A Judgment Error
There it was at the top of page 326. The sixth word over. Judgement. I
stopped reading and looked at the sentence once more in Stephen King’s latest
novel, “The Institute. “
“… wasn’t Evans’s job to pass judgement on the girl’s claim …”
Not the judgment I have always known. It was an error by Mr. King and his
copy reader that I couldn’t believe.
Coincidentally, it was only three days earlier that my granddaughter had sent
me a copy of her amazing college paper on stateless people. Grandparents are
supposed to be proud of their progeny’s offspring. But this was easy. This paper
was insightful and well written.
As I read through it – marveling – my eyes stopped at the one word that
seemed out of place. My granddaughter had made the same error as Stephen
King. She had spelled judgment with an extra “e.”
We all make mistakes. Do I tell her or let it go? And if I let it go and she spells
the word incorrectly in a future paper will the teacher dock her for it. Or do
liberal arts East Coast college professors not care about things like spelling
anymore? You never know if that still matters in the grand scheme.
In a later conversation with my daughter, I enthused about the paper and then
added the small afterthought about the misspelled word.
“Should I mention it or let it.…”
She answered before I could get the rest of the sentence out of my mouth.
“No. Don’t say anything.”
“OK,” I responded, wondering why her voice had an edge to it.
Did she think my saying anything that could be taken as negative would far
outweigh the praise I had heaped on my granddaughter? Did she think I was
being too picky? I was pretty sure my tough, clever granddaughter could take it.
I was also sure that my daughter didn’t know that at one time, when I was
about my granddaughter’s age, I was called out for adding the extra “e” to
judgment.
It was during the summer between my junior and senior years in college. I was
working on my hometown newspaper for 50 cents an hour – and glad to have
that. A lanky reporter who was perhaps ten years my senior approached with a
copy of the latest edition.
“Hey. You misspelled judgment in this story. There’s the dictionary. Go
look it up,” he commanded.
Gulp. “I did?” But why didn’t the copy reader catch it, I thought.
He was right, of course. “Judgment. The ability to make considered decisions
or come to sensible conclusions. A misfortune or calamity viewed as a divine
punishment.”
The correct spelling was forever stamped in my brain. Or was it?
When I sat down to blog about this chance meeting of judgements, I reached
for the Oxford English Dictionary revised 10th edition left in my offi ce by the
previous owner.
There it was in black and white. Judgement (also judgment). The ability to
make considered decisions or form sensible opinions. I emitted a small scream.
I had been hounded by this word for 50 years; used it carefully and spelled it
with the utmost sense of grammatical superiority. And now I am wrong, and my
granddaughter and Stephen King (and his copyreader) are correct. At least their
version of judgment is considered acceptable.
Is nothing sacred in the English language? It may take me a while to get over
this.