One time when I was in grade two (yes, that long ago), we were writing stories for creative writing. \u00a0Our desks were in straight columns that faced the blackboard. \u00a0The teacher was circulating the classroom, making sure we were working and offering help if needed.<\/p>\n
The teacher stopped a couple of desks down from mine:<\/p>\n
“What are you writing there?” she asked.<\/p>\n
“I got mad at my brother,” was the confident reply.<\/p>\n
“Dogs get mad<\/em>; people get angry<\/em>.”<\/p>\n While I was sure I’d seen someone get “mad”, I didn’t speak. \u00a0Back then, speaking out was risky.<\/p>\n The teacher was giving good advice that day; she usually did. \u00a0From then on, I made a point of not using “mad” in school assignments. \u00a0Later on, in my own short stories, I probably did use it, but then I could claim creative license.<\/p>\n The teacher’s point – although she didn’t explain – was that, in formal English, “mad”\u00a0means “insane”. \u00a0The emotional state of being “very displeased” or “hot under the collar” is described, formally, as being angry<\/em>.<\/p>\n A high school or college student might develop a false sense of security about English; in many contexts, the rules continue to relax. \u00a0However, to my knowledge, the professors are as tough as ever. \u00a0In an essay, formal English is usually expected, meaning that the student has no creative license. \u00a0Check with your professor beforehand – or else just play it safe and stick with formality.<\/p>\n I’ll be covering more topics about formal writing in future posts:)<\/p>\n Source:<\/em><\/p>\n Crews, Frederick. \u00a0The Random House Handbook<\/em>. \u00a0New York:
\n \u00a0Random House, Inc.,1974.<\/p>\n