From the newsroom: Lewis Brissman, on language

If rules were made to be broken, should they even be rules in the first place?

Consider i before e, except after c. This pithy phrase was a stalwart of our grade-school spelling lessons, and decades later, we can recall it in an instant. That's durability -- in fact, we may be hard-pressed as adults to quickly name another memorable spelling or grammar rule.

But is i before e truly worthwhile?

In Britain, new guidelines being distributed to schools advise teachers to drop that old saw. The "Support for Spelling" document says the rule isn't worth teaching because . . .

Well, let's just say that in many cases, it isn't sufficient (hmmm) and can veil (hmmm) the correct spelling of many words. So while the guideline has legs -- it's not ancient, but it did appear (as Lesson 299!) in the 1866 "Manual of English Spelling" by J.S. Laurie -- it is nonetheless a bit weird, in light of the many exceptions.

And before you try to limit matters to words with the "long e" sound, can you look at siege and seige and know which is correct? Here's a spelling hint: It's the opposite of sieze and seize.

Yeah, that doesn't help much. That's one of the tricky things about spelling: You look at something long enough, and it starts to look wrong -- or right.

I prefer not to dwell on the value, or lack thereof, of i before e. I'm more interested in how it reflects something about learning and language.

Earlier, I questioned whether we could quickly name other memorable spelling and grammar rules. Lost in thought? How about: Add "s" to most nouns to make them plural. Or add "ed" to most verbs to create the past tense. Or capitalize the first word of a sentence.

Those are so obvious that we don't really think of them as rules. We internalized these lessons in our youth, and they just seem to be the givens of our language. The exceptions, and there are many, don't faze us.

But i before e resonates because it has been tailored, in all its rhyming and rhythmic loveliness, as a mnemonic device, or memory aid (the Greek term mnasthai meant to remember). So we really do remember it, whether it helps our spelling or not -- I'm sure we've all recieved (oops) a misspelled note but granted the sender a repreive (double-oops).

There's another reason i before e has traction: It highlights how counterintuitive language can be. After all, why is it siege but seize?

English is a language of accumulation, reflecting words we've taken from all over the place and made our own. Many of them had their own history in other languages, and variations carry through. So in its own small way, i before e tries to give structure, albeit imperfectly, to this gangly mass.

And structure is important. It gives us the framework to communicate, to know that the final "s" on "cupcakes" means there is more than one. Or that while their, there and they're sound alike, they mean different things.

I can understand why i before e and its exceptions might confuse children learning to spell. I also think it could be a launching point to discuss with them how our language has its own quirks.

As an adult, I still turn to the dictionary for seize and siege and other toughies -- which one could argue makes i before e both worthwhile and worthless. On one hand, language lovers use the lingering doubt as a chance to relearn and reinforce. On the other, if you spend your time wondering whether a rule applies, maybe there are too many exceptions.

In his autobiography, Mark Twain wrote: "I never had any large respect for good spelling . . . .Before the spelling book came with its arbitrary forms, men unconsciously revealed shades of their characters and also added enlightening shades of expression to what they wrote by their spelling."

So take comfort, children of Britain. Even Mark Twain hated following the rules.

Lewis F. Brissman, director of news production, writes occasional columns about words, language, and newspapers -- and suggestions are welcome. Contact him at .