Well this was an unexpected spinoff. I do feel it should be noted that I am an exceptional idiot when it comes to both math and grammar. I had to take entrance classes for both just to get into tech school lol, and they HAD to accept me. I don't know that I could properly tell people the difference between nouns, adverbs, etc.
Interesting thread though, I learned a thing or two for sure.
I'm sure many readers of this thread will not be at all surprised to learn I failed a written test that, if passed, would have allowed me to skip a certain college's remedial course in English composition.
It was a pretty crummy college, so I won't identify the college. I failed the test because my one-page essay used three paragraphs instead of four, or maybe it was four instead of three. What I learned from my failure is that the English department of that college believed a one-page essay must consist of the politically correct number of paragraphs.
I was unable to complete that remedial course. I have, in fact, never completed any college-level course in English or English composition.
There was a reason for that. Now that this thread has been relocated to "History, Literature, and the Arts", I think I should be permitted to amuse you by telling you that reason.
The remedial course was taught by undergraduate English majors acting as individual tutors. My tutor became increasingly upset with me because I often used English words she didn't know. A third of the way through the semester, the English prof in charge of the course gave us a writing assignment that began by quoting Walt Whitman's Song of Myself:
What I assume you shall assume.
He quoted that line as though Whitman were acting as an authoritarian. The rest of the assignment was phrased as though the English prof was the authoritarian.
Completely fed up with that course, that English prof, and the college itself, I began my essay by quoting the opening lines of Whitman's poem:
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
The rest of my essay explained, in exquisite detail, what I thought of an English professor who would pretend Whitman was the sort of illiterate authoritarian who would approve of how that remedial course was being taught.
When I next saw my tutor, she was grinning from ear to ear. She said the prof wanted to see me in person. (To that point in the course, I had not had a single glimpse of that professor.) She obviously thought I was in big trouble. I figured she was right, but I didn't care; within days of enrolling at that crummy college, I had announced my intention to transfer to the University of Texas.
When I saw the professor, his first words were "How about we give you an A and forget the whole thing?" I didn't accept that. I directed his attention to four written policies of that department and college that said, based upon my various test scores (including an Advanced Placement test in English), I should have been given advanced placement credit for English courses beyond those required for graduation.
Bottom line: I ended up with advanced placement credit for four semesters of English, and never had to complete any English courses during my college years.
I hope the personal history related above will help to explain my combative attitude toward grammar nazis, especially those who promote rigid rules for informal references to numbers that conflict with the precise language mathematicians use when discussing those numbers.