By Charlotte K. Jarmy

It has taken me about eight months to realize that I have changed very little over the years. I had a tendency to put difficult decisions off then and usually do the same now. It takes me forever to decide to balance my checkbook, only to find that it just won’t balance. I put off phone calls that are problematic, only to find that the problems still are waiting for me. Journey with me to my past.

It was 1947, and the young college student could give scant attention to scholarly pursuits. All her thoughts and dreams were centered on the young man who had recently proposed marriage. What could be more natural? However, since she was enrolled in a senior course, which could affect her future as a teacher, she made a monumental effort to concentrate on her studies.

After a few weeks, the teacher, the chairman of the Hunter College High School English Department, prepared the students for some grueling practice in traditional grammar. “For,” he said above the groans, “if you girls want to teach English in any New York City school, you will have to pass the very difficult exam given by the Board of Education.”

Being realistic and studious girls at heart, the class settled down to master the intricacies and pitfalls of present participles, gerunds, parts of speech, etc. The young lady whose interests we are concerned with seemed the only member of the class not bearing the scars of the daily skirmish. She managed to keep up with the class by attacking “Guide to Modern English” in a sporadic fashion. Secretly, she was smirking and patting herself on the back, glorying in the knowledge that she alone would not have to take the dread exam. Not only was she engaged to a charming, intelligent man, but their plans were to live in California after her year of graduate work. And California, delightful place, didn’t require a test for teachers.

Time passed quickly for our young friend living happily in the Great Golden West. Pleasantly enough, she never regretted her less-than-perfect knowledge of English sentence structure since her teaching experience was limited to first grade. She had taught for a time; but almost inevitably, her interest shifted from the multiple demands of a classroom to the equally numerous demands of motherhood.

More years drifted by and it was 1965, with the moment of truth coming to our friend as it must to all. She was impelled both by emotional and financial need to return to her career, for Back to School for mother could no longer be postponed. Our heroine, never one to peer too deeply at future problems, had let her teaching credential lapse. So here she was, once again forced to take a college class very similar to that one of misty-eyed memory. An ominous note was sounded the first day, when the professor announced that an intense review of traditional grammar would be undertaken shortly.

The ominous note became a dissonant clanging when the now not-so-young student opened the required grammar text and read, “‘Guide to Modern English’ by Richard K. Corbin, Chairman of the English Department, Hunter College High School, New York City.”

Moral: To want to love (subject) is (predicate verb) natural (predicate comp.), but to get ahead (subject) takes (verb) planning (direct object).

Why all this soul searching? I finally got around to cleaning up my office bookcase, and lo and behold, the first book I picked up was “Guide to Modern English.” I hope Mr. Corbin doesn’t live in Los Altos.