Skip to content

Second Language Insight

I found out today, via the LinguistList, that the faculty from the University of Arizona Linguistics Department has sent an official statement (pdf) to the Governor and Superintendent of their fair state regarding an apparent  “no accent” education policy.

Of course, the UA linguists make some good, if obvious (to me) points, for example, there is no such thing as unaccented speech. If one person’s speech is accented, it is accented relative to some other person’s speech, which is itself accented, relative to the first person’s speech as well as any sufficiently distinct third person’s speech, and so on.

They also make some good, non-obvious points. Two stand out as particularly interesting to me. One (Point 1) is the fact that accentedness and intelligibility are “partially independent.” (which, to be pedantic, is a bit like saying someone is somewhat pregnant). The interesting point is that a speaker can be rated as having a heavy accent yet still be highly intelligible.

The other interesting, non-obvious point (Point 4) is that variability in speech can actually help a (language) learner. You might think that having regular, stable input would enable a language learner to focus on whatever it is they’re trying to learn, but it turns out that experiencing more, and more variable, tokens of speech sounds is better.

However, I do want to pick a nit with part of Point 3:

3) Teachers whose first language is Spanish may be able to teach English to Spanish‐speaking students better than teachers who don’t speak Spanish.

Foreign born speakers who learned English after age 13 may nevertheless attain fluency – even if their understanding of their second language is slightly different than that of speakers who began acquiring the language before that age (Piske et al, 2001). In addition, these speakers’ near‐adult experience of learning English as a second language gives them personal exposure to the particular features of English that are hard and/or easy for second language learners, especially second language learners from their language background. In particular teachers originally from Mexico have a deep knowledge of what is hard for their Mexican‐American students to learn about English.

It is undoubtedly true that non-native English speakers have had plenty of “personal exposure” to difficult-to-acquire English structures, and I suppose that it’s reasonable to say that teachers from Mexico would have “deep knowledge” about such structures. But it does not follow that either of these will make an L1 Spanish/L2 English teacher any better at teaching English to native Spanish speakers.

Starting in 1996, I studied Portuguese for three years, and I traveled to Brazil twice, in large part to improve my L2 Portuguese. At some point during my second trip to Brazil, I asked a friend if I was using the preterite and imperfect verb tenses correctly. My intuition told me that I was not, and my friend told me the same. I decided to do the opposite of what I thought I should do when conjugating a verb for the past tense, and, lo and behold, a day or two later, my friend told me I was doing much better.

The point with respect to the UA Linguistics statement is that I do not believe that this experience would make me a better teacher to native English speakers trying to learn Portuguese. Sure, I could point out to them that it’s difficult to figure out when to use the preterite or the imperfect, but they would learn that fact on their own as soon as the issue came up. I could tell the students to do the opposite, except that I wouldn’t really know if that would improve their accuracy or not, since I wouldn’t know if they were using the forms correctly in the first place, because I still don’t really know how to use them (at least, not in a completely native-like way).

And this is just one relatively simple non-native “structure.” I have a hard time imagining that “personal exposure” to L2 English do-support, wh-movement, or allophonic variation (had to get a soundy bit in there, force of habit) would help a teacher teach a learner how to “acquire” the appropriate grammatical knowledge. Of course, the UA linguists hedge their bets by saying that the personal experience may help, not that it necessarily will.

The information is, admittedly, a few years old now, but based on what I learned in getting an M.A. in ESL at the University of Hawai`i, it’s not clear to me that anyone really knows what makes a good language teacher good, and it seems clear to me that sharing a language background is neither necessary nor sufficient to do so.

[cross-posted at Language Module]

The final evaluation

This episode of the freakonomics podcast, on parallels between customization in schools and radio, ends with a short story about an elderly man who is introduced to Pandora while he’s on his death bed. The upshot is that the people at Pandora were able to tell the family, based on the man’s official time of death, what song he was listening to when he died. His family played the song at his funeral.

This would be touching, except for one possibility: What if the man was trying to click ‘thumbs down’ on the song as he expired?

An insult to sausage factories

Via Kids Prefer Cheese, a link to an article describing the abundance of amendments to a new 1500+ page set of financial industry regulations. It reminds me of the episode of The Simpson’s Bart’s Comet, which contains a nice bit of Congress-skewering:

Of course, in reality, the bill would have passed, and there would have been another ten or twelve dozen amendments…

Some final thoughts on xenophonetics

Josh is right. Between him and Tyler Cowen, I’m seriously rethinking my relatively low opinion of the Star Wars series. For some reason, I had never thought of Star Wars as being India- or Nigeria-like, which makes the general approach to language (i.e., simply assuming that everyone can at least comprehend at least two or three languages) better than I was giving it credit for. District 9 takes a similar approach, to mostly good effect.

But it’s still far from perfect. One of my objections to Avatar’s phonetics is the assumption that the aliens have essentially human vocal tracts and auditory systems, but not making this assumption presents difficulties for the multilingualism approach of Star Wars and District 9. If the production and perception systems are as different as they appear to be in Star Wars and District 9, it’s harder to believe that people (or various aliens) can, in fact, comprehend multiple languages.

The more I’ve thought about this, the more convinced I am that the ideal xenophonetics is not very cinematic in nature. The ideal xenophonetics being, of course, all about the difficulties encountered by alien-to-one-another races trying to figure out what the hell the other is saying. I imagine that a good book, or short story, could be written about this (and maybe already has been), but if the difficulties of human-alien communication is the focus, it’s probably better rendered in written form than put to film. Solaris (the book) vs. Solaris (the movie[s]) is a good example of this. Solaris the book is all about trying to comprehend an alien intelligence that defies comprehension. I don’t remember getting that from the (second version of the) movie.

[cross posted at Language Module]

Neurotic science

Jonah Lehrer, popularizer of neuroscience, has an editorial in the Wall Street Journal about willpower that illustrates nicely something that I find silly about (some unknown, seemingly large proportion of) neuroscience. To wit, neuroscience is largely, if not completely, irrelevant to the argument being made. The willpower piece primarily cites behavioral research, with a couple physiological-ish studies and a few brief mentions of the prefrontal cortex thrown in for good measure, to support the argument that it takes real effort to exert willpower.

While it’s undoubtedly true that all of the people in the relevant behavioral studies had brains, and that these brains played important roles in determining their behavior, this just doesn’t seem, in any important sense, to be neuroscience. It’s psychology, plain and simple (the relatively recent renaming of a prominent psychology department notwithstanding).

Other examples of irrelevant neuroscience in Lehrer’s oeuvre are readily available. Consider, for example, his recent Wired piece on ‘The neuroscience of screwing up.’ In this one, there is more neuroscience, but it’s still not clear to me what it buys us in terms of understanding. It seems to me that all the neuroscientific evidence discussed in this piece could be replaced by cheaper and easier to obtain behavioral evidence. This (old-ish) review of Lehrer’s book “How We Decide” makes it sound like more of the same.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just bitter that fMRIs, EEGs, and MEGs are trendy, expensive scientific accoutrements that are not part of my research armamentarium. And I should be clear that I’m not condemning all neuroscience.

Lehrer’s essays reminded me of Jerry Fodor’s take on the issue, wherein he writes,

It isn’t, after all, seriously in doubt that talking (or riding a bicycle, or building a bridge) depends on things that go on in the brain somewhere or other. If the mind happens in space at all, it happens somewhere north of the neck. What exactly turns on knowing how far north? It belongs to understanding how the engine in your auto works that the functioning of its carburettor is to aerate the petrol; that’s part of the story about how the engine’s parts contribute to its running right. But why (unless you’re thinking of having it taken out) does it matter where in the engine the carburettor is? What part of how your engine works have you failed to understand if you don’t know that?

Avatarskian xenophonetics

One of the most disappointing aspects of the Star Wars franchise is the laziness of the approach to language. As background noise, the pastiche of assorted noises and bits and pieces of real languages works reasonably well, but the issues of multilinguality and translation are never addressed. Somehow, Han Solo and Greedo understand one another just fine. It’s silly, and it goes beyond my ability to suspend disbelief.

Numerous other sci-fi shows and movies at least address the issue, even if this only amounts to asserting the existence of a hugely implausible universal translation technology.

In some cases, people go so far as to create a language. Klingon is probably the most famous example. I say probably because James Cameron commissioned a language for the Thundercat Smurfs to speak in Avatar. Perhaps you’ve heard of this movie, Avatar? I understand there have been some advertisements for it as of late.

Anyway, the creator of Thundersmurf has written up a short description of the language as a guest post at language log. The structure of the language is reasonably interesting, and it seems to do a good job balancing, as Ben Zimmer puts it (again with the NY Times link), the need “to be exotic enough for audiences to recognize its alienness but not so exotic that it was beyond the ability of human actors to articulate.”

The next sentence gets under my skin a bit: “Despite the much-heralded visual effects of “Avatar,” Cameron insisted that the sounds of [Thundersmurf] speech remain unmanipulated.” Now, the fact that almost every alien in Star Trek is just a person with some kind of funny forehead I can accept. I understand that it was, at least originally, a conscious choice on the part of Gene Rodenberry to ensure that actors playing the aliens could emote sucessfully, but I can easily imagine that budget constraints and special effects limitations played a role, as well. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that budget constraints and special effects limitations didn’t play much of a role in any aspect of Avatar.

With $250 million to play with, why are the Thundersmurfs so humanoid? And why, to get finally to the point, are their vocal tracts and associated control systems not just humanoid, but, apparently, completely human? It just so happens that aliens from some far away planet speak a language the same way humans do?

Ben Zimmer contends that it is in “linguistically credible interactions” such as “human characters with varying proficiency in [Thundersmurf]” and “an experienced botanist school[ing] an eager young scientist in the finer points of conversational [Thundersmurf]” that Avatar “may make its biggest contribution to science fiction.” Given that the plot seems to be a high-tech mashup of Fern Gully and Dances With Wolves (and is maybe really just about white guilt), Avatar’s fancy linguistics’ only competition is the ultra-fancy special effects, contribution-to-sci-fi-wise.

I suppose that the Thundersmurfs are so humanoid (and tall and pretty) because it would be hard for audiences to relate to Noble Savages that were truly alien. I know it’s no news flash that movies are emotionally manipulative, nor that emotional manipulation sells tickets, but it seems to me that Avatar represents a lost opportunity to do something really interesting with sci-fi in general, and with “xenophonetics” specifically.

At the very least, they could have produced some really top-notch technobabble for the scenes showing humans learning how to control their avatars’ utterly inhuman “speech” organs.

[cross posted at Language Module]

Category error on Planet Money

Better late than never, I suppose, so a quick picked-nit with regard to a category error made in an old episode of Planet Money. Right around the 14:30 mark, correspondent Chana Joffe-Walt says, discussing the strategic absence of tariffs on components used in the domestic (U.S.) assembly of high-tech products, that “we’ve decided” to make these components cheap to help domestic high-tech assemblers. The natural implication is that “we” have also decided to make other imports expensive to protect domestic industry from competition.

Well, I certainly didn’t decide either of these, and I’m willing to bet that no one I know did either. I’m going to go out on a limb and hypothesize that, in fact, politicians and/or bureaucrats made these decisions. Public choice theory and methodological individualism and all that.

The happy moral to this story is that there is a happy moral to the Planet Money podcast in question. They end with a nice, clear discussion of why tariffs are widely (and correctly) regarded as bad.

The art of the complaint

The Herald-Times has published a leter to the editor that may well be the apex of the form (with apologies to Don Boudreaux of Cafe Hayek, who regularly writes cogent, pithy missives to our nations media dinosaurs). Inexplicably, today’s masterwork is only available online if you are a paid subscriber, so I will reproduce it here (pretty much the whole glorious mess [sic]):

You know, to my opinion, this world is getting more sad by the day. Just like you’ve got these kids that wear their clothes hanging about halfway off.

Then, you have this vehicle pass you on the road, and you start vibrating because they have their stereo up so loud. Well, I hate to tell them, but they’re not hurting anyone but themselves. What are they going to think someday when they get up and they can’t hear anything at all?

And you’ve got these electric wheelchairs in these stores, and then, here come people walking, not a thing wrong with them, but what do they do? They hop on the first one they see. Well, they’re going to pay for that also someday when they come in and they actually do need one.

They’re all gone, but then, they see someone on one that doesn’t need it. I think a person should have something from the doctor stating they need one of those.

And one other thing: If you don’t have a lot of experience at this job your trying to get – or a college degree – you can forget it.

William Blackwell, Bloomington

There’s so much to love here, but they say a joke always dies in surgery, so I will resist the urge to dissect Mr. Blackwell’s work.

King Midas’ keyboard

I’ve been having problems typing with the keyboard built into my laptop (it irritates some nerves in my forearms, which causes pain in my thumbs and, to a lesser degree, my index and middle fingers), so I bought a Goldtouch adjustable ergonomic USB keyboard.

It arrived today, so I thought I’d write about my first impressions. First, though, I’d like to digress. I found out that it had arrived via the ‘track item’ function on Amazon, which told me not only that it had been delivered, but also that it had been left at my front door. I went out to the porch to get it, and I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that I used some extended, distributed portion of the technology that is the internet – amazon.com, fedex.com, etc… – to acquire the very local knowledge that my new keyboard was sitting twenty or thirty feet away from me in a box.

Anyway, it seems pretty nice so far. The keys are nicely responsive, and the adjustability of the keyboard will be very useful, I think. There is one temporary downside, though, this being that fact that the ‘b’ key is on the left-hand partition of the keyboard. Apparently, when given the option of using either hand to type ‘b’, I use my right hand. I’m already adapting, but every time there is a ‘b’ to type, I either ‘type it’ with my right hand (i.e., I push the empty spot on just to the left of the ‘n’ key on the right-hand partition) and then type it with my left, or I pause and think about where it is and then type it with my left.

There are a few other small differences between the old and new keyboards, but none that are particularly notable. Assuming this thing actually helps with my arm and hand pain, any minor inconveniences caused by different spatial arrangements of auxiliary keys will be well worth overcoming.

Bananas and Linguistics

Where was I?

Um. Oh, yes. Latex and Lyx. I’ll get back to that in a moment.

In the meantime, here’s a nice illustration of the difference between competence and performance, interpretability and grammaticality, and the stem and stern of a banana:

“My whole adult life, I never knew the right way to open a banana… and now you do, too.”

(hat tip to Pharyngula)