly Rogue. Rather, the source was N.S. Gill herself.

My question:
What is "a very average student"?
Am I hearing that only people of a particular background and a particular set of understanding and skills can even hope to learn Latin?

Those "very average students" are probably sitting adjacent (big, Latin word, be careful, even comes from a present participle, again, careful -- you don't want to think too hard) to the "best" and "brightest".

Oh to jugulate such (inane - dang, there goes that Latin again) ideas before they get beyond the throat!

The idea that Latin is only for those of an advanced skill set is the very plague that kills it both within the field of Classics and without. Within, there are those in the field - not unlike Ms.Gill, alas - who think that Latin is only for that aforementioned set. Without, as evidenced by Joseph Berger, there are those who think that Latin is a "gimmick" - how amusing for a language that is so arcane, it's cool for kids to know it because nobody else does.

Latin was once spoken by the entire western world.
St. Jerome had to translate the Bible into Latin.
Why?
Because that was the language everybody understood.
Hence, the Vulgate: Everybody's Bible.
Latin then evolved into five other languages still in use - some extensively - 1500 years later. Its effect on the other languages of Western Europe is vast. Six out of every ten English words owe their origin to Latin. It always amuses me that people who question the validity of Latin select words of Latinate or Greek origin to support their argument that Latin is "idiosyncratic" or "gimmicky". Ironic that their argumentation is grounded in, and takes its teeth from, the very language and mode of thinking and learning that they would debunk.

It is aggressive ignorance on the one hand, and myopic elitist snobbery, on the other, that prevents those of us who are the direct heirs of Latin - i.e., anybody associated in any way with Western Europe - from seeing that the study of Latin is not some new-fangled flummery, some educational silver (some would argue "blank") bullet, but could serve as a cornerstone of the education of a person who can think not just broadly, but deeply, and who can articulate those ideas and thoughts in a real and meaningful manner.

That's the beauty of Bronx Latin.
Bronx Latin gets it.

And why does Bronx Latin get it?

Because of Ms. Pineiro.
She has the courage, the nerve, and the drive to establish a school of such a (nowadays) remarkable ilk.

Yeah, or, as we could say in Latin, Ita Vero:

She gets it, too.

For other, positive perspectives, see:
Phi Beta Con,
JesuitJoe, In Illo Tempore

Last week - directly below this post, actually - I commented on the sentiments expressed by the authors of The National Curriculum regarding modern languages.

This is That Post, Part II, Paragraph II of Modern Languages:

"Learning languages gives pupils opportunities to develop their listening, speaking, reading and writing skills and to express themselves with increasing confidence, independence and creativity. They explore the similarities and differences between other languages and English and learn how language can be manipulated and applied in different ways. The development of communication skills, together with understanding of the structure of language, lay the foundations for future study of other languages and support the development of literacy skills in a pupil's own language.

I'm a Latinist/Classicist/linguist.
I agree with the sentiments of this paragraph wholeheartedly.
The question is how to effectively achieve its purposes.

Here is my response:
Learn Latin.

"But Latin isn't a modern language."
"True."
"It's also dead."
"Also true."
"So?"
"So, word one: Frisp."
"Frisp? Never heard of it."'
"French
Romanian
Italian
Spanish
Portuguese

Which are all recognized languages of the European Union.

We also refer to them as Romance Languages."
"So?"
"So the structural basis of these languages is Latin.
Learn Latin, and you exponentially increase your capability of learning a Romance Language."

"Okay, but what about the other EU languages? Latin can't help with those, can it?"
"Actually, it can."
"How?"
"Many of the languages of the EU are inflected."
"Infected?"
"No, 'inflected'. A language that is inflected establishes meaning by changing the forms of its words, particularly nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and verbs. The form of the words shows their function in a sentence."
"And?"
"And Latin is also inflected.
Learn Latin, and you exponentially increase your capability of learning a non-Romance language."

"But it's still not spoken, right?"
"Right."
"So how does that address the "listening, speaking, reading, and writing" part of the paragraph?"

"In terms of listening and speaking, it doesn't."
"But isn't that a problem?"
"Actually, it's a solution in conundrum's clothing."
"You'd better explain."
"Sure. When students learn a foreign language, it often happens that their proficiencies - speaking and listening - mask their deficiencies - reading and writing."
"So they can't read or write."
"And how would you rate the literacy of someone who can't read or write?"
"Low?"
"There is a technical term for it. A person who cannot read or write his own language is 'illiterate'."
"So much for national literacy."
"You said it."
"But how does Latin help deal with this problem?"
"Which problem?"
"The literacy problem."
"With which language?"
"Better start with foreign languages."
"Fair enough. You have to ask why students find reading and writing difficult in the first instance."
"Okay, consider it asked."
"They find reading and writing difficult because they have done very little of those exercises with their own language. To really read and to really write, you have to more than inherently know a language; you have to understand it. You have to understand how words relate, how they fit together to make sentences, ideas, concepts, etc. You have to have done time, so to speak, working with the nuts and bolts of language - its grammar, its syntax, its vocabulary. To write it out long-hand, type it, chant it, play with it. Become friends with it. Writing is the tactile recording of literacy. Reading allows you to see how others go through that experience. Literacy is, in effect, the expertise with which you deliberately handle your own language. So if you are going to master another language, you will have to spend some serious time with your own."

"But why Latin then?"
"Because when students learn Latin, they cannot hide behind a good ear and convincing accent. They must focus on the other two aspects: reading and writing. Latin forces them to account for everything. That, in turn, forces them to account for everything in English. Which reenforces what they are doing with language in Latin. It becomes a benevolent cycle, feeding on itself."

"So, you're saying that Latin is good because it addresses reading and writing almost exclusively?"
"Basically, yes."
"So it makes students hyper-aware of their choice of words, and why they are saying what they are saying?"
"Yes. It turns a potentially passive exercise into an active one. It requires that they develop critical tools of linguistic discernment."

"And the student who takes Latin will be ready to study a modern language in all aspects?"
"Yes. They will be happy to be speaking a foreign language, but it will not be so completely different in terms of vocabulary or structure. They will have already been there. They will be jazzed up about going forward in their study of language."

"And this same student will have done a tremendous amount with the building blocks of English, too? All that grammar and vocabulary?"
"Yes."

"But doesn't that take care of two major concerns of the government?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there's the national literacy recommendations, and there's the modern language entitlement, too."

"Right."

"Wouldn't a serious study of Latin help students, particularly at Key Stage 2, make significant strides in both these areas?"

"Let me get this straight. You're saying that you think that the study of Latin at...?"
"Key Stage 2."
"What's that mean in American English?"
"Ages 7 to 11."
"Oh, right. Okay, so you're saying that you think that the study of Latin at Key Stage 2 will facilitate both a growing mastery of English and set the stage for the thorough learning of Modern Languages? As required by the UK government?"

"Yes."

"I couldn't have said it any better. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

drg

I've been thinking about a poem I could write about cagse and what it does in the UK.

First I wrote this:

cagse's Latin program's cool,
it's got patterns for all to see,
it gives kids the blueprint
for National Literacy.

Yeah, I know.
A bit tooooo.....
Or maybe not enough.....
Let's just say, I wasn't thrilled with it, either.
So I wrote some more.

Here it is.

cagse gets Latin
into UK schools of State ilk,
we're not too concerned
with Public school silk.

At Key Stage 2
year five's our first stop
the structure of language
is our priority top.

In Latin your students
will see by and by
that knowing it well
they'll have learned how to fly.

Their minds will be honed
to the sharpness of a blade
they'll learn how to think,
not just grub for a grade.

Your students will excel
well beyond what's expected
and in them your wisdom
will be brilliantly reflected.

Latin, we aver,
is everyone's gain
it relieves state schools
of literacy pains.

It's not just for the "elite"
or "the best and the brightest",
though who those folks may be
I haven't the slightest.

On this let's be frank,
we'll cost you some dosh,
but it's wisely invested,
not wasted on bosh.

For the national requirements,
walls though they be,
will be by your students
breached - no, smashed - easily.

So for Stage 2 and beyond
cagse sets schools up right;
use our program, head teachers -
you won't stay up nights.

drg

Fourteen months ago, I wrote the following entry for this blog regarding the years right after college graduation - years I would never want to experience again. Still.

"...I was living in Boston, specifically in Allston.
And it was here that I learned an amazing lesson.
From a plant.

My apartment was pretty nice, aside from (or next to) the roaches. With it came a plant which the previous owner had thoughtfully left for me. Or had simply forgotten.

I had no idea what to do with a plant.
I'd never really had one.
Still, I couldn't bring myself to throw it out.
So I just let it sit there, a soon to be no longer living memorial to my directionless existence.
The plant's leaves died, and so, seemingly, did it.
I could relate.

Then one day, I decided, What the heck, I'll water the plant.
Yes, it needed it. But I think I needed it more.
And besides, I had nothing to lose.
And everything.

A few days went by, a week, a month.
I kept up my daily ministrations.
I even got a spray bottle so I could keep its leaves moist.
And the plant - an English Ivy, I think - came back to life.
And began to grow.
And grow. And grow.

When I finally left Boston for my first teaching job, the plant was lush, its vines tumbling over the sides of its pot to the floor seven feet below, an emerald cascade.

I had never felt such an enormous sense of accomplishment.
But it was more than that.
I myself was pivotal in the turn around of this plant's life.
I mattered.

And in the simple act of giving this living thing the chance to grow, I had done the same thing for myself.

I did not then fathom the plant's gift to me. Nor did I see how great a role it played in my quest for the meaning of meaning. I didn't even know I was on a quest.

That plant may not have been key in my becoming a teacher. But it was instrumental in my staying one.

As I said. I didn't know then.
Now I do."

So, yes. Now I will say this, quoting my buddy Marcus Tullius Cicero (it's up to you readers to figure out how it applies to what follows):

"Qui ipse sibi sapiens prodesse non quit, nequiquam sapit."

Translation:

"The wise man who cannot help himself is wise in vain."

Now.
One thing I neglected to mention in that story:

I didn't just leave Boston.

I also left the plant.

That always bothered me.
The leaving the plant part, that is.
(Leaving Boston was easy.
I'm a Yankee fan, for goodness sake.)

Nagged at me.
Niggled.
Still does.

So why am I bringing this up now, you ask?
"Yes. That would be nice to know."
Fair enough.
Recently and with increasing vigor, I've been working with my education consultancy in the UK.
Coming over here every month, working with all the teachers for a week or so each time.

But somewhere in the back of my mind has been lurking the thought that I would teach again next year.

And that it would be in an independent school in the US.
And that it would be full time.
I had already spoken with various placement services, and had received phone calls regarding my availability.
I even went through an interview for a paternity leave position for April and May of this year.
It was okay.
Even good.
But it was lacking.
Or rather, I was preoccupied.
I could talk the talk, even walk the walk.
But my heart was nowhere in sight.

How could I just be a substitute teacher with this school when I have my own work to do?
My own teachers to work with?
I was offered that position.
I turned it down.
I couldn't in good conscience accept it.

cagse requires commitment.
Full Commitment.
From Everyone.
My executive director is the best there is.
But she can't do it herself.
My pro story teller is fabulous.
She can't do it all, either.
My head of Latin Programs is tremendous.
She can't do it by herself, either.

Then there are the teachers themselves.
They are hardworking, dedicated, enthusiastic.
Most of them are new to teaching.
Even those who aren't are new to my book.

'Everyone' includes me.

But I still wasn't quite getting it.
Recently, I had a phone call from the folks at Dalton School.
They wanted me to come in for an interview.
I said I would.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could not do it.
So I cancelled.
Why?
Because I already have a job.
I also removed my name from placement services regarding further consideration for the foreseeable future from any school.

Why?
Because I finally got it.

I (still) already have a job.

And what a job it is.

The work we are doing over here is nothing short of critical.
To the UK's national curriculum, certainly.
But even more to education itself.
We have here a new, powerful mechanism which will serve as a paradigm for real teaching and learning in the form of our Latin program.

cagse can be the cutting edge, not just on it.
Can shape vibrant, energetic, thoughtful teaching and learning for decades to come.

We are Compelling.

We put the R E A L back into L E A R N i n g.

But for cagse to take wing,
it is up to me.
And so, here I fly.

So why the reference to that earlier blog?

Haven't you figured it out yet?

Simple.

I've come back for my plant.

drg

"So let's see if I have this straight. There are twelve strands in the UK's National Literacy Curriculum:
1. Speaking
2. Listening and Understanding
3. Discussion and Interaction
4. Drama
5. Word Recognition
6. Word Structure and Spelling
7. Understanding and Interpreting Texts
8. Engaging with and Responding to Texts
9. Creating and Shaping Texts
10. Text Structure and Organization
11. Sentence Structure and Punctuation
12. Presentation"

"That's correct."
"And of these twelve, strands 1 and 2 get the students "booted up", so to speak, and #3 is one application of #s 1 and 2. Yes?"
"I'd say so."
"Alright. #4, meanwhile, is a variation of #3, yeah?"
"In some cases, not just a variation, but a deepening and fleshing out of expression, as well."
"Strands 7 and 8 address reading and comprehension of various types of writings."
"Yes."
"Strand 9 goes from the purely mental activity of reading to the physical activity of writing - not copying other texts, but writing one's own material."

"Indeed."

"Strands 10, 11, and 12 flesh out the writing aspect: the general organization of the text, the specific structure of the sentences that make up the paragraphs and how they are annotated, and finally, the polished presentation. Yes?"

"Yes."

"And you believe that the centerpiece, the sine qua non, of these strands are #s 5 and 6?"

"Yes. Word Recognition and Word Structure and Spelling are the nexus. Every one of the twelve strands draws power from these two."

"How do you mean?"
"Alright, take strands #1 and 2, Speaking and Listening and Understanding."
"Okay."
"Without word recognition, can these strands hold?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because Speaking, Listening, Understanding all have to do with the spoken word. And if you don't recognize that what is said is a word, it doesn't matter if you hear it or not, because you won't understand it."

"Then what about Word Structure and Spelling? How does that fit in?"

"Well, there are many words that sound the same but mean different things."
"Such as?"
"How about 'there', 'they're', 'their'? If you don't know that those are three different words, there's going to be a problem. Spelling really helps you nail down those differences."
"So would you call Word Structure and Spelling a refinement of Word Recognition?"
"I would do."
"As would I. Let's talk more about this tomorrow."
"But...."
"Don't worry. I won't leave you stranded."

"So where've you been? And what's wrong with your face?"
"Sporting, isn't it? Only the best education consultants are wearing it."
"No, but seriously. Where have you been?
"In hospital. Getting my left nostril's septum undeviated."
"That would explain the chic gauze moustache. For a second I thought you were the physical manifestation of Drama, strand four."
"I appreciate your imagination. But no. Just got my nose fixed."
"If only fixing the UK curriculum were so easy."
"It's not broken. It's just a matter of understanding how the pieces work together, and which are the central strands. And then how to make those strands powerful."
"Right. I've been thinking about that since you were away, brief though it was."
"Wait. Wasn't this the long Easter week-end?"
"Yes."
"I thought all thinking was generally suspended until after it ended."
"Well, I was bored."
"To tears, apparently. So what did you come up with?"
"To be honest, I think I got myself even more muddled than I was before."
"Well, let's see if we can't remedy that. What does 'Word Recognition' entail? Is it simply a matter of recognizing a word as what it stands for?"
"Could you explain that more?"
"Sure. What does 'cow' mean to you?"
"It's an animal we get drinking milk from."
"Anything else?"
"Beef, too."
"No, I mean, is that all 'cow' means to you?"
"Well, they wear bells, sometimes."
"Okay, wait. Let me rephrase. At its most basic level, what is 'cow'?"
"A mammal?"
"Hold on. This isn't working. Let's take a different approach."
"Please."

"How about this:

'cow, picture, ship, chair, book, grass, foot.'

What do you make of that?'

"They're a bunch of nouns."
"That it?"
"Yes. Just random nouns."
"Nothing else?"
"Well, there are seven of them."

"Fine. Now what about these?
'cows, picture, ships, chair, books, grass, foot.' "

"The same seven random nouns again."
"Random, huh?"
"Oh yes, they seem so to me. But they're the same."
"No changes?"
"Let's see. Actually, now three of them are plural."

"Right. So what about this?
'cows grass.' "

"Still nouns - from that same set. But now only two."
"Do they still seem random?"
"Well...what do you mean?"
"I mean, Do those two nouns placed right next to each other like that have any meaning for you?"
"They seem to."
"Meaning what?"
"Cows and grass seem to go together. But not as you have them, 'Cows grass.'
"What would you do so that they could go together?"
"You'd have to add another word."
"Okay, how about 'cows hills grass.' "
"No, that doesn't help."
"Why not? You said to add another word. 'hills' is another word."
"Yes. But it's the same sort as 'cows' and 'hills'.
"How so?"
"It's another thing."
"So?"
"So you still have to figure out how the first two, 'cows' and 'grass', fit together. If you add only another noun, you've have three things to explain, not just two."

"So what word would you add?"
"Well, first I'd have to ask myself about what 'cows' and 'grass' have to do with one another."
"And what's the answer?"
"Several, actually."
"Do tell."
"Let's see. Cows stand on grass. And they eat it. Yes. That's easiest. I'd add 'eat'."
"Okay, 'cows grass eat'. Right?"
"No. That doesn't look right."
"How about, 'eat cows grass'?"
"That just doesn't make any sense."
"So what would?"
" 'Cows eat grass.' "

"So 'cows' and 'grass' are 'things', and 'eat' isn't?"
"Right."
"What is the technical term for 'things'?
"Uhhh, I think it starts with an 'n'..."
"and ends with an 'n', too."
"I'm not sure..."
"And has '-ou-' in the middle."
"A NOUN!"
"Exactly. So 'cows' and 'grass' are nouns, and 'eat' isn't, right?"
"Right."
"But if 'eat' isn't a noun, what is it?"
"It's the action word."
"What is the action word called? Does it have a specific name?"
"This one I remember. You don't have to spell this one out for me. It's called a verb."
"Excellent."
"You're too kind."
"I'll take your word for it. Now, let's consider your creation:
'Cows eat grass.' "

"Okay."
"Is this a complete thought?"
"What do you mean?"
"Does 'Cows eat grass' convey a complete thought or idea?"
"Does it?"
"What would happen if I put the word 'If' right before 'cows'? Then you'd have 'If cows eat grass'. Does that sound complete?"
"Well, if you added something like, 'then they get fat' it would."
"But by itself?"
"No."
"How about if there's no 'If'? Just plain old 'Cows eat grass'?"
"Yes. That's a complete thought."
"What do we call that? Technically?"
"Hmmmm."
"I'll give you a hint. When a person is convicted of a crime, the judge in the case pronounces....?"
"Sentence! Right, it's a sentence. A sentence is a complete thought. Of course."
"Tremendous. Now, in that sentence, 'Cows eat grass', how is 'Cows' functioning?
"They're doing the eating."
"They're performing the action of the verb?"
"Yes."
"And when a noun is performing the action of a verb, it is functioning in a particular way. It is acting...?"
"on impulse?"
"Inventive, but no. Think technically, again."
"I'm lost."
"Okay. Someone gives a talk on a particular what?"
"Field? Area?"
"Close. Maybe a little narrower?"
"Expertise?"
"No. How about this? All UK nationals are the Queen's..."
"Subjects! Oh, right. Subject."
"Right. The Subject is the noun that does the action of the verb."
"And the verb is the action word that the Subject is doing."
"Also right. So in the sentence 'Cows eat grass'..."
" 'Cows' is the Subject."
"And 'eat'..."
"is what the 'Cows', the Subject, are doing, and is, therefore, the verb!"
"Excellent. Only one word left to account for. How is 'grass' acting in our favorite sentence, 'Cows eat grass'?"
"It's what the Cows eat."
"It's receiving the action of the verb?"
"Yes, I suppose it is."
"What term do we give nouns when, like 'grass', they receive the action of the verb?"
"It's on the tip of my tongue...."
"Okay. Hint: 'Not the Subject of my attention but the...."
"Object!"
"Yes. But because it is directly receiving the action of the verb, we can go one step further and call it the ___________ object."
"Direct! The direct object!"
"Precisely. So, to review:
1. Nouns are things (or persons or places)
2. Nouns can act as subjects, i.e., doers of the action of the verb
3. Nouns can act as Direct Objects (i.e., direct receivers of the
action of the verb)
4. Verbs are action words, i.e., words that denote action performed
by Nouns acting as subjects on nouns acting as direct objects.

Make sense?"

"Yes. But how do we know when a noun is acting as a subject or a direct object?"

"Excellent question. And psychic, too. You have anticipated our next lesson: The Primacy of Word Order. So see you tomorrow."

"Brilliant."

"Good evening."
"To you, as well. Did we shave?"
"What? Oh, you mean the gauze. Or lack of it. Well, no, but my nose has healed considerably. Nice to breathe again through that left nostril. Haven't used it for forty-two years."
"That must be a strange sensation."
"It's quite liberating, actually."
"I'll bet."
"You'd win, so I'm not laying odds. Anyway, when we last were having our discussion, you asked a critical question."
"I did?"
"That wasn't it."
"Oh, right. I remember now."
"Will you reask it?"
"Surely. I asked, 'How do we know when a noun is acting as a subject or a direct object?' "
"Have you thought about it since then?"
"No, that wasn't the question I asked. I remember clearly."
"No, I mean, have you thought about an answer to your question which you just right now brought our attention back to."
"Oh. Well, yes."
"And you have an answer?"
"I said I thought about an answer. I didn't say I had one."
"Shall we conjure up that sentence which gave rise to your question?"
"Good idea."
"Our sentence was, 'Cows eat...'"
"'grass'!"
"Right. Did we decide anything about the function of 'Cows' in the sentence?"
"Yes, that it was a noun acting as the subject, i.e., the doer of the action."
"Right. Did we decide anything else?"
"We determined that 'eat' was the verb, i.e., the action that the subject, 'Cows', was performing."
"Okay. And?"
"And that 'grass' was the direct object of the verb 'eat' because it was what the 'cow', the subject, was eating."

"Let me ask you if you would agree to the following as a summing up of what we discussed last time:
1. Nouns are things (or persons or places)
2. Nouns can act as subjects, i.e., doers of the action of the verb
3. Nouns can act as Direct Objects (i.e., direct receivers of the
action of the verb)
4. Verbs are action words, i.e., words that denote action performed
by Nouns acting as subjects on nouns acting as direct objects.

Anything else?"
"No, that's about it."
"Okay. So your question then was, in a nutshell: How To Decide?"
"How to decide what?"
"Well, if a noun can act either as a subject of a verb, or a direct object of a verb, how do you know when you see a noun how it's acting?"
"I need some help here."
"Okay, let's bring back our sentence."
"Let's."
" 'Cows eat grass.' "
"So much is clear."
"How many nouns?"
"Two."
"Subject?"
" 'Cows'."
"Direct Object?"
" 'grass'."
"Verb?"
" 'eat' ."
"Where is the subject placed?"
"At the beginning of the sentence?"
"Yes, but let's be even more specific."
"Okay. Directly in front of the verb."
"Correct. How about the direct object?"
"That's directly after the verb."
"Correct. Do you know the answer to your question yet?"
"Sort of...."
"Take our sentence again."
" 'Cows eat grass.' "
"Switch 'Cows' and 'grass'."
" 'Grass eats Cows.' "
"Do those two sentences mean the same thing?"
"Don't they?"

"Look at them closely:
'Cows eat grass'
'Grass eats Cows'
Are they the same?"

"Well, no."
"What did I change?"
"The placement of 'grass' and 'cows'."
"What happened?"
" 'grass' became the subject; 'cows' became the direct object."
"What happened to the placement of the verb?"
"Nothing. It stayed the same."
"So what are we saying about where words appear in a sentence?"
"That it means a lot."
"It actually means everything. Where a word falls in a sentence determines its function in the sentence, and therefore, the force of that sentence."
"Could you summarize?"
"Absolutely. Word order tells you word function. An English sentence is completely dependent upon its word order to establish meaning."
"Are you sure?"
"Let me rephrase. 'Cows grass eat.' "
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly."