Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Monday, 28 December 2009
Christmas Day Part 3
Virus accepted a cup of tea, reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something that looked like a cross between a digital thermometer and a drinking straw. He sucked the end for a moment, stirred his tea until the device went "beep!", glanced at the display, nodded, and then began to drink his tea through a hole in the end of his device. I tried not to stare.
"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."
"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."
He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.
"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"
I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?
Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.
I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.
"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.
James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."
I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.
"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"
"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."
"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"
I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.
Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.
The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.
"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."
What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.
"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"
"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."
ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."
"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.
"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."
ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."
I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.
"Recyclable?" I asked.
"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.
"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.
ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."
"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.
When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.
"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.
"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.
"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."
"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."
He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.
"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"
I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?
Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.
I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.
"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.
James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."
I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.
"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"
"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."
"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"
I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.
Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.
The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.
"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."
What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.
"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"
"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."
ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."
"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.
"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."
ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."
I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.
"Recyclable?" I asked.
"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.
"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.
ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."
"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.
When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.
"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.
"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.
Christmas Day Part 2
I was woken by a crash and a colourful expression from the kitchen. I assumed at first it was Charlie, tripping over the pile of children's wellies by the back door. Imagine my surprise, therefore, to see a tall, slim man wearing leather drainpipe trousers, a purple shirt and mirrored sunglasses staggering through the door carrying what looked like a cross between a guitar case and a body bag.
I glanced at Minnie. She was busy headbanging with her eyes fixed on her drum kit and so hadn't noticed a thing. No clues there as to how to respond to this intruder.
I looked at the man more closely. Purple, black and white stripey hair. Diamond nose stud. Age....difficult to tell. I felt I should know who he was. There was a tantalising sense of familiarity about him.
"Hey, Great-Grandma!" he said. "Biocheck!"
He extended his left hand. I looked at it dubiously. The fingertips were a matt, metallic blue.
"How do you do?" replied my mouth on autopilot. My right hand extended by its own volition towards my unexpected visitor.
The man rolled his eyes. "Biocheck, Great-aunt Minnie!" he yelled. Minnie nodded, extended her left hand, and they performed a well-practised finger dance together. I inferred that James has already taken her to visit her family in the twenty-second century.
"You must be Virus," I said, suddenly feeling old.
James appeared from behind his grandson. "Virus helped me bring your present in," he said, nodding towards the guitar case / body bag.
"How lovely!" I said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Virus? I'll just put the kettle on." I disappeared into the kitchen, locked the door and sat down on the pile of wellies to regain my composure.
When I had recovered enough to set a tray with teapot, cups, milk and a large plate of mince pies, I found Virus, sitting in my armchair, chatting aimiably with Minnie. I noticed that he had taken his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly by his chair. I also noticed that he had taken his sunglasses off. His eyes glowed green in the gloom of the darkening sitting room.
"Tea, Virus?" I asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "Er. Vincent. Vincent Russell Dunwich. Mr Dunwich?" How was I supposed to address him, I wondered. He's my great-grandson, is over seventy years old, yet he looks my age, dresses like a teenager and talks like nothing I have ever heard even in my most cheese-inspired dreams.
[To be continued]
I glanced at Minnie. She was busy headbanging with her eyes fixed on her drum kit and so hadn't noticed a thing. No clues there as to how to respond to this intruder.
I looked at the man more closely. Purple, black and white stripey hair. Diamond nose stud. Age....difficult to tell. I felt I should know who he was. There was a tantalising sense of familiarity about him.
"Hey, Great-Grandma!" he said. "Biocheck!"
He extended his left hand. I looked at it dubiously. The fingertips were a matt, metallic blue.
"How do you do?" replied my mouth on autopilot. My right hand extended by its own volition towards my unexpected visitor.
The man rolled his eyes. "Biocheck, Great-aunt Minnie!" he yelled. Minnie nodded, extended her left hand, and they performed a well-practised finger dance together. I inferred that James has already taken her to visit her family in the twenty-second century.
"You must be Virus," I said, suddenly feeling old.
James appeared from behind his grandson. "Virus helped me bring your present in," he said, nodding towards the guitar case / body bag.
"How lovely!" I said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Virus? I'll just put the kettle on." I disappeared into the kitchen, locked the door and sat down on the pile of wellies to regain my composure.
When I had recovered enough to set a tray with teapot, cups, milk and a large plate of mince pies, I found Virus, sitting in my armchair, chatting aimiably with Minnie. I noticed that he had taken his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly by his chair. I also noticed that he had taken his sunglasses off. His eyes glowed green in the gloom of the darkening sitting room.
"Tea, Virus?" I asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "Er. Vincent. Vincent Russell Dunwich. Mr Dunwich?" How was I supposed to address him, I wondered. He's my great-grandson, is over seventy years old, yet he looks my age, dresses like a teenager and talks like nothing I have ever heard even in my most cheese-inspired dreams.
[To be continued]
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Christmas Day Part 1
Well, THAT was a Christmas that we won't forget in a hurry!
The children had set up a trip-wire to catch Father Christmas. Charlie used some very expressive language when he fell over it, which fortunately failed to wake the children.
On Christmas morning we were woken at 7:00 am to the strains of Slade’s "Merry Christmas" played at top volume through a loudspeaker system that James had rigged up. As it happens I am an early riser by nature. Charlie isn’t, so the children learned a few more colourful expressions. I got up and made the breakfast.
After breakfast we all sat down and opened our presents around the tree. James had a new webcam, which he was very pleased with and he spent much of the morning installing it on his computer. It appears to be compatible with both Skype and Ouija for Windows.
Minnie had an electronic drum kit. I noted with satisfaction that it has both a volume control and an earphone socket. She can be loud without disturbing the neighbours.
Charlie got a variable speed jiggery-poker. This is apparently a very useful bit of kit when one is building a dalek. You need it for getting the eyestalks aligned properly or something. He tried to explain but I made an excuse and went to prod the Brussels Sprouts.
I got a new hard-drive (I had filled up the old one with all audio books from librivox.org) and a Geek’s Kitchen Apron. It has twenty-seven pockets for different utensils, and a built-in jam thermometer, timer and calorie counter. James claims that Steven Hawking has one. I doubt that, but I’m prepared to believe that Professor Hawking’s mother has one.
Harry the Geek came round, played with all the children’s presents, ate Christmas lunch with us and then disappeared with Charlie to discuss eyestalks and try out the jiggery-poker. James, who had been watching the snow with gloom all week, observed with delight that it had melted, and disappeared in the direction of his workshop. Minnie settled down to bang and crash silently along with "Queen’s Greatest Hits".
I settled down on the sofa to listen to some LingQ Japanese lessons.
(Continued tomorrow)
Friday, 25 December 2009
Thursday, 17 December 2009
The Dunwich Family Christmas Letter
The Dunwich Digest: or What We Did in 2009
by Charlie Dunwich
2009 was a great year for the Dunwich family. No-one was arrested, sectioned or served with an ASBO which was quite an achievement for us!
New Year was a sad event, marked as it was by Grandpa's passing. He is still in regular contact with us, however, and seems to be enjoying his "retirement" from the world. We hear that he has enrolled on a degree course with the Open University! Nice to hear they have changed their policies on admitting post-living students.
Mary is keeping herself busy with all her LingQ activities. As well as studying German and Russian, she tells me she has started on Japanese, Celtic and Whale. One of these is probably a joke but I'm not sure which.
She also keeps busy chatting with all her students over the internet. She seems to get a lot of fun out of helping people learn English, and either she is a good tutor or people enjoy her tall stories, because they keep coming back for more.
James turned 12 this year and is now enjoying "Big School". Apart from a detention which he got for walking in circles round a dustbin (this contravenes Health and Safety regulations, we were told), he has been working hard and keeping out of trouble. He has also been keeping busy in his spare time this year, although since he built himself a working space-time machine "time" has become a very flexible concept for us. I don't suppose he tells us about a quarter of the places he visits and the people he meets! We do know that he met Alexander Graham Bell in Boston in 1876, as he recorded the first words uttered into a telephone, and gave them to Mary for a ringtone. He's as thoughtful as ever.
James has also made several trips into the twenty-second century this autumn, and has met his grandson. "Virus" (short for Vincent Rufus 812372-MD-@#Y Dunwich) is a very interesting character and he and James are like twin souls. James has learned a lot about Britain in the twenty-second century, which is sure to come in useful in his school work this year! Virus is helping him with his science project, but James refuses to give us any details because it's a "surprise". If James' former science projects are anything to go by, it won't be home-made bath salts!
Minnie turned eight this year. She has been doing very well at school and received only one suspension and a formal written warning, due to her home-made gunpowder. Fortunately she didn't get the mixture right and it didn't explode so much as hiss and fizzle and make a very nasty smell in the music room. As Minnie is one of the school's keenest guitar students, she was most affected by the fumes and ended up being sick in the school piano. That should teach her to weigh ingredients out more carefully!
I have been very productive this year too. I have continued my work on Badger Protection in the County (I've been shortlisted for the national "Badger Minder" Award, which is quite a feather in my cap!) In my spare time I have been making a Dalek. My friend and colleague Harry the Geek, who has made good progress with his mental health issues since was sectioned early in the year, has been very helpful. Harry is an electronics genius, and I am getting the hang of moulding plaster, fibre glass and (where necessary) cheese, so the work is coming along very well. We hope to have it finished in time for the Dusty Mouldings Summer Festival.
Finally, no Christmas letter would be complete without a word about our pets. Dodgson is very well. He is very fit, thanks to the regular walks the children take him on! I was worried that the sight of a dodo on a lead might cause comment in the neighbourhood, but Mary has managed to convince the neighbours that he in a Madagascan Racing Turkey. Besides, the children mostly exercise him in the grounds of the local psychiatric hospital, where the residents are used to such sights.
For his birthday James was given a hamster. Bytes is a Syrian cream female and very tame. I haven't seen her for a while, I believe she is living free range under James' bed. He assures me he cleans her out regularly every week, straight after cleaning out the dodo pen.
Hoping you and your family are all well, sane and happy,
Wishing you all the very best for 2010,
Charlie, Mary, James, Minnie, Dodgson and Bytes (wherever she is).
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
A new addition to the family
It was one o'clock sharp when my son and his girlfriend came arrived at the back door. As I was busy scolding Charlie for showing up covered in plaster dust, I didn't pay much attention to James and Kate until I had sat down and started to eat. James and Kate tucked into their pizzas like kids who haven't eaten a square meal in hours.
"Didn't you have your picnic?" I asked.
"That was HOURS ago," answered James through a mouthful of Seven Cheeses Hot 'n Greasy.
I looked more closely at the pair. They looked tired, flushed and smug. Ah, first love, I thought. Then I looked more closely. They weren't so much flushed as....
"Sunburn?" I wondered aloud. "And your hair....it's not wet! That's odd...."
"It was summer where we went," answered James, helping himself to potato salad.
"Where did you go?" I asked, wondering if I would like the answer.
"2130," answered James after a hurried consultation with Kate.
"21:30?" I asked, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"No, the YEAR 2130," replied James with patronising calm. "It turns out the Dunwiches are still living in Dusty Mouldings. We met my grandson."
I gaped. Charlie helped himself to the tomato salad.
"He's really nice!" contributed Kate, handing me her mobile phone. I stared, bewildered, at the picture of a man. He could have been in his early forties and led an exciting youth, or in his fifties and taking good care of himself. It was hard to tell, especially with the wrap-around sunglasses, the purple, black and white striped spiky hair and the diamond nose-stud.
"Virus!" said Kate.
"Really?" I asked, still staring. James rolled his eyes. Kate smirked.
"That's his NAME," replied James in a still more patronising tone. I sighed and handed the mobile to Charlie.
It takes a lot to surprise my husband. He didn't even pause in his chewing as he studied his great-grandson's image.
"How old is he?" asked Charlie, while my brain tried to reboot.
James shrugged.
"74," answered Kate.
"He looks good on it!" said Charlie.
"He's had most of his organs replaced," said Kate with the authority of one who is top of her year in science. "Eyes, heart, liver, spleen and fingertips. He said he should live to about 300 if he avoids celery and hamsters."
"Is that your family tree project sorted out?" asked Charlie. James nodded. "And the science project too!" ha replied smugly. "Virus is going to help us with it. He's got some really cool tools. We spent all evening in his workshop."
Kate yawned. I glanced at her watch. It said "10:00".
"Why don't you two have an afternoon nap?" I suggested, my brain finally coming back online. "Kate can crash out on Minnie's bed. You'll never make it through to bedtime otherwise. Oh, and there's some aftersun cream in the bathroom cupboard. I should put some on on that sunburn if I were you."
James and Kate nodded, both yawning now, stood up rather unsteadily and made their way upstairs.
I looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me, shrugged, and went to fetch the ice cream.
"Didn't you have your picnic?" I asked.
"That was HOURS ago," answered James through a mouthful of Seven Cheeses Hot 'n Greasy.
I looked more closely at the pair. They looked tired, flushed and smug. Ah, first love, I thought. Then I looked more closely. They weren't so much flushed as....
"Sunburn?" I wondered aloud. "And your hair....it's not wet! That's odd...."
"It was summer where we went," answered James, helping himself to potato salad.
"Where did you go?" I asked, wondering if I would like the answer.
"2130," answered James after a hurried consultation with Kate.
"21:30?" I asked, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"No, the YEAR 2130," replied James with patronising calm. "It turns out the Dunwiches are still living in Dusty Mouldings. We met my grandson."
I gaped. Charlie helped himself to the tomato salad.
"He's really nice!" contributed Kate, handing me her mobile phone. I stared, bewildered, at the picture of a man. He could have been in his early forties and led an exciting youth, or in his fifties and taking good care of himself. It was hard to tell, especially with the wrap-around sunglasses, the purple, black and white striped spiky hair and the diamond nose-stud.
"Virus!" said Kate.
"Really?" I asked, still staring. James rolled his eyes. Kate smirked.
"That's his NAME," replied James in a still more patronising tone. I sighed and handed the mobile to Charlie.
It takes a lot to surprise my husband. He didn't even pause in his chewing as he studied his great-grandson's image.
"How old is he?" asked Charlie, while my brain tried to reboot.
James shrugged.
"74," answered Kate.
"He looks good on it!" said Charlie.
"He's had most of his organs replaced," said Kate with the authority of one who is top of her year in science. "Eyes, heart, liver, spleen and fingertips. He said he should live to about 300 if he avoids celery and hamsters."
"Is that your family tree project sorted out?" asked Charlie. James nodded. "And the science project too!" ha replied smugly. "Virus is going to help us with it. He's got some really cool tools. We spent all evening in his workshop."
Kate yawned. I glanced at her watch. It said "10:00".
"Why don't you two have an afternoon nap?" I suggested, my brain finally coming back online. "Kate can crash out on Minnie's bed. You'll never make it through to bedtime otherwise. Oh, and there's some aftersun cream in the bathroom cupboard. I should put some on on that sunburn if I were you."
James and Kate nodded, both yawning now, stood up rather unsteadily and made their way upstairs.
I looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me, shrugged, and went to fetch the ice cream.
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Learning kanji
As both the regular readers of this blog will be aware, I have been learning Japanese and finding it hard. After much careful analysis, I have reached the conclusion that it is hard to learn because it is written all funny.
Specifically, beginners' lessons are written very funny indeed, in romaji (i.e. in latin characters). That makes the words moderately easy to pronounce but hard to look up in the dictionary, because their are so many homophones that you are bound to choose the wrong meaning half the time. Lessons written in kana are easier to pronounce but you still have the homophone problem, and you have the additional problem that Japanese people don't put spaces in between words.
But we aren't MEANT to read Japanese in kana, anymore than we are meant to read knitting patterns. Japanese people use about 2,000 kanji, which are sort of pictorial clues to what the word means. Pepper your writing with kanji, and it becomes easy to read, understand and look up in dictionaries. It doesn't matter anymore that there are not spaces between words, because the hiragana that's left in acts as a skeleton to show you where the words start and end. You just need to learn how to recognise, pronounce and translate 2,000 assorted squiggles. Not my idea of fun, but if other language obsessives can do it, so can I.
The advice I have had from other Japanese learners is: buy a book, make some flashcards, download a trainer program. I'm not going to do any of those. I use LingQ, you see. It's not that I love LingQ and can't bear to be unfaithful to it (I'm sure LingQ is broadminded enough to understand if I visit other websites from time to time), it's just that other websites have a nasty habit of not being fully compatible with LingQ. And this is irritating, because I really do love LingQ.
So this is what I'm doing. I have found a list of the most common kanji at http://nihongo.isc.chubu.ac.jp/wwkanji2k/frequencyTable.html. I am importing them, ten at a time, into LingQ using the "add a list of terms" function on the vocabulary page. Then I edit each new lingQ, adding the most common pronunciation (and, if I feel like it, a mnemonic) as the hint, the most common meaning as the meaning, and tagging as "kanji". It's a slow job, admittedly. If only we could import a data file then it would save editing 2,000 individual LingQs. Still, I wouldn't call it difficult. I can do it while watching Basil Brush, drinking a cup of tea and avoiding doing the washing up. I spend a lot of time avoiding the washing up.
Now I can do my own kanji flashcard drills, and LingQ keeps track of what I'm learning and what I've learned. I can drill English -> Japanese or Japanese -> English, shuffle the cards, use the pronunciation as a hint to the meaning or not. It's as good as any online kanji drill I've found and it also has the nice bonus that the kanji I'm learning will show up in yellow in the lessons I study, while the kanji I've learned will show up with an underline. If I want to be reminded of the meaning I can do a mouseover on the kanji in the lesson.
Now I'm just wondering, why do other people make learning kanji so hard?
Specifically, beginners' lessons are written very funny indeed, in romaji (i.e. in latin characters). That makes the words moderately easy to pronounce but hard to look up in the dictionary, because their are so many homophones that you are bound to choose the wrong meaning half the time. Lessons written in kana are easier to pronounce but you still have the homophone problem, and you have the additional problem that Japanese people don't put spaces in between words.
But we aren't MEANT to read Japanese in kana, anymore than we are meant to read knitting patterns. Japanese people use about 2,000 kanji, which are sort of pictorial clues to what the word means. Pepper your writing with kanji, and it becomes easy to read, understand and look up in dictionaries. It doesn't matter anymore that there are not spaces between words, because the hiragana that's left in acts as a skeleton to show you where the words start and end. You just need to learn how to recognise, pronounce and translate 2,000 assorted squiggles. Not my idea of fun, but if other language obsessives can do it, so can I.
The advice I have had from other Japanese learners is: buy a book, make some flashcards, download a trainer program. I'm not going to do any of those. I use LingQ, you see. It's not that I love LingQ and can't bear to be unfaithful to it (I'm sure LingQ is broadminded enough to understand if I visit other websites from time to time), it's just that other websites have a nasty habit of not being fully compatible with LingQ. And this is irritating, because I really do love LingQ.
So this is what I'm doing. I have found a list of the most common kanji at http://nihongo.isc.chubu.ac.jp/wwkanji2k/frequencyTable.html. I am importing them, ten at a time, into LingQ using the "add a list of terms" function on the vocabulary page. Then I edit each new lingQ, adding the most common pronunciation (and, if I feel like it, a mnemonic) as the hint, the most common meaning as the meaning, and tagging as "kanji". It's a slow job, admittedly. If only we could import a data file then it would save editing 2,000 individual LingQs. Still, I wouldn't call it difficult. I can do it while watching Basil Brush, drinking a cup of tea and avoiding doing the washing up. I spend a lot of time avoiding the washing up.
Now I can do my own kanji flashcard drills, and LingQ keeps track of what I'm learning and what I've learned. I can drill English -> Japanese or Japanese -> English, shuffle the cards, use the pronunciation as a hint to the meaning or not. It's as good as any online kanji drill I've found and it also has the nice bonus that the kanji I'm learning will show up in yellow in the lessons I study, while the kanji I've learned will show up with an underline. If I want to be reminded of the meaning I can do a mouseover on the kanji in the lesson.
Now I'm just wondering, why do other people make learning kanji so hard?
Friday, 11 December 2009
Easy conversations (Japanese): Where are you from?
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Hanna
Kyou wa tenki ga ii desu ne.
きょう は てんき が いい です ね。
今日 は 天気 が いいです ね。
Sachiko
Chotto samui desu kedo, yoku hareteite, ii o-tenki desu ne.
ちょっと さむい です けど、よく はれていて、いい おてんき です ね。
ちょっと 寒い です けど、よく 晴れていて、いい お天気 ですね。
Amerika no fuyu mo samui desu ka？
アメリカ の ふゆ も さむい です か？
アメリカ の 冬 も 寒い です か？
Hanna
Ee, samui desu.
えぇ、さむい です。
えぇ、寒い です。
Soreni, yoku ame ga furimasu.
それに、よく あめ が ふります。
それに、よく 雨 が 降ります。
Sachiko
Hanna-san no shusshin wa amerika no dochira desu ka？
Hanna さん の しゅっしん は アメリカ の どちら です か？
Hannaさん の 出身 は アメリカ の どちら です か？
Hanna
Watashi wa Washinton-shuu no Takoma shusshin desu.
わたし は ワシントン しゅう の タコマ しゅっしん です。
私 は ワシントン 州 の タコマ 出身 です。
Sachiko
Washinton-shuu wa higashi-kaigan desu ka？
ワシントン しゅう は ひがしかいがん です か？
ワシントン 州 は 東海岸 です か？
Hanna
Iie, nishi-kaigan desu.
いいえ、にしかいがん です。
いいえ、西海岸 です。
Nishi-kaigan no kita no hou ni arimasu.
にしかいがん の きた の ほう に あります。
西海岸 の 北 の ほう に あります。
Sachiko
Takoma wa doko ni arimasu ka？
タコマ は どこ に あります か？
タコマ は どこ に ありますか？
Hanna
Takoma wa Shiatoru no minami ni arimasu.
タコマ は シアトル の みなみ に あります。
タコマ は シアトル の 南 に あります。
Shiatoru kara kuruma de 40-pun kurai desu.
シアトル から くるま で 40ぷん くらい です。
シアトル から 車 で 40分 くらい です。
Reading Japanese:
I've tried taking one of the lessons from the "Easy conversation" collection in the LingQ Japanese library, putting the romaji, hiragana and kanji versions together and adding some formatting. I've found this, although time-consuming, really takes the strain out of reading the lesson.
Get to know each other » |
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Hanna
Sachiko-san wa kono daigaku no gakusei desu ka？
さちこ さん は この だいがく の がくせい です か？
さちこ さん は この 大学 の 学生 です か？
Sachiko
Hai, sou desu.
はい、そう です。
はい、そう です。
Hanna-san wa？
Hannaさん は？
Hannaさん は？
Hanna
Watashi mo desu.
わたし も です。
私も です。
1-nen-kan, kono daigaku de Nihongo no benkyou o shimasu.
1ねんかん、この だいがく で にほんご の べんきょう を します。
1年間、この 大学 で 日本語 の 勉強 を します。
Sachiko
Sou desu ka.
そう ですか。
そう ですか。
Nihon no koto de wakaranai koto ga attara nandemo kiite kudasai ne.
にほんの こと で わ からない こと が あったら なんでも きいてくださいね。
日本 の こと で わからない こと が あったら 何でも 聞いてくださいね。
Hanna
Doumo arigatou gozaimasu.
どうも ありがとう ございます。
どうも ありがとう ございます。
Sachiko-san wa nan-nen-sei desu ka？
さちこ さん は なんねんせい です か？
さちこ さん は 何年生 です か？
Sachiko
Watashi wa 3-nen-sei desu.
わたし は 3ねんせい です。
わたし は 3年生 です。
Hanna
Jaa, issho desu ne.
じゃぁ、いっしょ ですね。
じゃぁ、一緒 ですね。
Watashi mo 3-nen-sei desu.
わたし も 3ねんせい です。
私 も 3年生 です。
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Why is Japanese so hard?
Japanese is God's way of telling me I don't know everything.
I've been struggling to learn it all year, and still haven't got through "Who is She?" A lesser woman would have given up. A greater woman would, admittedly, have made more headway. Six months of study and I can only just read the words "I don't speak Japanese".
Why has it been so hard? I can only suggest the following reasons:
1) I have little free time and many distractions
2) It is written all funny
3) The grammar is odd
4) I have been taught all my life that the Japanese are very strange indeed, impossible to understand and that it is safer not to try.
I have discovered that number 4, at least, is wrong. The Japanese are no stranger than the English, WHO ARE NOT STRANGE AT ALL (I'm glad we've cleared that up).
It IS written all funny and that alone nearly scuppered me. I would have liked to have spent the first 6 months just studying romaji, but I didn't have enough beginner texts and couldn't find a good dictionary keyed on romaji. I had to start with unspaced hiragana, which did my head in. I couldn't work out where one word stopped and another word started, so I couldn't even look words up sensibly. The funny thing about Japanese is, if you take a random two or three syllables out of a sentence and look them up, you get a definition like "The Prime Minister's favourite earwig". Probably this is also true for English. I must try it some time.
Anyway, LingQ has now included a function to add spaces to hiragana. It's not perfect, but it's a whole lot better. Also the "mouse over to see hints" function helps a lot. You don't have to be able to read a text any more, just run your mouse over it until you find a definition you like the look of, and then you can save it as a LingQ. You can flashcard and learn LingQs before you learn to read hiragana, and it's not a bad way of learning to read hiragana.
The grammar IS very different from English. There isn't a lot anyone can do about that, except to stop trying to understand the meaning of sentences when they first encounter them. And that, in my opinion, is the problem with the beginner story "Who is She?" Namely, it has a plot. This implies that you should understand it. Personally I would have done a lot better with beginner material equivalent to baby talk, like this (but in Japanese, obviously):
Hello Mr Cat!
cat
a cat
This is a cat.
Is this a cat?
Yes it is a cat!
It is my cat.
Hello Mr. cat!
That has 9 unique words, which is enough for a flashcard session for a beginner in an unknown script. There is little difficulty in working out where one word finishes and the next starts, or which is the verb. It only needs to be combined with a picture of a cat and the general meaning is instantly clear.
I know that there are some LingQers who would be patronised by such "baby content", but no-one is forcing them to study "Hello Mr. Cat!"
A regular topic of conversation on the LingQ forum is "why doesn't LingQ attract professional linguists and scare off Joe Average?" I suggest that it's because we expect Joe Average to be Joe "I'm not going to be put off by not being able to decipher a single word of lesson 1".
Enough ranting. I'm off to look the word "cat" up in Japanese. Six months and I still haven't learned it. Tchah!
I've been struggling to learn it all year, and still haven't got through "Who is She?" A lesser woman would have given up. A greater woman would, admittedly, have made more headway. Six months of study and I can only just read the words "I don't speak Japanese".
Why has it been so hard? I can only suggest the following reasons:
1) I have little free time and many distractions
2) It is written all funny
3) The grammar is odd
4) I have been taught all my life that the Japanese are very strange indeed, impossible to understand and that it is safer not to try.
I have discovered that number 4, at least, is wrong. The Japanese are no stranger than the English, WHO ARE NOT STRANGE AT ALL (I'm glad we've cleared that up).
It IS written all funny and that alone nearly scuppered me. I would have liked to have spent the first 6 months just studying romaji, but I didn't have enough beginner texts and couldn't find a good dictionary keyed on romaji. I had to start with unspaced hiragana, which did my head in. I couldn't work out where one word stopped and another word started, so I couldn't even look words up sensibly. The funny thing about Japanese is, if you take a random two or three syllables out of a sentence and look them up, you get a definition like "The Prime Minister's favourite earwig". Probably this is also true for English. I must try it some time.
Anyway, LingQ has now included a function to add spaces to hiragana. It's not perfect, but it's a whole lot better. Also the "mouse over to see hints" function helps a lot. You don't have to be able to read a text any more, just run your mouse over it until you find a definition you like the look of, and then you can save it as a LingQ. You can flashcard and learn LingQs before you learn to read hiragana, and it's not a bad way of learning to read hiragana.
The grammar IS very different from English. There isn't a lot anyone can do about that, except to stop trying to understand the meaning of sentences when they first encounter them. And that, in my opinion, is the problem with the beginner story "Who is She?" Namely, it has a plot. This implies that you should understand it. Personally I would have done a lot better with beginner material equivalent to baby talk, like this (but in Japanese, obviously):
Hello Mr Cat!
cat
a cat
This is a cat.
Is this a cat?
Yes it is a cat!
It is my cat.
Hello Mr. cat!
That has 9 unique words, which is enough for a flashcard session for a beginner in an unknown script. There is little difficulty in working out where one word finishes and the next starts, or which is the verb. It only needs to be combined with a picture of a cat and the general meaning is instantly clear.
I know that there are some LingQers who would be patronised by such "baby content", but no-one is forcing them to study "Hello Mr. Cat!"
A regular topic of conversation on the LingQ forum is "why doesn't LingQ attract professional linguists and scare off Joe Average?" I suggest that it's because we expect Joe Average to be Joe "I'm not going to be put off by not being able to decipher a single word of lesson 1".
Enough ranting. I'm off to look the word "cat" up in Japanese. Six months and I still haven't learned it. Tchah!
Monday, 7 December 2009
James plans a picnic
As both the regular readers of my blog should already know, my daughter is a Hedgehog Rampant. The Hedgehogs Rampant are the youngest section of the Knights Hospitalier, an ancient order of warrior healers who in mediaeval times sliced up their enemies and bandaged up their allies. The uniform is a tunic of knitted chain mail and a shirt with a cross on it. Accessories include a wooden sword and a first aid kit.
Minnie's latest badge was for Helping an Elderly person. I am not very pleased about this one. To earn it Minnie spent two afternoons in Grandad's shed, making illegal and suicidally dangerous fireworks with him. Grandad always likes to slip a few fireworks in the Boys Brigade guy before it goes on the bonfire. He says the guy should be given the chance to fight back. I suppose the ability to make gunpowder is a skill that Minnie could find useful later in life. She certainly will have a headstart in chemistry lessons when she gets to Big School.
On Sunday morning I sewing her badge onto her Hedgehogs' Rampant uniform while listening to LingQ lessons. Suddenly the doorbell played a startling rendition of "Jake the Peg".
It turned out to be Kate, James' girlfriend. She had brought with her a bottle of ginger beer and an enormous bag of crisps. James appeared with a sandwich box.
"We're going on a picnic," James announced, blushing beneath his freckles.
"But I'm making you pizzas for lunch!" I wailed.
"Oh, we'll be back by then!" he reassured me.
I looked at Kate and noticed that she was dripping wet. I looked out of the window.
"In that rain?" I asked. "Are you mad? Let me rephrase that. Are YOU mad, Kate?" James and Kate shrugged in unison.
"We're taking Dodgson for a walk," James said, as though that was a good enough reason for a picnic in freezing rain. "I've got his lead and his coat!" He waved a brown dog lead and a little tartan coat at me.
"If that dodo catches a cold, YOU can nurse him!" I scolded. "And if Kate catches a cold, YOU can explain it to her parents."
James nodded absent-mindedly, wriggled his feet into his trainers and led Kate out of the back door. Later I realised he hadn't taken his jacket. If he catches cold, I shall make Minnie nurse him. That'll teach him a lesson, and maybe earn her another badge at the same time.
Minnie's latest badge was for Helping an Elderly person. I am not very pleased about this one. To earn it Minnie spent two afternoons in Grandad's shed, making illegal and suicidally dangerous fireworks with him. Grandad always likes to slip a few fireworks in the Boys Brigade guy before it goes on the bonfire. He says the guy should be given the chance to fight back. I suppose the ability to make gunpowder is a skill that Minnie could find useful later in life. She certainly will have a headstart in chemistry lessons when she gets to Big School.
On Sunday morning I sewing her badge onto her Hedgehogs' Rampant uniform while listening to LingQ lessons. Suddenly the doorbell played a startling rendition of "Jake the Peg".
It turned out to be Kate, James' girlfriend. She had brought with her a bottle of ginger beer and an enormous bag of crisps. James appeared with a sandwich box.
"We're going on a picnic," James announced, blushing beneath his freckles.
"But I'm making you pizzas for lunch!" I wailed.
"Oh, we'll be back by then!" he reassured me.
I looked at Kate and noticed that she was dripping wet. I looked out of the window.
"In that rain?" I asked. "Are you mad? Let me rephrase that. Are YOU mad, Kate?" James and Kate shrugged in unison.
"We're taking Dodgson for a walk," James said, as though that was a good enough reason for a picnic in freezing rain. "I've got his lead and his coat!" He waved a brown dog lead and a little tartan coat at me.
"If that dodo catches a cold, YOU can nurse him!" I scolded. "And if Kate catches a cold, YOU can explain it to her parents."
James nodded absent-mindedly, wriggled his feet into his trainers and led Kate out of the back door. Later I realised he hadn't taken his jacket. If he catches cold, I shall make Minnie nurse him. That'll teach him a lesson, and maybe earn her another badge at the same time.
Friday, 4 December 2009
Family matters
James has a girlfriend! He has been keeping very quiet about this. I only found out because his friend Stanley told his little sister, who told mum, who told me. I decided that this was something I ought to know about, and as I haven't seen James much lately I set an ambush (using a signed photograph of David Tennant for bait) and interrogated him about her.
It turns out that he has been "going steady" with Kate from his science class, for four weeks now. Kate is Cool. Kate has ginger hair and freckles. Kate has three older brothers. Kate has "got" Facebook. Kate's favourite subject is biology. Kate knows six different ways to disable an opponent (seven if the opponent is male). Clearly, James is very taken with Kate.
Kate is, apparently, also very taken with James. As the strangest boy in school James has a certain cult status, and the girls are apparently fighting over him. He takes her out with him on walkies with Dodgson in the grounds of the psychiatric hospital. Kate thinks that James is Cool because he owns the twenty-first century's only dodo. Presumably he has told her about his space-time travel module. I really hope he hasn't told her that he has got OuiJa, and an address book full post-living etherbuddies. I don't want him to frighten her off. It makes such a nice change to see him hanging out people his own age - and living ones at that.
I also asked him how his homework was going. He said he was working on his family tree. I made him show it to me. On a piece of A4 paper he had drawn a diagram showing himself, his little sister and his parents.
"Is that it?" I asked. James shrugged. "What about your grandparents?"
"Okay," he conceded. "I suppose I could add them in too."
"What about your great-grandparents?" I continued. "What about great-aunt Fanny?"
"Great-aunt who?" asked James.
I tried to think of a way to describe my aunt that didn't sound callous or cynical. I didn't manage it.
"Never mind," I answered at last. "You won't remember her, and she's not a direct relative. I should leave her out if I were you. And I don't, I really don't want you OuiJa'ing her. Stick to the Dunwich side of the family. Your father's family are all dotty, but they're rather sweet."
At least the Dunwiches haven't done anything that would look disturbing in a school project, I thought to myself. I want so badly to keep my children's hearts wrapped up warm and snug and kept well away from the cold spot that still lurks inside me. Sometimes family memories are best left unshared.
It turns out that he has been "going steady" with Kate from his science class, for four weeks now. Kate is Cool. Kate has ginger hair and freckles. Kate has three older brothers. Kate has "got" Facebook. Kate's favourite subject is biology. Kate knows six different ways to disable an opponent (seven if the opponent is male). Clearly, James is very taken with Kate.
Kate is, apparently, also very taken with James. As the strangest boy in school James has a certain cult status, and the girls are apparently fighting over him. He takes her out with him on walkies with Dodgson in the grounds of the psychiatric hospital. Kate thinks that James is Cool because he owns the twenty-first century's only dodo. Presumably he has told her about his space-time travel module. I really hope he hasn't told her that he has got OuiJa, and an address book full post-living etherbuddies. I don't want him to frighten her off. It makes such a nice change to see him hanging out people his own age - and living ones at that.
I also asked him how his homework was going. He said he was working on his family tree. I made him show it to me. On a piece of A4 paper he had drawn a diagram showing himself, his little sister and his parents.
"Is that it?" I asked. James shrugged. "What about your grandparents?"
"Okay," he conceded. "I suppose I could add them in too."
"What about your great-grandparents?" I continued. "What about great-aunt Fanny?"
"Great-aunt who?" asked James.
I tried to think of a way to describe my aunt that didn't sound callous or cynical. I didn't manage it.
"Never mind," I answered at last. "You won't remember her, and she's not a direct relative. I should leave her out if I were you. And I don't, I really don't want you OuiJa'ing her. Stick to the Dunwich side of the family. Your father's family are all dotty, but they're rather sweet."
At least the Dunwiches haven't done anything that would look disturbing in a school project, I thought to myself. I want so badly to keep my children's hearts wrapped up warm and snug and kept well away from the cold spot that still lurks inside me. Sometimes family memories are best left unshared.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Study Opportunities for the Post-living Learner
It is time for me to take an interest in James' homework. Last week's Parents' Evening had been humiliating even by my standards. Under pressure from James' form teacher (who is no fool, unfortunately for me) I had been forced to admit that I had no idea if James had started any of his project work yet. Mr Al Khali had suggested very politely that, in the interests of Health and Safety, James might need adult supervision. As there is no appeal against Health and Safety regulation, I went on a hunt for James.
I found him lying under his bed reading “This Was Your Life: biographies of 1,000 really interesting Dead People”.
"Have you started your project work yet?" I asked him.
"Mmmph," he answered. "I've picked a famous historical person to research."
He handed me the book. I looked at the open page.
"Francis Harry Compton Crick," I read. "1916 - 2004. Co-discoverer of the structure of the DNA molecule."
"He found the Secret of Life," replied James smugly.
"Men say a lot of daft things in the pub," I countered. I looked more closely at the pencil notes in the margin. I read a OuiJa for Windows user name. Oh dear.
"I hope you haven't been bothering Doctor Crick," I said sternly.
"He's really nice!" answered James defensively. "He's answered all my questions and told me a lot of things I didn't know. I think he gets a bit bored Over There."
"Well, show a bit of respect," I fretted. "Just because he's d... er, retired, it doesn't mean his time isn't valuable. He may be very busy." Doing what, I didn't know and didn't like to think about. I've never been very comfortable with the idea of death, and the fact that my son has provided me with compelling evidence of an Afterlife hasn't made me feel a lot better about it.
James nodded absent-mindedly. "Grandpa says hello!" he added as an afterthought.
My stomach lurched. I'd had an uncomfortable relationship with my father when he was alive. I wasn't sure how to handle post-mortem communications from him.
"H-how's he doing?" I managed finally. "Is he keeping busy?" I've heard the worst part of life after death is dealing with all the unaccustomed leisure time.
"He's taking a course in Philosophy," James answered.
"How?" I wondered.
"Distance Learning with the Open University," my son replied.
Blimey, the O.U. are getting really inclusive these days. I suppose even adacemics have to move with the times and embrace the Information Era.
"How's he paying for it?" I asked. As far as I knew, there was no provision in his will for post-mortem expenditure. Once you are buried, you tradionally stopped incurring expenses. That's why they cancel your credit cards when you die.
"Dunno," shruggged James. The world of finances, beyond saving up for his next Doctor Who figure or piece of modelling cheese, are still a mystery to James.
I shrugged back, and said "yeah, whatever!" for good measure (I like to think I can communicate with the young) and went to put the kettle on.
I found him lying under his bed reading “This Was Your Life: biographies of 1,000 really interesting Dead People”.
"Have you started your project work yet?" I asked him.
"Mmmph," he answered. "I've picked a famous historical person to research."
He handed me the book. I looked at the open page.
"Francis Harry Compton Crick," I read. "1916 - 2004. Co-discoverer of the structure of the DNA molecule."
"He found the Secret of Life," replied James smugly.
"Men say a lot of daft things in the pub," I countered. I looked more closely at the pencil notes in the margin. I read a OuiJa for Windows user name. Oh dear.
"I hope you haven't been bothering Doctor Crick," I said sternly.
"He's really nice!" answered James defensively. "He's answered all my questions and told me a lot of things I didn't know. I think he gets a bit bored Over There."
"Well, show a bit of respect," I fretted. "Just because he's d... er, retired, it doesn't mean his time isn't valuable. He may be very busy." Doing what, I didn't know and didn't like to think about. I've never been very comfortable with the idea of death, and the fact that my son has provided me with compelling evidence of an Afterlife hasn't made me feel a lot better about it.
James nodded absent-mindedly. "Grandpa says hello!" he added as an afterthought.
My stomach lurched. I'd had an uncomfortable relationship with my father when he was alive. I wasn't sure how to handle post-mortem communications from him.
"H-how's he doing?" I managed finally. "Is he keeping busy?" I've heard the worst part of life after death is dealing with all the unaccustomed leisure time.
"He's taking a course in Philosophy," James answered.
"How?" I wondered.
"Distance Learning with the Open University," my son replied.
Blimey, the O.U. are getting really inclusive these days. I suppose even adacemics have to move with the times and embrace the Information Era.
"How's he paying for it?" I asked. As far as I knew, there was no provision in his will for post-mortem expenditure. Once you are buried, you tradionally stopped incurring expenses. That's why they cancel your credit cards when you die.
"Dunno," shruggged James. The world of finances, beyond saving up for his next Doctor Who figure or piece of modelling cheese, are still a mystery to James.
I shrugged back, and said "yeah, whatever!" for good measure (I like to think I can communicate with the young) and went to put the kettle on.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Yet More Slogans for LingQ
LingQ: for language nuts!
LingQ: it's not for softies!
A LingQ account is for life, not just til your next holiday in Majorca!
LingQ: because there is life beyond GCSE French!
LingQ: it's like a university course you can study in your pyjamas.
LingQ: for people who seriously love learning languages.
LingQ: for people who are serious about language learning
LingQ: serious about language learning.
LingQ: natural language learning
LingQ: We Love Languages, or
LingQ: We Live Languages
LingQ: Language Learning is Child's Play!
LingQ: Passionate about Languages
LingQ: Love Learning Languages Natuarally
LingQ: Love Learning Languages on-Line
Take a look at this Video Podcast for British English Learners: Luke's English Podcast
LingQ: it's not for softies!
A LingQ account is for life, not just til your next holiday in Majorca!
LingQ: because there is life beyond GCSE French!
LingQ: it's like a university course you can study in your pyjamas.
LingQ: for people who seriously love learning languages.
LingQ: for people who are serious about language learning
LingQ: serious about language learning.
LingQ: natural language learning
LingQ: We Love Languages, or
LingQ: We Live Languages
LingQ: Language Learning is Child's Play!
LingQ: Passionate about Languages
LingQ: Love Learning Languages Natuarally
LingQ: Love Learning Languages on-Line
Take a look at this Video Podcast for British English Learners: Luke's English Podcast
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
James acts oddly
I had a phone call from the Welfare Officer at James' school. I had been expecting it. After all, it was only a matter of time.
"We are very concerned about James' odd behaviour," she said.
"Oh really?" I answered innocently. "What's he been doing?"
"The Headteacher found him in the playgroup yesterday walking round a dustbin," she said. "Just walking round and round. He was making himself really dizzy. A whole crowd of boys had gathered to watch him. The Head was concerned that a fight might break out, so she went out to ask him what he was doing. He answered that he was trying to set a new world record for walking around a dustbin. She took him into her office and had Stern Words with him. It contravenes Health and Safety you know."
That Health and Safety legislation must be really comprehensive. It was hard to think of a suitable answer. I did my best however.
I explained that James was a benign schizotype, which means that he has a genetic predisposition to schizophrenia. I explained that, when his brain is overloaded with tiredness, stress, noise or excitement he loses "situational awareness" and enters a sort of dream state. If he has lost the plot enough to be trying to lose consciousness then he is presumably very worried about something. The Head then giving him a telling off could make him hallucinate, forget where he is or imagine that she is a demon or a bowl of tulips. Far better, in my opinion, to sit him down somewhere quiet, give him a glass of water and then calmly and quietly ask him what is the matter.
I regretted not having mentioned James' weird tendencies before to the school, but explained that I am fed up of teachers, support staff and even doctors thinking that I have delusional tendencies. It tends to work out better if people realise that James is odd, and then come to me for help puzzling him out.
His last teacher at Primary School understood him very well. She used to send him on imaginary errands around the school at about 2pm, which woke him up a bit. She realised that otherwise he started seeing fairies and ghosts at around 2:30. Even so she didn't get it right every time. She didn't realise that, once his brain overloaded, he lost the power of speech and so couldn't tell her he was losing his grip on reality. When he was compelled to go to a school disco he ended up crouched in the boys' toilets with his eyes screwed shut and his fingers in his ears. His teacher had no idea that anything was wrong at the time and afterwards he felt too ashamed to tell her.
Despite my lack of faith (we schizotypes are mildly paranoid) the Welfare Officer at Big School showed a great deal of concern. She would like to get James recognised as requiring extra support (I think it means extra funding for the Welfare Office) and so suggested that they refer him to a psychologist. I answered that if they could find a psychologist that was up to speed with schizotypy I would eat James' shorts, but I would be very happy to be proved wrong. Even if he can't get on the Officially Odd list, it would help him a lot if his teachers could be educated in ways to deal with an overloading schizotype. They don't get training in dealing with hallucinating students.
"We are very concerned about James' odd behaviour," she said.
"Oh really?" I answered innocently. "What's he been doing?"
"The Headteacher found him in the playgroup yesterday walking round a dustbin," she said. "Just walking round and round. He was making himself really dizzy. A whole crowd of boys had gathered to watch him. The Head was concerned that a fight might break out, so she went out to ask him what he was doing. He answered that he was trying to set a new world record for walking around a dustbin. She took him into her office and had Stern Words with him. It contravenes Health and Safety you know."
That Health and Safety legislation must be really comprehensive. It was hard to think of a suitable answer. I did my best however.
I explained that James was a benign schizotype, which means that he has a genetic predisposition to schizophrenia. I explained that, when his brain is overloaded with tiredness, stress, noise or excitement he loses "situational awareness" and enters a sort of dream state. If he has lost the plot enough to be trying to lose consciousness then he is presumably very worried about something. The Head then giving him a telling off could make him hallucinate, forget where he is or imagine that she is a demon or a bowl of tulips. Far better, in my opinion, to sit him down somewhere quiet, give him a glass of water and then calmly and quietly ask him what is the matter.
I regretted not having mentioned James' weird tendencies before to the school, but explained that I am fed up of teachers, support staff and even doctors thinking that I have delusional tendencies. It tends to work out better if people realise that James is odd, and then come to me for help puzzling him out.
His last teacher at Primary School understood him very well. She used to send him on imaginary errands around the school at about 2pm, which woke him up a bit. She realised that otherwise he started seeing fairies and ghosts at around 2:30. Even so she didn't get it right every time. She didn't realise that, once his brain overloaded, he lost the power of speech and so couldn't tell her he was losing his grip on reality. When he was compelled to go to a school disco he ended up crouched in the boys' toilets with his eyes screwed shut and his fingers in his ears. His teacher had no idea that anything was wrong at the time and afterwards he felt too ashamed to tell her.
Despite my lack of faith (we schizotypes are mildly paranoid) the Welfare Officer at Big School showed a great deal of concern. She would like to get James recognised as requiring extra support (I think it means extra funding for the Welfare Office) and so suggested that they refer him to a psychologist. I answered that if they could find a psychologist that was up to speed with schizotypy I would eat James' shorts, but I would be very happy to be proved wrong. Even if he can't get on the Officially Odd list, it would help him a lot if his teachers could be educated in ways to deal with an overloading schizotype. They don't get training in dealing with hallucinating students.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Project time is here again!
James seems to have settled into Big School very well, to my immense relief. Being now twelve years old and in Year 7, he has started in the local Secondary School. This is now called "The Dusty Mouldings Science and Technology Business Enterprise Centre", which is a fancy way of saying it has got industry sponsorship. The upside is that the school has been given a lot of money to spend on science equipment and trips to industrial processing plants. The downside is that the teachers all use business jargon and act like junior management.
Still, they are very well organised. James has brought home a booklet detailing all the homework he should be doing this year. I don't really understand much of it. He has to learn about brainstorming, project planning, milestone setting and quality assurance. For someone who struggles to remember to eat his sandwiches each day they may be expecting too much in the way of task management from him.
Some of the assignments I can understand. By the end of the school year he must:
research his family tree;
observe the growth of a seed;
use the internet to communicate with someone who does not live in our town;
research the life of a famous historical person;
demonstrate that he can use a library;
study some theoretical aspect of reproduction;
observe and record the play of young children;
consider and resolve an ethical dilemma;
learn 250 words in a new language;
draw pictures of himself as an baby, an adult and an old man;
describe a place far from his home town;
design and make a set of clothes;
write a play with a non-linear plot;
design and build a device that can move about by itself and make simple decisions;
demonstrate that he can manage a complex project.
"That'll keep you busy for the rest of the year!" I remarked.
"Not necessarily!" answered James smugly, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.
"But you're supposed to spend at least 20 hours on each project," I reminded him. "15 projects means 300 hours work. That's about an hour a day."
"Not if I make one project do for all subjects," answered James.
"I'm not having you cutting corners on your homework!" I scowled. "Promise me you'll really make an effort. I want to to make a real impression on your new teachers."
"I think you can count on that!" muttered James. "They won't have seen anything like this, I promise you!"
I'm afraid he may be right. It might be simpler if I lose the homework leaflet and forget I ever saw it.
Still, they are very well organised. James has brought home a booklet detailing all the homework he should be doing this year. I don't really understand much of it. He has to learn about brainstorming, project planning, milestone setting and quality assurance. For someone who struggles to remember to eat his sandwiches each day they may be expecting too much in the way of task management from him.
Some of the assignments I can understand. By the end of the school year he must:
research his family tree;
observe the growth of a seed;
use the internet to communicate with someone who does not live in our town;
research the life of a famous historical person;
demonstrate that he can use a library;
study some theoretical aspect of reproduction;
observe and record the play of young children;
consider and resolve an ethical dilemma;
learn 250 words in a new language;
draw pictures of himself as an baby, an adult and an old man;
describe a place far from his home town;
design and make a set of clothes;
write a play with a non-linear plot;
design and build a device that can move about by itself and make simple decisions;
demonstrate that he can manage a complex project.
"That'll keep you busy for the rest of the year!" I remarked.
"Not necessarily!" answered James smugly, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.
"But you're supposed to spend at least 20 hours on each project," I reminded him. "15 projects means 300 hours work. That's about an hour a day."
"Not if I make one project do for all subjects," answered James.
"I'm not having you cutting corners on your homework!" I scowled. "Promise me you'll really make an effort. I want to to make a real impression on your new teachers."
"I think you can count on that!" muttered James. "They won't have seen anything like this, I promise you!"
I'm afraid he may be right. It might be simpler if I lose the homework leaflet and forget I ever saw it.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
The Littlest Doctor
Minnie played her guitar for Charlie. The piece she is learning appears to consist only of the note E played several times over. Charlie was unimpressed.
"It's teaching her to read music," I told him.
This impressed him even less. To Charlie, music is something that flows from your fingers, through your ears, into the depths of your very soul. Ink and paper have nothing to do with it.
He disappeared up into the loft. I hoped he might be having a tidy-up, or getting a head-start on finding the Christmas decorations, but no. He came back down holding his old guitar, a black and silver electric Cumulonimbus with customised pick-ups.
Charlie used to play lead guitar in a band in his youth. He called himself The Doctor. All the members of the band called themselves The Doctor, with the result that the name of the band varied from "The Three Doctors", "The Five Doctors" and even "The Ten Doctors" as members came and went. I never heard them, but apparently they were very loud. Simon Cowell went to one of their earliest gigs, and had to be taken home and put to bed in a dark room.
Charlie spent the afternoon teaching Minnie to go ChungaChungaCunga ChungaChungaChunga ChungaChungaChunga ChungaChungaChunga to Led Zeppelin with the pickups turned up to eleven. I had one of my headaches and had to lie in a dark room until tea-time.
It seems to have fired Minnie's enthusiasm for the guitar. And although it's hard on my nerves, I must admit it's the LingQ way. Minnie will have a lot of fun playing the guitar badly while she learns, almost unconsciously, to play well. I just can't imagine what Mrs. Sponge will have to say at Minnie's next lesson, when instead of "Fairy Footsteps on the E-string" Minnie is going ChungaChungaChunga along with Led Zep.
With any luck Mrs Sponge won't notice the writing on the back of the Cumulonimbus either. It seems that Charlie got every musician he ever met to sign his guitar, and some of the language they used are way beyond Key Stage 2 vocabulary. Some of them were even people I've heard of. If those Sex Pistols autographs are genuine, it could be worth a fortune. Charlie would be furious if his old guitar got confiscated and put up for sale on eBay.
"It's teaching her to read music," I told him.
This impressed him even less. To Charlie, music is something that flows from your fingers, through your ears, into the depths of your very soul. Ink and paper have nothing to do with it.
He disappeared up into the loft. I hoped he might be having a tidy-up, or getting a head-start on finding the Christmas decorations, but no. He came back down holding his old guitar, a black and silver electric Cumulonimbus with customised pick-ups.
Charlie used to play lead guitar in a band in his youth. He called himself The Doctor. All the members of the band called themselves The Doctor, with the result that the name of the band varied from "The Three Doctors", "The Five Doctors" and even "The Ten Doctors" as members came and went. I never heard them, but apparently they were very loud. Simon Cowell went to one of their earliest gigs, and had to be taken home and put to bed in a dark room.
Charlie spent the afternoon teaching Minnie to go ChungaChungaCunga ChungaChungaChunga ChungaChungaChunga ChungaChungaChunga to Led Zeppelin with the pickups turned up to eleven. I had one of my headaches and had to lie in a dark room until tea-time.
It seems to have fired Minnie's enthusiasm for the guitar. And although it's hard on my nerves, I must admit it's the LingQ way. Minnie will have a lot of fun playing the guitar badly while she learns, almost unconsciously, to play well. I just can't imagine what Mrs. Sponge will have to say at Minnie's next lesson, when instead of "Fairy Footsteps on the E-string" Minnie is going ChungaChungaChunga along with Led Zep.
With any luck Mrs Sponge won't notice the writing on the back of the Cumulonimbus either. It seems that Charlie got every musician he ever met to sign his guitar, and some of the language they used are way beyond Key Stage 2 vocabulary. Some of them were even people I've heard of. If those Sex Pistols autographs are genuine, it could be worth a fortune. Charlie would be furious if his old guitar got confiscated and put up for sale on eBay.
Friday, 20 November 2009
Give me the moonlight, give me the monster....
I'm a great fan of H. P. Lovecraft. Libraries don't stock his books these days, either because they are out of fashion or because they give the librarians the willies. Fortunately I now have an ebook reader, so I can read creepy horror stories anywhere, anytime, in any language. As long as I can find the ebooks, that is. Thank the Old Ones for the internet!
As Lovecraft died in the thirties his works are in the public domain, so I can download his ebooks freely and legally onto my ebook reader. The original English versions at least. In other languages it is more tricky. The French translator was longer-lived than the luckless Lovecraft himself, so the French versions are still in copyright. Unless you find a public-domain fan translation.
As to the German translations, who knows when the translator died? And what of? German public-domain ebooks seem to be hard to find in general, I suspect the spelling reforms are to blame. Any book more than about thirty years old is difficult to read because a lot of words are now spelled wrong. It's easier to read something modern.
And then there is the problem of finding audio books. These are copyrighted and so shouldn't be in the public domain. Unless they are read by volunteers in a public-domain project, like Librivox (www.librivox.org). You can find any number of free audio books in French and English, if you know where to look.
You can also find any number of Russian ebooks and audio books on the internet. Unfortunately it is almost impossible to buy them. Direct download websites are usually region restricted. If you don't have a Russian IP then you can't buy a file download from a Russian website. You have to stick to free downloads, which are not restricted, although I doubt if most of them are legal.
The Russians just don't seem to differentiate between legal and illegal uses of the internet. When I search for free reading I keep ending up on torrent sites, which show me adverts for services I don't want and would rather my kids don't see. The last time I looked for Anna Karenina in PDF I nearly ordered a 23-year old medical student from Moscow State University by mistake. She turned out to be surprisingly cheap. I wonder if I could hire her to read me Russian literature?
As Lovecraft died in the thirties his works are in the public domain, so I can download his ebooks freely and legally onto my ebook reader. The original English versions at least. In other languages it is more tricky. The French translator was longer-lived than the luckless Lovecraft himself, so the French versions are still in copyright. Unless you find a public-domain fan translation.
As to the German translations, who knows when the translator died? And what of? German public-domain ebooks seem to be hard to find in general, I suspect the spelling reforms are to blame. Any book more than about thirty years old is difficult to read because a lot of words are now spelled wrong. It's easier to read something modern.
And then there is the problem of finding audio books. These are copyrighted and so shouldn't be in the public domain. Unless they are read by volunteers in a public-domain project, like Librivox (www.librivox.org). You can find any number of free audio books in French and English, if you know where to look.
You can also find any number of Russian ebooks and audio books on the internet. Unfortunately it is almost impossible to buy them. Direct download websites are usually region restricted. If you don't have a Russian IP then you can't buy a file download from a Russian website. You have to stick to free downloads, which are not restricted, although I doubt if most of them are legal.
The Russians just don't seem to differentiate between legal and illegal uses of the internet. When I search for free reading I keep ending up on torrent sites, which show me adverts for services I don't want and would rather my kids don't see. The last time I looked for Anna Karenina in PDF I nearly ordered a 23-year old medical student from Moscow State University by mistake. She turned out to be surprisingly cheap. I wonder if I could hire her to read me Russian literature?
I take an interest in my children's education
Minnie has started learning the guitar. I don't quite know how it happened. Apparently she passed an audition or something. The first I knew or it was when she came home with a form for me to sign and a demand for £30. Then she mentioned that she would need a guitar.
I have lent her my old Spanish guitar. As I never got very far learning to play it myself, it would be lovely to see my daughter playing it. She has a book, "Simple Tunes for Tiny Fingers". I will watch her progress with interest.
I have reached a negotiated settlement with James about French. French is acceptable, apparently, as long as it is about science fiction. A quick search on YouTube came up with several clips of his favourite TV show, "Doctor Who", dubbed into French. I also found a French "Doctor Who" fan site. James spent half an hour watching all the clips. Result!
I was peeved, however, to hear him reading out the French subtitles. He had been taught that French is a written language rather than a spoken one, so he only thinks he is learning it if he reads it out loud. As he has not grasped the principles of pronunciation yet, he reads it as though it were badly-misspelled English. I will have words with his French teacher when I see her. And I won't mispronounce them either.
I have lent her my old Spanish guitar. As I never got very far learning to play it myself, it would be lovely to see my daughter playing it. She has a book, "Simple Tunes for Tiny Fingers". I will watch her progress with interest.
I have reached a negotiated settlement with James about French. French is acceptable, apparently, as long as it is about science fiction. A quick search on YouTube came up with several clips of his favourite TV show, "Doctor Who", dubbed into French. I also found a French "Doctor Who" fan site. James spent half an hour watching all the clips. Result!
I was peeved, however, to hear him reading out the French subtitles. He had been taught that French is a written language rather than a spoken one, so he only thinks he is learning it if he reads it out loud. As he has not grasped the principles of pronunciation yet, he reads it as though it were badly-misspelled English. I will have words with his French teacher when I see her. And I won't mispronounce them either.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
I am shocked by my son's bad language learning
I heard the most unpleasant piece of French I've heard in a long time the other day. What was worse, it came out of James' mouth. He has been learning French for an indeterminate amount of time (they just played at in in junior school, as far as I can tell) and he is two years behind where the government say he should be. Along with the rest of his class, I presume.
His French teacher is clearly of the old school. She started in lesson 1 on the gender of nouns. Then they progressed to topic-based learning, with written exercises and written homework.
The sentence that offended me so strongly was "Jay unn hamsteuh ett derks pwassonz."
"French doesn't sound anything like that!" I howled in protest.
"Whatever!" shrugged James.
I'm not standing for this. I stood over him until he logged onto LingQ and downloaded the first part of "Who is She?"
"Listen to it!" I commanded. "You don't have to understand it, you don't have to repeat it. Just listen to it. Over and over until you can hear the patterns. You wouldn't try and learn a piece of music from reading the notes and humming, would you?"
James protested about this cruel and unusual punishment (listening to French is soooo gay!) but he did it, at least while I was watching. Whether he'll do anything when I'm not there with that "I'm on a mission to stamp out bad language learning" look on my face is doubtful. I'm swimming against the tide of centuries of bad French teaching here.
His French teacher is clearly of the old school. She started in lesson 1 on the gender of nouns. Then they progressed to topic-based learning, with written exercises and written homework.
The sentence that offended me so strongly was "Jay unn hamsteuh ett derks pwassonz."
"French doesn't sound anything like that!" I howled in protest.
"Whatever!" shrugged James.
I'm not standing for this. I stood over him until he logged onto LingQ and downloaded the first part of "Who is She?"
"Listen to it!" I commanded. "You don't have to understand it, you don't have to repeat it. Just listen to it. Over and over until you can hear the patterns. You wouldn't try and learn a piece of music from reading the notes and humming, would you?"
James protested about this cruel and unusual punishment (listening to French is soooo gay!) but he did it, at least while I was watching. Whether he'll do anything when I'm not there with that "I'm on a mission to stamp out bad language learning" look on my face is doubtful. I'm swimming against the tide of centuries of bad French teaching here.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Being cheeky to Sir
A new school year, a new set of teachers to break in.
Minnie is now in Mr Custardcream's class. Mr Custardcream is my age and is surprisingly cool. He went on Tiswas as a kid (ask a middle-aged person what this was) and used to know Ozzy Osbourne (ask an old person who this is).
Minnie is very taken with Mr Custardcream. She has started answering the register in Japanese, which he takes with good humour. She cheeks him in French, and has also tried a bit of German out on him.
Minnie seems to have more aptitude for foreign languages than James, even though I can't altogether approve of her motivation. Still, it's the LingQ way and I don't want to discourage her. This could be the start of a life-long love affair - hopefully with language learning rather than with Mr Custardcream.
Does anyone know where I can find a source of beginner-level sassiness in French, German and Japanese suitable for an eight-year old?
Minnie is now in Mr Custardcream's class. Mr Custardcream is my age and is surprisingly cool. He went on Tiswas as a kid (ask a middle-aged person what this was) and used to know Ozzy Osbourne (ask an old person who this is).
Minnie is very taken with Mr Custardcream. She has started answering the register in Japanese, which he takes with good humour. She cheeks him in French, and has also tried a bit of German out on him.
Minnie seems to have more aptitude for foreign languages than James, even though I can't altogether approve of her motivation. Still, it's the LingQ way and I don't want to discourage her. This could be the start of a life-long love affair - hopefully with language learning rather than with Mr Custardcream.
Does anyone know where I can find a source of beginner-level sassiness in French, German and Japanese suitable for an eight-year old?
LingQ inspires the young
The other night I watched James working at his computer with a very determined look on his face.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"It's for keyboard club," he answered. "I've found the sheet music for the Doctor Who theme music and I'm going to learn to play it."
"I didn't know you could read music!" I said, impressed.
"That's what we learn at keyboard club," he answered. "They want us to play really dull, easy stuff. I'm not having that. I want to learn to play the Doctor Who music, so that's what I'm going to do. It looks a bit hard, but if I keep at it, I'll keep getting better."
"Wow!" I said. "That's showing real motivation. Well done!"
"It's the LingQ way!" he answered, blushing with pride.
If only I could get him to show the same interest in learning languages. Still, it's a start. He has internalised the notion that if he learns what he wants to learn, as hard as he can, then he will excel in school and impress his teachers without having made any effort to do so.
Since he started in Big School he has had a detention every week (for disorganisation, failing to hand in his homework and generally not doing what the teachers expect him to do) and is performing in his favourite subjects at a level several years ahead of his class.
His teachers don't know what to make of him. I do. He is learning the LingQ way.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"It's for keyboard club," he answered. "I've found the sheet music for the Doctor Who theme music and I'm going to learn to play it."
"I didn't know you could read music!" I said, impressed.
"That's what we learn at keyboard club," he answered. "They want us to play really dull, easy stuff. I'm not having that. I want to learn to play the Doctor Who music, so that's what I'm going to do. It looks a bit hard, but if I keep at it, I'll keep getting better."
"Wow!" I said. "That's showing real motivation. Well done!"
"It's the LingQ way!" he answered, blushing with pride.
If only I could get him to show the same interest in learning languages. Still, it's a start. He has internalised the notion that if he learns what he wants to learn, as hard as he can, then he will excel in school and impress his teachers without having made any effort to do so.
Since he started in Big School he has had a detention every week (for disorganisation, failing to hand in his homework and generally not doing what the teachers expect him to do) and is performing in his favourite subjects at a level several years ahead of his class.
His teachers don't know what to make of him. I do. He is learning the LingQ way.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Some LingQ tag lines
In the time it took me to fall asleep last night my brain went a bit crazy and came up with a load more LingQ tag lines. Maybe we could organise a marketing campaign with billboard hoardings and T-shirts?
LingQ: Because the French are even sexier when you understand what they're saying.
LingQ: Because Germans DO have a sense of humour.
LingQ: Because the British AREN'T living in the past.
LingQ: Because Americans DO understand irony.
LingQ: Because the Canadians ARE smart.
LingQ: Because the Russians AREN'T always gloomy.
LingQ: Because you might want to watch TV abroad.
LingQ: Because politics is more interesting when you understand what the other guys say about you.
LingQ: Because Manga is cooler in the original.
LingQ: Because you've got to be hooked on something.
LingQ: Because it's not illegal, immoral or fattening.
LingQ: Because your high school teachers were WRONG about you!
LingQ: Because it impresses your kids' teachers.
LingQ: Because your parents don't understand you.
LingQ: Because it makes your neighbours think you're a spy.
LingQ: Because if a baby can do it, then so can you!
LingQ: Because it increases your chances of asking a millionaire to marry you.
LingQ: Because your DVD user manual is in Chinese.
LingQ: Because foreign TV commercials are really stupid!
LingQ: Because your Granny speaks more languages than you.
LingQ: Because THEY don't want you to know THE TRUTH!
LingQ: Because the French are even sexier when you understand what they're saying.
LingQ: Because Germans DO have a sense of humour.
LingQ: Because the British AREN'T living in the past.
LingQ: Because Americans DO understand irony.
LingQ: Because the Canadians ARE smart.
LingQ: Because the Russians AREN'T always gloomy.
LingQ: Because you might want to watch TV abroad.
LingQ: Because politics is more interesting when you understand what the other guys say about you.
LingQ: Because Manga is cooler in the original.
LingQ: Because you've got to be hooked on something.
LingQ: Because it's not illegal, immoral or fattening.
LingQ: Because your high school teachers were WRONG about you!
LingQ: Because it impresses your kids' teachers.
LingQ: Because your parents don't understand you.
LingQ: Because it makes your neighbours think you're a spy.
LingQ: Because if a baby can do it, then so can you!
LingQ: Because it increases your chances of asking a millionaire to marry you.
LingQ: Because your DVD user manual is in Chinese.
LingQ: Because foreign TV commercials are really stupid!
LingQ: Because your Granny speaks more languages than you.
LingQ: Because THEY don't want you to know THE TRUTH!
Saturday, 14 November 2009
Learning Chinese with LingQ: No knowledge
Well....ok. I haven't actually started on Chinese yet. In LingQ terminology I'm a "no-knowledger". I'm thinking about it. I bookmarked some web sites recommended by Chinese learners, I've had a look at the LingQ Chinese library and listened to a couple of lessons. I've been lurking in the LingQ Chinese forum, listening to what the other students have to say. One day I will be sitting at my computer, feeling a little bit bored, and I'll think "Hey! I'm going to learn Chinese!" And I'll know where to start, and what to do.
I'm confident that, when I do start, it will look like "squigglesquigglesquiggle" and sound like "blurblurblurblur" for (pick a number from 1 to 10) weeks, and then it will, gradually, start to make sense. I imagine that Chinese grammar will seem utterly insane to me, but I won't spend time trying to work it out, and after a while, the sentence patterns will work their way into my brain the way the patterns in a piece of music do. And if I have any questions, I know a bunch of very sensible people who can help me out. Some speak Chinese. Some are Chinese. I'm in good hands.
LingQ: Because Eurovision is better when you understand the words.
I'm confident that, when I do start, it will look like "squigglesquigglesquiggle" and sound like "blurblurblurblur" for (pick a number from 1 to 10) weeks, and then it will, gradually, start to make sense. I imagine that Chinese grammar will seem utterly insane to me, but I won't spend time trying to work it out, and after a while, the sentence patterns will work their way into my brain the way the patterns in a piece of music do. And if I have any questions, I know a bunch of very sensible people who can help me out. Some speak Chinese. Some are Chinese. I'm in good hands.
LingQ: Because Eurovision is better when you understand the words.
Learning multiple languages on LingQ
People sometimes ask me how I manage to learn several languages at once on LingQ. The questions puzzle me. I don't do anything special. It's more about what I don't do.
I don't spend time learning to conjugate verbs or decline nouns. If you hear enough of a language, you get the hang of how it goes. The common patterns anyway. If a pattern isn't common enough for you to encounter regularly, it isn't important enough to spend time learning.
I don't spend time learning the keyboard layout for each language. It's too confusing. I use the extended UK keyboard, which gives me my usual QWERTY layout, plus French and German special characters if you press several keys at once. For Russian I have a ЯШЕРТЫ phonetic mapping, which means if I type a word how it sounds it comes out near enough. The spell checker will pick up the odd typo as well as all my spelling mistakes! For typing Japanese in Windows you can type romaji with your usual Latin keyboard layout, then it does some sort of computer magic and turns it into hiragana or kanji. For typing Chinese.....well, I'll worry about that later.
I don't spend time working on my pronunciation. I just try and copy what I have heard and the result is usually close enough. I really don't care if I speak Japanese with a southern English accent. In fact, I might do it on purpose just for fun!
I don't spend time learning vocabulary. I must have ten thousand unlearned LingQs, and I'll never have time to flashcard them all. I just flick through my vocabulary lists, upping the status of the words which I can remember from all my listening.
I don't spend time searching for the meanings of words. Too many words: too little time. The most common words I already know. The next most common words are known by other LingQ students, which means I can just select one of the hints which show up on a mouse-over. Slightly uncommon words I have to look up on the connected online dictionaries. And if Babylon or Google Dictionary don't have the translation, then the word is too obscure and I lose interest.
I don't spend time writing assignments. Maybe I should but I'm kind of lazy and definitely pressed for time. I know my speaking is improving because my various tutors tell me so. If my spelling is poor, well I can worry about that further down the line. I at least know how to use a spell-checker.
I don't have regular tutorial sessions. I did try but it made my life too complicated, what with all the tutors I talk to. Now I book up a whole month at a time, one-on-one sessions with tutors I fancy talking to, or joining interesting looking conversations. Often I run out of points and can't talk to anyone for a fortnight. Taking a break doesn't seem to harm the learning process.
I don't worry about the fact that I'm not perfect. I haven't time. Let's face it, there are always going to be a billion people who speak Chinese better than me. Better to accept that I speak bad Chinese and listen to a lesson instead.
I don't worry about what level I am at. I used to, I admit. I have spent hours studying the different levels and tests and vocabulary lists. If I had spent that time listening to Russian.....well, you get the idea. Unless you need to pass a certain exam to get a job, you might just as well call yourself an intermediate and stop bothering your head about it. Your tutor will be able to tell how good you are after 5 minutes of talking to you, and for everyone else, it doesn't really matter.
So there you are. Embrace your natural laziness, use it constructively and you will find yourself going further than you ever thought possible.
LingQ: because film subtitles mistranslate all the best bits!
I don't spend time learning to conjugate verbs or decline nouns. If you hear enough of a language, you get the hang of how it goes. The common patterns anyway. If a pattern isn't common enough for you to encounter regularly, it isn't important enough to spend time learning.
I don't spend time learning the keyboard layout for each language. It's too confusing. I use the extended UK keyboard, which gives me my usual QWERTY layout, plus French and German special characters if you press several keys at once. For Russian I have a ЯШЕРТЫ phonetic mapping, which means if I type a word how it sounds it comes out near enough. The spell checker will pick up the odd typo as well as all my spelling mistakes! For typing Japanese in Windows you can type romaji with your usual Latin keyboard layout, then it does some sort of computer magic and turns it into hiragana or kanji. For typing Chinese.....well, I'll worry about that later.
I don't spend time working on my pronunciation. I just try and copy what I have heard and the result is usually close enough. I really don't care if I speak Japanese with a southern English accent. In fact, I might do it on purpose just for fun!
I don't spend time learning vocabulary. I must have ten thousand unlearned LingQs, and I'll never have time to flashcard them all. I just flick through my vocabulary lists, upping the status of the words which I can remember from all my listening.
I don't spend time searching for the meanings of words. Too many words: too little time. The most common words I already know. The next most common words are known by other LingQ students, which means I can just select one of the hints which show up on a mouse-over. Slightly uncommon words I have to look up on the connected online dictionaries. And if Babylon or Google Dictionary don't have the translation, then the word is too obscure and I lose interest.
I don't spend time writing assignments. Maybe I should but I'm kind of lazy and definitely pressed for time. I know my speaking is improving because my various tutors tell me so. If my spelling is poor, well I can worry about that further down the line. I at least know how to use a spell-checker.
I don't have regular tutorial sessions. I did try but it made my life too complicated, what with all the tutors I talk to. Now I book up a whole month at a time, one-on-one sessions with tutors I fancy talking to, or joining interesting looking conversations. Often I run out of points and can't talk to anyone for a fortnight. Taking a break doesn't seem to harm the learning process.
I don't worry about the fact that I'm not perfect. I haven't time. Let's face it, there are always going to be a billion people who speak Chinese better than me. Better to accept that I speak bad Chinese and listen to a lesson instead.
I don't worry about what level I am at. I used to, I admit. I have spent hours studying the different levels and tests and vocabulary lists. If I had spent that time listening to Russian.....well, you get the idea. Unless you need to pass a certain exam to get a job, you might just as well call yourself an intermediate and stop bothering your head about it. Your tutor will be able to tell how good you are after 5 minutes of talking to you, and for everyone else, it doesn't really matter.
So there you are. Embrace your natural laziness, use it constructively and you will find yourself going further than you ever thought possible.
LingQ: because film subtitles mistranslate all the best bits!
Learning Japanese with LingQ: Beginner level
I started learning Japanese with LingQ this year, mainly to see if it could be done. It's supposed to be awfully hard, what with all those Chinese characters. I just couldn't believe that the "relax and have fun!" methodology of LingQ was sufficiently rigourous to enable you to learn Japanese with no initial knowledge.
The first few weeks were a bit baffling. I couldn't read a word of it. I had to save words that looked like "squiggle" to me. In the definition box I had to write how to pronounce it as well as what it meant. Which meant that, when reviewing the words I was learning, I largely ignored the "word" box and just read the "meaning" box. I kept telling myself I should sit down and learn the hiragana and katakana writing systems, but in the end I never got round to it.
Meanwhile I was listening to audio clips which, being spoken at more-or-less normal speaking speed, sounded like "blurblurblurblurblur" to me. I couldn't see what I was supposed to get out of the exercise.
I was making progress though. I could tell by my LingQ activity score. I gained points for every word I saved, along with its meaning, even though the word was just an unreadable squiggle to me. I kept reviewing the "squiggles", and found that every time, I remembered a couple of them. I put their status up every time I recognised them, and my activity score kept climbing.
Six months later, I can read most Japanese words in hiragana. I can read a few of the simpler kanji too, though I can't always remember how to say them. I know a few hundred words, can recognise them when spoken (it doesn't sound like "blurblurblurblur" anymore) and some of them I can even spell. In hiragana.
In fact, after six months of what seems like just messing about, I can understand Japanese as well as I could understand Russian when I joined LingQ. Without attempting to learn the writing system. Without learning how to conjugate the verbs. Without studying flashcards. I spent two years with Russian trying to understand how the language "worked", and now it turns out, you don't need to!
LingQ: spelled wrong on purpose.
The first few weeks were a bit baffling. I couldn't read a word of it. I had to save words that looked like "squiggle" to me. In the definition box I had to write how to pronounce it as well as what it meant. Which meant that, when reviewing the words I was learning, I largely ignored the "word" box and just read the "meaning" box. I kept telling myself I should sit down and learn the hiragana and katakana writing systems, but in the end I never got round to it.
Meanwhile I was listening to audio clips which, being spoken at more-or-less normal speaking speed, sounded like "blurblurblurblurblur" to me. I couldn't see what I was supposed to get out of the exercise.
I was making progress though. I could tell by my LingQ activity score. I gained points for every word I saved, along with its meaning, even though the word was just an unreadable squiggle to me. I kept reviewing the "squiggles", and found that every time, I remembered a couple of them. I put their status up every time I recognised them, and my activity score kept climbing.
Six months later, I can read most Japanese words in hiragana. I can read a few of the simpler kanji too, though I can't always remember how to say them. I know a few hundred words, can recognise them when spoken (it doesn't sound like "blurblurblurblur" anymore) and some of them I can even spell. In hiragana.
In fact, after six months of what seems like just messing about, I can understand Japanese as well as I could understand Russian when I joined LingQ. Without attempting to learn the writing system. Without learning how to conjugate the verbs. Without studying flashcards. I spent two years with Russian trying to understand how the language "worked", and now it turns out, you don't need to!
LingQ: spelled wrong on purpose.
Learning Russian with LingQ: Lower Intermediate
I joined LingQ last year in order to learn Russian. I had spent two years trying to teach myself, using a textbook and whatever lessons I could find on the internet. I learned about grammar, and could read (but not pronounce)a few hundred words. I couldn't understand any spoken Russian, and struggled to read it.
The lessons in the LingQ library have been brilliant. I've worked my way through about 100 of them so far, created thousands of LingQs, and learned about a third of them. I've worked hard on it. Now I can get the general idea of what a lesson or a podcast is about on the first hearing, although I need to chew my way through it with a dictionary to understand it properly. I still read Russian only slowly, although I can pronounce it quite well.
I do have conversations with the Russian tutors from time to time. The time I spent learning grammar rules have had very little impact on my ability to speak. If I had spent that time on listening to LingQ lessons instead, I would probably be fluent by now. As it is, I keep having to drop back into English to say "how do I say....?"
I hope that, in another six months and 50 more LingQ lessons, I'll be able to listen to audio books. Then I will create my own lessons from the ebook versions and work through them. Until then, there's plenty in the LingQ library to choose from. And strangely enough, I find that you pick up grammar rules without really trying if you hear enough examples.
LingQ: because foreigners DON'T understand you if you shout!
The lessons in the LingQ library have been brilliant. I've worked my way through about 100 of them so far, created thousands of LingQs, and learned about a third of them. I've worked hard on it. Now I can get the general idea of what a lesson or a podcast is about on the first hearing, although I need to chew my way through it with a dictionary to understand it properly. I still read Russian only slowly, although I can pronounce it quite well.
I do have conversations with the Russian tutors from time to time. The time I spent learning grammar rules have had very little impact on my ability to speak. If I had spent that time on listening to LingQ lessons instead, I would probably be fluent by now. As it is, I keep having to drop back into English to say "how do I say....?"
I hope that, in another six months and 50 more LingQ lessons, I'll be able to listen to audio books. Then I will create my own lessons from the ebook versions and work through them. Until then, there's plenty in the LingQ library to choose from. And strangely enough, I find that you pick up grammar rules without really trying if you hear enough examples.
LingQ: because foreigners DON'T understand you if you shout!
Friday, 13 November 2009
Learning French with LingQ: Upper Intermediate level
I'll be the first to admit my French isn't brilliant. I did five years in high school, in the days when it was compulsory in the UK, and it was neither taught nor learned with any great enthusiasm. Since then I haven't used it in twenty-five years. I did once try a French evening class, but nearly died of boredom while conjugating a type 2 verb.
So I don't do French classes. I do read thrillers, and listen to simple podcasts. When I read a book I import it into LingQ and use it to create my own lessons. I go through the story carefully, looking up all the words I don't know, and adding them to my vocabulary list. Every week or so I read through my the list of words and find that, without conscious effort, I now know some of them.
I like to have discussions with the friendly and charming French tutors, and it amazes me to find I can actually speak quite fluently. I get muddled up with verb tenses, and sometimes I have to have three tries at a word before I pronounce it right.
In the last year I have improved from understanding only simple, slowly spoken French to understanding real French in podcasts and audio books. I can read Verne or Dumas, although I have to read some sentences over and over. In another year I hope to be able to listen to most French in "real time" (like the radio, where you can't pause and rewind) and understand most of it. I hope to improve my pronunciation. I might even get the hang of the subjunctive.
I really never thought I would be able to improve my French to the level where I could actually use it, and to do it without having to conjugate any more type 2 verbs is fantastic!
LingQ: because talking to foreigners is fun!
So I don't do French classes. I do read thrillers, and listen to simple podcasts. When I read a book I import it into LingQ and use it to create my own lessons. I go through the story carefully, looking up all the words I don't know, and adding them to my vocabulary list. Every week or so I read through my the list of words and find that, without conscious effort, I now know some of them.
I like to have discussions with the friendly and charming French tutors, and it amazes me to find I can actually speak quite fluently. I get muddled up with verb tenses, and sometimes I have to have three tries at a word before I pronounce it right.
In the last year I have improved from understanding only simple, slowly spoken French to understanding real French in podcasts and audio books. I can read Verne or Dumas, although I have to read some sentences over and over. In another year I hope to be able to listen to most French in "real time" (like the radio, where you can't pause and rewind) and understand most of it. I hope to improve my pronunciation. I might even get the hang of the subjunctive.
I really never thought I would be able to improve my French to the level where I could actually use it, and to do it without having to conjugate any more type 2 verbs is fantastic!
LingQ: because talking to foreigners is fun!
Learning German with LingQ: Advanced level
My German's already pretty good. I've been working on it for years. I can usually understand what natives are saying to me and each other, only needing to ask them to explain the odd phrase. I speak with an English accent and may get the word order wrong, but as I'm not a diplomat, teacher or spy I can live with that.
So I'm not going to take German lessons. My pride wouldn't stand it. Instead I listen to German podcasts, read stories in German, follow German blogs. Now and then I take a few web articles or a few chapters of a book and create my own LingQ articles from them. I skim through them using an on-line dictionary. LingQ tells me which words are new (in this case it is words which are new to me on LingQ, the chances are I have met them elsewhere). Some words and phrases I decide to learn, because they really are new, or I have only a rough idea of their meaning, or it's a good phrase that I want to remember (Ein Ring, sie zu knechten! Ahem.) All the other words I mark as known, so my LingQ Known words score goes up pretty rapidly, with little effort from me.
Now and then I look through my list of created LingQs. I don't put much effort into learning new words. On the contrary, I usually keep the word "on the back burner" until I have met it two ot three times, in different situations. By then it will usually have worked its way into my memory all by itself, and I just have to mark it as known.
When I feel like it, I spend 1000 points on a chat with a German tutor. We talk about anything we feel like, books we're read, films we like. Sometimes we talk in German about another language we are both studying, say French. And I get a conversation report at the end, which I may (or may not, I'm pretty lazy) study to learn some new words and phrases.
You really can't call it work. It's just bookkeeping, keeping track of words I have learned, and the words that are, without me trying, working their way into my brain. It also means hanging out with some very nice German-speaking people.
And the results? A year ago I could only understand spoken German pieces if they were read clearly and carefully. Now I can listen to the radio, watch TV, listen to podcasts on history and science, even get the jokes on comedy podcasts. And I now speak, still with an English accent and the odd bit of dodgy word order, on a much wider range of subjects. It's like having taken a year's university course without actually having the bother of attending any lessons or doing any homework.
LingQ helps bad language users to speak it better.
So I'm not going to take German lessons. My pride wouldn't stand it. Instead I listen to German podcasts, read stories in German, follow German blogs. Now and then I take a few web articles or a few chapters of a book and create my own LingQ articles from them. I skim through them using an on-line dictionary. LingQ tells me which words are new (in this case it is words which are new to me on LingQ, the chances are I have met them elsewhere). Some words and phrases I decide to learn, because they really are new, or I have only a rough idea of their meaning, or it's a good phrase that I want to remember (Ein Ring, sie zu knechten! Ahem.) All the other words I mark as known, so my LingQ Known words score goes up pretty rapidly, with little effort from me.
Now and then I look through my list of created LingQs. I don't put much effort into learning new words. On the contrary, I usually keep the word "on the back burner" until I have met it two ot three times, in different situations. By then it will usually have worked its way into my memory all by itself, and I just have to mark it as known.
When I feel like it, I spend 1000 points on a chat with a German tutor. We talk about anything we feel like, books we're read, films we like. Sometimes we talk in German about another language we are both studying, say French. And I get a conversation report at the end, which I may (or may not, I'm pretty lazy) study to learn some new words and phrases.
You really can't call it work. It's just bookkeeping, keeping track of words I have learned, and the words that are, without me trying, working their way into my brain. It also means hanging out with some very nice German-speaking people.
And the results? A year ago I could only understand spoken German pieces if they were read clearly and carefully. Now I can listen to the radio, watch TV, listen to podcasts on history and science, even get the jokes on comedy podcasts. And I now speak, still with an English accent and the odd bit of dodgy word order, on a much wider range of subjects. It's like having taken a year's university course without actually having the bother of attending any lessons or doing any homework.
LingQ helps bad language users to speak it better.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
LingQ: setting goals, meeting targets
When I first joined LingQ my goal was simple but vague: I just wanted to be able to speak Russian. I wasn't sure if I could, so setting that goal was a big deal for me. I wasn't sure whether I was smart enough, how long it would take, how much it would cost, how hard it would be, whether my somewhat chaotic lifestyle could accommodate a long-term learning plan.
A year later, I know better.
Sure I'm smart enough! If you can switch on a computer then you have the brains to learn a language. My little boy can do both and he's still in nappies.
It needn't cost anything. LingQ is about people helping each other to learn. You don't even have to buy Steve Kaufmann's book.
It takes (give or take) 1 000 hours to become fluent in a language.
It's actually pretty easy, unless you try and make it hard. You just listen to stuff and read stuff and then you realise you have learned some new words.
As for my freeform lifestyle, I have a computer in my living room, an MP3 player in my pocket and an eBook reader in my handbag. Whenever I have a spare 10 minutes when my ears, eyeballs or fingers aren't being used for something else, I can do some reading or some listening or some vocabulary reviewing. Although I have very little quality time to spare, I have two or three hours a day of spare odd minutes, on the bus, at the school gate, eating breakfast or having a bath. It doesn't matter whether you do more listening than reading, or more reading than reviewing vocabulary. It all goes into your brain, and your brain joins it all together while you are thinking about something quite different. (I've started dreaming in Kanji, now that's weird!)
If you cast your eyeballs to the column on the right you will see that I'm now working on 5 languages at once. My goal is to become proficient enough at each that I can read a newspaper, listen to a radio show, watch a TV documentary. I figure that's about 40 000 known words and 1 000 hours study per language, and as you can see I'm getting there. It might take a couple of years, it might take a bit longer (I quite fancy Arabic and Spanish too). But I know I can do it, I can afford to do it, and it's fun. I also know a lot of people who have done it before me.
LingQ: because we can't ALL be crazy!
A year later, I know better.
Sure I'm smart enough! If you can switch on a computer then you have the brains to learn a language. My little boy can do both and he's still in nappies.
It needn't cost anything. LingQ is about people helping each other to learn. You don't even have to buy Steve Kaufmann's book.
It takes (give or take) 1 000 hours to become fluent in a language.
It's actually pretty easy, unless you try and make it hard. You just listen to stuff and read stuff and then you realise you have learned some new words.
As for my freeform lifestyle, I have a computer in my living room, an MP3 player in my pocket and an eBook reader in my handbag. Whenever I have a spare 10 minutes when my ears, eyeballs or fingers aren't being used for something else, I can do some reading or some listening or some vocabulary reviewing. Although I have very little quality time to spare, I have two or three hours a day of spare odd minutes, on the bus, at the school gate, eating breakfast or having a bath. It doesn't matter whether you do more listening than reading, or more reading than reviewing vocabulary. It all goes into your brain, and your brain joins it all together while you are thinking about something quite different. (I've started dreaming in Kanji, now that's weird!)
If you cast your eyeballs to the column on the right you will see that I'm now working on 5 languages at once. My goal is to become proficient enough at each that I can read a newspaper, listen to a radio show, watch a TV documentary. I figure that's about 40 000 known words and 1 000 hours study per language, and as you can see I'm getting there. It might take a couple of years, it might take a bit longer (I quite fancy Arabic and Spanish too). But I know I can do it, I can afford to do it, and it's fun. I also know a lot of people who have done it before me.
LingQ: because we can't ALL be crazy!
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Why I use LingQ to learn languages
Steve suggests we create some videos for LingQ's YouTube group LingQ Plaza http://www.youtube.com/group/lingqplaza. I have never done a video before, so I'll write some words here and use the best ones for a script.
I joined LingQ in July 2008. I had been trying to learn Russian and was getting frustrated. I had spent a lot of time reading books, but none of it helped me to actually understand a piece of Russian! I found I was spending more and more time trawling the internet, looking for sites which could help me.
But I'm a tricky customer to please. I don't want to pay any money, for anything. I want well-thought out guidance from people who really understand about language learning. I don't want to be bored, at all, ever. So I don't like sites which tell me to read dull news articles or the classics. I don't do poetry. I do vampire stories, rock music (DDT rule!) and articles about the paranormal. I don't like sites that try to sell me sex in any form (I really can't use any more Russian mail-order brides) and I don't want to be encouraged to download illegal files.
I happened upon LingQ. It was exactly what I was looking for, audio files with transcripts, a lot of them, with on-line dictionaries so you can look up the words you don't understand and save them in your own on-line vocabulary list. I also really liked the fact that the system kept track of how many words you had learned and how many words you knew, so for the first time I had some indicator of my progress. Best of all, I liked that I could use my own material (Dracula!) to create my own LingQ lessons.
I like the people too. I was impressed right from the start that a lot of LingQ members are linguists. These are people who seriously love language learning, and have put a lot of thought into how best to do it. I have learned more about the learning process from hanging out in the forum than I ever learned in a class.
I hate spending money. But I do have a paying account on LingQ now, it's worth it because I get feedback on my progess from a lot of friendly and helpful tutors. It's a lot of fun. And I haven't been bored, not ever. And I haven't read any poetry either.
LingQ: because it keeps you off the streets and out in the big wide world.
I joined LingQ in July 2008. I had been trying to learn Russian and was getting frustrated. I had spent a lot of time reading books, but none of it helped me to actually understand a piece of Russian! I found I was spending more and more time trawling the internet, looking for sites which could help me.
But I'm a tricky customer to please. I don't want to pay any money, for anything. I want well-thought out guidance from people who really understand about language learning. I don't want to be bored, at all, ever. So I don't like sites which tell me to read dull news articles or the classics. I don't do poetry. I do vampire stories, rock music (DDT rule!) and articles about the paranormal. I don't like sites that try to sell me sex in any form (I really can't use any more Russian mail-order brides) and I don't want to be encouraged to download illegal files.
I happened upon LingQ. It was exactly what I was looking for, audio files with transcripts, a lot of them, with on-line dictionaries so you can look up the words you don't understand and save them in your own on-line vocabulary list. I also really liked the fact that the system kept track of how many words you had learned and how many words you knew, so for the first time I had some indicator of my progress. Best of all, I liked that I could use my own material (Dracula!) to create my own LingQ lessons.
I like the people too. I was impressed right from the start that a lot of LingQ members are linguists. These are people who seriously love language learning, and have put a lot of thought into how best to do it. I have learned more about the learning process from hanging out in the forum than I ever learned in a class.
I hate spending money. But I do have a paying account on LingQ now, it's worth it because I get feedback on my progess from a lot of friendly and helpful tutors. It's a lot of fun. And I haven't been bored, not ever. And I haven't read any poetry either.
LingQ: because it keeps you off the streets and out in the big wide world.
Saturday, 5 September 2009
New gadget helps me study languages
I have got a fantastic new toy! Did I say toy? I meant study aid. (My husband might be reading this.) It's an ebook reader. With it you can download free books from the internet, or create your own content from news feeds, e-mails, drafts of your own work. Anything you can copy and paste into Word can go onto your ereader in just a few seconds. If you get stuck you can even buy e-books from an e-book website.
My husband doesn't see what's so great about this. He says: what's so hard about reading a book made out of paper? You can read them for free in the library. Perfectly true, however this being England we are restricted to reading in English. And that's a problem for me, because I am a member of LingQ, an internet-based group of passionate language lovers. Some of us like to read in three or more foreign languages. Those living in big, multicultural cities can get lots of stuff to read in foreign languages. Lucky old them!
I enjoy reading novels in French and German and Russian, but they are hard to find in an average town inEngland. I get German books mail-order from Germany, French books mail-order from France and have given up on buying from Russia because of all the currency complications. When I get a new novel it's very exciting, when I get to the last chapter I start worrying if I'll have anything to read once I've finished it.
That's why the ereader makes such a difference. With a computer, an internet connection and a bit of cable I can have pretty much anything I like in electronic form. It can handle a wide range of file formats, and can display about twenty different languages, even Chinese. Since it's made by a Chinese company perhaps that's not surprising, but Japanese products sold here rarely support Japanese.
My reader has a six-inch screen and is about the size of a DVD case, so it fits in my handbag just fine. There is a choice of fonts and font sizes (towards the end of the day I like to switch to larger print). The battery is replaceable and a charge can last for weeks. I haven't filled up the internal memory yet, not by a long way, but when I do I can add a 4 Gigabyte SD card. That should hold a few thousand more books.
It even plays mp3s. This is particularly useful if you aren't so good at reading. I can have the audiobook and the type version of the same book in Russian, and can switch between listening to and reading the same material. (LingQ students will see the appeal of this.)
My ereader is called the Hanlin V3 and is sold around the world under various names, including BeBook, Pixelar and Aztak. I got it on eBay from Pixelar, the (only?) UK distributors. I hear that my favourite bookshop, Blackwells (http://bookshop.blackwell.co.uk/jsp/welcome.jsp), have started selling it too, so if you want you can go to an actual shop to buy one.
This is the Wikipedia article on it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanlin_eReader
and this is what those useful people at MobileRead have to say about it:
http://wiki.mobileread.com/wiki/HanLin_eBook
Another nice point for LingQers, it's really easy to copy and paste my lessons, my "LingQs of the Day" and even my entire vocabulary lists into .RTF files and put them on my e-book reader. Now I can do my LingQ studying off-line almost as well as online!
My husband doesn't see what's so great about this. He says: what's so hard about reading a book made out of paper? You can read them for free in the library. Perfectly true, however this being England we are restricted to reading in English. And that's a problem for me, because I am a member of LingQ, an internet-based group of passionate language lovers. Some of us like to read in three or more foreign languages. Those living in big, multicultural cities can get lots of stuff to read in foreign languages. Lucky old them!
I enjoy reading novels in French and German and Russian, but they are hard to find in an average town inEngland. I get German books mail-order from Germany, French books mail-order from France and have given up on buying from Russia because of all the currency complications. When I get a new novel it's very exciting, when I get to the last chapter I start worrying if I'll have anything to read once I've finished it.
That's why the ereader makes such a difference. With a computer, an internet connection and a bit of cable I can have pretty much anything I like in electronic form. It can handle a wide range of file formats, and can display about twenty different languages, even Chinese. Since it's made by a Chinese company perhaps that's not surprising, but Japanese products sold here rarely support Japanese.
My reader has a six-inch screen and is about the size of a DVD case, so it fits in my handbag just fine. There is a choice of fonts and font sizes (towards the end of the day I like to switch to larger print). The battery is replaceable and a charge can last for weeks. I haven't filled up the internal memory yet, not by a long way, but when I do I can add a 4 Gigabyte SD card. That should hold a few thousand more books.
It even plays mp3s. This is particularly useful if you aren't so good at reading. I can have the audiobook and the type version of the same book in Russian, and can switch between listening to and reading the same material. (LingQ students will see the appeal of this.)
My ereader is called the Hanlin V3 and is sold around the world under various names, including BeBook, Pixelar and Aztak. I got it on eBay from Pixelar, the (only?) UK distributors. I hear that my favourite bookshop, Blackwells (http://bookshop.blackwell.co.uk/jsp/welcome.jsp), have started selling it too, so if you want you can go to an actual shop to buy one.
This is the Wikipedia article on it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanlin_eReader
and this is what those useful people at MobileRead have to say about it:
http://wiki.mobileread.com/wiki/HanLin_eBook
Another nice point for LingQers, it's really easy to copy and paste my lessons, my "LingQs of the Day" and even my entire vocabulary lists into .RTF files and put them on my e-book reader. Now I can do my LingQ studying off-line almost as well as online!
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Keeping in Contact
I didn’t sleep well last night, for the usual reason.
I was in my Mother’s sitting room. She was sitting eating mince pies and discussing Russian cinema with her neighbours. Here we go again, I thought. Without lucid dreaming my nightlife would be dull.
I excused myself politely and slipped out of the house. It was a dark, starry night. I could hear the sea rather than see it. A cold wind was blowing and I wondered why I could never remember to wrap up warmly in my dreams.
I dream this dream every week. I know the way by now.
I crossed the sands to the island. At high tide it’s cut off by the sea so it’s pretty foolish to walk to it at night without even a torch. I wouldn’t like to get stuck here and have to wait until I have this dream again to get back to shore.
From the shore the island is a good quarter of a mile across wet sand. I frowned. Now it was a short walk on a sunny day, my bare toes warmed by the sand between them. What happened to the night and the wind? Who moved my island?
I reached the island and continued with caution. Those ruins have been in my dreams for sixteen years, I know every inch of their gloomy, foreboding shape. Grey masonry falling apart, the mortar crumbling, the whole structure seems to be rotting like a bad tooth.
Tonight, however, was different. I saw that the castle had been painstakingly, even lovingly restored. Now a warm biscuit colour, the stonework had been carefully repointed and new walls and roofs added. The castle looked habitable now, cosy even. I walked round to the back, to the part you can’t see from the shore. Now it looked like a house, with a path of pink granite, through a neatly laid-out front garden with hardy shrubs in pots on either side of the door. It looked like the National Trust had ganged up with Ground Force to give my dream a thorough going-over.
Further around the back of the island is a little beach with rock pools. As a child I could stare into them for hours and watch the crabs and the anemones. Someone was sitting on an a granite boulder, his trousers rolled up to his knees, dabbling his toes in the water and watching a little wooden boat bobbing up and down on the end of its string. He looked tired and slightly faded, but content, as if he had come home at last after a long journey.
“Hello, Father!” I greeted him brightly. “How are you getting on over there? Feeding you all right, are they?”
He showed no sign of hearing me. Fair enough, I thought. You haven’t come all this way to break into my dream just to engage in idle banter. I sat on the rock beside him, watched the boat and waited.
Finally he spoke, in a quiet, measured voice. It sounded as though it had been filtered of all emotions and only quiet resignation was left.
“You have no idea how hard it can be to bring up three lively children,” he said. “No idea at all. You have so much to learn, Sweetie.”
“We all have things to learn,” I retorted. “You never learned how to take care of a dodo. Anyway,” I continued, picking up a shell and turning it over between my fingers, “We’ve only got two children.”
“So much left to learn,” sighed my Father, starting to fade.
“Wait!” I said. “I just wanted to say…well…don’t get bored over there! Join a club or something! I’ll make sure you’ve got plenty to read and….don’t go….!”
It was too late. Laurence Llewellyn Bowen, accompanied by a National Trust volunteer with a chintz pinny and a huge alarm clock, bore down on me. They asked me to leave as I was causing a disturbance.
“I’ll get you for this, Bowen!” I shouted, as the alarm clock rang and I woke up.
“If you say so, dear,” mumbled Charlie into his pillow.
I was in my Mother’s sitting room. She was sitting eating mince pies and discussing Russian cinema with her neighbours. Here we go again, I thought. Without lucid dreaming my nightlife would be dull.
I excused myself politely and slipped out of the house. It was a dark, starry night. I could hear the sea rather than see it. A cold wind was blowing and I wondered why I could never remember to wrap up warmly in my dreams.
I dream this dream every week. I know the way by now.
I crossed the sands to the island. At high tide it’s cut off by the sea so it’s pretty foolish to walk to it at night without even a torch. I wouldn’t like to get stuck here and have to wait until I have this dream again to get back to shore.
From the shore the island is a good quarter of a mile across wet sand. I frowned. Now it was a short walk on a sunny day, my bare toes warmed by the sand between them. What happened to the night and the wind? Who moved my island?
I reached the island and continued with caution. Those ruins have been in my dreams for sixteen years, I know every inch of their gloomy, foreboding shape. Grey masonry falling apart, the mortar crumbling, the whole structure seems to be rotting like a bad tooth.
Tonight, however, was different. I saw that the castle had been painstakingly, even lovingly restored. Now a warm biscuit colour, the stonework had been carefully repointed and new walls and roofs added. The castle looked habitable now, cosy even. I walked round to the back, to the part you can’t see from the shore. Now it looked like a house, with a path of pink granite, through a neatly laid-out front garden with hardy shrubs in pots on either side of the door. It looked like the National Trust had ganged up with Ground Force to give my dream a thorough going-over.
Further around the back of the island is a little beach with rock pools. As a child I could stare into them for hours and watch the crabs and the anemones. Someone was sitting on an a granite boulder, his trousers rolled up to his knees, dabbling his toes in the water and watching a little wooden boat bobbing up and down on the end of its string. He looked tired and slightly faded, but content, as if he had come home at last after a long journey.
“Hello, Father!” I greeted him brightly. “How are you getting on over there? Feeding you all right, are they?”
He showed no sign of hearing me. Fair enough, I thought. You haven’t come all this way to break into my dream just to engage in idle banter. I sat on the rock beside him, watched the boat and waited.
Finally he spoke, in a quiet, measured voice. It sounded as though it had been filtered of all emotions and only quiet resignation was left.
“You have no idea how hard it can be to bring up three lively children,” he said. “No idea at all. You have so much to learn, Sweetie.”
“We all have things to learn,” I retorted. “You never learned how to take care of a dodo. Anyway,” I continued, picking up a shell and turning it over between my fingers, “We’ve only got two children.”
“So much left to learn,” sighed my Father, starting to fade.
“Wait!” I said. “I just wanted to say…well…don’t get bored over there! Join a club or something! I’ll make sure you’ve got plenty to read and….don’t go….!”
It was too late. Laurence Llewellyn Bowen, accompanied by a National Trust volunteer with a chintz pinny and a huge alarm clock, bore down on me. They asked me to leave as I was causing a disturbance.
“I’ll get you for this, Bowen!” I shouted, as the alarm clock rang and I woke up.
“If you say so, dear,” mumbled Charlie into his pillow.
Monday, 19 January 2009
New Year's Resolutions and how to survive them
This term’s story is dedicated to my Father, who encouraged my love of stories from an early age. I shall upload a text-only version of this story to the “OuiJa” veil site, so he can read it, because I think he might like it and I don’t suppose there’s much to read over there.
The Christmas holidays were lively as usual. The children get so excited about Christmas, and what with the stress of losing Dodgson and finding him again only at the start of the holidays, I didn’t do half the shopping and baking I had planned.
I delegated decorating the house to the kids, as a result of which we had more bloody zombies and daleks than is traditional over the festive season. James decorated the Christmas cake. He made lovely little marzipan models of all of us, including a little marzipan dodo who left little footprints all across the icing. Minnie decorated a gingerbread house, complete with a little boy in a cage and a witch roasting in the oven.
Charlie bought the presents. He got James a big thick book called “This Was Your Life: biographies of 1,000 really interesting Dead People”. James has been studying it with interest. I’m afraid he is picking out potential new etherbuddies to write to. Minne was easy, we gave her a sword, shield, mace and first-aid kit for her Hedgehogs Rampant uniform.
Charlie bought me a new mobile phone. It’s rather simpler to use than my old one, which I could never work and wasn’t really sorry when James traded it in the seventeenth century. This new one has a built-in mp3 player, which is very handy for LingQ. I can listen to German and Russian material while I’m on the school run.
Minnie bought me a furry mobile phone case. It makes the phone look exactly like a squashed hedgehog. It is part of a series of roadkill-themed accessories, apparently the latest craze amongst the under-twenties. How thoughtful.
I was more excited by James’ present. Having got his space-time travel module working again, he travelled back to the 10th of March, 1876, to record the first electronic transmission of speech in Boston. I now have Alexander Graham Bell saying “Mr Watson, come here. I need you!” as my ring tone.
All in all, it was a great Christmas. Harry came round for Christmas dinner, one of Charlie’s nut roasts with all the trimmings. There was a nasty moment when Minnie laughed so hard at the joke in her cracker that she nearly choked on her gravy. I thumped her on the back and told her she should chew it more carefully. She responded by showing me the proper way to deal with a choking victim, then explained a couple of ways to make your victim choke in the first place.
Harry was in on grand form and told us a lot of geek jokes. I was the only one who laughed at most of them. The one about the programmer who thought that COFFEE was written in hexadecimal….I really should get out more.
It is a grand tradition in our family that we get a really nasty lurg after New Year, and this year we got a festive bout of flu that kept us all in bed for a week. Charlie, usually the Man of Steel, even had to have three days off work, groaning, getting off his head on Lemsip and watching the Artex patterns spin on the ceiling.
Unfortunately Harry chose that time to start on his New Year’s Resolution and give up drugs. As Harry’s drugs are antipsychotics this is not a good idea. Usually Charlie keeps an eye on Harry at work and checks he’s taken his pills, but without Charlie nobody noticed until Harry was wearing a tin-foil hat and complaining that the binmen were trying to recruit him to spy on the Prussians. He had to have a short holiday on the secure ward in Sir Isaac’s until the Devil stopped talking to him through the electrical sockets.
I’ve been hearing a lot of disembodied voices lately myself. In my case they are mostly my LingQ students talking to me through Skype. My New Year's resolution is to help more people learn English, and already I have doubled my number of students.
My first student was TibetanChick, an eighty year old Tibetan expatriate, whose views on politics are forcefully and colourfully expressed. I have spent the last couple of months not so much increasing her vocabulary as cleaning it up. Still, I am learning all about a part of the world I could never have found on a map three months ago.
My second student is Yuri, a mining engineer from Uzbekistan. He seems to have taken a shine to me, and books an hour-long private session with me each week. He goes into great detail about various aspects of the mining industry, but so far has resisted all attempts to turn the conversation to more general topics. At this rate I will qualify as a mining engineer before he is comfortable discussing his plans for the weekend in English.
A welcome new face is Cees, a fifty-something Dutchman, a witty and charming conversationalist. His command of English may even be better than my own. I can’t fault him, which is unfortunate, as that’s exactly what I’m being paid to do. Either he’s attracted to my Estuary English accent or he just finds my discussions really interesting. In an effort to stretch his vocabulary I have turned to the “Interesting Thing of the Day” website. Cees has really enjoyed discussing lucid dreaming and the possibility of an English spelling reform.
The newest kid on the block is Lucy Chiang, a Chinese computer programmer living in Pittsberg. This is puzzling. Surely Pittsberg is in the US, which is in America, which is English-speaking? Can’t she walk into her local bar and act friendly if she wants to speak English? I’ve seen her photo, and men would flock to talk to her. I suggested this. She explained that men generally are less interested in correcting her use of tenses and more interested in making other suggestions. At least I don’t hit on her. What with a husband, two kids and a dodo to clear up after, plus all the LingQ stuff I've been doing, I haven’t got the energy to flirt anymore.
The Christmas holidays were lively as usual. The children get so excited about Christmas, and what with the stress of losing Dodgson and finding him again only at the start of the holidays, I didn’t do half the shopping and baking I had planned.
I delegated decorating the house to the kids, as a result of which we had more bloody zombies and daleks than is traditional over the festive season. James decorated the Christmas cake. He made lovely little marzipan models of all of us, including a little marzipan dodo who left little footprints all across the icing. Minnie decorated a gingerbread house, complete with a little boy in a cage and a witch roasting in the oven.
Charlie bought the presents. He got James a big thick book called “This Was Your Life: biographies of 1,000 really interesting Dead People”. James has been studying it with interest. I’m afraid he is picking out potential new etherbuddies to write to. Minne was easy, we gave her a sword, shield, mace and first-aid kit for her Hedgehogs Rampant uniform.
Charlie bought me a new mobile phone. It’s rather simpler to use than my old one, which I could never work and wasn’t really sorry when James traded it in the seventeenth century. This new one has a built-in mp3 player, which is very handy for LingQ. I can listen to German and Russian material while I’m on the school run.
Minnie bought me a furry mobile phone case. It makes the phone look exactly like a squashed hedgehog. It is part of a series of roadkill-themed accessories, apparently the latest craze amongst the under-twenties. How thoughtful.
I was more excited by James’ present. Having got his space-time travel module working again, he travelled back to the 10th of March, 1876, to record the first electronic transmission of speech in Boston. I now have Alexander Graham Bell saying “Mr Watson, come here. I need you!” as my ring tone.
All in all, it was a great Christmas. Harry came round for Christmas dinner, one of Charlie’s nut roasts with all the trimmings. There was a nasty moment when Minnie laughed so hard at the joke in her cracker that she nearly choked on her gravy. I thumped her on the back and told her she should chew it more carefully. She responded by showing me the proper way to deal with a choking victim, then explained a couple of ways to make your victim choke in the first place.
Harry was in on grand form and told us a lot of geek jokes. I was the only one who laughed at most of them. The one about the programmer who thought that COFFEE was written in hexadecimal….I really should get out more.
It is a grand tradition in our family that we get a really nasty lurg after New Year, and this year we got a festive bout of flu that kept us all in bed for a week. Charlie, usually the Man of Steel, even had to have three days off work, groaning, getting off his head on Lemsip and watching the Artex patterns spin on the ceiling.
Unfortunately Harry chose that time to start on his New Year’s Resolution and give up drugs. As Harry’s drugs are antipsychotics this is not a good idea. Usually Charlie keeps an eye on Harry at work and checks he’s taken his pills, but without Charlie nobody noticed until Harry was wearing a tin-foil hat and complaining that the binmen were trying to recruit him to spy on the Prussians. He had to have a short holiday on the secure ward in Sir Isaac’s until the Devil stopped talking to him through the electrical sockets.
I’ve been hearing a lot of disembodied voices lately myself. In my case they are mostly my LingQ students talking to me through Skype. My New Year's resolution is to help more people learn English, and already I have doubled my number of students.
My first student was TibetanChick, an eighty year old Tibetan expatriate, whose views on politics are forcefully and colourfully expressed. I have spent the last couple of months not so much increasing her vocabulary as cleaning it up. Still, I am learning all about a part of the world I could never have found on a map three months ago.
My second student is Yuri, a mining engineer from Uzbekistan. He seems to have taken a shine to me, and books an hour-long private session with me each week. He goes into great detail about various aspects of the mining industry, but so far has resisted all attempts to turn the conversation to more general topics. At this rate I will qualify as a mining engineer before he is comfortable discussing his plans for the weekend in English.
A welcome new face is Cees, a fifty-something Dutchman, a witty and charming conversationalist. His command of English may even be better than my own. I can’t fault him, which is unfortunate, as that’s exactly what I’m being paid to do. Either he’s attracted to my Estuary English accent or he just finds my discussions really interesting. In an effort to stretch his vocabulary I have turned to the “Interesting Thing of the Day” website. Cees has really enjoyed discussing lucid dreaming and the possibility of an English spelling reform.
The newest kid on the block is Lucy Chiang, a Chinese computer programmer living in Pittsberg. This is puzzling. Surely Pittsberg is in the US, which is in America, which is English-speaking? Can’t she walk into her local bar and act friendly if she wants to speak English? I’ve seen her photo, and men would flock to talk to her. I suggested this. She explained that men generally are less interested in correcting her use of tenses and more interested in making other suggestions. At least I don’t hit on her. What with a husband, two kids and a dodo to clear up after, plus all the LingQ stuff I've been doing, I haven’t got the energy to flirt anymore.
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