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Language Confusion and Independence

Like L, E is growing up bilingual. And so when Mama encourages him, “Powiedz ‘no'” (“Say ‘no'”) and he responds “Nie,” it’s difficult to figure out if he’s asserting his newly-emerging independence or simply not differentiating between languages.

Toddler Translation

I often wonder what E thinks he’s saying.

Sometimes, it’s obvious:

  • Why in the world did you just close the fridge?! Didn’t you see me heading straight toward it?
  • Holy cow, that’s frustrating! Can I get a little help here manipulating this [fill in the blank]?
  • No?! But I want to do that!

Sometimes, who knows? Not even he, I suspect.

God in the Dative

We must not help our neighbor for Christ, but in Christ. […] In general, the expression “for God” is a bad one. God ought not to be put in the dative.

One of the more difficult, perhaps the most difficult, challenges to learning Polish was getting accustomed to its inflected nature. In English, we tell who did what to whom in a sentence by syntax, where it appears in relation to other words. In the sentence “The dog bites the man,” we know who is doing the biting and who is being bitten by the order: subject verb object; biter bites bitee. Polish and other inflected languages determine these things by adding endings (inflections) to the words. Instead of meaning coming from word order (subject verb object), it comes from word endings. The different meanings are called cases. The subject of a sentence is in nominative case. The direct object is usually in accusative case in most inflected language, but Polish is an odd ball because some direct objects are in genitive case, and all direct objects of negative verbs are in genitive case. Indirect objects, to whom or for whom (i.e., “We gave the dog some treats.”), are in the dative case. In Polish, that usually means adding “-owi”, “-ze”, “-u”, or “-i”to the end of the noun. In English, we just slip it between the verb and the direct object.

So what puzzles me about Weil’s contention that we shouldn’t put God in the dative is how it seems to fly in the face of so much we hear in contemporary Christianity in America. We have “10 Things Young People Can Do for God” and “How to Work for God Effectively” and “Working for God in the Public Square” to name a few articles one can find easily enough. Indeed, it seems to have a Biblical basis. So I wondered what Weil might mean. Perhaps it’s a case of not limiting oneself to the dative case but also the instrumental, accusative, genitive, locative, and vocative cases.

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.

Polyglot Concert

Our daughter, thanks to a bi-lingual mother and multi-lingual daycare, knows songs in four languages.

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 Briseno 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.”