disposableadjective | dis·pos·able | di-ˈspō-zə-bəl: made to be used once or only a few times; made to be thrown away after one use or several uses: available to be used
Most kids don’t argue with the registrar so they can take *more* language classes.
I am not most kids.
I’ve always harbored a curiosity for language, and did actually argue with the registrar so I could take Latin and Spanish simultaneously. I was formally introduced to Linguistics at Oberlin College, where I happily devoured any and all (even tenuously) related coursework. I graduated college in 2008 and immediately joined the ranks of The Real World, where I assumed my fascination for language and linguistics would gradually fizzle. I spent 5 years in the triangle area of North Carolina desperately trying to teach math and science to middle school students. I’ve spent the last 3 years in the EdTech bubble of the CA Bay Area, where I now reside in with my husband (George), three adorable cats, and a thriving garden. There have been plenty of changes in situation, location, and vocation, but I’ve not yet succumbed to the anticipated fizzle factor; I continue to be fascinated with the rigid flexibility of language.
One of the most fascinating quirks of spoken language is that, once uttered, it’s technically irretrievable. I recognize that release into the atmosphere doesn’t make language inherently disposable. However, society as trends towards immediate gratification, mobility, and convenience, it’s possible our language, much like the goods we consume, is also following in the wake of these preferences. When does language become disposable?