Tag Archives: language

My Tongue Twister

Do icy icicles ice on icy icicles? Icy icicles ice on icicles.

I like this because it’s winterish, and now it’s winter.

Icicles

Photo by Smabs Sputzer via Creative Commons.

This isn’t the perfect winter, though. My perfect winter is snowy. Poland snow! That means it’s higher than a horse.

I saw snow that deep on Curious George. They were at their country house. And it started snowing and they didn’t know. But then, the snow was higher than their house and came into their house. So then the Man with the Yellow Hat had to clean it up. I wish I had that much snow I could play in the snow and make a snow angel and eat snow. I once did eat snow. It was freezing cold and white. I spit half of it out.

This is the first of probably many posts by the Girl. She tells me what to write; I write. — gls

Translations

A small pot sat on the stove, boiling a bit of chicken for the Boy’s “soup.” We add it to the pureed potatoes, squash, zucchini, and carrot that makes up the bulk of his lunch, and we boil the chicken separately then add it to the blender with the puree. Tonight, K was upstairs, though, and realized the heat under the pot of boiling chicken needed to be turned down, so she told L, “Powiedz tatowi zeby wyciszyl kurczaka.” L, in turn, translated it rather literally and came to me saying, “Daddy, Mama said for you to quiet the chicken.”

It takes a bilingual child to see some of the oddities of language.

Riots and Revolts

What is a riot? What is looting? Are these merely subjective terms that one could apply, willy-nilly, to whatever one wanted, or do they have fairly standard definitions, like “diamond” or “apple”?

Some definitions Google found of “riot” are:

  • a public act of violence by an unruly mob;
  • to belly laugh: a joke that seems extremely funny;
  • to carouse: engage in boisterous, drunken merrymaking;
  • an orgy, a wild gathering involving excessive drinking and promiscuity.

Certainly one could use “riot” in a subjective, biased manner. If one were to call a group of people loudly talking while waiting in lines for tickets a “riot,” that would be somewhat hyperbolic. It would be more troubling if those queuing were of one race and the commenter was of another. At the same time, these exaggerated uses of the word doesn’t alter the standard definitions. If a group of people are protesting violently, if there is clearly no one in control, if there are large enough numbers that ordinary citizens can neither take control nor avoid being affected by the group, this is a riot.

What about “loot“?

  • to take illegally;
  • goods or money obtained illegally;
  • to plunder;
  • to steal goods;
  • to take as spoils.

The word has Sanskrit and Latin origins that mean “rob” or “steal,” so when someone breaks a window of a store, rushes in with several others, and takes away merchandise none of them paid for, “looting” is a fairly factual description of what happened.

In any reasonable sense of the words, both “looting” and “rioting” are apt descriptors of what happened in Los Angeles in 1992 after the acquittal of Laurence Powell, Timothy Wind, Theodore Briseño and Rolando Solano for the alleged incident of police brutality against Rodney King.

John Ambrosio, in his essay “We Make the Road By Walking,” however, refers to the rioting and looting differently:

The day after the rebellion began in South Central Los Angeles in 1992, I walked into my class at Brooklyn College and raised the issue for discussion. Without realizing it, I had unleashed a firestorm of clashing perceptions between students of color and the mostly working-class European American students in the class.

The European American students tended to view the rebellion as an irrational explosion of rioting and, as a communal act of self-destruction. Students of color saw it as a righteous response to the persistence of racism and economic oppression. In the heat of the debate, African American students revealed their deep-seated anger and resentment toward White power and privilege, and their furious rage at having to endure the daily insults and humiliations of living in a racist society. (32)

This was not rioting or looting but “rebellion”? Googling “define: rebellion” provides these insightful definitions:

  • refusal to accept some authority or code or convention;
  • organized opposition to authority.

One could argue that the L.A. riots were an enomous “refusal to accept some authority or code or convention.” But one could also make an argument that such a definition applies to most anything.

The key word in these definitions is “organized.” What happened in Los Angeles nearly two decades ago was hardly organized. As I watched coverage on the news, I got the distinct impression that the news producers didn’t know which live feed to air, such was the chaos throughout that part of the city.

“Rebellion” is certainly less negative — not to mention less judgmental — than “rioting” or “looting.” It is certainly a “different perspective” on the matter. Yet to what end are we going to take this insanity of not calling things by their name in the name of tolerance and adaptation of a multicultural perspective? We might as well call the American soldiers during the Revolutionary War terrorists and Osama bin Laden a misunderstood freedom fighter. Indeed, the fact that Ambrosio writes that the “work of Antonion Gramsci, the Italian Marxist political theorist[ and considered by many to be the father of Italian Communism], had a profound effect on [his] thinking,” it wouldn’t be at all surprising to find Ambrosio seriously considering such absurdities.

What is rebellion?

A slave uprising in the Antebellum South would certainly qualify. While it might not originally be organized, slaves would quickly organize themselves and work toward the common goal of liberation.  Indeed, one of the most famous slave uprisings, aboard the Amistad, was highly organized.

The Jewish uprisings of 66-70 CE in Iudaea Province were highly organized and carefully planned, as was Bar Kokhba’s revolution some fifty years later. While it started locally and in an unorganized manner in Caesarea (over non-Jewish sacrifices in front a synagogue), it spread quickly, and the Jews organized.

The greatest rebellion of the last century, the Warsaw Uprising, took months of planning and was so organized that additional German troops had to be called in to crush the uprising. Had it not been for the Soviets’ conspiratorial lack of support as they sat on the other side of the Vistula river, letting the Germans clear out the Polish intellegensia so they wouldn’t have to, the uprising would have been successful.

The revolts at the Treblinka and Sobibor concentration camps were highly organized and represented the most successful uprisings in staged against the Nazis.

In each and every example of what most individuals call “rebellion,” there was great organization and a single goal.

Is that what we saw in Los Angeles? Truck driver Reginald Denny was beaten so badly that he still has problems walking and talking. Korean shop owners had to organize in order to turn back rioting mobs. Chaos reigned, and yet it was a rebellion.

Ambrosio’s concern seems to be that by calling it a “riot,” we are disenfranchising those participating in the riot/rebellion. We are declaring their anger to be illegitimate and misplaced (as opposed to “righteous”). Calling it a “riot” in no way suggests that the underlying anger is unjustifiable. Calling it “looting” in no way implies that the feelings they felt is somehow immoral.

Referring to it as a “rebellion” that’s inspired by “righteous” anger takes it to the other extreme.

Why I?

The New York Times building in New York, NY ac...

Image via Wikipedia

A student in class today asked why we capitalize the first person singular subjective-case personal pronoun, I, but none of the other personal pronouns. “Why don’t we capitalize ‘he’ or ‘she’?” the curious young lady asked.

Indeed.

“I’ll look into that,” I replied, scribbling in my little notebook.

The New York Times offers an answer:

England is where the capital “I” first reared its dotless head. In Old and Middle English, when “I” was still “ic,” “ich” or some variation thereof — before phonetic changes in the spoken language led to a stripped-down written form — the first-person pronoun was not majuscule in most cases. The generally accepted linguistic explanation for the capital “I” is that it could not stand alone, uncapitalized, as a single letter, which allows for the possibility that early manuscripts and typography played a major role in shaping the national character of English-speaking countries. (New York Times)

The whole article is quite interesting.

You Might Have To

I go home to learn about life from my daughter. I learn what goes on in her school, what her teacher says, how her teacher teaches.

L, like any good story teller, doesn’t simply tell us, though, she shows: she begins incorporating various phrases from school into her own speech.

“You might have to” becomes the key phrase. “You might have to do this.” “You might have to move that.” I can imagine L’s teacher helping her with this or that task, explaining, “You might have to try it a different way, like turning it the other direction.” “You might have to wait. I believe someone else is using those crayons.”

“That’s okay” is another. I spill a little milk and mutter “Shoot” under my breath. L consoles me: “That’s okay.”

Babcia’s Coming

In a little over a month, Babcia will arrive for a several-week visit. It will be the first time in a year and a half that we’ve seen her; L has gone from being virtually an infant to being something more than a toddler.

DSC_7309

L is excited about the arrival. She mentions it every now and then, and every time an airplane flies over our house, L points and asks, “Is that Babcia?”

It will be a time of linguistic development for L. She understands Polish perfectly, and she even mixes a few Polish words into her English vocabulary. She doesn’t speak more than these occasionally mixed up words. When Babcia arrives, though, it will be time to start speaking Polish.

Only recently it occurred to me that this might be almost as difficult as learning to speak English. Her initial instinct will be to speak English, and knowing L’s stubbornness, she is likely initially to refuse even to try. Babcia has a secret weapon, though: fluent Russian. She might turn the tables on L.

Russian Spam

In our spam list was the following comment:

Ты как обычно радуешь нас своими лучшими фразами спасибо, беру!

Given the source, it seems to be a spam. But “беру” also seems to be an off-kilter version of my name, so I struggled with it a while.

Then I called K over, and we puzzled together.

Our Russian is rudimentary at best, but we pieced together a bit. Apparently, the spammer/commenter wanted to say that “You so…” (Ты как) something or other about “enjoying” or “being happy” about one’s own фразами.  And it ends with the the first word most folks learn in Russian: “спасибо.” “Thanks.”

Of course, these days, one doesn’t have to trouble oneself over an unknown tongue — there are plenty of translation sites out there. Google translates it, “You’re normally so happy about us with the best phrases thank you, take.” Little help there. Still, it sounds quite spamolicious.

In response, I say “спасибо.” I think.

Update

Russian spam looks just like English spam: Спасибо автору блога за предоставленную информацию. “Thanks to the blog author for the information provided.”

Hit or Miss Language

At school, everyone is “Miss.” Miss Karen. Miss Cathy. Miss Deborah. Miss Brenda.

Miss Cathy — L’s favorite — works in Toddler I. L no longer sees her on a daily basis, but her eyes light up when she sees Miss Cathy coming.

Miss Karen, Miss Deborah, and Miss Brenda work in Toddler II, where L spends her days now.

I wondered whether L thinks “Miss” is just part of their name, but it’s become obvious that L has separated the “Miss” from the name. She understands it as a prefix, but she still doesn’t understand its significance. It’s a term she uses with individuals she really likes.

Hence, I am often “Miss Tata” now. K is “Miss Mama.” Our cat, “Miss Bida.”

Our Zoo

I was always a pack-rat growing up. I think it’s genetic, or maybe not. I do know Nana saved a lot of my toys through the year, and the Girl has finally started playing with some of them. My old animal collection.

DSC_29971/60, f/5, 55 mm, flash off ceiling

She’s excited about being able to recognize animals — sometimes in Polish, sometimes in English — and she enjoys telling us what various animals say.

This is also a “sometimes in Polish, sometimes in English” thing, for Polish dogs say “how how” (spelled phonetically in English) whereas American dogs say “woof-woof.” Pigs here say “oink oink” whereas their Polish counterparts say “kwee kwee” (again, spelled phonetically in English). When we ask her, “Co mowi swinka?” she replies “kwee kwee!”; to “What does a pig say?” she’ll respond “oink oink.” That differentiation is a recent development, and it’s only one of many little linguistic markers she’s passing. She’s connected “kupic” (“buy”) and stores, so every time we pass a store, she says, in her wonderful mixed-up fashion, “Tata, mamma, kupi clementine.” Now she’s branching out: “Mama, kupi malinki i grapes.”

In short, she’s really coming to the understanding that she’s learning two languages. The other day, she said to K, “Mamma, bug!” K, not making out what she said, asked, “Co?” (“What”). “Pajak,” she replied, specifying not only animal but genus: spider.

Stories from L

Part of learning to talk is learning to tell stories, to string together a group of sentences in a coherent, meaningful way. Yet we’re learning that there are many different levels of coherence and meaningfulness.

Take, for example, this story L told me yesterday: “i whee i boom i cry!” (She’s saying Polish “i” — and, pronounced “ee” — and not the English first person singular personal pronoun.) Facial expressions and hand gestures accompanied this lovely story, which I would translate thus: “I was sliding down the slide! I was having a great time when I fell down. It hurt, and I cried.”

When K came home a few days ago, L told her the following story: “i Bida i no no i time out!” Translation: “I was playing and decided to pick up Bida[, our cat,] which is a no-no. Dad sent me to time out.”

Stories with three episodes. We are in the midst of what Stephen Pinker joking referred to as the “All-hell-breaks-loose” stage of language learning.

Cat Soup and Duff Nuts

The funny thing about English — funny in an infuriating way, for non-native speakers — is its spelling irregularities.

A friend in Poland once offered me “duff nuts.” Logical enough: -ough is often pronounced “uff,” as in “enough.”

K asked me the other day if I knew what cat soup was. I suddenly became very protective of our own cat, wondering what kind of Third-World recipe she had in mind. Turned out, we have cat soup in our fridge; it’s just spelled a little differently.

Ty Pan Du Sie Tu Vous

When learning Polish, for some reason I had the hardest time initially using the formal voice of address. English-only speakers might not know what I’m talking about, even though the formal/intimate distinction existed in English for hundreds of years.

In French, it’s a question of “Vous” and “tu.” “Vous” would be “you all” — second person plural — and is used in all formal occasions; “tu” is informal, and used with intimate friends or family. In German, it’s “sie” and “du”.

This is why Martin Burber’s wonderful book Ich und Du is translated I and Thou and not I and You.

In English, it used to be “you” and “thou,” with “thou” being the more intimate. Because most of us are exposed to “thou” exclusively through liturgical language, we get the sense that it’s incredibly formal. In fact, it’s the opposite.

Po Polsku

In Polish, there are two options. The first is the common use of “Pan” or “Pani” — literally, “lord/master” or “lady/mistress.”

The older, now-obsolete form is to use “Wy” — “you all.” It’s still used in the mountainous southern region, and K in fact speaks to her grandmothers this way. “Co robicie ostatnio?” “What have you been doing lately?”

Out of this came an amusing verb: dwoic. While this is related to the word “dwa” (two), it’s not, strictly speaking, “double” (which is “podwoic”). Instead, a better explanation would be “to use the second person plural.” In that case, one might ask another, “why are you [dwoic] me?” meaning, “Why are you using the formal voice with me?”

The second method, and the one used now, is to use “Pan” and “Pani.” To be polite, a shop attendant, for example, doesn’t ask, “Do you need help?” Literally, he asks, “Does the lady need help?”

The problem for me was not so much remembering the odd construction but learning when to make the switch from “Pan” or “Pani” to “you.” I called people “you” when I should have used “Pan/Pani” more times than I care to recall. And there really are no guidelines — it depends, somewhat, on the person.

Linguistics of Diplomacy

I got to thinking about all of this due to an article by Charles Bremner. It begins,

Here is one of those stories that are difficult to convey to people who speak only English. President Sarkozy’s government has annoyed the “progressive” sections of the teaching establishment with an order that school pupils must address their teachers with the formal vous rather than the familiar second person singular tu. Teachers are advised to use the respectful vous to Lyc�e teenagers in their classes.

While I could never imagine students in Poland referring to teachers in the second person, I could also never imagine teachers using the formal third person with teachers.

The piece goes on to discuss how world leaders refer to each other — tu/du or vous/sie?

Angela Merkel dropped German formality enough to call him “Lieber (Dear) Nicolas” but stuck to the formal “sie” not the familiar “du”. Sarkozy’s matey reply jarred on old-fashioned ears. “Ch�re Angela… J’ai confiance en toi.” (In older English I trust thee not you). Lib�ration joked that Franco-German harmony was still lacking. “They are going to have to start by agreeing whether they use tu or vous,” it said. (Charles Bremner piece)

While the article doesn’t mention George Bush, it seems safe to assume that, like Gordon Brown, his dependence on interpretors will solve the tu/Vous problem. But considering the little back rub he once gave Merkel, it’s fairly reasonable to assume that Bush would opt for “tu” over “Vous.”

Entropy

The first time I was in Polska, I started making a little ‘zine that I’d mail out to friends and family. I called it “Entropy.”

I remember that yesterday evening and wondered who had “entropy.com.” I knew it wouldn’t be available, and I typed “entropy.com” in the address bar.It re-directed me to “entropy.ie”.

“Entropy — Secure Networking.”

I’m not sure how much faith I’d put into a networking security company that’s taken its name from a principle of decay.

What would its logo be? A frayed networking cable?

Anticipating user confusion, the company included this explanation:

Conall Lavery founder of Entropy decided upon the name after reading a book called “The Crying of Lot 49″ by the American author Thomas Pynchon.

In the book the professor uses the two theories of Entropy (thermodynamics and communications) and invents a perpetual motion machine that is driven by telepathy.

There are various definitions of Entropy.

According to the Collins dictionary, Entropy means “a thermodynamic quantity that changes in a reversible process by an amount equal to the heat absorbed or emitted divided by the thermodynamic temperature.”

In my view, that doesn’t help clarify things that much.