Last Legs
It's always been a quirk of human thought (and of some languages, in particular) that verbs and nouns can take the same form and be confused (or at least commingled) in the mind. In other words, the thing to be done or the thing doing it are mixed up.
This is the case when we say that entity A is on its last legs, while also saying that entity A's journey is on its last leg. The leg is the instrument of entity A's movement, but it is also the distance coverable by the leg, as well as the act of doing said covering by said instrument (i.e., 'legging it').
Take for example the case where entity A is a horse. The horse 'on its last legs' is a horse that has little capacity left in its legs for legging it over the last leg. The 'last leg' of the horse's journey is the last lap, the last bit of the distance, which will consume the last part of the horse's capacity for legging it.
In such form, I say that a whole lot of my students are on the last legs of their journeys. In fact, the whole school is on its last legs as it approaches the end of the year. But here we run into another source of confusion.
A scholar (or student, in modern parlance) is an element, a member, of a school. If the scholars are confused with the school, then if the scholars are on their last legs (of capacity or of chronological distance), the school must also be, right? No, not when the school is a corporate entity. Such an entity lives on, technically, whether or not it has any students whatsoever.
In fact, you can tell which schools are legally immortal while rubbing your face in it. These are the schools whose principals (no longer the first among equals, as in the Latin principes) call themselves Chief Executive Officers and are very proud of it. To the credit of certain principals, they cringe at the idea of being referred to in such wise. Such wisdom.
This is the case when we say that entity A is on its last legs, while also saying that entity A's journey is on its last leg. The leg is the instrument of entity A's movement, but it is also the distance coverable by the leg, as well as the act of doing said covering by said instrument (i.e., 'legging it').
Take for example the case where entity A is a horse. The horse 'on its last legs' is a horse that has little capacity left in its legs for legging it over the last leg. The 'last leg' of the horse's journey is the last lap, the last bit of the distance, which will consume the last part of the horse's capacity for legging it.
In such form, I say that a whole lot of my students are on the last legs of their journeys. In fact, the whole school is on its last legs as it approaches the end of the year. But here we run into another source of confusion.
A scholar (or student, in modern parlance) is an element, a member, of a school. If the scholars are confused with the school, then if the scholars are on their last legs (of capacity or of chronological distance), the school must also be, right? No, not when the school is a corporate entity. Such an entity lives on, technically, whether or not it has any students whatsoever.
In fact, you can tell which schools are legally immortal while rubbing your face in it. These are the schools whose principals (no longer the first among equals, as in the Latin principes) call themselves Chief Executive Officers and are very proud of it. To the credit of certain principals, they cringe at the idea of being referred to in such wise. Such wisdom.
Labels: Education, Etymology, Odd Thoughts, Schools
etched with acid at 11:20:00 am
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