My parents came into town today and whisked Shay off to the park and then fed him lunch and put him down for his nap so that I could have a little time to myself to get stuff done (ah, grocery shopping ALONE, is there anything better? I'm sure some people could think of some stuff, but today that sounded like the best imaginable thing...). I used to go to prenatal yoga all the time during my first pregnancy, but I haven't managed to get to a class this time, so since I had a little bit of freedom, I decided to walk over to the yoga studio in the morning to go to a class. It was lovely, and blissful, to have a little time to myself and some time to think about this new baby -- now that I am past the constant morning sickness, I'm not thinking about being pregnant all the time and so I find myself sometimes remembering "oh yeah, I'm pregnant!"... and then Shay climbs up on something precarious and I have to run to save him, or he asks for a snack and I have to go fix it, so the end of my "oh yeah, I'm pregnant" thought becomes just "well, I guess that's going fine and I'll just go over here and take care of this other thing." So anyway, it was nice to have an hour to just be pregnant, if that makes sense.
But the story that I actually wanted to tell is that as I was walking home, I noticed a disheveled looking man in layers of clothing and blankets standing by a storefront about a half a block away. He looked homeless, which wouldn't in itself have been a surprising sight on the street where I was walking, but what caught my attention was that there were two kids, probably 5 and 7, or 6 and 8, and a dog, with him. I passed by them, and then they started walking behind me. The man was muttering and swearing at people passing by, and cars, and trees. The littler child, a girl, was holding the dog's leash, and I gather that she lagged behind a bit, because I heard the man yell, "Keep up! Don't make me kick your f***ing a**." The swearing, at the kids and at stuff on the street, continued for another block, and I exchanged a horrified glance with a teenage boy walking in front of me as he turned around to see what was going on. I wanted to do something to help the kids, but I worried that anything I might say or do to try to intervene might just make life worse for them. So, hating myself a little bit, I kept walking and they turned the corner off the street where I was walking.
Afterward, I wondered if I should have called child protective services or something? Or, how might I have intervened myself there on the street? If you'd been where I was today, what would you have done?
Monday, August 15, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Five New Words Today!
When I was in college, one of the best classes I took was an anthropology class on linguistics -- we studied the development of languages within cultures and also the development of language within children. Both of those ideas fascinated me, and I loved writing the big paper -- we had to interview people about their observations of their child's language development. My dad's cousin Lynn and I had some great conversations about her kids' first words and language development (and now her kids are both in college, which makes me feel very very old...)
So for a long time I have loved thinking about how and when children learn language, and how that corresponds with biology and culture and family culture, and how it is similar to and different from learning a second language later -- and of course one of my favorite things about being a mom myself now is getting to watch the day-by-day acquisition of language, first-hand. At first, I marveled at Shay's ability to follow directions and understand our words, even before he could talk himself. Then, I celebrated his first word, and kept track of each new word he could say. Suddenly, now, I can't keep track... my aunt and uncle babysat Shay today and when I got home, they said he said the word "strawberry," which I've never heard him say -- and he said it for me, too, right after pointing out a "ladder" on a fire truck, talking to me about how he was pretend-"digging" the carpet with his "wo-wel" (shovel), and announcing that his frozen teething ring was "cold." In an hour, I heard him say at least five new words that I've never heard him say before. Sometimes, he acts delighted with himself when he says a new word -- I can tell he is excited to be able to communicate, and to be understood. Other times, the words just come right out without him seeming to notice, which makes me think that he thinks he's been saying those words somewhere amidst the sounds that I hear as chattering and babbling -- and that that chattering contains a lot of words and ideas that I'm just not able to understand yet.
In some ways, watching him learn language makes me remember my first experience learning French, when I was 12. We moved to France for six months, and although I knew a few phrases and words of French, when I attended my first days and weeks of the local middle school in our little town, I couldn't understand anything -- I couldn't feel the rhythms of the language yet, and I couldn't understand questions or directions without accompanying sign language. For example, on one of the first days of school, a girl in my class (who remains a good friend to this day) said something to me as we were walking into a classroom -- it was a friendly tone, I could tell, but I couldn't understand the meaning. She repeated herself several times, slowly. I still had no idea what she was saying. Finally, she repeated herself again, slowly, pointing at herself, and then a desk, and then at me, and then at the adjoining desk. Relieved, I nodded, and sat next to her. She tried her best to help me understand with hand gestures and slow repetitions -- and over the next few weeks as she spoke and the other people around me spoke, I slowly began to be able to hear the beginnings and ends of sentences, and to distinguish questions from statements. Then, before understanding the meanings of words, I could hear the beginnings and endings of words. Then, I could understand some of the words -- and then, suddenly, with a click, I could understand everything.
If that "click" of understanding happens with babies learning their first language in the same way that it did for me learning a second language, then I know that I have already watched it happen for Shay -- he has understood and followed complicated ideas and directions for a while now. But I feel like I am watching a new explosion of language happen for him that I can't compare to my own experience learning French. He is exploring his ability to imitate new sounds, to use words to make things happen and get what he wants, to get our attention and to make us laugh. He seems to be learning communication, just as much as he is learning the particular language that we speak in this house.
I can't wait to talk to him tomorrow, and three weeks from now, and three months from now, and three years from now. He seems to have some stuff to say.
So for a long time I have loved thinking about how and when children learn language, and how that corresponds with biology and culture and family culture, and how it is similar to and different from learning a second language later -- and of course one of my favorite things about being a mom myself now is getting to watch the day-by-day acquisition of language, first-hand. At first, I marveled at Shay's ability to follow directions and understand our words, even before he could talk himself. Then, I celebrated his first word, and kept track of each new word he could say. Suddenly, now, I can't keep track... my aunt and uncle babysat Shay today and when I got home, they said he said the word "strawberry," which I've never heard him say -- and he said it for me, too, right after pointing out a "ladder" on a fire truck, talking to me about how he was pretend-"digging" the carpet with his "wo-wel" (shovel), and announcing that his frozen teething ring was "cold." In an hour, I heard him say at least five new words that I've never heard him say before. Sometimes, he acts delighted with himself when he says a new word -- I can tell he is excited to be able to communicate, and to be understood. Other times, the words just come right out without him seeming to notice, which makes me think that he thinks he's been saying those words somewhere amidst the sounds that I hear as chattering and babbling -- and that that chattering contains a lot of words and ideas that I'm just not able to understand yet.
In some ways, watching him learn language makes me remember my first experience learning French, when I was 12. We moved to France for six months, and although I knew a few phrases and words of French, when I attended my first days and weeks of the local middle school in our little town, I couldn't understand anything -- I couldn't feel the rhythms of the language yet, and I couldn't understand questions or directions without accompanying sign language. For example, on one of the first days of school, a girl in my class (who remains a good friend to this day) said something to me as we were walking into a classroom -- it was a friendly tone, I could tell, but I couldn't understand the meaning. She repeated herself several times, slowly. I still had no idea what she was saying. Finally, she repeated herself again, slowly, pointing at herself, and then a desk, and then at me, and then at the adjoining desk. Relieved, I nodded, and sat next to her. She tried her best to help me understand with hand gestures and slow repetitions -- and over the next few weeks as she spoke and the other people around me spoke, I slowly began to be able to hear the beginnings and ends of sentences, and to distinguish questions from statements. Then, before understanding the meanings of words, I could hear the beginnings and endings of words. Then, I could understand some of the words -- and then, suddenly, with a click, I could understand everything.
If that "click" of understanding happens with babies learning their first language in the same way that it did for me learning a second language, then I know that I have already watched it happen for Shay -- he has understood and followed complicated ideas and directions for a while now. But I feel like I am watching a new explosion of language happen for him that I can't compare to my own experience learning French. He is exploring his ability to imitate new sounds, to use words to make things happen and get what he wants, to get our attention and to make us laugh. He seems to be learning communication, just as much as he is learning the particular language that we speak in this house.
I can't wait to talk to him tomorrow, and three weeks from now, and three months from now, and three years from now. He seems to have some stuff to say.
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