Noun

Where I work, one of the most common questions editors ask each other is whether some term — say soymilk or healthcare — should be written as one word or two. And the responses we get and give might surprise you. Though occasionally one of us will answer, "I just looked that up today! Soymilk is one word," more often, someone will yell out, "Let me check. " Knowing whether a term is one word, two words, or hyphenated would be the hardest part of an editor's job were it not for one thing: We're not supposed to know.

For some time now, President Obama’s birth certificate has been posted online. Yet some people refused to believe he was born in this country. Recently, Obama released the long-form copy of his birth certificate. Some people still wouldn’t believe it. Last week, the president announced that Osama Bin Laden was dead. Some people refuse to accept that. There are many conclusions we can draw from this — some fascinating, some disturbing. But one fact we can glean here is more alarming, more bone-chilling than any other.

Patricia A. Garner This is in response to Bill Lauritzen's commentary "Most students can't identify nouns" published Nov. 9. Lauritzen describes students as unable to identify nouns by using the example of holding a pencil in his hand and asking if it is a noun. He expects students to say no, because he is not holding a "noun" in his hand. I do not argue with the reasoning he expects from his students, but I do argue with his statement that "It is not a trick question."

There aren't many issues in grammar or usage that scare me much anymore. After years of writing about language, I've learned that the things I don't know - and there are still many - I'm probably not expected to know. Over the years, that panicky feeling that I'm going to be exposed as a fraud the minute someone asks a question I can't answer has faded away almost completely. But one issue that can still set my pulse racing is the difference between “anymore” and “any more.” I'm not sure why, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I've been getting around to researching it for more than 15 years now. And because I've been “gonna look it up soon” for so long, it makes sense I'd feel a little behind on the subject.

You know how grammar buffs can be a little, well, difficult to be around? Judgmental? Quick to correct? And you know how even when they're being quiet you can almost hear the unspoken criticisms seeping through their pores? Well, this grammar buff is about to take that dynamic to new heights, making the leap from simply abrasive to utterly insufferable. That's because I, an already-devout smarty-pants, recently outsmarted one of the most authoritative sources in language: I found a mistake - or at the very least some fuzzy thinking - in the Associated Press Stylebook.

Grammar jargon can be pretty off-putting. Try dropping a term like dangling participle or object predicative at your next office party and you'll see what I mean. That's why I avoid the stuffy-sounding terms whenever possible. But the truth is I kind of like them - and not just for their power to clear a room. I like them because they represent language concepts that, though seemingly just silly bits of arcana, are actually very practical. One of my favorite terms is nominalization.

Bill Lauritzen Of some 600 students I have tested so far in the Glendale School District, less than 2% could correctly identify a simple noun. It seems incredible, as Glendale prides itself on having an excellent school district. But it is, never the less, true. Let me describe the test. I hold a pencil in my hand at the front of the classroom and ask, "Is this a noun? Raise your hand if you think this is a noun." (It is not a trick question. The answer is either yes or no. Try answering the question yourself before reading further.

There are a lot of people out there who will think less of you if you use “impact” as a verb: A longer storm season will negatively impact tourism. Failure to study will negatively impact your grades. Technology will impact higher education. Those are wrong, wrong and wrong, according to certain people. Because they only recognize impact as a noun, some people would require you to say instead that a longer storm season will have a negative impact on tourism, failure to study will have a negative impact on your grades, technology will have an impact on higher education.

A reader named Jerry wrote to ask about “that” and “who.” Like a lot of people, Jerry had been taught that “that” is for things and “who” is for people, yet his reading materials didn't seem to agree. “I am beginning to think I am wrong in the use of 'who' and 'that.' I see now in all newspapers quite regularly the term 'people that' instead of 'people who.' Is the word 'that' now an acceptable replacement when talking about people or persons? It just doesn't sound right to me.” Jerry isn't alone, as I would soon find out. In this column a few weeks ago, I offered readers a little catch-the-error test.

Pop quiz. Which is correct? "The dogs are outside" or "The dogs is outside. " I don't even have to hear your answer to give you an A. Anyone reading an English-language newspaper surely knows that "dogs are" is grammatical and "dogs is" is ungrammatical. Many even know why. Plural subjects take plural verbs like "are. " Singular subjects take singular verbs like "is. " We call this subject-verb agreement, and it's often so obvious that there's no need to worry about it. But just when I think subject-verb agreement is too easy for words, someone shows me different.

There are a lot of people out there who will think less of you if you use “impact” as a verb: A longer storm season will negatively impact tourism. Failure to study will negatively impact your grades. Technology will impact higher education. Those are wrong, wrong and wrong, according to certain people. Because they only recognize impact as a noun, some people would require you to say instead that a longer storm season will have a negative impact on tourism, failure to study will have a negative impact on your grades, technology will have an impact on higher education.

Remember boredom? Your No. 1 cause of unbearable suffering before you got your driver's license and fake I.D.? If you're like most adults, your boredom has gone the way of acne and 24-inch waistbands. Except for one very special time of year. Right after the holidays, when the stress of shopping for pre-indulged kids and cooking for judgmental in-laws is behind you, there comes a brief period of blissful boredom. It's a time to curl up with a mountain of stale snickerdoodles and listen to the test pattern hum between your ears as you stare comatose at a blank wall.

You know how grammar buffs can be a little, well, difficult to be around? Judgmental? Quick to correct? And you know how even when they're being quiet you can almost hear the unspoken criticisms seeping through their pores? Well, this grammar buff is about to take that dynamic to new heights, making the leap from simply abrasive to utterly insufferable. That's because I, an already-devout smarty-pants, recently outsmarted one of the most authoritative sources in language: I found a mistake - or at the very least some fuzzy thinking - in the Associated Press Stylebook.

There aren't many issues in grammar or usage that scare me much anymore. After years of writing about language, I've learned that the things I don't know - and there are still many - I'm probably not expected to know. Over the years, that panicky feeling that I'm going to be exposed as a fraud the minute someone asks a question I can't answer has faded away almost completely. But one issue that can still set my pulse racing is the difference between “anymore” and “any more.” I'm not sure why, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I've been getting around to researching it for more than 15 years now. And because I've been “gonna look it up soon” for so long, it makes sense I'd feel a little behind on the subject.

Grammar jargon can be pretty off-putting. Try dropping a term like dangling participle or object predicative at your next office party and you'll see what I mean. That's why I avoid the stuffy-sounding terms whenever possible. But the truth is I kind of like them - and not just for their power to clear a room. I like them because they represent language concepts that, though seemingly just silly bits of arcana, are actually very practical. One of my favorite terms is nominalization.

Recently, a reader named Nancy has been noticing salespeople using the expression “these ones.” In her email to me, Nancy didn't mention the context. But we can guess what types of things she's been hearing: “If you're looking for a shoe with a lower heel, try these ones.” “These ones also come in red.” The expression rang a bell with Nancy. She remembered some friends telling her they think “these ones” is bad usage, or perhaps just wrong. But they didn't explain why. So when Nancy heard the “these ones” a few times recently, she recalled her friends' objections and started to wonder: “Is it just bad usage?

A reader named Jerry wrote to ask about “that” and “who.” Like a lot of people, Jerry had been taught that “that” is for things and “who” is for people, yet his reading materials didn't seem to agree. “I am beginning to think I am wrong in the use of 'who' and 'that.' I see now in all newspapers quite regularly the term 'people that' instead of 'people who.' Is the word 'that' now an acceptable replacement when talking about people or persons? It just doesn't sound right to me.” Jerry isn't alone, as I would soon find out. In this column a few weeks ago, I offered readers a little catch-the-error test.

My friend Anne wrote recently to ask about a pair of sentences she was puzzling over. She wanted to know which of the following is correct: “Me seeing that letter is important” or “My seeing that letter is important.” She had an idea: “I think it's 'my,'” she wrote, “but I don't know why I think that.” I know why she thought that: because “my” seems more natural and more logical. Ninety-nine times out of 100 something that seems better is better. After all, grammar rules are really just an analysis of how we use the language.

Recently, a very interesting grammar question landed in my email inbox. The writer had to choose between “educational seminar” and “education seminar” and wasn't sure how. This is one of those language choices you can make perfectly and with complete confidence every day of your life - as long as you don't think about it. But stop to ponder a choice like this and suddenly words you've used all your life can seem baffling. Taking inventory of the big picture can be the best place to start: differences between words are not determined by some all-powerful language-governing body or some council of wise old scholars ruling on how we should speak and write.