Seeking the space to critique structuralism, I succumb to its pitfalls.

I agree, to a reasonable extent anyway, with the notion of rules and structures, at least as far as societal function and cultural facility are concerned. I do not prescribe to the notion that we're inherently good beings that, when left to our own devices, will consistently act in the best interest of what's dubiously dubbed "the common good" or "a brotherhood of man" [overt patriarchal language maintained intentionally]. I generally believe human beings habitually conceive of and impose structures to, essentially, grease the wheels of the masses. We regularly agree to stop at red lights, pay our taxes on time, and abstain from public flatulence because it works. We subscribe, unflinchingly often, that these kinds of rules exist for everyone's best interest.

Now, there are times when I knowingly disregard the pull of the structural tide. For example, rather than teach the "rules" of writing (read "grammar"), I advocate reading. My rationale is simple. I've seen too many students recite--in prompted chorus--that Sentences must have a subject and a verb and convey a complete thought, only to watch them grip their pencils and write a sentence like Except for when he learns Victor is his creator. Therefore, I direct them to books because I want their brains to get so used to the rules of language that I don't have to ask for choral responses. Rote memorization of these rules, in my and many researchers' eyes, never produced good writing. Really, I'm sneakily advocating from a kind of subliminal approach to structuralism, one that still teaches, but keeps me from overtly doling out oppressive language rules from my podium on Mount Pious (a term often used by this guy to criticize holier-than-thous atop soapboxes).

I'm belaboring the point of this post, which is actually both meaningful and perplexing.

I've had a frustrating week at the keyboard. Since last Sunday, after I went on my usual romp around my favorite pages on the interwebs, I've been hacking away with a huge monkey on my back. The weight has plagued me through typing simple emails, quick literary response papers, and even delayed the otherwise attractive immediacy of my Facebook postings. Thanks to Farhad Manjoo's article decrying the widespread acceptance of two spaces after terminal punctuation of a sentence, I've been afraid the grammar police will bust through my door any minute. "Can I let you in on a secret?" Manjoo begins from his powerful chair of knowledge. "Typing two spaces after a period is totally, completely, utterly, and inarguably wrong."

Hold the phone. Not that it's impossible to fathom, but he's essentially accusing my middle school computer class, high school keyboarding instructor, undergraduate technology lab professor, and instructions from a digitized Mavis Beacon as being misinformed. Can this be?

If personified, Manjoo's article would don black sunglasses, cross its arms, and gesture authoritatively toward a badge. It reeks of know-it-all. While he has his reasons--even noting that the Modern Language Association clarifies this rule in its yearly publication of humanities typographical norms--it's an abrasive read. And while I must concede his point, I desperately wish that I, like the rest of us habitually double tapping the spacebar after every finished thought, could have been let in on the development. Not for our own benefit, but to make Manjoo hate us less. His offense is, well, actually offensive. He bemoans our ignorance, upset by the fact that "people who use two spaces are everywhere, their ugly error crossing every social boundary of class, education, and taste."

Geez, man. We had no idea.

So, this week I've been working on cutting that second, quick thumb slap at the end of my sentences. I started a couple of paragraphs ago, in case you wanted to know. And it's not easy; my endless revision a la deletion has forced me to realize how ingrained typing is in my day to day operations. It makes me want to go outside, really. Or write a letter. Or avoid Slate.com for awhile.

Realistically, the article strengthened my resolve as a teacher. While I have conceded to try and adopt this single-space structure, I remain adamant in my stance that there's a lot of damage posed by this kind of tone with these kinds of rules. In my eyes, they don't inform so much as belittle. Disenfranchising is something I strive to avoid in my adult life since, in retrospect, I spent far too much time mastering the art of ostracizing others as a teenager.

So now, in my professional life, the pages I read will still look relatively normal even if the writer uses two spaces. And Manjoo? He will still hate the world.