<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Dictionary on Shiv Issar, Ph.D.</title><link>https://shivissar.com/tags/dictionary/</link><description>Recent content in Dictionary on Shiv Issar, Ph.D.</description><generator>Hugo -- 0.148.2</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 25 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://shivissar.com/tags/dictionary/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Three Hundred Words, No Questions Asked</title><link>https://shivissar.com/posts/three-hundred-words-no-questions-asked/</link><pubDate>Sat, 25 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://shivissar.com/posts/three-hundred-words-no-questions-asked/</guid><description>&lt;p>Every course runs on a hidden tax. Somewhere around week two, a reading reaches for terms like &lt;em>hegemony&lt;/em> or &lt;em>reflexivity&lt;/em> or &lt;em>performativity&lt;/em> without pausing, and a portion of the room quietly decides not to ask what those words mean. The reluctance is understandable (and even something that a faculty member can empathize with) — asking what a word means can feel like confessing what you don&amp;rsquo;t know, in front of the people you least want to confess it to. But the cost compounds over time: readings skimmed, seminars sat out, arguments half-followed. Vocabulary is the cheapest thing in academic life to fix, and the most embarrassing to ask about. I&amp;rsquo;ve often faced the same issue as a student myself.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>