When I was 8 years old, my parents told me that they'd purchased tickets in the orchestra for a Broadway musical. I suddenly pictured Mom and Dad sitting elbow to elbow with violinists, trumpeters and clarinetists.

What I didn't know was that "orchestra" can refer not only to the musical ensemble in front of the stage but also to the entire main floor of the theater. This definition of "orchestra" as a seating section is a semantic fossil — a surviving remnant of the word's original meaning.

"Orchestra," from the Greek word "orkhestra," meaning "dance," originally referred to the circular space at the front of the theater where dancers performed. (In Great Britain, the adjective "orchestric" still means "relating to dance.")

Soon, "orchestra" came to denote the forward area of a theater, and, because the instrumentalists accompanying a show usually sat there, their ensemble became known as an "orchestra." Eventually, the term "orchestra" was extended to mean the entire first floor of the theater.

Another linguistic fossil I encountered as a boy was "pen knife." At the time, I thought this small pocketknife was so named because it was about the size of a pen. Only later did I learn these tiny blades were originally used to shape or mend quill pens.

Two religious terms also perplexed me. Why was the Easter season called "Eastertide" when no rising or falling of the sea seemed to be involved? And why was Jesus' suffering called the "passion" of Christ when it was clear he had no love or ardor for his experience?

I didn't learn until much later that an old meaning of "tide" was "season" and that "passion" once referred to suffering from physical pain but eventually came to denote any strong emotion.

As I grew older and had to endure the drudgery of filling out tax forms, I began to wonder why the Internal Revenue Service called tables of numbers "schedules," as in "Schedule A." After all, these lists of figures included no times or dates.

As it turns out, an old meaning of "schedule" is "a statement of supplementary details appended to a legal document." This definition still flourishes in Britain, where "schedule" — pronounced "shed-yule," of course — retains its earlier meaning of "addendum." The first use of "schedule" to mean "a timetable" didn't emerge until the 1860s.

Come to think of it, didn't we declare independence from Britain over unfair taxation? Perhaps we frazzled, hardworking colonists were simply tired of being overscheduled.

Rob Kyff, a teacher and writer in West Hartford, Connecticut, invites your language sightings. His book, "Mark My Words," is available for $9.99 on Amazon.com. Send your reports of misuse and abuse, as well as examples of good writing, via email to [email protected] or by regular mail to Rob Kyff, Creators Syndicate, 737 3rd Street, Hermosa Beach, CA 90254.

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