Following the rather negative tone of my piece a couple of days ago, yesterday I woke up and read about one woman and her organisation in the UK with just the kind of international outlook I think the country is severely lacking. Bernice McCabe, headmistress of a north London school, advocated in a speech delivered yesterday that, regarding languages, teachers should go beyond "functional phrasebook competence" for their students, and should bring the outside world into the classroom in order to encourage students to become global citizens. Amen to that! She also said that teachers should be "a thorn in the side of British insularity and reticence". I won't argue with that, either.
However, I am alarmed if schools are reluctant to offer language qualifications because top grades are considered harder to achieve in languages than in other subjects. Surely this would constitute a de facto dumbing down of education overall. This would then be exacerbated if language exams were also set and marked differently – an idea she also welcomed to increase the take-up of languages. But do those educating the next generation honestly believe that the best way to improve language learning, standards and global awareness is to seemingly make exams easier?
Learning languages may indeed be hard. But if you want to be a global citizen, or you want to move to a country whose language is not your own, or you need to engage with locals beyond your functional requirements as a tourist; you quickly learn about hard work, humility and assimilation. McCabe seemingly recognises that lessons in a cosy UK environment won't help you if you lack the vocabulary to tell a barber how you want him to cut your hair; or how to sidestep geographical questions about your home country when you haven't a clue. Besides linguistic competence, skills in politeness and an appreciation of other people's culture and preoccupations are also required. These aspects are not covered in course books! So further tinkering with language exams seems to me to be at odds with these crucial additional aspects McCabe alludes to.
I've voiced these views before, I know. But future generations need to understand the value of being able to live and work in a different language; how it at least puts them on a more equal footing with the millions globally who do the same; how it might help them avoid an economic recession in their home country (as in my case) and how it enables them to debunk myths and about their mother country abroad. Learning languages changes you personally. You learn to engage with people, to be flexible, think on your feet and adapt your outlook and behaviour. These are skills that are acquired – not taught – as result of living in and using another language over time.
So, Mrs McCabe, hello – is it me you're looking for? I'd love an opportunity to tell others about these real-world benefits of language learning on my return to the UK. Where do I sign?
Sunday 16 November 2014
Friday 14 November 2014
A state of blissful ignorance?
At the school where I currently teach, there's a bright, ambitious lad who is as keen on engines as he is on English. He often asks for my opinion on aspects of English life. He's a huge fan of the TV show Top Gear and, specifically, Jeremy Clarkson himself. Though I do not share his fascination with the man, I'm happy that my student has found a topic – or a vehicle, if you will – through which to express himself and his likes and dislikes in a language that is not his own. I'm even happier that while the BBC may broadcast Clarkson's shows over here; the presenter's opinions that are not voiced on an international platform seem less likely to be discovered by eager 14-year-olds in Switzerland.
We all know that Clarkson has been in trouble over language in the past, and has been threatened with the sack by the BBC. But I doubt that his latest comments will lead to that. He's reported to have taken aim at the Welsh language, this time; calling it a “maypole around which a bunch of hotheads can get all nationalistic”. Some people in England seem to like to denigrate things they have little or no knowledge or experience of. So spouting rubbish about their neighbour is just lazy and boring. Welsh is significantly older than English, and English itself is a historical mix of many languages – as we know. Under the Welsh Language (Wales) Measure 2011, Welsh is also the only language that is de jure official in any part of the UK. English is merely the de facto official language. But why should such facts get in the way of a celebrity's right to rant in exchange for money?
How exactly the UN might even begin to implement his wider call to abolish some languages is anyone's guess. What an utterly ludicrous proposition! Could a multilingual version of the Welsh Not be introduced at UN level to punish people for using their native languages? Would all foreign loan words used in English also be banned (including 'penguin' – from Welsh – and words with Latin roots)?
Alternatively, Clarkson could concede that the UK's policy of foreign language learning being optional at GCSE level since 2004 is appalling. It does not justify the rejection of a multilingual world – full of cultures, histories, traditions and personal experiences that differ from his own. Respecting that diversity means engaging with it, whilst also recognising that imperialistic attitudes are one component in the constructed 'otherness' that allows resentment, fear and hate to thrive. So when I read such depressing diatribes with increasing frequency and I factor in the populist rise in anti-EU and anti-immigration sentiment, I wonder if the UK I left some four years ago has become a state of blissful ignorance during my absence.
We all know that Clarkson has been in trouble over language in the past, and has been threatened with the sack by the BBC. But I doubt that his latest comments will lead to that. He's reported to have taken aim at the Welsh language, this time; calling it a “maypole around which a bunch of hotheads can get all nationalistic”. Some people in England seem to like to denigrate things they have little or no knowledge or experience of. So spouting rubbish about their neighbour is just lazy and boring. Welsh is significantly older than English, and English itself is a historical mix of many languages – as we know. Under the Welsh Language (Wales) Measure 2011, Welsh is also the only language that is de jure official in any part of the UK. English is merely the de facto official language. But why should such facts get in the way of a celebrity's right to rant in exchange for money?
How exactly the UN might even begin to implement his wider call to abolish some languages is anyone's guess. What an utterly ludicrous proposition! Could a multilingual version of the Welsh Not be introduced at UN level to punish people for using their native languages? Would all foreign loan words used in English also be banned (including 'penguin' – from Welsh – and words with Latin roots)?
Alternatively, Clarkson could concede that the UK's policy of foreign language learning being optional at GCSE level since 2004 is appalling. It does not justify the rejection of a multilingual world – full of cultures, histories, traditions and personal experiences that differ from his own. Respecting that diversity means engaging with it, whilst also recognising that imperialistic attitudes are one component in the constructed 'otherness' that allows resentment, fear and hate to thrive. So when I read such depressing diatribes with increasing frequency and I factor in the populist rise in anti-EU and anti-immigration sentiment, I wonder if the UK I left some four years ago has become a state of blissful ignorance during my absence.
Sunday 10 August 2014
Picking up people's insensitivity
Several months ago I wrote a piece here called A moment of clarity, focussing on the
instant when a deaf woman was able to hear for the very first time. I return to
the topic of deafness today, having read an interesting piece in The Guardian yesterday. On this
occasion, a woman described her slightly different experience of having
progressively degenerative hearing restored to normal levels after 20 years –
again thanks to a cochlear implant.
The article caught my attention because it provided more insight into the personal gains and losses of the implant, as well as the adjustment required to start living a new life as a member of 'the hearing gang'. I find the issue fascinating because, as someone who suffers with tinnitus – and very slight hearing loss as a result; coping strategies when you miss a joke in a noisy room used to create the feeling of – partly self-imposed – social isolation the 'new hearer' describes.
But if we're honest, much of the small talk we feel obliged to engage in is merely a politeness ritual which, in reality, is fairly inconsequential. We could even be forgiven for thinking that the writer of the piece secretly enjoyed being able to 'zone out' from the exhausting task of trying to decipher so much content for such little reward. This approach seems entirely justified when well-meaning 'hearing' friends announce “It’s so good to be able to finally speak," provoking this response from the writer:
I'm still angry. They couldn't be bothered to include you before, so why should you bother listening now? What gives them the right to enjoy the benefits of your new hearing?
To me, that's no different to the school bully suddenly sending you a friend request on social media. It's an action designed entirely to make the other person – not you – feel better. The implant may be a signal to hearing friends that the wearer is instantly 'back in the room'; though for the individual concerned, it is merely the first step on a new journey – where even turn-taking in conversations is new territory. After all, as the writer indicates: how can she suddenly know what quantity of speech is appropriate in each situation? How does she know where to place herself on the secret scale that everyone else seems to understand? It's the scale that ranges from 'withdrawn' to 'monosyllabic', 'quiet', 'reserved', 'chatty' and 'bubbly' right up to 'self-obsessed'.
As she and others like her decide whether the implant represents a new sense or a nuisance, those of us with (almost) perfect hearing should celebrate this new-found social inclusion; while remaining sensitive to the scale of the adjustment involved. Though the more success stories we hear about cochlear implants; the more of these personal testimonies will be published. As a result, we will all gain a better understanding of that complex world between aural exile and full interaction that many people now have to negotiate – some of them for the first time in their lives.
The article caught my attention because it provided more insight into the personal gains and losses of the implant, as well as the adjustment required to start living a new life as a member of 'the hearing gang'. I find the issue fascinating because, as someone who suffers with tinnitus – and very slight hearing loss as a result; coping strategies when you miss a joke in a noisy room used to create the feeling of – partly self-imposed – social isolation the 'new hearer' describes.
But if we're honest, much of the small talk we feel obliged to engage in is merely a politeness ritual which, in reality, is fairly inconsequential. We could even be forgiven for thinking that the writer of the piece secretly enjoyed being able to 'zone out' from the exhausting task of trying to decipher so much content for such little reward. This approach seems entirely justified when well-meaning 'hearing' friends announce “It’s so good to be able to finally speak," provoking this response from the writer:
I'm still angry. They couldn't be bothered to include you before, so why should you bother listening now? What gives them the right to enjoy the benefits of your new hearing?
To me, that's no different to the school bully suddenly sending you a friend request on social media. It's an action designed entirely to make the other person – not you – feel better. The implant may be a signal to hearing friends that the wearer is instantly 'back in the room'; though for the individual concerned, it is merely the first step on a new journey – where even turn-taking in conversations is new territory. After all, as the writer indicates: how can she suddenly know what quantity of speech is appropriate in each situation? How does she know where to place herself on the secret scale that everyone else seems to understand? It's the scale that ranges from 'withdrawn' to 'monosyllabic', 'quiet', 'reserved', 'chatty' and 'bubbly' right up to 'self-obsessed'.
As she and others like her decide whether the implant represents a new sense or a nuisance, those of us with (almost) perfect hearing should celebrate this new-found social inclusion; while remaining sensitive to the scale of the adjustment involved. Though the more success stories we hear about cochlear implants; the more of these personal testimonies will be published. As a result, we will all gain a better understanding of that complex world between aural exile and full interaction that many people now have to negotiate – some of them for the first time in their lives.
Monday 14 July 2014
Languages in a lamentable state (Part 2)
Earlier this year, I wrote a blog entry entitled Languages in a lamentable state – that state being, of course, the UK. This morning a BBC News article outlines renewed efforts to address the country's woeful inability to learn and use foreign languages and feel once again compelled to comment. So there's a cross-party group and we have phrases like "national recovery programme for languages" and "driving a languages revival" being bandied around. So far, so meaningless.
For once, at least, we now have a few figures to quantify the scale of the problem and proposals offered by the All-Party Parliamentary Group's chairman, Baroness Coussins, to tackle it:
"The UK economy is already losing around £50bn a year in lost contracts because of a lack of language skills in the workforce.
"And we aren't just talking about high-flyers: in 2011 over 27% of admin and clerical jobs went unfilled because of the languages deficit."
To me, these two statements perfectly illustrate the lack of understanding of the issues. We all know what the difference between a "high-flyer" and someone doing an admin and clerical job is, don't we? No, actually, we don't – and neither do the politicians. This is because, historically, the advantages of being able to use a foreign language competently and professionally are never outlined. As a result, investing the time required to learn a language to graduate level might even be seen as naive in some quarters. You can set up all the MPs' talking shops you like, it's now been fifteen years since I graduated; yet online job sites are still flooded with customer service positions (file under 'admin and clerical') offering the same £17k p.a. that they were paying in 1999. And if the country really is losing billions in lost contracts to the UK's multilingual competitors, then this is surely evidence that no-one in the UK really cares, anyway.
But fear not, foreign-language friends – help is on its way:
"The Department for Education said £350,000 was being spent in England in the next year to help primary and secondary teachers improve their teaching of languages."
Clearly we can spend the equivalent of around ten teachers' modest full-time salaries to cover the whole of England and the problem will go away. Get a good and enthusiastic linguist teaching in a primary school and you might – just might – have a handful of young people taking a foreign language at GCSE or 'A' Level a decade or so later. If you're very lucky, one or two may even study languages at university. But that's wishful thinking:
"A spokesman added: "We are making it compulsory for children to learn a foreign language from age seven to 14, a move supported by 91% of respondents to our consultation on languages in primary schools."
The above statement shows that although just under half of state-school pupils go on to take a GCSE in a foreign language (itself an appalling statistic, especially when we don't know how many of them actually pass with a good grade); there is no intention to make studying a foreign language up to GCSE at age 16 compulsory. Numbers of students studying languages at university will continue to decline. So unless you can get young people with (pre-) GCSE-level French, German, Spanish or Italian to man the phones in customer service jobs, those contracts will still be lost and the state of foreign language learning in the UK will go from lamentable to, frankly, laughable.
For once, at least, we now have a few figures to quantify the scale of the problem and proposals offered by the All-Party Parliamentary Group's chairman, Baroness Coussins, to tackle it:
"The UK economy is already losing around £50bn a year in lost contracts because of a lack of language skills in the workforce.
"And we aren't just talking about high-flyers: in 2011 over 27% of admin and clerical jobs went unfilled because of the languages deficit."
To me, these two statements perfectly illustrate the lack of understanding of the issues. We all know what the difference between a "high-flyer" and someone doing an admin and clerical job is, don't we? No, actually, we don't – and neither do the politicians. This is because, historically, the advantages of being able to use a foreign language competently and professionally are never outlined. As a result, investing the time required to learn a language to graduate level might even be seen as naive in some quarters. You can set up all the MPs' talking shops you like, it's now been fifteen years since I graduated; yet online job sites are still flooded with customer service positions (file under 'admin and clerical') offering the same £17k p.a. that they were paying in 1999. And if the country really is losing billions in lost contracts to the UK's multilingual competitors, then this is surely evidence that no-one in the UK really cares, anyway.
But fear not, foreign-language friends – help is on its way:
"The Department for Education said £350,000 was being spent in England in the next year to help primary and secondary teachers improve their teaching of languages."
Clearly we can spend the equivalent of around ten teachers' modest full-time salaries to cover the whole of England and the problem will go away. Get a good and enthusiastic linguist teaching in a primary school and you might – just might – have a handful of young people taking a foreign language at GCSE or 'A' Level a decade or so later. If you're very lucky, one or two may even study languages at university. But that's wishful thinking:
"A spokesman added: "We are making it compulsory for children to learn a foreign language from age seven to 14, a move supported by 91% of respondents to our consultation on languages in primary schools."
The above statement shows that although just under half of state-school pupils go on to take a GCSE in a foreign language (itself an appalling statistic, especially when we don't know how many of them actually pass with a good grade); there is no intention to make studying a foreign language up to GCSE at age 16 compulsory. Numbers of students studying languages at university will continue to decline. So unless you can get young people with (pre-) GCSE-level French, German, Spanish or Italian to man the phones in customer service jobs, those contracts will still be lost and the state of foreign language learning in the UK will go from lamentable to, frankly, laughable.
Saturday 7 June 2014
A whole new word
Earlier today, I stumbled upon an interview in The Guardian with the feminist writer Rebecca Solnit, following the recent publication of 'Men Explain Things To Me'. The book is her collection of essays, with the title being that of the first essay. The issues raised took me back to the Gender and Language component of my Linguistics MA, where – among other things – we looked at examples of how men and women talk to each other, the power balance between the sexes within spoken interaction, underlying assumptions and latent or blatant sexism.
Some years ago, Solnit's work and experiences provoked others to coin a new term of 'mansplaining' – a portmanteau word combining 'man' and 'explaining' – used to refer to the condescension shown by some men towards women in interactions. Solnit, the author of numerous books, described being on the receiving end of such treatment when, while at a party in 2003, a man sought to engage her in conversation with the following opening gambit:
"So? I hear you've written a couple of books?"
He then proceeded to gush about one particular book, interrupted by another guest who indicated (several times) that Solnit herself was its author. Online discussion boards carry similar testimonies of other women denigrated by and suffering ignorant men. But alongside these clear, unjustifiable examples of sexism, I worry that pinning one's outrage to a single neologism hinders rather than furthers the debate. It's similar to the issue that director Joss Whedon outlines so eloquently with the term feminist; in the sense that distilling a seemingly infinite number of experiences and perspectives into one term necessarily means that the term is ripe for misappropriation or the coining of related but trivial forms ('womansplaining', anyone?). We might even give a term the ephemeral status as a Word of the Year – such as this definition from the New York Times in 2010:
mansplainer: A man compelled to explain or give an opinion about everything — especially to a woman. He speaks, often condescendingly, even if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about or even if it’s none of his business. Old term: a boor.
Such developments and diluted interpretations only detract from the attempt to find a vocabulary and a voice to challenge forms of insidious misogyny in all areas of life. For me, 'mansplaining' is a manifestation of gendered roles in interactions, as identified in difference theory by Deborah Tannen and others; such that men seek to compete in interactions, whereas women seek to cooperate. That's not to say that such behaviour cannot or should not be altered once people's attention is drawn to it and its negative implications over time.
Considered debate of different standpoints is to be welcomed. But if genuinely experienced sexism is hijacked by the media or even added to the list of humorous terms along with 'testiculating' for example; then we will be no nearer to achieving the true gender equality that everyone deserves.
Rebecca Solnit's book, 'Men Explain Things To Me', is published by Haymarket Books,
Some years ago, Solnit's work and experiences provoked others to coin a new term of 'mansplaining' – a portmanteau word combining 'man' and 'explaining' – used to refer to the condescension shown by some men towards women in interactions. Solnit, the author of numerous books, described being on the receiving end of such treatment when, while at a party in 2003, a man sought to engage her in conversation with the following opening gambit:
"So? I hear you've written a couple of books?"
He then proceeded to gush about one particular book, interrupted by another guest who indicated (several times) that Solnit herself was its author. Online discussion boards carry similar testimonies of other women denigrated by and suffering ignorant men. But alongside these clear, unjustifiable examples of sexism, I worry that pinning one's outrage to a single neologism hinders rather than furthers the debate. It's similar to the issue that director Joss Whedon outlines so eloquently with the term feminist; in the sense that distilling a seemingly infinite number of experiences and perspectives into one term necessarily means that the term is ripe for misappropriation or the coining of related but trivial forms ('womansplaining', anyone?). We might even give a term the ephemeral status as a Word of the Year – such as this definition from the New York Times in 2010:
mansplainer: A man compelled to explain or give an opinion about everything — especially to a woman. He speaks, often condescendingly, even if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about or even if it’s none of his business. Old term: a boor.
Such developments and diluted interpretations only detract from the attempt to find a vocabulary and a voice to challenge forms of insidious misogyny in all areas of life. For me, 'mansplaining' is a manifestation of gendered roles in interactions, as identified in difference theory by Deborah Tannen and others; such that men seek to compete in interactions, whereas women seek to cooperate. That's not to say that such behaviour cannot or should not be altered once people's attention is drawn to it and its negative implications over time.
Considered debate of different standpoints is to be welcomed. But if genuinely experienced sexism is hijacked by the media or even added to the list of humorous terms along with 'testiculating' for example; then we will be no nearer to achieving the true gender equality that everyone deserves.
Rebecca Solnit's book, 'Men Explain Things To Me', is published by Haymarket Books,
ISBN: 9781608463862.
Tuesday 27 May 2014
Celebrity deuce
We've all seen the wristbands, haven't we – the discreet, often neon-coloured bands emblazoned with the initials 'W.W.J.D.'? I was told that they enabled Christians to question their own behaviour at key moments and do the right thing by asking: "What Would Jesus Do?". If that helps them to make the right choice, then so be it. But when I first saw the bands at university, I personally disliked them as an outward sign of inner piety because my faith is my business. For me, it is not just another commodity to advertise, or a means of dividing the potential sheep from the free-thinkers.
I was reminded of this today as I read an article that could have added a new twist on the acronym had it been given the title:
W.W.J.D. – What was Jesus' dialect?
In the end, the BBC went with Who, What, Why: What language would Jesus have spoken?
and Reuters preferred Pope, Netanyahu spar over Jesus' native language. It depressed me that a hugely significant visit undertaken in the spirit of global spiritual tolerance could be trivialised by focussing on the comparatively inconsequential detail of the tongue Christ spoke in.
We believe that he read Hebrew, the educated language of scripture. He may also have had some knowledge of Greek; though he spoke to his poorer – presumably less well educated – followers in their own language, which was Aramaic. I am no statesman, nor do I lead millions of followers of a world religion. But I could have given the right answer to the question. This is because when I was 15, I was taught in Religious Studies at school that when he was crucified, Jesus reportedly cried out the words "Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani" (Mark, 15:34) – Greek words that are transliterations of the Hebrew and Aramaic words meaning: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
It would appear that both the Israeli prime minister and the Pope were right in their responses. So if the media are seeking to portray this brief exchange as two famous people intent on point-scoring rather than the pursuit of peace and mutual respect; then neither party has the advantage. It's what readers in the UK might call 'celebrity deuce'.
I was reminded of this today as I read an article that could have added a new twist on the acronym had it been given the title:
W.W.J.D. – What was Jesus' dialect?
In the end, the BBC went with Who, What, Why: What language would Jesus have spoken?
and Reuters preferred Pope, Netanyahu spar over Jesus' native language. It depressed me that a hugely significant visit undertaken in the spirit of global spiritual tolerance could be trivialised by focussing on the comparatively inconsequential detail of the tongue Christ spoke in.
We believe that he read Hebrew, the educated language of scripture. He may also have had some knowledge of Greek; though he spoke to his poorer – presumably less well educated – followers in their own language, which was Aramaic. I am no statesman, nor do I lead millions of followers of a world religion. But I could have given the right answer to the question. This is because when I was 15, I was taught in Religious Studies at school that when he was crucified, Jesus reportedly cried out the words "Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani" (Mark, 15:34) – Greek words that are transliterations of the Hebrew and Aramaic words meaning: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
It would appear that both the Israeli prime minister and the Pope were right in their responses. So if the media are seeking to portray this brief exchange as two famous people intent on point-scoring rather than the pursuit of peace and mutual respect; then neither party has the advantage. It's what readers in the UK might call 'celebrity deuce'.
Tuesday 20 May 2014
A word in your ear
Last Tuesday, I was sitting on the bus shortly after 7am, on my way to a day of teaching at school. The bus always stops at a certain place and the driver gets out and has a five-minute break for a cigarette. It's at this time each morning – after most passengers have got off at the train station – that the rest of us get to hear the breakfast show on the driver's radio. So far, so good.
The bouncy, booming voice of Cee Lo Green could be heard. I think he's great. But the radio was playing the expletive-laden original version of his 2010 No.1 'Forget You'. This made me laugh. Was I laughing because the only other people now on the bus besides me were two pre-teenage schoolchildren? No – I just couldn't believe that a popular Swiss radio station would decide to play the song in all its profane glory at 7:11am at all!
Given the rules governing the broadcasting of similarly offensive content on the UK airwaves – and how even an inadvertent slip-up can cost a DJ his job – I was curious enough to write to the station's Programme Manager for clarification of the Swiss radio station's policy. After all, I also noticed that on the station's playlist, the song was listed as 'FU'. I'm well aware of English swear-words losing some or all of their impact when they're used in other languages, though I was still interested in the response. I've translated it as follows:
"As a rule, we at [name of radio station] play songs in their original versions, not in their 'clean' versions made for the English or US markets. I am sure that English native speakers listen to the songs in a very different way compared to people here. It's significant that our listeners do complain about all sorts of things. Though no-one has taken any offence at inappropriate song lyrics yet – at least not in writing.
We've taken the 'FU' label directly from the cover of the single [cover image sent as an attachment]. Following your query, I've also had a look around at other [Swiss] radio stations. With the exception of a few small, private stations [named], they all play the original version."
I've removed the names of the stations mentioned. My intention here is not to point the finger. I made it clear that my e-mail was a query to satisfy my own curiosity. It was not a complaint. I admitted that hearing the song made me laugh.
So there you have it. You live and learn. I'm now prepared to accept that sometimes, apart from me, maybe no-one gives a f.... .
The bouncy, booming voice of Cee Lo Green could be heard. I think he's great. But the radio was playing the expletive-laden original version of his 2010 No.1 'Forget You'. This made me laugh. Was I laughing because the only other people now on the bus besides me were two pre-teenage schoolchildren? No – I just couldn't believe that a popular Swiss radio station would decide to play the song in all its profane glory at 7:11am at all!
Given the rules governing the broadcasting of similarly offensive content on the UK airwaves – and how even an inadvertent slip-up can cost a DJ his job – I was curious enough to write to the station's Programme Manager for clarification of the Swiss radio station's policy. After all, I also noticed that on the station's playlist, the song was listed as 'FU'. I'm well aware of English swear-words losing some or all of their impact when they're used in other languages, though I was still interested in the response. I've translated it as follows:
"As a rule, we at [name of radio station] play songs in their original versions, not in their 'clean' versions made for the English or US markets. I am sure that English native speakers listen to the songs in a very different way compared to people here. It's significant that our listeners do complain about all sorts of things. Though no-one has taken any offence at inappropriate song lyrics yet – at least not in writing.
We've taken the 'FU' label directly from the cover of the single [cover image sent as an attachment]. Following your query, I've also had a look around at other [Swiss] radio stations. With the exception of a few small, private stations [named], they all play the original version."
I've removed the names of the stations mentioned. My intention here is not to point the finger. I made it clear that my e-mail was a query to satisfy my own curiosity. It was not a complaint. I admitted that hearing the song made me laugh.
So there you have it. You live and learn. I'm now prepared to accept that sometimes, apart from me, maybe no-one gives a f.... .
Saturday 29 March 2014
A moment of clarity
I know it has featured prominently on BBC News, though I can't let this news story slip into the archives without celebrating it here. Thanks to cochlear implants inserted a month ago and activated earlier this week, Jo Milne, a 39-year-old woman from Gateshead in the UK, is now able to hear for the first time in her life. Many other profoundly deaf people have this procedure and it is just as significant to them, as borne out by the many videos posted on YouTube. But thanks to Milne's mother, who filmed the moment on her smartphone, and the fact that the footage was picked up by BBC News, it has become a deeply moving event for us all.
In an earlier edit of the video, aside from her delight at hearing everyday sounds (light switches, running water, a ticking clock), Milne also shows us something very interesting about language. She was able to hear children's voices for the first time and, she was also able to hear what the Geordie accent sounds like. She seemed comforted by the fact that in her immediate vicinity, people sound the same when everyone else sounds so different. I'm intrigued to know how her own speech already has a slight Geordie twang. Do we really model our speech and accent based on the speech of others that quickly?
As a fan of all things to do with phonetics, I'd love to know what phonemes or aspects the speech therapists focus on first in this case. Is it the plosives (/p/ and /b/) and the other bilabial (/m/) – phonemes all formed with the lips but with different attributes (voiceless, voiced, nasal, respectively). Presumably from lip-reading and watching others, these would surely be examples of sounds that a deaf person would know where to produce (place of articulation), without knowing how to produce them (manner of articulation). Would experts then move on to minimal pairs and consonant clusters?
More broadly, in Milne's case especially, we can only speculate on just how, socially and psychologically a person adjusts to a new life of hearing, listening and responding, given that these functions have always been absent for them. It's no wonder that the first voice she heard seemed loud, initially. Any sound at all must seem loud in comparison to almost 40 years of silence.
Jo Milne's experience provides a moment of clarity – literally for her, and also for those of us watching the video with the gift of hearing. We recognise that we are privileged to be able to share in one woman's joy at something most of us take for granted.
In an earlier edit of the video, aside from her delight at hearing everyday sounds (light switches, running water, a ticking clock), Milne also shows us something very interesting about language. She was able to hear children's voices for the first time and, she was also able to hear what the Geordie accent sounds like. She seemed comforted by the fact that in her immediate vicinity, people sound the same when everyone else sounds so different. I'm intrigued to know how her own speech already has a slight Geordie twang. Do we really model our speech and accent based on the speech of others that quickly?
As a fan of all things to do with phonetics, I'd love to know what phonemes or aspects the speech therapists focus on first in this case. Is it the plosives (/p/ and /b/) and the other bilabial (/m/) – phonemes all formed with the lips but with different attributes (voiceless, voiced, nasal, respectively). Presumably from lip-reading and watching others, these would surely be examples of sounds that a deaf person would know where to produce (place of articulation), without knowing how to produce them (manner of articulation). Would experts then move on to minimal pairs and consonant clusters?
More broadly, in Milne's case especially, we can only speculate on just how, socially and psychologically a person adjusts to a new life of hearing, listening and responding, given that these functions have always been absent for them. It's no wonder that the first voice she heard seemed loud, initially. Any sound at all must seem loud in comparison to almost 40 years of silence.
Jo Milne's experience provides a moment of clarity – literally for her, and also for those of us watching the video with the gift of hearing. We recognise that we are privileged to be able to share in one woman's joy at something most of us take for granted.
Saturday 22 March 2014
Frankie says relax, don't do evil!
Thirty years ago, when Frankie Goes To Hollywood were storming the pop charts with their huge singles Relax, Two Tribes, and The Power Of Love; you couldn't move for a series of t-shirts emblazoned with 'FRANKIE SAY ...' slogans, and inspired by designer Katharine Hamnett. The bold slogans themselves have largely been forgotten, possibly because there were so many of them.
However, I was reminded of the craze when I read about the address of Pope Francis as he attended the annual vigil for the innocent victims killed by the mafia since 1893. I wondered whether his words would similarly be forgotten as quickly. His message was unequivocal, namely that those responsible for the murders faced a stark choice: "repent, or go to hell". So compare the headline chosen in Germany's Die Welt newspaper (translated as: 'Pope Francis warns mafia of the tortures of hell') with the choice of BBC News: 'Pope denounces 'evil, blood-stained' mafia'. My initial reaction at the BBC stance had me picturing His Holiness as a latter-day comic-book superhero – Captain Vatican, if you will.
According to The Guardian, he went on: "You have had a father and a mother. Think of them. Cry a little and convert." But however you word it, and whatever conscience you appeal to; calling for the renunciation of criminality – not to mention the power, control and vast sums of money involved – is as bold as it is idealistic. Nonetheless, the Pope's clear stance against these crimes, along with a show of solidarity with grieving families, is to be welcomed. Though where the perpetrators are concerned, I fear that Frankie, my dear, they don't give a damn.
However, I was reminded of the craze when I read about the address of Pope Francis as he attended the annual vigil for the innocent victims killed by the mafia since 1893. I wondered whether his words would similarly be forgotten as quickly. His message was unequivocal, namely that those responsible for the murders faced a stark choice: "repent, or go to hell". So compare the headline chosen in Germany's Die Welt newspaper (translated as: 'Pope Francis warns mafia of the tortures of hell') with the choice of BBC News: 'Pope denounces 'evil, blood-stained' mafia'. My initial reaction at the BBC stance had me picturing His Holiness as a latter-day comic-book superhero – Captain Vatican, if you will.
According to The Guardian, he went on: "You have had a father and a mother. Think of them. Cry a little and convert." But however you word it, and whatever conscience you appeal to; calling for the renunciation of criminality – not to mention the power, control and vast sums of money involved – is as bold as it is idealistic. Nonetheless, the Pope's clear stance against these crimes, along with a show of solidarity with grieving families, is to be welcomed. Though where the perpetrators are concerned, I fear that Frankie, my dear, they don't give a damn.
Tuesday 18 March 2014
Echo and the funnyman
Besides learning how to teach, if there's one thing that completing the CELTA course has revealed to me; it's how I approach what I do – how I try and engage students. My go-to English teaching handbook, a well-thumbed copy of Scrivener (2011:14)* warns against 'entertainer teaching' – the practice of a language teacher regularly regaling students with hilarious anecdotes. Now, unlike 'teacher' Robin Williams in Good Morning, Vietnam and Dead Poets Society, for instance; I cannot bring a glittering career in stand-up comedy into the classroom. Where appropriate, however, I can recall a relevant, funny event to keep students engaged, provoke discussion or bring some 'real-world' relevance to the content under discussion.
The teaching manuals and TEFL tomes also rail against the practice of echoing, where the language teacher repeats the target language that has been correctly provided by the student. At various points in my teaching practice on the CELTA course, I was guilty of this. However, my qualification is geared towards teaching adults. Some recent discussions with the children I currently teach finally revealed to me why I was previously oblivious to my penchant for echoing. Consider the following interaction between myself and a pupil (speaking German) on a day spent in the great outdoors:
Teacher: So, what did you see in the cave?
Pupil: Spinnen, ganz viele! (Translation: Spiders, lots of them!)
Teacher: Wow, you saw lots of spiders! Were they big? ...
As far as possible at the school where I teach, pupils are required to converse with me only in English. For my part, I am required to speak to all students individually and often, and at a level of difficulty close to their ability. But whereas with adult learners, who would no doubt feel patronised by me echoing their correct English utterance; the example above sees me translating a child's response as confirmation that they have correctly understood my initial question. It is merely their own command of English that prevents them – for the time being – from responding in the same language.
It should also be noted that I teach in an environment where learning in individualised and student-led. As such, teacher-led, time-bound conventional classroom teaching is rare. Teacher input serves primarily as a means of stimulating learners and providing them with the tools to discover and implement knowledge (including language) for themselves. Consequently learning opportunities arise in both formal and informal settings: within school, outdoors, in breaks during games of basketball or table tennis, as we cook and eat meals together, on the bus to and from school, as well as at public events.
So I'm becoming increasingly aware of different methods of teaching and learning – and their respective merits. It is obvious that group-based lessons with conventional, group-based outcomes are only applicable to a limited extent in environments where learning and progress are deliberately individualised. In such a setting, echoing may continue in specific cases. Whether my English anecdotes make me an entertainer or even a funnyman is not something I can judge.
* Scrivener, Jim (2011) ‘Learning Teaching: The Essential Guide To English Language Teaching’, Third Edition, Macmillan Education, Oxford
The teaching manuals and TEFL tomes also rail against the practice of echoing, where the language teacher repeats the target language that has been correctly provided by the student. At various points in my teaching practice on the CELTA course, I was guilty of this. However, my qualification is geared towards teaching adults. Some recent discussions with the children I currently teach finally revealed to me why I was previously oblivious to my penchant for echoing. Consider the following interaction between myself and a pupil (speaking German) on a day spent in the great outdoors:
Teacher: So, what did you see in the cave?
Pupil: Spinnen, ganz viele! (Translation: Spiders, lots of them!)
Teacher: Wow, you saw lots of spiders! Were they big? ...
As far as possible at the school where I teach, pupils are required to converse with me only in English. For my part, I am required to speak to all students individually and often, and at a level of difficulty close to their ability. But whereas with adult learners, who would no doubt feel patronised by me echoing their correct English utterance; the example above sees me translating a child's response as confirmation that they have correctly understood my initial question. It is merely their own command of English that prevents them – for the time being – from responding in the same language.
It should also be noted that I teach in an environment where learning in individualised and student-led. As such, teacher-led, time-bound conventional classroom teaching is rare. Teacher input serves primarily as a means of stimulating learners and providing them with the tools to discover and implement knowledge (including language) for themselves. Consequently learning opportunities arise in both formal and informal settings: within school, outdoors, in breaks during games of basketball or table tennis, as we cook and eat meals together, on the bus to and from school, as well as at public events.
So I'm becoming increasingly aware of different methods of teaching and learning – and their respective merits. It is obvious that group-based lessons with conventional, group-based outcomes are only applicable to a limited extent in environments where learning and progress are deliberately individualised. In such a setting, echoing may continue in specific cases. Whether my English anecdotes make me an entertainer or even a funnyman is not something I can judge.
* Scrivener, Jim (2011) ‘Learning Teaching: The Essential Guide To English Language Teaching’, Third Edition, Macmillan Education, Oxford
Saturday 1 February 2014
Languages in a lamentable state
Yet again we read in The Guardian that UK applications to study languages are falling. Quelle surprise! We read of the confusing picture of the growing commercial need for businesses to have polyglots on the staff, against the inevitable consequence of modern foreign languages being completely optional rather than compulsory school subjects since 2004.
Que faire? What should we do? Well, clearly no-one is worried enough to actually do very much at all, it seems. University language departments are being allowed to be closed or merged in response to the falling demand for specific languages. Are those businesses requiring languages actually going into schools to 'sell' that desperate need to the nation's first and second-year high school pupils? Probably not. Perhaps if a company director were to change their own mindset and explain to young people how languages are an essential requirement (rather than a handy, exotic add-on), we might see some progress. How many bosses are polyglots themselves? How can they inspire people when the UK's attitude towards jobs for linguists rarely extends beyond the stultifying world of multilingual customer service? As a new graduate with no professional teaching or translation experience, selling stuff in another language was the only option available to me.
Learning foreign languages is also a lifelong process. It does not sit well with the culture of instant gratification the UK demands and expects. The game of gaining qualifications in the UK is characterised by relatively short bursts of intensive study (two years for GCSEs, another two years for A Levels, three years minimum for a degree). When students' parents here in Switzerland ask me how long I've been learning German, my honest answer is now: "About 25 years". I'm still learning. I will never stop learning. It is impossible to completely master the linguistic and cultural totality of a language that is not one's mother tongue. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try!
Que faire? What should we do? Well, clearly no-one is worried enough to actually do very much at all, it seems. University language departments are being allowed to be closed or merged in response to the falling demand for specific languages. Are those businesses requiring languages actually going into schools to 'sell' that desperate need to the nation's first and second-year high school pupils? Probably not. Perhaps if a company director were to change their own mindset and explain to young people how languages are an essential requirement (rather than a handy, exotic add-on), we might see some progress. How many bosses are polyglots themselves? How can they inspire people when the UK's attitude towards jobs for linguists rarely extends beyond the stultifying world of multilingual customer service? As a new graduate with no professional teaching or translation experience, selling stuff in another language was the only option available to me.
Learning foreign languages is also a lifelong process. It does not sit well with the culture of instant gratification the UK demands and expects. The game of gaining qualifications in the UK is characterised by relatively short bursts of intensive study (two years for GCSEs, another two years for A Levels, three years minimum for a degree). When students' parents here in Switzerland ask me how long I've been learning German, my honest answer is now: "About 25 years". I'm still learning. I will never stop learning. It is impossible to completely master the linguistic and cultural totality of a language that is not one's mother tongue. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try!
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