Ever wonder why the word "English teacher" strikes fear in the heart of people when they are introduced to us at a party? Let's say we're being introduced to Kevin Bacon. A mutual friend says, "Kevin, I would like to introduce you to my friend, English Teacher." "Hi," English Teacher says, "I'm pleased to meet you." "English Teacher!" exclaims Mr. Bacon, "I guess I'd better watch my grammar."

And Mr. Bacon is right. We're the keepers of the grammar, the keepers of the proper way of speaking and, by implication, the keepers of the proper way of thinking. Even if we can't read and edit Mr. Bacon's spoken utterances, he knows what we're thinking as he presumes to join two independent clauses with a coordinating conjunction. We may be staring at the dessert table (we're tricky that way!), but we're saying to ourselves: "The structure of the compound sentence often reflects a simple artlessness--the uncritical pouring together of simple sentences, as in the speech of Huckleberry Finn" (Weaver, The Ethics of Rhetoric 124).

This is not to say that the rhetorical legacy of Richard Weaver is limited to the cocktail party. As composition teachers, we can see his effect in the fear of our students and colleagues, their insistence that the only thing we have to teach them is where to put the commas. We shouldn't be insulted; we shouldn't plead that we have so much more to give. No, we should think of Richard Weaver: his delineation of the rhetoric of grammar, his insistence that how we argue is a better indication of our politics than what we argue. Then, we might understand that our students, colleagues, and acquaintances are "watching their grammar" so that we don't hear in their speech something they would rather leave unsaid in the context of their pursuit of knowledge, the committee meeting, or the party, namely: their values, their essence, their politics.