Readers often send me fire arrows — emails and letters ablaze with intense devotion to a particular grammatical or usage rule: "Children are 'reared,' not 'raised'!" "Never end a sentence with a preposition!" "Don't use 'done' to mean 'finished'!"

Whence the zeal?

In many cases, this passion about a particular linguistic issue was kindled long ago by a beloved teacher, parent or mentor — e.g., My sixth-grade teacher insisted that "loan" is never a verb. My mother always told us not to use "since" to mean "because." My first boss banned the use of "like" as a conjunction.

Each of us vividly recalls such lessons, deeply rooted as they are in our treasured memories of respected figures. So when one of these cherished rules is broken, we see red.

I'm reminded of the scene in the film "It's a Wonderful Life" when George Bailey crashes his car into a large tree, leaving a deep gouge in its bark.

"Now look what you did," the tree's owner yells at George. "My great-grandfather planted this tree!"

That's how we feel when a grammatical rule sown by a linguistic forebear is gashed by a reckless speaker or writer. "Now look what you did!"

My own verbal yard abounds with such mighty oaks.

When I was a kid, for instance, a visiting neighbor, who was talking with my parents, repeatedly used the word "irregardless." After he left, my dad took me aside and solemnly warned me never to use this non-word. And I never have.

Likewise, my seventh-grade English teacher, Mrs. Morris, insisted that we use "fewer," not "less," for countable items ("fewer books"). Message received.

Following suit, my eighth-grade English teacher, Mr. Huebner, laid down the law on the difference between the verbs "lie" and "lay." Though my 13-year-old friends and I snickered at the time, I still remember to say, "I'm going to lie (not "lay") down for a nap."

Meeting with me to discuss an essay I had written about "The Great Gatsby," my 11th-grade English teacher, Mr. Wittern, spotted the shark fin of a split infinitive slicing through my prose. "Watch out!" he said.

Though Mr. Wittern's prohibition on split infinitives has fallen out of fashion in recent decades, I still think twice before a decision to audaciously separate a verb from its "to." (Or should that be "to separate audaciously"?)

So we beat on, boats against the current usage, borne back ceaselessly into our linguistic pasts.

Rob Kyff, a teacher and writer in West Hartford, Conn., invites your language sightings. Send your reports of misuse and abuse, as well as examples of good writing, via e-mail to [email protected] or by regular mail to Rob Kyff, Creators Syndicate, 737 3rd Street, Hermosa Beach, CA 90254.