After we already watched A Christmas Story one and a half times, I told Aaron he could change the cahnnel as long as he left it on something Christmas-y.
Only he would manage to find a Mythbusters episode about Christmas lights. Oh well, it gives me the opportunity to blog.
Our attempt at a non-materialistic Christmas was both a success and a failure. The success is that Charity seems to not be attaching too much excitment to the new topys. Like any other day, she's spending her time taking her old toys apart and banging them against each other in an attempt to make cool noises.
The failure? She got lots of presents. Yesterday I got swept up into the "Christmas Spirit" at dollar tree. Everything's only $1. But when you buy 50 items...
To be fair, about 25 of those items were overstocked Gerber Graduates snacks and juices that WERE NOT Christmas presents, but were simply good deals.
And I bought some frames for Charity's Christmas Portraits.
But the rest of the stuff was stocking stuffers for Aaron and Charity. Oh, well. Nothing was particularly "materialistic." And I didn't shop at Wal-Mart. I've actually managed to avoid Wal-Mart for the most part since I saw Capitalism: A Love Story. I've been doing most of my shopping at Aldi, which isn't much better. But it isn't Wal-Mart.
What's in the stocking?
- Coloring book, entitled Bible Stories
- Book, Thank God for my Friends
- Pack of jumbo crayons
- Two pack of slinkies
- Santa antlers (don't ask)
- Frosted animal crackers
- Chocolate gold coins
- Jingle bell necklace
What was under the tree?
- Betta fish in a bowl, who Polly named Santa
- A large stuffed puppy with floppy ears who still remains nameless
- A Santa board book
- A Black and Decker Junior tool set, by far her favorite present
Another part of the success is the fact that presents haven't been the center of this Christmas. We read the Christmas story out of Charity's baby Bible while we ate breakfast before we opened preasants. And we've been trying to spend the day relaxing. For example, Charity has managed to pull the door off of her kitchen set and is now sitting comofortably in the refrigerator compartment. She found some sunscreen, which she is taking in and out of the microwave.
And I'm blogging, as Aaron watches ANOTHER holiday Mythbusters--this one about snowmen. (I know he's seen this episode before). The turkey breast is in the oven, and it's smelling good. Unfortunately, I did leave a Diet Pepsi in front of my stove's exhaust, and it exploded. Last time I left potatos there and found them perfectly cooked in time for dinner. Oh, well. You win some you loose some.
Finally, I have not yet worked today. I promised myself I would not work nor really think about work today. Not at least until 7PM or later. I have had so much to do lately between Purdue and freelancing and being sick that I've been stressed! So I am not working today. And then I am making a better plan tomorrow.
As a testamony to the fact that I'm not working is the disorganization of this post. To make that disorganization complete, let me end on this point--Santa brought Hamlet, our Hamster, some chew blocks. I better go give them to him.
Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 25, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Earning a Bachelor of Science
There are some purchases I don't regret. The year membership to Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry is one of them. My 25 ride train pass is another. With both of these items, I can go to Chicago and have fun with about $7 in my pocket--the price of a snack and a Diet Pepsi. (I fool myself into believing that I didn't spend $55 for the museum pass and over $100 for the train ticket.) This weekend, I took my friend Jessica and Charity to see the Christmas around the world display. Did Charity enjoy the decorated trees? Well, she didn't complain too much. What she really enjoyed was the farm exhibit and the water table in the children's Imaginatorium. I tried her to something sophisticated, intellectual, unique (the life size hamster wheel, LED light accented dress, or slices of the human body); she was fascinated by the two things we Don't have at home in Chesterton--water and cows. Either way--she had fun. That's what it's all about.
Here's a picture of Charity and me in front of the great tree in the middle of the exhibit. OK, Charity wasn't having that much fun in this picture. But it was necessary! She started to have fun when fake snow started falling from the ceiling, however. The pictures of her reaching toward the snow have been stowed alongside the picture of the spectacular usage error I found at Subway near the museum--in the pictures that didn't quite turn out file. But while Charity took her nap, I decided to see what it would be like to join the Navy. Apparently, it didn't work out so well. INCOMING...
Although the computer simulations in the Navy exhibit were so slow I thought I was back in first grade typing with KiKi the graphically challenged keyboardist, the exhibit made me want to play Battleship really badly. I think I'll dig out my old copy tomorrow--anyone up for a game?
After a semester full of never ending grading, visiting the Museum was the best way to kick off Christmas break. Two more days of freedom, and then grading round two begins. After that, freedom!
Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 4, 2009
Tradeoffs
In the past two days, I have been more productive than I have been in weeks. I finished one web article for Filterless (Read it here: http://www.filterless.net/2009/12/04/the-ever-changing-world-of-genre-in-defense-of-internet-writers/). I'm not a very good contributor, since the last time I contributed to this web site was in July! I also wrote two poems, submitted three poems to Flatmancrooked for their poetry contest, and almost finished a Thanksgiving story for an anthology (http://thanksgivingtales.com/).
However, I have made next to no money. Why must everything be a trade off? I have something close to 200 papers to read this weekend, and one of my own to write. And instead of doing it, I am considering writing something for this magazine: http://conciselymagazine.blogspot.com/.
For now, I plan not to think about it! Tomorrow, we're going to the German Market. Merry Christmas!
However, I have made next to no money. Why must everything be a trade off? I have something close to 200 papers to read this weekend, and one of my own to write. And instead of doing it, I am considering writing something for this magazine: http://conciselymagazine.blogspot.com/.
For now, I plan not to think about it! Tomorrow, we're going to the German Market. Merry Christmas!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Happy American Holiday
The other day, one of my repeate offenders approached me about a possible paper topic. He wanted to write his exploratory essay on, "Why are teens so ungrateful?" Despite the fact this sounds more like a blog post title than an academic essay, I tried to let the kid down gently.
"What are you using for sources?" I asked, patientlly.
"I'm thinking about interviewing five parents about how their kids are ungrateful," he replied, a day after our research seminar on finding academic sources.
Geeze.
In a classic (student's name deleted) move, this kid was, once again, trying to get away with a rant for a paper. I'm guessing at least five of the required six pages would contain, verbatum, the lectures that his mother had given him about ingratitute. But despite this poor attempt, he inspired me to blob. (student's name deleted), if you're reading this, your topic was, literally, "inspirational." It was not, unfortunately, academic. This explains the "D."
However, I would have to agree that ingratitude is a trend I witness among not just teens, but almost everyone I encounter. The students I teach strut into meetings 20 minutes late and leave (true story) if I'm 3 minutes late. They want "A's" for showing up and points for trying. When reading their self-evaluations, they often tell me that things like assigning more than one thing at a time and making them take notes are "keeping them from learning;" I shouldn't do those things. In fact, they would learn much better if we just watched movies all day. And then they should all get "A's" and high paying jobs.
Given the fact that most of my students are around 18-years-old, this is understandable. But I've found that the attitude extends further than the classroom. As me to count the number of times I've heard a customer screaming at a cahsier because she didn't get the right change or the restaurant was sold out of ham sandwiches. Instead of saying "Thank You" for opening a door in a shopping mall, people cut in front of you when you're waiting to check out. And if you let someone in your lane on the highway, it's likely that they'll be shining their high beams to try to get you to move faster in the next five minutes.
Yesterday, during Thanksgiving, I got a text from one of my friends: "Happy American Holiday." Given the kind of recognition that Thanskgiving gets, I'd say this is about accurate. It's not about giving thanks or being grateful, it's about what happens the next day--the day when good, patriotic citizens pay homage to commericalism by purchasing things that they can't afford to impress other people instead of showing them that they love them through heartfelt expression. This year, people couldn't even wait for Friday, so the stores were open Thursday for those who wanted to forget about thanking and get to buying. The more stuff I have, the better I feel, the more I can forget about being grateful for what I have and figuring out what's important in my life.
This Friday, I participated in "Buy Nothing Day," and I failed. My daughter peed her pants, and I had to purchase a pair of sweats--at Wal-Mart of all places. Once that ship had sailed I figured I had better pick up a case of diet pepsi and a pack of batteries. My $11.96 didn't feel much like a betrayal because I didn't give in. You see, I try to observe Buy Nothing Day everyday. I buy things used, and I try not to let what I have define me. But am I grateful? In some ways, I am. But one thing that I realized was the fact that I treat jobs, recognition, and grades a lot like some people treat stuff. I've focused so much on not selling out to corporate America that maybe I've forgotten what I have sold out to, when the goal, really, was not to sell out to anything.
"What are you using for sources?" I asked, patientlly.
"I'm thinking about interviewing five parents about how their kids are ungrateful," he replied, a day after our research seminar on finding academic sources.
Geeze.
In a classic (student's name deleted) move, this kid was, once again, trying to get away with a rant for a paper. I'm guessing at least five of the required six pages would contain, verbatum, the lectures that his mother had given him about ingratitute. But despite this poor attempt, he inspired me to blob. (student's name deleted), if you're reading this, your topic was, literally, "inspirational." It was not, unfortunately, academic. This explains the "D."
However, I would have to agree that ingratitude is a trend I witness among not just teens, but almost everyone I encounter. The students I teach strut into meetings 20 minutes late and leave (true story) if I'm 3 minutes late. They want "A's" for showing up and points for trying. When reading their self-evaluations, they often tell me that things like assigning more than one thing at a time and making them take notes are "keeping them from learning;" I shouldn't do those things. In fact, they would learn much better if we just watched movies all day. And then they should all get "A's" and high paying jobs.
Given the fact that most of my students are around 18-years-old, this is understandable. But I've found that the attitude extends further than the classroom. As me to count the number of times I've heard a customer screaming at a cahsier because she didn't get the right change or the restaurant was sold out of ham sandwiches. Instead of saying "Thank You" for opening a door in a shopping mall, people cut in front of you when you're waiting to check out. And if you let someone in your lane on the highway, it's likely that they'll be shining their high beams to try to get you to move faster in the next five minutes.
Yesterday, during Thanksgiving, I got a text from one of my friends: "Happy American Holiday." Given the kind of recognition that Thanskgiving gets, I'd say this is about accurate. It's not about giving thanks or being grateful, it's about what happens the next day--the day when good, patriotic citizens pay homage to commericalism by purchasing things that they can't afford to impress other people instead of showing them that they love them through heartfelt expression. This year, people couldn't even wait for Friday, so the stores were open Thursday for those who wanted to forget about thanking and get to buying. The more stuff I have, the better I feel, the more I can forget about being grateful for what I have and figuring out what's important in my life.
This Friday, I participated in "Buy Nothing Day," and I failed. My daughter peed her pants, and I had to purchase a pair of sweats--at Wal-Mart of all places. Once that ship had sailed I figured I had better pick up a case of diet pepsi and a pack of batteries. My $11.96 didn't feel much like a betrayal because I didn't give in. You see, I try to observe Buy Nothing Day everyday. I buy things used, and I try not to let what I have define me. But am I grateful? In some ways, I am. But one thing that I realized was the fact that I treat jobs, recognition, and grades a lot like some people treat stuff. I've focused so much on not selling out to corporate America that maybe I've forgotten what I have sold out to, when the goal, really, was not to sell out to anything.
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Conference Proposal
This weekend, I got about half of what I wanted to get done finished, which is pretty good, I suppose. However, I have to present a conference proposal for a workshop tonight in class. After trying to write it before bed last night, I gave up and completed it while Charity was taking her (surprisingly early) morning nap. This is the conference: Framing the Human. The proposal is below. I know it's not very good yet, but I would welcome any comments about the subject.
Oh, and on an amusing side note, I love Google, but sometimes it can be way off. For instance, this morning I was so tired I couldn't remember what The Sound and the Fury was called. I Googled Faulkner Works. What was my first result? FaulknerWorks: Custom Lighting and Accessories. I linked it so you can see that I'm not lying. :)
Oh, and on an amusing side note, I love Google, but sometimes it can be way off. For instance, this morning I was so tired I couldn't remember what The Sound and the Fury was called. I Googled Faulkner Works. What was my first result? FaulknerWorks: Custom Lighting and Accessories. I linked it so you can see that I'm not lying. :)
The Proposal
Throughout history, disabled people have been traditionally treated as other than human. From the development of mental institutions and homes for the developmentally disabled where patients received substandard care, to the inclusion of disabled people in sideshows, disability has been long associated with both seclusion and spectacle. Classic literature has not only recorded, but also promoted this stereotype. Margolis and Shapiro call the symbols of disability in classic literature “allegorical,” noting how the disabilities of Captain Ahab, Hook, and Tiny Tim represent the stereotypical fear, evil, and pity.
Although contemporary literature, especially contemporary literature for young adults, has made an attempt to repeal these earlier stereotypes through the construction of characters who represent life with a disability more accurately, much of this literature is either formulaic—fables written in order to compel young people to treat their disabled peers with respect—or characteristic of a second wave of stereotypical writings. For instance, William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying and John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, which are both frequently studied in high schools, present more complex images of the disabled mind while still promoting the image of the disabled person something other (perhaps more powerful than) human. The exception to this is Mark Haddon’s recent novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time. While this novel has received much critical attention for the author’s treatment of the main character, Christopher, a teenager with Aspergers, little has been done to probe the deeper recesses of this teenager’s thinking. Through a study of the main character’s thought process, I will prove that Christopher’s deeply philosophical thinking sets Haddon’s novel apart from other portraits of disabled people, breaking both classic and contemporary stereotypes, and defining disability as a trait that enhances rather than negates an individual’s humanity.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
In a perfect world...
Because I have a couple of creative writing groups/classes that a lead/teach, I always have to come up with writing prompts for freewrites and journal type entries. I was chasing Charity through the leaves a few moments ago on this beautiful, 70 degree, fall day, and I came up with another one--write a list of things that would be in your perfect world. Obviously, the goal would be to try to think of unique things, not just "world peace," things that would be a part of your perfect world. After completing the list, the writer would pick one or a few of the ideas and write something about them. Here's my list.
In a perfect world...
1. Only the baby safe type magnets would be manufactured. Have you ever tried to explain to a not-yet-two year old that one kind of magnet is dangerous to play with but another kind of magnet is safe? If you haven't, let me spoil the ending for you--it doesn't work.
2. The kind of television programming that I find interesting would be available on demand. When I'm so tired that I can't even get up to pop in the video (Yes, I said video. I'm retro, and I bought A&E's Pride and Prejudice at the resale shop today.), good programming will not be replaced with sports casts, special events, or news anchors saying the same things over and over again.
3. The news channels would report on both positive and negative material proportionally to the amount of positive and negative events that occur.
4. People would price items at garage sales with garage sale prices or would hang a sign out front that says, "expect to pay just under retail," so I wouldn't have to get Charity out of her car seat and walk in just to turn back around and spend another 10 minutes getting her back in her car seat.
5. AN IPHONE APPLICATION WOULD EXIST THAT SHOWS YOU THE LOCATION OF YOUR KEYS!!
6. Our inalienable rights would include a Kindle.
7. I would be able to spell inalienable without using spell checker--twice.
8. Crazy people, or people who make others feel bad in order to make themselves feel good, would be required to wear a sign.
9. Fast food would be free and healthy.
10. The USA would adopt a new educational system that lets children (and adults) learn something until they are done learning it, and then they could go on to the next thing.
11. Two words: Floo Powder.
That's all I can think of right now. Maybe I'll add some more later. Feel free to add yours!!
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Chronicles of Naptime
Although swim lessons have been over for two weeks (reminder to enroll her in the next session), Fridays haven't slowed down too much. Last Friday was the day before Halloween, and I kept trying to get Charity to sleep. I had her in bed for an hour before I realized that she hadn't even closed an eye. I hate when that happens because not only do I have a tired toddler to deal with, but I also feel like I've confined her in her crib so I can do something that I need to do--generally grading..
Anyway, so this Friday I am going to the First Friday Wordsmith's at Purdue Cal at 1:30, where my friend Liz will watch Charity while I'm in the hour-long meeting. At three, I managed to get a last minute meeting about teaching a course in another department. Because our day has suddenly gone from 0-busy, I tried once again to get her to take a nap at the first sign of tiredness. I thought she fell asleep right away, and as soon as I was about to jump in the shower (half an hour after first lay-down) I hear excited speaking from her room. My intuition tells me she has a dirty diaper, and Charity does not sleep when her diaper is dirty. So I check it--yep, dirty. No doubt. After a diaper changing wrestling match, I take her back to bed. After thinking she's asleep once again, it's the shower for me! But when I get out, I hear talking. So this time, I figure I might as well just get her up, but when I walk in she's staring off into space, about to go to sleep. NOW I've disturbed her.
So where are we now? Well, the last peep I heard was about five minutes ago. If she's not asleep in 10 minutes, I'll get her up. I figure that's safe, but I still feel bad that naptime is an epic struggle. I suppose this comes from the lack of routine. According to all the literature, kids need routines, but according to reality, this kid can't get a routine because her parents have no routine. The only option would be to get her a full-time nanny or put her in daycare extensively, which I think would be worse than a routine. For me, a routine would drive me crazy--I think it would have when I was a kid also. Although I occasionally feel bad about the fact that she has so little routine--and it's not that she has none: she eats three meals a day, sleeps at about the same time at night, goes to reading groups on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and is in the church nursery every Sunday--I wouldn't want to teach her to be one of those kids who can't do anything because it's nap or snack time. I certainly don't have a routine now. If I did, I wouldn't be able to be as flexible as I need to be to be a good teacher or student or parent.
It's 10:52 and Charity is just pulled Treasure Island, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and a collection of sonnets by Elizabeth Barret Browning off of the bookshelf. Instead of reading them, she's contenting herself with trying to get them back on the shelf in the exact same position that they were before she took them off. She's doing a remarkable job. Now, she's pausing for a moment to read The Very Quiet Cricket, a gem concealed among all of these boring grown up books. Oh, and when I went in to get her after 10 minutes she was sitting up in her crib reading The Snowman. Oh well, I would probably rather read than sleep too. You've got to be flexible. :)
Anyway, so this Friday I am going to the First Friday Wordsmith's at Purdue Cal at 1:30, where my friend Liz will watch Charity while I'm in the hour-long meeting. At three, I managed to get a last minute meeting about teaching a course in another department. Because our day has suddenly gone from 0-busy, I tried once again to get her to take a nap at the first sign of tiredness. I thought she fell asleep right away, and as soon as I was about to jump in the shower (half an hour after first lay-down) I hear excited speaking from her room. My intuition tells me she has a dirty diaper, and Charity does not sleep when her diaper is dirty. So I check it--yep, dirty. No doubt. After a diaper changing wrestling match, I take her back to bed. After thinking she's asleep once again, it's the shower for me! But when I get out, I hear talking. So this time, I figure I might as well just get her up, but when I walk in she's staring off into space, about to go to sleep. NOW I've disturbed her.
So where are we now? Well, the last peep I heard was about five minutes ago. If she's not asleep in 10 minutes, I'll get her up. I figure that's safe, but I still feel bad that naptime is an epic struggle. I suppose this comes from the lack of routine. According to all the literature, kids need routines, but according to reality, this kid can't get a routine because her parents have no routine. The only option would be to get her a full-time nanny or put her in daycare extensively, which I think would be worse than a routine. For me, a routine would drive me crazy--I think it would have when I was a kid also. Although I occasionally feel bad about the fact that she has so little routine--and it's not that she has none: she eats three meals a day, sleeps at about the same time at night, goes to reading groups on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and is in the church nursery every Sunday--I wouldn't want to teach her to be one of those kids who can't do anything because it's nap or snack time. I certainly don't have a routine now. If I did, I wouldn't be able to be as flexible as I need to be to be a good teacher or student or parent.
It's 10:52 and Charity is just pulled Treasure Island, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and a collection of sonnets by Elizabeth Barret Browning off of the bookshelf. Instead of reading them, she's contenting herself with trying to get them back on the shelf in the exact same position that they were before she took them off. She's doing a remarkable job. Now, she's pausing for a moment to read The Very Quiet Cricket, a gem concealed among all of these boring grown up books. Oh, and when I went in to get her after 10 minutes she was sitting up in her crib reading The Snowman. Oh well, I would probably rather read than sleep too. You've got to be flexible. :)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Linguistic Experiments
If your mother is a graduate student in English, and you are developing your linguistic abilities, it is likely that you will become the target of a variety of experiments, both official and spontaneous. Charity was six months old--the age that most kids start picking up language--when I took graduate linguistics last semester. For my mid-term and end of semester project--both of which received A's, I have to add--I studied her acquisition of the English language.
Now that she's 15 months old, I'm no longer taking linguistics, and I really should be folding the basket of semi dry laundry sitting next to me, I'm still studying her.
This morning, Charity said a new word--Owl. We were reading "Spooky," a Halloween touch and feel book that reduces the efforts of the contortions master while I'm changing her diaper. At the end of the book there is a stately, majestic, and slightly creepy brown Owl, complete with horrendously photoshopped red eyes. After repeating the word several times--"Owl, owl, owl"--she proudly says it with a little hooting affect that makes me think she's got a career in radio drama--"Ooowwwll." Of course, it sounds a little bit like, "ow," which she already knew how to say.
With the addition of "owl" to her vocabulary, Charity has about 10 words in her arsenal. To the best of my recollection, they are yeah, no, ow, owl, mama, dada, eyes, nose, mouth, banana. With the exception of "owl," these are all pretty practical words that she utilizes on a daily basis, although banana might soon be replaced by "Reese Peanut Butter Cup" after this morning's Halloween candy indulgence. According to our parent educator from Parents as Teachers, kids learn to form words by watching the mouths of their parents and other people who can speak. When they want to learn a word that is interesting to them, they intently watch the mouth.
This is contrary to what I learned as a student of linguistics. According to Noam Chomsky, kids learn how to speak because they are simply subjected to speech. They hear their parents speaking to each other, to them, and to other people. They hear the TV and the radio, and they overhear conversation all around them. Apparently, this is what makes kids speak--not an intense desire to say "owl."
But although most of my sketchy research from last semester proved Chomsky right, my instincts as a parent still question him. After all, my daughter just went from trying to tangle her foot up in my keys singing, "nose, nose, nose," to unfolding what little laundry I managed to get done while mumbling, "uh-oh, knee, knee, knee." Although, at this point, I assume that she doesn't know how to use these words, she knows that they are words; and they are words I tend to say quite a bit. (There's another experiment for me--the number of times parents of children under two say "uh-oh" in a day.) And while it is true that I usually can't look my daughter in the eye and command, "say cow," with a favorable result, she does watch me quite closely when I say interesting words, especially those connected with pictures in books and objects around her. If I ceased to emphasize the words that I want her to learn, I have the feeling that she would not learn them, or at least not as quickly.
So after my highly scientific and reliable linguistic experiments, I have concluded that the most often hypothesized result is the correct one--it's a combination of nature and nurture. Of course kids simply pick up words, and generally those are the words we really don't want them to know, but if we as parents make an effort to emphasize a certain word, I think it will get learned faster. Of course, these results are completely biased. As a parent, I want to think I make a difference. Oh, and I also conducted another experiment--and my child turned out to be incredibly smart, beautiful, and well-adjusted. Imagine that. :)
Now that she's 15 months old, I'm no longer taking linguistics, and I really should be folding the basket of semi dry laundry sitting next to me, I'm still studying her.
This morning, Charity said a new word--Owl. We were reading "Spooky," a Halloween touch and feel book that reduces the efforts of the contortions master while I'm changing her diaper. At the end of the book there is a stately, majestic, and slightly creepy brown Owl, complete with horrendously photoshopped red eyes. After repeating the word several times--"Owl, owl, owl"--she proudly says it with a little hooting affect that makes me think she's got a career in radio drama--"Ooowwwll." Of course, it sounds a little bit like, "ow," which she already knew how to say.
With the addition of "owl" to her vocabulary, Charity has about 10 words in her arsenal. To the best of my recollection, they are yeah, no, ow, owl, mama, dada, eyes, nose, mouth, banana. With the exception of "owl," these are all pretty practical words that she utilizes on a daily basis, although banana might soon be replaced by "Reese Peanut Butter Cup" after this morning's Halloween candy indulgence. According to our parent educator from Parents as Teachers, kids learn to form words by watching the mouths of their parents and other people who can speak. When they want to learn a word that is interesting to them, they intently watch the mouth.
This is contrary to what I learned as a student of linguistics. According to Noam Chomsky, kids learn how to speak because they are simply subjected to speech. They hear their parents speaking to each other, to them, and to other people. They hear the TV and the radio, and they overhear conversation all around them. Apparently, this is what makes kids speak--not an intense desire to say "owl."
But although most of my sketchy research from last semester proved Chomsky right, my instincts as a parent still question him. After all, my daughter just went from trying to tangle her foot up in my keys singing, "nose, nose, nose," to unfolding what little laundry I managed to get done while mumbling, "uh-oh, knee, knee, knee." Although, at this point, I assume that she doesn't know how to use these words, she knows that they are words; and they are words I tend to say quite a bit. (There's another experiment for me--the number of times parents of children under two say "uh-oh" in a day.) And while it is true that I usually can't look my daughter in the eye and command, "say cow," with a favorable result, she does watch me quite closely when I say interesting words, especially those connected with pictures in books and objects around her. If I ceased to emphasize the words that I want her to learn, I have the feeling that she would not learn them, or at least not as quickly.
So after my highly scientific and reliable linguistic experiments, I have concluded that the most often hypothesized result is the correct one--it's a combination of nature and nurture. Of course kids simply pick up words, and generally those are the words we really don't want them to know, but if we as parents make an effort to emphasize a certain word, I think it will get learned faster. Of course, these results are completely biased. As a parent, I want to think I make a difference. Oh, and I also conducted another experiment--and my child turned out to be incredibly smart, beautiful, and well-adjusted. Imagine that. :)
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