Last week I had for about the hundredth time an experience that always disturbs me. Doing window shopping, I found myself talking with a salesgirl, who asked me what I did for a living. “I teach English.” Do you have any trouble predicting her response? Her face fell, and she groaned, “Oh, dear, I’ll have to watch my language.” In my experience there are only two other possible reactions. The first is even less encouraging: “I hated English in school; it was my worst subject.” The second, so rare as to make an English teacher almost burst into tears of gratitude when it occurs, is an animated conversation about literature – the kind of conversation that views “English” as something more than being sure about who and whom, lie and lay.
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