Classic "All Done" sign. She has since extrapolated to "all done jacket," "all done shoes," and, my personal favorite, "all done daddy."
My wife and I decided a long time ago that we wanted to raise any children we had bilingually. When our daughter was born, we thus decided to talk to her at least partially in Spanish, and we also decided to throw some Sign Language into the mix. The result is the most entertaining exercise in self-expression I have ever seen.
Growing up in a mono-lingual US, its really easy to take language for granted. Language is pretty simple, after all. You say something, someone hears it, and bingo, the idea has been relayed. But if you speak two languages, have lived or worked in another a country that uses another language, or even speak different “dialects” of the same language (I swear academia has its own language), you realize that what you say, how you say it, your tone, your use of colloquialisms, your vocabulary, and the accepted norms of the language in which you are speaking all affect the way in which you try to relay an idea. Thus, trying to speak to a kid in some coherent pattern using three languages is quite the challenge, a challenge only trumped by trying to interpret the response of a kid that is merging three languages at the same time she is beginning to understand the idea of communication. You realize very quickly that some things are easier to express in one language over another, that some colloquial expressions just don’t translate (va a tener una vaca, for example), and that some languages use very colorful analogies that sound simply ridiculous when translated (does your head ache really feel like Jesus on la cruz?).
To begin, my Spanish is ugly. I spent time in Honduras and Mexico, and was dragged by a very adventurous wife through all of Central America. Spanish uses the usted form of words to represent both the third person and a respectful you, but when it is used differs by culture. My mom of Mexican heritage would never dream of using the usted form of verbs with either me, her child and therefore her inferior, or even her dad, a superior with whom she is familiar. However, in Costa Rica, they tended to use usted to speak to everyone and everything, kids, adults, turtles, trees, everything. In Honduras, they used vos (NOT vosotros, as everyone loves to tell me), which is, on the scale of formality, below tu, used to address specifically kids and good friends. I use all three of them. Hence, my kid, if she really thought about it, is at times addressed formally, addressed as a child, addressed as a friend, and addressed in the third person. Yeah, confusing even for me. So when she starts to conjugate verbs, it’s anyone’s guess how she will do so.
Enjoying the spoils of successfully signing "food please."
And our Sign Language knowledge? Well you could hardly call it knowledge at all. After a semester of it, we can sign complete sentences and thoughts, but can hardly converse in it. And relaying the message is much easier than interpreting it, as our poor daughter is forced to do. Thus, we can sign things as complicated as “I’m tired. Are you tired? Let’s go up to bed, brush our teeth, take a bath, and go to sleep”, but nothing like, “If we were to leave now, we would have time to read a book before having to go to bed” or “your mom and I always tip the waitstaff extra; the working class makes the world go ’round”. So I highly doubt that the first time she decides to express complex reasoning, it will be with her hands.
They say that when children learn that one word equals one “thing” (called “fast mapping”), their language development just explodes. That is indeed what happened to our daughter, and she went from like 4 words (“milk,” “all done,” “food,” and “more”) to like 12 words (including “airplane,” “bird,” “shoes,” “dad,” “dog,” “book,” “water,” “fish,” “car,” “jacket,” and others). However, what is most interesting is the language she chooses to use to express the words she has so fast-ly mapped. Sometimes there is a pattern, but sometimes, well, I seriously think she can say it out loud, or say it in sign, and just has more fun saying it in sign. I mean, signing “more milk please” is more fun than saying it. So far, she only “speaks” five words, “hi”, “up” , “arm,”, “Heidi,” and “mama”. She learned “up” when she spent the weekend with her grandparents that communicated with her in verbal English for four days straight. She learned “Heidi” (the name of one of her favorite caretakers) because Heidi continually repeated it to her and then bragged to the daycare staff that she was our daughter’s favorite (“see, she even says my name!”). She learned the word “mama” seemingly when she was born. God only knows why she says “arm.” But the rest of her words she knows in Sign (1). And while she has yet to say anything in Spanish, she responds with Sign to both Spanish and English questions, telling us, for example, that both what she wants and lo que quiere is [the sign for milk].
I’ll close with one of my favorite stories of her language development:
Like many kids her age, she latches on to particular words, and uses them whenever possible to show that she is beginning to understand the world around her. One of those words is “ear.” When she hears us say the word “ear,” (or oreja) she points to her ear, or mommy’s ear, or daddy’s ear, then smiles, well, ear to ear.
The other day, I asked her in Spanish where she wanted to go, “Vidita, adonde quieres IR? (2)” She looked at me, slightly confused. But slowly, the furrowed brow gave way to a huge smile, and she proudly pointed to her EAR. I didn’t quite get it, so I asked again:
“Hijita, adonde quieres….[light bulb] oh! Yes! EAR! very good!”
Has anything shocked you about your kid’s language development? Are any parents raising their children bi- or tri-lingually? How did it go? Do they rely on one language more than another? Did their language development mirror that of their peers?
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1. Cutest thing in the world: she even babbles in Sign Language. At first I sat there trying to figure out what she wanted, but when “car-fish-dog-alldone-chair-bird-chair,” didn’t compute, I caught on that she was just doing the Sign equivalent of baby babble.
2-See, in Spanish, calling her vidita is normal. In English, calling her “my dear little life,” seems a bit carried away.
Filed under: parenting
I love the ear anecdote!