But Is It Art?

Niles Crane: I'll have a grande half-caf latte, with a whisper of cinammon, and for my father, plain coffee. I cannot emphasize the word 'plain' enough. No foam, no cinammon, no exotic flavors. If it is not plain, I take no responsibility for the consequences.

Waitress: How about a biscotti?

Niles: All right. But when you bring it, call it a cookie.

"Grande" or "large"? "Biscotti" or "cookie"? The question of when to employ a term-of-art and when to stoop to the vernacular is a heady one.

The world of academia, of course, where we spend our days, is rife with terms of art--including "term of art," which might more commonly be referred to as "jargon." One of our grad school professors, would begin his classes by handing out a "syllabus" and then remarking on the peculiarity of the word. This being a Master's program, we were all exceedingly familiar with the meaning of "syllabus" Our professor was amused to point out that so common a word within the world of higher education is virtually unheard and unspoken outside of it.

The college where we currently work has an amphitheater. It is located next to the building that houses the cafeteria and the Associated Students Union; in fact, the entrance to the ASU is located just "offstage right" within the well of the amphitheater. Thus, whenever we give someone directions to the ASU, we must ponder how or whether to use the word "amphitheater."

But while not exactly a term-of-art--or at least not one exclusively asociated with academia--"amphitheater" is still not a word your average inner-city youth has occasion to bandy about on an everyday basis. Still, have you ever tried to direct someone to an amphitheater without using the word amphitheater? It's like playing "Taboo" in Hell.

Sure, we could say, "big outdoor theater," but it doesn't exactly LOOK like a theater: The "stage" is a plaza where one is more likely to find adolescents practicing soccer moves than anything resembling a theatrical performance. We often fall back on "outdoor seating area with big steps outside the cafeteria." As a writer-type who prizes concision, though, we find this concession to a presumedly limited vocabulary unsatisfying.

Maybe we should just use the word and force the direction-seeker to ask the meaning. Put the onus on the learner to learn. And perhaps stop being so patronizing. We should note that, in the episode of "Frasier" quoted above, when the waitress brings Niles' proudly blue-collar father his plain coffee and his "cookie," he thanks the waitress and says, "But I believe this is called a 'biscotti.'"