Subject-Verb Agreement: A Linguistic Straitjacket
One might assume, with the boundless potential of human expression, that the relationship between a subject and its verb would be a fluid, organic dance. One would be wrong. Welcome, if you must, to the rigid, unforgiving world of subject-verb agreement, a concept so fundamental it’s practically woven into the fabric of sanity, or at least, the illusion of it. It’s the linguistic equivalent of being told you can’t wear stripes with plaid, except the stakes are… well, grammatically correct sentences. Thrilling, isn’t it?
The Basics: Who’s Doing What, and Why It Matters (Apparently)
At its most rudimentary, subject-verb agreement dictates that a singular subject requires a singular verb, and a plural subject demands a plural verb. It’s a rule so simple, it’s almost insulting. Think of it as the universe’s way of demanding order, a feeble attempt to impose logic on the glorious chaos of language.
For instance, "The cat sits on the mat." Singular subject ("cat"), singular verb ("sits"). Easy. Almost too easy. It’s the kind of sentence you’d expect to find in a primer for toddlers or perhaps a particularly condescending self-help book.
Now, flip it: "The cats sit on the mat." Plural subject ("cats"), plural verb ("sit"). Still not exactly rocket science, is it? It’s the linguistic equivalent of breathing. Most creatures capable of stringing two words together can manage this without breaking a sweat.
But then, of course, language, in its infinite capacity for mischief, decides to throw a wrench into the gears. Because why wouldn’t it? The sheer monotony of perfect agreement is, I’m sure, far too much for the universe to bear.
Exceptions, Complications, and the Descent into Madness
Ah, exceptions. The bane of every rule-maker and the playground of every pedant. Subject-verb agreement, naturally, has its fair share of these linguistic gremlins. They lurk in the shadows, waiting to trip up the unwary.
Compound Subjects: A Ménage à Trois of Agreement
When you have two or more subjects joined by a conjunction like "and," they typically form a plural subject and require a plural verb. "John and Mary are going to the store." See? Simple enough. They’re a unit, a collective entity, therefore, plural.
However, if the subjects are joined by "or" or "nor," the verb agrees with the subject closest to it. This is where things start to get… interesting. "Neither the dog nor the cats are here." The verb "are" agrees with "cats," the closer subject. If it were "Neither the cats nor the dog is here," then the verb "is" would agree with "dog." It’s a rule that smacks of indecisiveness, a linguistic shrug. "I can’t commit, so I’ll just go with whoever’s closest."
Collective Nouns: The Phantom Plurality
Collective nouns – words like "team," "family," "committee," "audience" – are a special kind of headache. They refer to a group of individuals, but grammatically, they can behave as either singular or plural. It depends on whether you’re emphasizing the group as a single unit or as a collection of individuals.
"The team is winning." Here, "team" is treated as a single entity, a cohesive unit.
"The team are arguing amongst themselves." Here, the focus is on the individuals within the team, hence the plural verb. It’s a subtle distinction, one that often eludes those who prefer their grammar less… ambiguous. It’s like trying to decide if a flock of birds is a single entity or a multitude of feathered beings. Depends on your perspective, I suppose. And your tolerance for grammatical ambiguity.
Indefinite Pronouns: The Ghosts in the Machine
Then there are the indefinite pronouns: "everyone," "everybody," "each," "neither," "either," "anyone," "anybody," "someone," "somebody," "no one," "nobody." These words, despite referring to multiple people or things, are almost always treated as singular.
"Everyone loves a good grammatical rule." "Each of the students has a unique perspective." "Neither of them is particularly bright." It’s a curious quirk, a linguistic inconsistency that forces us to treat a word like "everyone" as if it were a single, solitary individual. Perhaps it’s a commentary on the isolating nature of existence, even within a crowd. Or perhaps it’s just a rule someone made up and everyone else decided to go along with. The latter seems more likely.
However, some indefinite pronouns, like "all," "some," "most," and "none," can be either singular or plural, depending on what they refer to. "Some of the cake is gone." (Referring to the singular mass of cake). "Some of the cookies are burnt." (Referring to the plural individual cookies). It’s a level of nuance that frankly, most people can live without.
Relative Pronouns: The Unseen Link
When a relative pronoun like "who," "which," or "that" introduces a clause, the verb in that clause must agree with the antecedent of the relative pronoun. This is where things can get truly thorny.
"I am the one who is responsible." The antecedent of "who" is "one," which is singular, so the verb is "is."
"She is one of the students who are struggling." The antecedent of "who" is "students," which is plural, so the verb is "are." This is a common stumbling block. People often mistakenly agree the verb with "one" instead of "students." It’s a testament to how easily we can be distracted by the obvious when the subtle is lurking just around the corner.
When Subjects and Verbs Are Separated: The Art of Misdirection
Sometimes, the subject and verb are separated by other words – phrases or clauses. This is a prime opportunity for confusion. The verb must still agree with the true subject, not the intervening words.
"The box of chocolates is on the table." The subject is "box," not "chocolates."
"The students, despite their best efforts, failed to grasp the concept." The subject is "students," not "efforts." It requires a certain vigilance, a refusal to be led astray by the linguistic detritus that can accumulate between a subject and its verb.
The "Midnight Draft" Perspective: Why Bother?
Honestly, who invented this? And more importantly, why? Is it to ensure that our thoughts are as rigidly structured as a brutalist monument in Yekaterinburg? Perhaps it’s a way to filter out the… less discerning minds. If you can’t even manage to make your verb agree with your subject, how can you possibly navigate the complexities of, say, existential dread?
From my perspective, "Midnight Draft" style, the world is already a warped, unsettling place. Adding strict grammatical rules feels like painting over a perfectly good graffiti with beige. The beauty is often in the imperfection, the slight tremor in the line, the unexpected shadow. Subject-verb agreement feels like… well, like it’s trying too hard to be right. And frankly, most things that try too hard are deeply suspect.
Still, if you insist on adhering to these arbitrary decrees, the principles remain. Singular subjects, singular verbs. Plural subjects, plural verbs. And for the love of all that is aesthetically unsettling, pay attention to those pesky indefinite pronouns and collective nouns. They’re the landmines in this grammatical minefield. Don't say I didn't warn you.