Why Is the First Episode of a TV Series Called a “Pilot”?
Unless a show is written by Sully Sullenberger himself, you might be wondering why the term “pilot” is used so often in the television industry. “Pilot” dates back to the 16th century, so how did it become a TV term?
“Pilot” can mean a few things: It can be a noun for the person who flies a plane, a verb meaning “to act as a guide to” or “to set and conn the course of,” or to someone in the entertainment industry, the first episode of a TV series. These episodes are often quite different from the rest of the series, as the writers are figuring out the concept. For instance, Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Elaine wasn’t even in the pilot episode of Seinfeld, and that’s just hard to fathom. Aviation and television don’t have much in common, so I was curious to find out if there’s an etymological tie linking these homonyms.
As with some other etymological mysteries, there’s no universally agreed-upon answer as to why “pilot” became such a common term in the television industry. However, there are some popular theories. In the TV world, pilots are produced as a way to gauge audience interest in the concept. It’s fair to think of TV pilots as a “test flight” for the larger idea — you’d need a pilot to perform a real test flight, so maybe this is inspiration for the TV pilot. Similarly, “pilot studies” are common in the field of research — they are used to determine the feasibility of a scientific theory, much like pilot episodes are used to see if a narrative concept has legs.
All that is to say, the TV term “pilot” may not have a whimsical story, and it may have evolved naturally as a metaphor. According to the Etymology Online Dictionary, “pilot” has been used in English as a verb in the sense of guiding direction as far back as the 1510s, and it was only around 1907 that it became a noun meaning “one who flies an airplane.” It originally comes from the Greek pedon, meaning “steering oar.” So in this sense, “pilot” can aptly imply the fact that these first episodes steer the course of a series, and help determine if it gets produced.
In the context of television, the Oxford English Dictionary’s earliest example dates to a 1953 edition of Sponsor magazine (a publication targeted at TV advertisers): “As an indication of new show costs, the pilot for ABC’s new Danny Thomas situation-comedy film came to a higher tab than I Love Lucy.” As Hollywood embraced TV in the mid-20th century, the word “pilot” became firmly entrenched in the TV lexicon.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
What is the past tense of the verb “drink” — is it “drank” or “drunk”? Both can be correct, but what’s the difference, and when should each be employed? There’s a trick to knowing when to use each verb tense, so let’s toast to clarity.
Both of these sentences are correct:
She drank a cup of coffee.
I havedrunk too much coffee.
“Drank” is the simple past tense of “drink.” It’s used when describing an action that happened in the past. “Drunk” is the past participle form, and it requires a helping verb — also known as an auxiliary verb — for grammatical structure. Depending on the verb tense, you can use “has,” “have,” or “had” with “drunk.”
She drank three lemonades today. (Simple past tense)
She has drunk all the lemonade. (Present perfect tense)
We have drunk all the lemonade. (Plural present perfect tense)
By the time we arrived, she had drunk all the lemonade. (Past perfect tense)
“Drink” tends to confuse people because it falls into a category of strong irregular verbs, a term from historical grammar. These verbs form their past tenses not by adding “-ed,” like regular verbs, but by changing the internal vowel of the word. Classic examples include:
Swim, swam, swum
Begin, began, begun
Drink, drank, drunk
These patterns go back to Old English and are often referred to as “strong” because of how they form their tenses through vowel shifts (known as ablaut) rather than “weak” endings, like adding “-ed.” The English language used to have more of these strong verbs, but over time, most adopted the “-ed” form. The remaining few can still trip us up.
Furthermore, it doesn’t help that “drunk” is also an adjective (as in, “The punch was so strong that Aunt Sally got drunk from just one glass.). That ubiquity can make the word “drunk” a go-to choice, even when it’s grammatically incorrect.
The key to using the verbs “drank” and “drunk” correctly is looking and listening for those auxiliary verbs: “have,” “has,” and “had.” But if you’re “drunk,” you might need a little help — grammatically speaking.
Samantha Abernethy is a freelancer in Chicago. When she isn't staring at a laptop, you can find her sniffing out the best coffee with her greyhound Ruby, or chasing her kids around the nearest library.
“Beware” is a grammatical oddity. Like other so-called “defective” verbs, “beware” is missing several key forms and tenses commonly found in English verbs.
Missing: several conjugations. Suspect: the verb “beware.” Have you ever used the phrase “I bewared”? Probably not. That’s because “beware” belongs to a special category known as “defective verbs,” which lack several regular tenses and forms otherwise found in English verbs. Unlike most verbs, “beware” appears in only two forms: the imperative, as in “Beware of the dog,” and the infinitive, as in “You need to beware of online scams.” You wouldn’t say, “I am bewaring the dog,” or “I bewared the scam.” These aren’t real tenses — at least not anymore.
“Beware” is a rare case of a Modern English verb becoming defective through extinction. The present and past participle tenses “bewaring” and “bewared” were common in Middle English, but they fell out of use, leaving only the infinitive and imperative forms today. However, many other defective English verbs have always been limited in form.
Most verbs are grammatical chameleons, shifting into various tenses, moods, and conjugations to blend in with the intended context. For instance, the verb “walk” can be used in the infinitive (“to walk”), present (“walk”/”walks”), past (“walked”), present participle (“walking”), and past participle (“have/had walked”). Even irregular verbs such as “eat” (with the forms “eats,” “ate,” “eating,” and “eaten”) still follow the full range of conjugations.
Defective verbs, on the other hand, don’t have all those moving parts. They’re fully functional — they just don’t conjugate in all the typical ways. Most of them are also modal verbs, which means they express states and levels of necessity, possibility, permission, or ability. Consider the modal verb “must,” which exists only in the present. There is no infinitive (“to must”), past (“musted”), present participle (“musting”), or past participle (“have/had musted”). Similarly, “ought” doesn’t have a past or present participle (“oughted” or “oughting”). Other commonly used modal verbs deemed defective include “can,” “may,” “might,” “shall,” “should,” “will,” and “would.”
It’s worth noting that all modal verbs lack present and past participles and infinitive forms, so whether or not they are all labeled “defective” is a gray area. Some linguists argue that they aren’t defective per se because those omissions are built into the rules of modals themselves. In other words, they’re playing by their own grammar rules and are defective by design. But verbs like “beware,” which aren’t modal and have lost forms over time, add an extra layer of mystery to the evolution of language.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
14 Slang Terms That Are Unique to American English
Some slang words and idioms are as American as apple pie. Here are 14 examples of the most America-centric terms and phrases on either side of the Mississippi.
The United States is home to many ideas and concepts that you’d be hard pressed to find in other countries. For instance, Americans largely rely on imperial measurements, have an unparalleled obsession with college sports, and love spray cheese that comes in a can. The version of English spoken in the United States stands out from the crowd as well. In every region of the country, there are slang terms and idioms that only Americans use — including some that are unique to that specific region. Here’s a look at a few uniquely American words and phrases.
Northeast
Jawn
Let’s begin in Pennsylvania with a catchall slang term you won’t hear anywhere else: “jawn.” It can be used in place of virtually any other noun. For instance, you could offer someone a cheesesteak by saying, “Take a bite of this jawn.” Or if you like someone’s new jacket, you might say, “That’s a great jawn.” “Jawn” originated in New York City African American communities around the 1970s as an evolution of the word “joint” (referring to a location), and it migrated to Philly, where it remains an indelible part of the collective lexicon.
Bodega
In New York City, the bodega is a cultural institution. The term “bodega” isn’t uniquely American — it was originally used by Spanish speakers to refer to a warehouse or storage area, often meant for wine. But the more modern slang usage is a New York invention. In the 1950s and ’60s, Puerto Rican communities in NYC started referring to neighborhood corner stores as bodegas. Today, bodegas are found in nearly every New York neighborhood. These stores, often open late into the night, sell food, toiletries, and other basic household goods.
Wicked
You can’t discuss Northeast slang without a Bostonian busting out the term “wicked.” This intensifier, which gained widespread popularity in the 1960s, essentially acts as a substitute for the word “very,” as in “Did you see the Red Sox game? It was wicked good!” New Englanders are also likely to say “bubbler” instead of “water fountain” and to refer to ice cream sprinkles as “jimmies.” If you hear any of these terms, you’ll know you’re talking to a New Englander.
Southeast
Cattywampus
The Southern American dialect features slang terms and idioms that are different from not just the rest of the world, but also the rest of the U.S. Look no further than the word “cattywampus,” a variant of the word “catawampus.” This 19th-century adjective is used to describe something that’s askew or awry. “Cattywampus” is still widely used among Southerners today.
Y’all
No trip to the American South is complete without hearing the word “y’all,” which you’d be hard-pressed to hear abroad. This unique pronoun refers to a group of two or more people; it’s a shortening of the phrase “you all,” and the specific spelling came about in the middle of the 19th century.
Kiss My Grits
Some Southerners may tell you to “kiss my grits” as a substitute for the more common “kiss my butt.” This cheeky little idiom originated on the sitcom Alice, which ran from 1976 to 1985. It was originally the catchphrase of Flo Castleberry, portrayed by native Alabaman Polly Holliday. Many of Holliday’s fellow Southerners were inspired by her character and follow in her linguistic footsteps today.
Midwest
Yooper
Have you ever heard someone described as a “yooper”? They’re almost certainly from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. “Yooper” is a play on “U.P.,” an abbreviation for “Upper Peninsula.” Someone from the lower portion of Michigan, on the other hand, may be referred to as a “troll,” not as an insult, but as a reference to the fairy-tale bridge troll trope. People in lower Michigan live “under” the famous Mackinac Bridge that connects the state’s lower and upper parts.
Ope
One of the most popular colloquialisms to come out of the Midwest is the word “ope,” which Midwesterners rely on as another way to say “sorry.” One theory says the word may simply be a shorthand take on the word “oops,” but it’s hard to pinpoint the exact etymological origin.
Pop
Another dead giveaway that someone is from the Midwest is if they use the word “pop” when talking about a carbonated soft drink. In fact, each region tends to have a different word for this beverage. Northeasterners call it “soda,” some people in the South call all soft drinks “Coke,” and the Midwest uses “pop.”
West
Hella
As you head out West, you’ll hear Bay Area Californians use the word “hella” quite often. This intensifier is a substitute for “very,” much like how Bostonians use “wicked.” Geoff Nunberg, a linguist at UC Berkeley, believes the term came about in Black communities in Oakland in the late 1970s, and it was quickly adopted by various communities throughout Northern California, including surfers and skaters.
Shotgun
The slang term “shotgun” — to refer to the front passenger seat of a car — is an Americanism from the days of the Wild West. It dates to the 1850s, originally referring to the marksman who sat next to the stagecoach driver for protection. “Shotgun” gained its modern slang meaning in the 1950s, thanks to the many Western-themed films released around that time. While “shotgun” has since spread throughout the U.S., it’s a Western-origin slang term through and through.
Da kine
Now let’s go even further West to Hawaii. One of the Hawaiian islands’ most popular slang expressions is the Hawaiian pidgin phrase “da kine,” meaning “that kind.” This acts as a placeholder for pretty much any other thing, much like how people in Philly use “jawn.”
Shared Slang
Plead the Fifth
For all the regionalisms across America, some shared slang is understood in every corner of the country. The phrase “plead the Fifth” falls into this category, referring to the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, which guarantees the right to stay silent and avoid self-incrimination. Many Americans use this phrase casually to avoid saying something embarrassing or to avoid answering awkward questions.
Sign Your John Hancock
“Signing your John Hancock” is another phrase used throughout the country. This idiom comes from the founding father who famously signed his name as big and legibly as possible on the Declaration of Independence. It took on its slang connotation in the 19th century, and now refers to signing one’s name in any capacity.
These are just a few examples of the many slang terms and idioms that Americans know and love. They may cause an English speaker in another part of the globe to scratch their head in confusion, but they’re an integral part of our collective American linguistic identity.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Why do we say “bigger fish to fry” instead of “larger fish to fry”? While “bigger” and “larger” may seem interchangeable, subtle differences determine how we use them. Let’s learn how you can confidently choose the correct one.
Consider this: You might call someone who reveals secrets a “big mouth,” but calling them a “large mouth” sounds fishy (unless you’re talking about a bass). Some phrases sound right to our ears because they’re a part of the everyday vernacular. That’s why we say “bigger and better,” not “larger and better,” and “larger than life,” not “bigger than life.” However, it’s not just about what sounds right. These common expressions reflect the rules behind when to use the comparative adjectives “bigger” and “larger.”
Let’s start with the basic usage of “big” and “large.” “Big” can refer to physical size, but it has a range of uses, including describing extent, intensity, importance, seriousness, popularity, or influence. “Large” is more formal and narrowly focused, referring exclusively to physical size, capacity, quantity, or scope. “Large” doesn’t have the same abstract uses that “big” does. These distinctions carry over to the comparative forms “bigger” and “larger.”
Imagine you’re exploring New York City. You could say, “Central Park is larger than Bryant Park,” or “Central Park is bigger than Bryant Park,” and either would be correct because both are comparing physical size, although “larger” applies to more formal contexts. However, when you’re not talking about size, choosing between these adjectives matters more.
Consider this example: “Times Square is a bigger tourist attraction than the High Line.” Here, “bigger” is correct because it refers to popularity and cultural significance, not physical size. On the flip side, if you’re talking about measurable quantities, “larger” should be your go-to word. For instance, you wouldn’t say, “They invested a bigger amount of money in public transportation this year,” but rather, “They invested a larger amount of money.” When discussing volume, quantifiable amounts, or data, “larger” is the better fit.
So, our final takeaway is this: Use “larger” for physical size, especially anything including dimensions and quantities, and in formal contexts. “Bigger” can still be used for casual references to size, but make sure to use it for comparisons of importance, reputation, influence, or anything abstract. Choosing the right word might seem insignificant, but it can make a bigger difference than you think.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
“While” and “although” might not be grammatical twins, but their resemblance is uncanny. More like close cousins, these conjunctions may be interchangeable under certain circumstances, but swapping them in the wrong situation can lead to major confusion.
American author and disability rights activist Helen Keller once wrote, “Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.” Not only is this a powerful message of resilience, but it also demonstrates a valuable grammar lesson: “Although” and “while” are interchangeable in specific contexts.
In Keller’s quote, either of the conjunctions “although” or “while” could have been used because both words can express contrast or concession between two clauses. For instance, “While I agree with your opinion, I have a few questions” carries the same meaning as “Although I agree with your opinion, I have a few questions.” They are subordinating conjunctions because in both versions, the conjunction, when placed at the beginning of a sentence, introduces a subordinate clause that contrasts with the main clause. The choice, then, depends on tone: “While” often feels more conversational, whereas “although” tends to be more formal.
Now, shift the conjunctions from the beginning of the sentence to the middle: “I agree with your opinion, although I have a few questions” retains the same meaning, signaling contrast regardless of the position of “although” in the sentence. But replace “although” with “while,” and the sentence reads as a bit ambiguous: “I agree with your opinion, while I have a few questions.” “While” is a conjunctive adverb and can serve multiple uses. When “while” is placed between two clauses, it’s often interpreted as meaning “at the same time as,” as in, “I was waiting in the car while he picked up the food.” This time-related function of “while” is more dominant in English, so native speakers tend to interpret it this way instead of as a contrasting conjunction. In cases of mid-sentence ambiguity, it’s better to use “although.”
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
Every state in America has its own unique culture, flavor, and history — including its name. State pride is alive and well from Alabama to Wyoming, but do you know the story of how your state got its name?
While the etymology for some state names is a bit muddled, in general, a good number are derived from Native American tribes and languages, such as Algonquin, Sioux, and Iroquois. Others are nods to the origins of the European settlers who claimed patches of America as their own.
Here’s a guide to where all 50 state names came from, and what they mean.
Origins of State Names
Alabama comes from the Choctaw word albah amo, meaning “thicket-clearers” or “plant cutters.”
Alaska has ties to the Aleuts and the Russians, with the words alaxsxaq and Аляска, respectively, essentially meaning “mainland.”
Arizona has ancient roots with the Uto-Aztecan word ali sona-g, which was adopted by the Spaniards as Arizonac, meaning “good oaks.”
Arkansas is the French version of an Algonquin name for the Quapaw people, akansa.
California is a magical place — so magical, it’s named after a fictional world invented by the 15th-century author Garci Ordóñez de Montalvo. Spanish explorers adopted the name when setting foot on the gold coast.
Colorado is another Spanish-influenced name that essentially means “ruddy.” The name was first applied to the Colorado River for its distinctive reddish color.
Connecticut, much like Colorado, was named for the river running through it. The word possibly stems from the Native American term quinnitukqut, meaning “beside or at the long tidal river.”
Delaware is also named for a body of water, and that body of water was named for Baron De la Warr, the first English governor of Virginia. The baron’s name is Old French for “of the war.”
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Florida taps into its Spanish roots by referencing Pascua florida, meaning “flowering Easter,” as Spanish explorers found the lush area during that holiday season. There’s also a tie to the Latin word floridus, meaning “strikingly beautiful.”
Georgia may be the Peach State, but it’s named for King George II from Great Britain.
Hawaii comes from the Polynesian word hawaiki, meaning “place of the Gods.” It was also named the Sandwich Islands by James Cook in the late 1700s.
Idaho has roots in the Athabaskan word idaahe, meaning “enemy.” The name was originally applied to part of Colorado before being attached to the Gem State.
Illinois has a silent “s” at the end, because it’s of French origin. “Illinois” means “Land of Illini,” giving a nod to the Native American population. Illini is the Algonquin word for “man” or “warrior.”
Indiana, as you might expect, stems from the English word “Indian.” The Latin suffix tacked on the end roughly means “land of the.”
Iowa comes from the Dakota word yuxba, meaning “sleepy ones.”
Kansas references the Kansa tribe, meaning “people of the south wind,” which makes sense for the region nicknamed “Tornado Alley.”
Kentucky is yet another state named for the river running through it, inspired by the Shawnee word for “on the meadow.”
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Louisiana, like Georgia, was named for a regent of colonial times, Louis XIV of France.
Maine has uncertain origins, though “Maine” was also the name of a traditional province in France.
Maryland is a nod from King Charles I to his wife Henrietta Maria.
Massachusetts comes directly from the Algonquian word Massachusett, which means “at the large hill.”
Michigan is based on the Algonquin word meshi-gami, meaning “big lake.”
Minnesota, like many other Midwestern state names, comes from a Native American language. In this case, the Dakota word mnisota means “cloudy, milky water.”
Mississippi means “big river” in Algonquin Ojibwa, although the spelling is based on the French variation of the word.
Missouri relates to the Algonquin word wimihsoorita, which translates to “people of the big canoes.”
Montana has some Spanish inspiration that links back to the Latin mons, for “mountains.”
Nebraska stems from the Sioux name for the Platte River, omaha ni braska, meaning “flat water.”
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Nevada comes from the surrounding Sierra Nevadas, which essentially means “snowy mountains,” or “snowcapped” in Spanish.
New Hampshire begins the list of many states and cities named as new outposts of other parts of the world. In this case, Hampshire is a county in Southampton, England.
New Jersey was named by Sir George Carteret of the Channel Island of Jersey.
New Mexico is based on what was then the Spanish Nuevo Mexico. Fun fact: The ancient Aztec capital was named Mexihco.
New York was named for the Duke of York and the future King James II.
North and South Carolina are named after King Charles II, as Carolus is the Latin version of Charles.
North and South Dakota come from the Dakota people, and the word means “friend or ally” in Sioux.
Ohio comes from a body of water, the Ohio River. The Seneca word meant “good river.”
Oklahoma comes from a Choctaw word meaning “red people.”
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Oregon’s origin is less clear, although some scholars point to Algonquin as the source.
Pennsylvania was named after Admiral William Penn, under King Charles II. It literally means “Penn’s woods.”
Rhode Island is the subject of multiple theories, including the idea that Dutch explorer Adrian Block applied the name Roodt Eylandt, meaning “red island,” to reflect the red cliffs of the region. Alternatively, it may come from the Greek island of Rhodes.
Tennessee comes from the Cherokee village name ta’nasi, but the meaning is unclear.
Texas is a Spanish name from the word tejas, meaning “friends or allies.”
Utah comes from the Spanish yuta, the name given to Indigenous Uto-Aztecan people of the mountains.
Vermont comes from the French mont vert, meaning “green mountain.”
Virginia and West Virginia are a nod to Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen.
Washington is named for President George Washington. His surname means “estate of a man named Wassa” in Old English.
Wisconsin may come from the Miami word meskonsing, which was spelled by the French as mescousing and then shifted to ouisconsin.
Wyoming has origins from the Algonquian chwewamink, meaning “at the big river flat.” There is another theory, however, that proposes Wyoming comes from a word for “mountains and valleys alternating.”
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
“Caesar” is more than the name of a delicious salad — it’s also perhaps the most powerful surname in ancient Roman history. Julius Caesar was a famed Roman statesman, and his adopted son Augustus served as the first Roman emperor from 27 BCE to 14 CE. Both men were so important in Roman history that they had months named in their honor, and their legacy is still present in our modern calendar.
When March was the first month of the Roman calendar, July and August were the fifth and sixth months, respectively. At that time, July was called Quintilis (translating to “fifth month” in Latin), while August was known as Sextilis (“sixth month”). These names existed for years until they were both changed during the first century BCE.
After Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BCE, the Romans named a month in his honor. He was born on the 12th day of Quintilis in 100 BCE, so his birth month was renamed “Iulius” (which was how “Julius” was spelled in Latin before the letter “j” was added to the alphabet in the 17th century).
Emperor Augustus was the one making these name changes, and he decided to rename Sextilis after himself. Over time, as English developed partially from Latin influences, “Iulius/Julius” and “Augustus” turned into “July” and “August,” respectively.
Along with the name changes, two months were added to the beginning of the calendar year, and a leap year every four years was created. Julius Caesar made some of the changes, and Augustus made the rest, but it was called “the Julian calendar,” which kept time for around 400 years.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
In Western culture, 13 is often considered to be unlucky. But in the world of baked goods, 13 is a “baker’s dozen,” and it’s always been a positive thing for the average consumer.
It doesn’t take a mathematician to tell you that 12 does not equal 13. And yet, we often refer to a set of 13 as a “baker’s dozen,” even though “dozen” is clearly defined as “a group of 12.” This confounding term actually makes more sense once you learn its origin story, which can be traced back to the Middle Ages.
Let’s first talk about why certain goods are sold by the dozen. According to TheNew York Times, the practice comes from a time when shillings — a former form of British currency — were divided into 12 pence (roughly equivalent to pennies). So, many merchants sold individual goods for a single pence, or bulk goods by the dozen for a single shilling, as it made making change easier.
The concept of a baker’s dozen comes from merry old England and its medieval-era commerce. A 13th-century law called the Assize of Bread and Ale regulated the weight of bread and beer to prevent consumers from being ripped off. If a vendor failed to meet the legal standards, they’d be subject to fines or punishments. Breadmakers were so fearful that they’d be fined for selling underweight goods that they’d throw in an extra loaf to meet the minimum weight threshold. The “baker’s dozen” came out of this practice, with 13 items regularly making up an order for a dozen.
While it was a 13th-century consumer protection law, we don’t see evidence of the phrase until a few hundred years later. That’s not to say people weren’t using it until the 16th century — books just weren’t being printed. The Oxford English Dictionary cites one of the earliest references in a 1596 pamphlet from English poet Thomas Nashe: “Conioyning with his aforesaid Doctor Brother in eightie eight browne Bakers dozen of Almanackes.” Later in 1864, “baker’s dozen” was defined in a contemporary slang dictionary as follows: “This consists of thirteen or fourteen; the surplus number, called the inbred, being thrown in for fear of incurring the penalty for short weight.” Nowadays, bakers needn’t fret too much about being penalized, though the idiom (and sometimes the practice) remains in use.
Featured image credit: Monika Grabkowska/ Unsplash+
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
The English language rarely relies on diacritical marks, whereas other languages do. Here’s a look at one accent mark in particular that can be found in Romance and Turkic languages around the world.
Much like there’s a wide variety of pasta shapes, accent marks come in an assortment of shapes and sounds. Accent marks are also called diacritics, and while there are hundreds of choices across the world’s languages, we commonly see the tilde (~), the umlaut (ö), and the cedilla (Ç). The first two are sometimes used in loanwords, such as “piñata,” “jalapeño,” “über,” and “doppelgänger.” The latter is not found in English, as the words that used to contain the accent mark have dropped it in the English spelling (“facade,” for example). However, it’s commonly used in both Romance and Turkic languages around the world. Here’s a closer look at the cedilla and how it affects pronunciation.
The cedilla (pronounced “suh-DEE-yuh”) is often used in Romance languages, such as French, Portuguese, and Catalan. The accent mark appears as a squiggle at the bottom of a letter (usually “c”), but “ç/Ç” also exists as its own letter in various Turkic scripts, such as Albanian, Turkish, and Kurdish. The symbol is Spanish in its origin, evolving out of the “Visigothic Zet” that preceded it. The Visigoths ruled over Iberia from the fifth to eighth century, and their version of the letter “z” was written as “ꝣ” and sounded like a soft /ts/. As Visigothic influence in the region waned and the Spanish language began to take shape, “ꝣ” evolved to become “ç.”
The word “cedilla” dates to the late 16th century, coming from the Spanish cedilla (a diminutive term meaning “little z”). As it was adopted into French and Catalan, “ç” came to represent a soft-“c” sound, pronounced similar to the letter “s.” The cedilla was required to distinguish from the harsher “k” sounds sometimes associated with the letter “c” on its own.
For example, although the word “facade” has dropped the cedilla from its original French spelling façade, it’s pronounced “fuh-SAHD” thanks to the cedilla (or cédille in French), which softens the pronunciation of the “c.” If it weren’t for that small squiggly line, we may pronounce “facade” as “fuh-KAYD”(rhyming with “arcade”) instead.
To be clear, the cedilla refers to the dangling squiggly line itself rather than the entire letter. It’s most commonly used on a “c,” but “Ş” is used for a soft /sh/ sound, and “Ţ” represents a soft /ts/ sound.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
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