The Great Undercover Semantics Operation

Security cleared and spell-checked: to be read with your eyes only

I have finally been given permission, by Her Majesty's Semantics Office, to reveal that I have been taking part in an undercover language operation for the British Intelligence Services.

The language which I have kept under observation for the last two years cannot be named for security reasons, nor can the nationalities of its masters or the political powers which it serves. It can only be referred to as the “target language”.

Most of my surveillance work has been done at a known meeting place for semantics agents and words of all nationalities, known to the Grammar Squad as “Steve's Speak-Easy”.

Initially I sought out the most common words, the small fry, the ones to be seen hanging out in every paragraph. I made notes on them as I encountered them.

To begin with my notes looked something like this:

“[man]: noun, masculine: an adult male.”

(Note: for security reasons all words under surveillance must be referred to using English code names in square brackets.)

My handler (who I may only refer to as Inspector S****x from the Grammar Squad) said this was a good start, but they needed more.

“We need to know the company these words keep,” he said, ”The disguises they adopt and the different roles they are known to play. We need to get enough intelligence to convict at least a thousand of the most active operators.”

Holy infinitive! To get a full dossier on the known activities of a thousand words at large in society would take a lot of work. I put the kettle on and sent out for emergency rations of biscuits.

Fortunately I could rely on informants. These were people who, while in the service of foreign powers, were prepared for a price (500 points per 15 minutes) to pass on their information about the 'target language' to our agents.

After several months of gruelling tea-drinking, meetings with informants, reading dossiers and listening to surveillance recordings, I had more to report.

“I've seen the word [man] in several disguises, playing a variety of roles within different sentences,” I told my 'handler'.

“Such as?” asked Inspector S****x, stirring two sugars into his tea.

“Nominative, accusative and genitive,” I answered. “Plus one sighting as a prepositional. I have photographs and example phrases for each one. I've seen [man] in the singular, and also hanging around in the plural.”

Inspector S****x nodded in approval. “That's the kind of information we need,” he said. “But it goes deeper than that. Does a woman refer to the person she is married to as a [man]? What about the person your mother is married to? We need to know if [man] works alone or with synonyms."

More long hours of undercover work. I stiffened my upper lip and set the line of my jaw more firmly as I refilled the tea caddy.

A few more months later I had more to report.

“[man] doesn't work alone,” I said. “I've observed him swapping places with [husband], [father], [uncle], [son], [person], lad and even [hunk]. He also keeps company with [woman], [wife], [mother], [daughter], [girl] and [babe].”

“You have examples?” asked my handler.

“Oh yes!” I said smugly. “In all his various guises, playing all his favourite roles in sentences, in different settings, formal and informal registers. There's no doubt about it. We have our [man] just where we want him!”

“Excellent work!” beamed the Inspector. “Now all we have to do is to lure him out into the open. I want you to use him in conversation with enemy agents, as much as you can. We need hard evidence of his operations in daily conversation so that we can secure a conviction and make it stick. Get him nailed down in writing too. Our informants will check your work.”

The operation was moving fast. From the passive to the active phase so soon! My heart was beating at 150 words per minute.

“I won't fail you!” I promised my handler. “I shall submit 150 words every week for checking. We will soon get this “target language” just where we want it!”

“On the tip of our tongues,” nodded Inspector S****x in approval. “Soon we will be in a position to make any demands we want to in our 'target language'.

When in doubt, call out the Grammar Squad.

Someone asked me recently to explain the nature of doubt. It sounded like a job for a priest rather than an English teacher. I asked her what she meant.

"Doubt can be an uncountable noun, as in 'doubt'", she said. "It can also be used in the singular, as in 'a doubt' or 'the doubt'. It can be used in the plural, as 'doubts', as well as in the negative as 'no doubt', 'without a doubt', 'without doubts' or 'without doubt'. How do you know which form to use?"

I saw her point. It's a tricky question. I considered consulting a priest, but decided instead to call the police.

Inspector Syntax of the Grammar Squad answered my call and was round my house before the kettle had boiled.

"Evening!" he said. "What seems to be the problem?"

"There's been an incident involving nouns. Can you help?"

Inspector Syntax looked thoughtful. "It all depends on getting a positive identification. If you can identify the noun in question and pick it out of a line-up then we can arrest it and charge it with Disturbing the Piece. If you can give us a general description then we can give it a warning, maybe even apply for an Anti-Semantic Behaviour Order. But if you can't provide us with any description at all, there is nothing the police can do. All we can do with the uncountable nouns like Truth and Life is give them a capital letter and keep them under observation."

"I've had a complaint about Society," I answered.

"Which society would that be, Madam? he asked. "Did you get its name and address?"

"No," I said regretfully. "I think it was just Society in general, the tendency of human people to live in organised groups."

"These uncountable nouns are slippery customers," mused the Inspector. "We know they're out there causing no end of trouble, but no-one ever gets a good enough look at them to make a positive identification. The undercover boys keep them under surveillance, but it's hard to get enough on them to get an arrest."

I nodded, and reflected.

"We've been having trouble with computers," I said. "Apparently they are a necessary evil in modern Society".


PC Syntax took out his notebook and pencil (a 2B).


"Could you identify these computers if you saw them again, Madam?"


"I think they must be the computers owned by individual, schools, businesses and organisations," I answered. "I'm afraid I can't be more specific because I didn't get a very close look at them."


"Computers, several of them, definitely existing, but with no clear description," said Inspector Syntax, writing."That's enough information for us to go round their house and give them a warning. We can't charge them without a clearer description."


"Then there's all the trouble I've been having with doubt," I said, watching him write.


"Which doubt was it, Madam? Did you get its number?"


"Well," I said. "I have some doubts about English grammar."


"Sounds more promising", said Inspector Syntax, making notes. "Doubts about grammar. Can you be more specific? What did they look like?"


"Most of them are just doubts in general," I answered. "Although I do have one particular doubt."


"Now we're getting somewhere! Can you describe your doubt for me, Madam? What was it wearing?"


"The doubt that I'm talking about concerns whether doubt, when used as an uncountable noun should be spelled with a capital letter, like Truth, Beauty, Life, Death, Man, Woman and God."

"We should be able to take steps against your doubt about uncountable nouns", said PC Syntax. "Your description of that particular doubt is quite clear. We should be able to take it into custody, set up an identity parade, make a positive identification and charge it. Once charged, we can refer to it as 'the doubt' or even 'that doubt', as in 'that nasty-looking little doubt we've got locked up in cell number four'."


"But what if it turns out that there is no doubt?" I asked.

"Well, we can't arrest a doubt that doesn't exist, Madam!" said PC Syntax in his best Dealing with the Stupid manner. "Whether it's no doubt, no doubts or not a doubt, it's all the same to me. If it's not there I can't charge it with anything."

"So doubt doesn't get a capital 'D' if it doesn't exist?" I asked.

"Not much point really, Madam", he answered.

I  nodded. No sense in wasting police time with unnecessary paperwork.


"Well, I must be off," said the Inspector, pocketing his notebook and standing up. "We've had a complaint about loose word order over in the LingQ forum. We need to get it all safely fixed down before someone trips over a dangling participle and hurts themselves."

"A grammar policeman's work is never done," I nodded sympathetically as I opened the door for him.

"Mind how you conjugate 'to go'", were his parting words.

Submission for The Polyglot Project

This is my draft for Claude (see http://www.youtube.com/user/syzygycc):


My language learning journey; or: How I learned Russian despite the cultural handicap of being British

skyblueteapot, United Kingdom.

I went to school in England in the 1970s and 1980s and therefore have am handicapped with foreign language learning. It was taught very  badly, you see. French, German and Latin were taught using the Classical Method, which mainly consists of writing irregular verbs up on the board and making everyone learn them for homework. I was startled, on visiting France at the age of eleven, to discover French children speaking French, easily and naturally and without even having to look words up in textbooks. The idea that it was anyone's mother tongue simply hadn't occurred to me.

The turning point for me was an exchange programme with a German school. I was shy and nerdy and therefore had no friends among the English kids who went over with me; I was, therefore, forced to hang out with the German kids. It was a revelation! I learned that for them, language learning was a much easier, natural and pleasant process than it had been for me. They listened to English pop music, watched English films and wore jeans with English labels on them. I came home exhilarated and determined to learn to speak proper German, song lyrics, swear words and all.

I didn't have much time left. The unnecessarily restrictive English school system mean that, at the age of 16, I had to stop studying all languages to concentrate on physics, my university subject. And that was that. I was branded a scientist, an asocial computer-botherer, an art and culture-free zone. It was a life sentence  Or so I thought.

At the age of....erm...well, I was married and had two kids anyway.....I found myself suddenly out of a job. I had been a computer programmer, and as it turned out, a bad one. Why? I was hard working and I loved learning and using languages.  It ought to have been the ideal job. Perhaps talking to computers in their language simply isn't as rewarding as talking to people in theirs. I resolved to restart my language learning, focussing on communicating with real people this time. Maybe failing as a technical person gave me a second chance to try out at being an arts person.

But where to start? The local adult education courses weren't much help. I was already overqualified for beginners' French and German classess, and nothing else was available. I tried local universities, libraries, and schools. None of them included helping mature learners to learn a foreign language within their remit. Even amazon.co.uk wasn't expecially forthcoming on language learning books and CDs beyond the very basics. Maybe I could find some learning materials on the internet?

After a lot of searching and frustration (and grumbling about it to penfriends in slowly-improving German ), I found a site called www.lingq.com. It claimed to offer Russian , which caught my attention straight away. Russian had been on offer at my school, but sadly not to those studying science. (Perhaps they were afraid we would defect to the Soviet Union and take the secrets of the Trident missile programme with us). Was this at last my chance to learn it? The danger of me defecting now and taking with me the secrets of really poor programming really shouldn't keep the Intelligence Services awake at nights.

 I studied the so-called “natural language learning method” carefully. It looked too easy to be effective. You sign up for an account, help yourself to free lessons (mp3 + transcript), and study them. There is software to keep track of the words you have learned, the lessons you have studied, the time you have spent on listening, etc. You can learn new words using flashcards. Ah, but what happens when you have studied all the lessons in the library?

I studied the contents of the library. There were, as it turned out, a LOT of lessons, some of them really quite tricky. It didn't look as though I would run out of material any time soon.

I still suspected a catch. I lurked in the forum. It seemed to consist of a lot of clever, funny, people, people who were well aware of the value of a dollar and very clear that they were getting value for money. Some of them were even learning Russian, including, it appeared. the founder of the site.

I decided to Skype him to find out what the catch was. We had a very pleasant conversation. It turned out that LingQ is the brainchild and baby of a former Canadian diplomat, who loves learning languages and is learning Russian as his tenth or eleventh one. Making money does not seem to be a major goal for him: spreading the word that learning languages can be fun does.

“But you DO want my money, don't you​?” I asked. “You won't get much out of me. I'm unemployed!”

Steve shrugged. “I'm sure you can find a Russian who's keen to learn English,” he said. “You can do a language exchange”.

“What happens if I run out of lessons?” I asked.

“You use your own material,” he answered. “Have you seen the size of the internet? Anything you can download in mp3 format you can put on your mp3 player and listen to; any text you can copy and paste you can import and use as a lesson.”

“What about Dracula?” I asked. “I've got that as an e-book.”

“Dracula's be fine,” he answered. “You can write pieces in Russian about vampires and have conversations with Russians about vampire-staking.”

This was an intriguing idea.

“How about hobbits?” I asked.

“If you must!” he answered.

“Heavy metal song lyrics?”

“Fine!” he said.

Well, this just had to be tried. Learning what you want, when you want,, where and how you want, and asking for help only as and when you want to. That's flexible enough even for a stressed out housewife and mother of three to cope with.

Two years on and I have to say, the “natural”, “input-based” learning methods certainly work for me. I listen to audiobooks, podcasts and radio programmes in Russian, I read articles harvested from all corners of the web and, when I feel like it, I discuss my progress with a native Russian. I keep a diary in Russian and get feedback on bits of it when I want it. In two years I have reached about A level standard. Also I have found the time to learn a bit of Japanese and brush up on my French and German.

So encouraged have I been by my progress that I have signed my children up. The eldest is 12 and is learning French, without noticeable enthusiasm, at school. The youngest is 9 and has been taught to count up to ten in French. Once shown how to download lessons and play mp3s, operate the online dictionary and work the flashcard system, I set them a competition. Whoever learns the most in 3 weeks wins ten shiny new British pounds and the respect of all. The betting stands at evens: ten more days to go!

The sad fact is that English schools still make learning languages boring. Not only that, but the number of language teachers and the number of languages available in state schools has dropped since my day. Now it is only compulsory to learn 3 years of French, and impossible to learn any other language, in my son's comprehensive school.

I am determined to show my children how to become independent language learners; to show them that, no matter how poor the language teaching provision in their schools is, no matter how restrictive the timetables or dismissive our society may be of the value of speaking a second language, nevertheless the process of learning a second language can be fun, rewarding and useful. Even for scientists. After all, Einstein could speak English well enough to work in America as a university professor. I bet no-one ever told him that scientists couldn't learn foreign languages!

Do you get British humour?

I was told a joke last night and I didn't laugh. (Sorry about that!). The joke was:

"What's the difference between a wife and a mistress? - About 30 pounds!"

"That's an American joke", I said.

"How can you tell?"  I was asked.

"Because you can predict the answer from the question," I answered. "Assuming that a middle-aged man, with a middle-aged wife, takes a younger mistress, you can list all the probable differences between the two women. A British person wouldn't laugh, because British jokes typically depend on the question leading you to predict a certain answer, and then the answer is a surprise twist."

To illustrate I told The Chicken Joke:

Qu: "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

The teller of this joke often makes up their own answer, which must be a) original and b) slightly absurd. For instance:

"Because it was the hedgehog's day off"
(ie, that it is the JOB of a particular animal to cross that road each day, and the job happened to fall to the chicken that day)

"Because the pheasant wanted too much money"
(Pheasants, being luxury meat, probably demand higher wages than chickens)

"Because the peacock was too busy posing for photographers"
Peacocks, being beautiful, are probably the celebrities of the bird world)

"Because the kangaroo couldn't get a Green card"
(here the animal who was first offered the job was a foreigner, who then wasn't allowed into the country)

"Because the jellyfish couldn't"
(jellyfish don't have legs, so would be an unsuitable candidate for the job)

"Because the dodo had died"
(they gave the job to an animal from an extinct species)

Because the unicorn.....oh, I expect you get the idea.

This ancient British joke is one of my son's favourites:

"What's black and white and red all over?"
The original answer was a newspaper: printed in black and white (this is an OLD joke) and read (sounds like red) all over. Everyone expects to hear the original answer, so nobody gives it. Unexpected answers include:

a sunburned penguin
an embarrassed panda
A nun swimming in a pot of red paint
A newspaper wrapped round a pound of liver

etc.

The classic British joke, which many foreigners have heard but few see the humour of, can be found in Lewis Carroll's classic children's book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Alice is asked:

"Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"

She can't guess, so she asks what the answer is. But the questioner hasn't got one! Even British people expect a riddle (a joke in the form of a question and "surprise" answer) to actually HAVE an answer. As always, Carroll is a step ahead of his readers.

More examples of British humour would be very welcome! I will add some more when I think of them.

LingQ Grudge match kicks off!

I have challenged my eldest two children to a contest: to see who can get the highest LingQ activity score by the end of the summer holidays (September 6th or thereabouts). Emma is learning French, James is learning French, German or whatever his Voices are currently telling him to learn.

To make it interesting I am offering ten whole new British pounds to the winner, plus the satisfaction of knowing they have royally kicked the other one's butt.

I am starting the betting at even odds: James is older and a computer whizz, he has been learning French at Big School and has been to France on a school trip. On the other hand, he gets bored very easily and thinks that LingQ doesn't look hard enough to be a real challenge. Emma has poor computer skills, spells badly but has the kind of determination that moves mountains. She has to endure a lot of James being smug about his achievements and would dearly love to beat him in a fair fight.

Their LingQ user names are flowersuccess and whoaholic. Any support from other LingQers would be much welcomed.

Lord, give me the strength to endure all this fun!

Here's a question to introduce you to today's topic. What kind of twisted mind would, on breaking into a shed and discovering a store of paint, decide to spray-paint his genitals black? I'll give you a clue: the hand-prints on the wall were only about a metre off the ground.

Seasoned parents amongst you will need no further help; of course, the answer is: a four year-old, three days into his summer holiday and already bored. We only found him when we were getting ready to go to the park. He was naked and covered in black paint from midriff-to knees, and from finger-nails up to his elbows. When questioned, he pointed to himself with considerable pride and answered: "I a-painted my willy!"

He was quickly rushed to the bathroom ("Don't touch ANYTHING!") and dumped in the bath. After a hasty conference about solvents we decided to use heavy-duty hand-cleaner. We instructed him to rub this all over the black bits, then, using a sponge (and on the more resilient parts, a pan-scourer) we scrubbed it off.

Under the black layer we found a blue layer. This enabled us to pin the authorship of the new blue shed mural on him. Not that we were in any real doubt about that one. The base layer appeared to be of beeswax furniture polish. Fortunately, this had prevented the paint from getting a really solid grip and the paint had all come off after the third bath.

James, by contrast, has been remarkably calm this far into the holiday. He has spend most of it sitting at his keyboard learning to play a succession of film scores. Admittedly, yesterday he said, apropos of nothing in this reality: "Don't speak to me like that, Veronica, or I'll mention your carrot! AHAHAHAHAH!" Still this is pretty mild by his standards. The worst destruction he has actually wreaked is to untidy his bedroom so comprehensively that neither he nor anyone else can get into it. He has been sleeping in a tent in the garden for the last three months, avoiding all plaintive pleas to tidy his room.

Emma has been playing a surreal selection of computer games. Her favourite is one where a group of hamsters are trying to launch one of their number into space. Whenever I protest at this waste of time (why spend your time staring at a computer screen when you could be.....er...writing up your blog?) she smugly points out that they are EDUCATIONAL computer games. She has in fact gone up two maths sets since she has started playing maths games. Well, that's all right then.

I can't wait until we go camping and the fun can begin in earnest! I may have to take some sedatives with me. Either I can take them or slip them in Robin's nutella sandwiches.

How many LingQs must a man create, before you call him Intermediate 2?

I love the statistics secion on my profile page. I love being able to watch my numbers going up every day, like the milometer of a car, to show me how far I have travelled on the road to language fluency. I believe that there is some magic number of LingQs created, or LingQs learned, or hours of listening, and when I reach it I will be able to speak perfect Russian.

But what is it? Steve Kaufman's answers to my questions are profound yet unspecific. Like reaching the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, he believes that I know it when I get to it.

Mark is more pragmatic. He points out that the statistics section on the profile page clearly shows your targets for each level. When you have reached your targets, you have reached the top of your level and are ready to move up to the next one. What's hard to understand about that?

Aren't your targets a bit too low? I ask him. I reached my targets for Intermediate 2 many months ago, but my abilities still don't match the description of an intermediate 2 speaker.

It seems to me that the problem of determining your targets at each level are, like all those tricky problems in my old physics textbooks, "left as an exercise for the reader". I can see why this should be the case, it depends on the student's personality and learning style, as well as the structure of the language they are learning and its similarity to their native language.

These then, are the numbers that I have come up with for me, a native English speaker with a logical mind and a visual memory, learning Russian. This is based on NO SCIENCE WHATSOEVER, but it might provoke someone else out there to work out their own estimates and then share them with the rest of us.

To get to Beginner 1:
Known words: 3000
LingQs created: 2000
LingQs learned: 1000
Hours of listening:  50
Words read:  4000
Hours of speaking: 0
Words written: 0

To get from Beginner 1 to Beginner 2  needs an additional:

Known words: 5000
LingQs created: 1000
LingQs learned: 1000
Hours of listening:  100
Words read:  50 000
Hours of speaking: 0
Words written: 0


To get from Beginner 2 to Intermediate 1  needs an additional:
Known words: 7000
LingQs created:  3000
LingQs learned: 2000
Hours of listening:  200
Words read:  150 000
Hours of speaking: 20
Words written:  0


To get from Intermediate 1 to Intermediate 2  needs an additional:
Known words: 10 000
LingQs created: 5 000
LingQs learned: 3 000
Hours of listening:  200
Words read:  300 000
Hours of speaking: 25
Words written: 6000

You can see from these figures that I am not a big fan of speaking before I feel good and ready, and that I am a keen reader.

I also figure that it takes me, on average, a year to progress a level. Obviously, if I were prepared to work full-time at it, progress would be a lot faster. This is as fast as I can go and still have a life outside of LingQ. Er. In theory, anyway.

What to say when words fail you part 6

Sounding well-read

So. You are in that all-important oral examination, job interview or (possibly even) first date. You have just told the story about the time when you got drunk and fell asleep on an aeroplane and when you woke up you couldn't remember what country you were in or why**. Suddenly you are gripped by doubt. Have you made yourself sound stupid, shallow or mentally unstable? Do you imagine a look of agitation on the face of your examiner / interviewer / hot date? Don't panic! You can make yourself sound smart and well-read at any time, by the use of a quotation.

When I was little nearly every family owned a Bible. Not for reading you understand. Most people in England would rather clear out their garage than read the Bible. No, it was there as a source book for impressive-sounding quotes. You were guaranteed an extra couple of marks in any essay, on any subject, if you threw in a quote from the Bible or Shakespeare. My brother's party trick was to dispute the existence of God using quotations from the Bible (he must have gone to some really dull parties).

Nowadays you no longer need to own books to quote from them. If you are speaking in English, go to http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/, pick six impressive-sounding quotes and memorise them. I can virtually guarantee that at some point in your conversation the opportunity will arise to say one of them. It may not actually be relevant to what is being discussed, but it will be grammatically correct and win you a few seconds of thinking time (see "Getting a moment to think").

If you want to sound cool and witty rather than well-read and deep, try this site: http://www.great-quotes.com/. You can learn some quotes from Frank Zappa (ask your parents who this is) or Nelson Mandela. If you want to sound educated and witty in a different language, translate "famous quotes" into your target language and Google it. Or you can ask your tutor for some of their favourite quotes and who said them.

Poetry (if you can remember any) and song lyrics can be used too. Pretty much any line from any Bob Dylan song sounds profound if you say it seriously enough. You can search on his song lyrics on this site:http://www.bobdylan.com/#/songs. Or any folk singer you like: all folk song lyrics sound like they mean more than they actually do.

An expert at the quotations game will have a quote to hand for every essay question they are likely to encounter. Favourite language examination topics include: isn't society in a shocking state, the planet's a bit dirty, politicians are evil, war is nasty. It doesn't take long to choose a profound quote for each of these topics. If you aim to end your essay with a preprepared quote the the essay is much easier to write. For example:

Question:

"Isn't War nasty?"

Answer:

"Bloody human history .......the suffering of innocent children.....waste of scarce resources....large-scale atrocities....power-grabbing politics.......slaughter...human greed...not in my name....

"To conclude with the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupery: "War is not an adventure. It is a disease."

I think I could write 500 words on that even if I was half asleep. Come to think of it, I probably HAVE written it while half asleep at some point in school. Being profound doesn't actually take a lot of thought.

I'll let Albert Einstein sum it up for us: "Imagination is more important than knowledge." ****


-------------------

** Yes, I have done this. And told the story in an inappropriate situation afterwards.

**** Tchja! I'd have written this article much quicker if I'd thought of that quote before I started writing!

What to say when words fail you part 5

Using Humour

I am a very shy person and examinations, meetings and interviews are difficult for me. I have had to struggle with anxiety attacks in interviews, and it is not easy showing yourself in a good light when you feel as if you are about to have a heart attack. I have worried so hard about examinations that I have had a migraine and been unable to sit the exam.

I am not, therefore, an expert in being confident. I am, however, very good at sounding confident, which is not quite the same thing. I can give lectures and attend interviews and chat happily with strangers over Skype, and if I mention my jangling nerves, people assume I'm joking and laugh politely. That's because I use humour. It takes practice to use jokes when you are sweating and feeling light-headed, but it is an excellent way to seem relaxed, to make other people more relaxed and even to make yourself relaxed.

This seems a particularly unlikely strategy for university graduates because, surprise surprise, we've been told not to do it. We've been told that it makes us seem shallow, superficial and it looks like we are not taking things seriously. Hands up all those who told a joke in the presentation of their doctoral thesis! No-one? I didn't think so.

I'm not suggesting you dress like Beano the Clown and squirt the examiners with water from a trick flower. However, you might consider one or more of these strategies, to put yourself and your examiner (who is probably a shy person too) at ease.

1) Smile! Try looking happy to meet the person who holds your fate in their hands.

2) Make some jolly remark about the loveliness of the weather, the dazzling smile of the receptionist, the fact that you are wearing your nicest brooch today. In short, try not to act like a person being led to the electric chair.

3) Tell a personal anecdote, eg:
"I started learning Spanish because I fell in love with Antonio Banderas! I wanted to be able to ask him out in his own language if I ever happened to meet him."

Or:
"I went to France on a school trip when I was ten and on the bus I was sick on the teacher's shoes! It didn't affect my love for the country though."

4)Throw in a blatantly untrue fact:
"In my country everyone has the words of the National Anthem sewn into their underwear. If you forget the words while you are singing you are allowed to drop your trousers to read them."

5) Slip in some unexpected words
When I was at business school we used to play the Aardark game. In every essay, business report and examination script we dropped in the word "aardvark". Eg in economics:

"...so should the world demand for, eg, aardvarks increase while the supply (eg the wild aardvark population) decrease, the result will be an increase in the price of aardvarks."

When proceedings are getting dull I like to slip in a word like:
garden gnomes
dormice
roasted elk
My Grandma's Chilli Pickle

If you do this right you should see a puzzled frown flit over your examiner's face as his brain registers the unexpected word, then a smile as he recognises it as intentional humour. If the puzzled frown stays there, then he hasn't got the joke.

6) Make a self-depreciating remark
eg: I am 40 years old and therefore don't understand iTunes
I am British and therefore don't know much about sex
I am a woman and therefore know nothing about cars.

7) Get excited about something
The examiner's cool laptop, the curtains in the exam room which are EXACTLY the material you've been hunting for, the fact that your examiner is from Vancouver (it's the city of the GODS!) Chinese food is wonderful, Italian men are very sexy. It instantly turns you in the eyes of the examiner from just another examination candidate into a real, warm, flesh and blood person. It also helps you to speak more naturally and fluently. Try it sometime. Record yourself reciting facts and figures. Then record yourself describing the best meal you ever ate. See the difference? The examiner will.

Next article: sounding well-read.

What to say when words fail you part 4

Examination tricks

Many clever, thoughtful people, with an excellent grasp of the language they are studying, get very nervous about speaking in examinations. You can hardly blame them. The idea of answering questions from a total stranger, on complex topics that you get no advanced notice of, and demonstrating your full command of a foreign language, is a scary one. It is all the more scary if you we never taught to express your opinions during your education, but to memorise phrases and grammar rules from out of a book. What if I really have nothing sensible to say about global warming or the American economy? Just how stupid am I going to look?

Take heart. They are not expecting you to be a very clever person. If you are indeed clever, you can use this as your secret weapon.

First you need to recognise that a lot of the questions that examiners set students are actually quite silly.

Here's an example. The student must speak on this subject for two minutes, then answer questions for a further five:

"Has society become too dependent on modern technology?"

There are three problems with this question:

1) It is a closed question. You could answer it with "Yes!" "No!" or "Maybe", sit back and smile. The examiner now has to find an additional two minutes of questions.

2) The words "too dependent" tell you that it is a value judgement question. You can't properly answer it without considering how much, in your opinion, society should be dependent on technology, then consider how much society is dependent on technology, before you can say whether society is too dependent on technology. A fully-considered answer could take you 40 minutes, which you don't have.

3) It is a leading question, in that it directs you towards the answer "Yes". Many examination questions are worded so that either "Yes" or "No" sound like the 'right' answer. Graduates have been trained to argue both sides of an argument, so they prefer to answer "Well, it depends on your definition of....." which will take too long. You need to start your answer "Yes, because...." or "No, because...." and stop talking two minutes later.

If you think that the question is stupid, try to rephrase the question and then answer your question not theirs.

eg:

"Yes, we ARE dependent on technology, because....." You have lost the word 'too' from the question which changes it to a factual question. The examiner, if he is paying attention, will notice this and will ask you a question later, with the word "too" in it. That's OK. Knowing in advance what the next question will be will help you to control the question and answer session.

It would be useful to know some facts. Did you research world dependence on technology before the exam? No? Then you can make them up.

Learn these useful phrases:

"Statistics indicate that the number of people who regularly use [pick a technology] is increasing by ...% year-on-year"

"Government experts predict that by the year 2020. ...% of school-age children will own a [pick a device]".

"Some scientists believe that [pick a technology] will play a vital part in addressing the issues of global warming".

My Chinese student had assumed that she was supposed to memorise official facts and figures, and that she would lose marks if she got them wrong. She also thought that one side of the argument would be the "correct" one and that she would lose marks for not knowing which side she should be on.

Possibly this was realistic for her, given how the Chinese educational system works. Nevertheless, you will have a much better opportunity to demonstrate your language proficiency if you say something definite and controversial. Fortunately neither you nor the examiner needs to believe what you say. What's important is that you keep him awake and listening to you.


Eg:

"Yes we ARE too dependent on technology. The gods intended us to live in caves and hunt bears. We should all return to this lifestyle immediately or we are DAMNED!!!"

"No! Technology is vital to enable the worlds' governments to spy more effectively on other countries and their own citizens!"

"No! Our only hope of surviving climate change is to become MORE dependent on technology. Genetically modified foods are our future!"

"Ever since the invention of the stone axe man has been dependent on technology. Whether you approve of it or not, Homo Sapiens has always been and will always be a geek."

"Well, I'm definitely dependent on technology. If you tried to take my iPad away from me I might try to kill you!"

Next time:

Using humour.

What to say when words fail you part 3

Getting a moment to think

A lot of people, answering a question in their native language, will get about five words into the answer before they decide what the answer actually is. It's called "putting the mouth in gear while the brain is still in neutral". People who have been to university, as well as people speaking in a foreign language, usually tend to wait until they have thought of their answer before they start to speak. If the speaker is shy or feeling anxious, they will then take an extra second to double-check their words before voicing them. Shy, clever, educated people speaking in a foreign language may need several seconds of processing time before answering a question even as simple as: "Do people in your country like dogs?" A silent period before answering may make your conversational partner think that you are stupid, ignorant of the language, drunk, falling asleep or in some kind of hypnotic trance. It may be a good idea to make some noise while revving up your brain.

Here are some suggestions for making the right kinds of noise:

1) Pretend you didn't hear the question.
"Did you say dogs or frogs?"

2) Repeat the question in a thoughtful voice:
"Do people in my country like dogs?"

3) Say "Mmm....."

4) Say: "That's a VERY interesting question! Let me think....."

5) Say: "Well, I'm not ENTIRELY sure, but I would say....."

6) Ask for clarification of the question.
"Do you mean that they like dogs in the sense of keeping them as pets?"

7) Turn the question back onto the questioner.
"Mmm....I'm not really sure.....how popular are they in YOUR country?"

8) Answer "No!" in a confident tone of voice.
The chances are that the questioner wasn't expecting that (people tend to ask questions expecting the answer yes). They will then ask "WHY don't people in your country like dogs?" Now you may have to.....

9) Invent an outrageous lie.
"Dogs were banned in my country about twenty years ago. We keep ferrets or very large hamsters as house pets instead." This sounds so unlikely that you know the questioner will ask you more about it. This is useful for controlling a question-and-answer session in an examination.

10)Tell a personal or family story.
"My grandfather was a famous dog breeder. He once sold a cocker spaniel to Stalin's aunt." It doesn't matter if it is only slightly relevant to the question, if the story is interesting you can get a couple of minutes of conversation out of it - again useful in examinations.

Failing that:

11) Admit your ignorance and move on.
"I have absolutely no idea I'm afraid. Have you another question you could ask me instead?"

This works best if the questioner doesn't know you:

12) State an opinion.
"Dogs? I hate dogs! They carry fleas and people spend money on them that they could spend feeding the homeless!" You don't really have to think this, just state something the other person is likely to disagree with and, again, you control the conversation for the next couple of minutes.

If absolutely desperate, you can always try:

13) The wildly unexpected conversation change.
"I don't know much about dogs. Incidentally, did you know that my country is world famous for producing a kind of cheese made from mouse's milk? Pavarotti wouldn't perform anywhere without a crate of it in his dressing room."

Next article: more examination tips.

What to say when words fail you part 2

Understanding the Question


I used to talk to a lady from China who, despite many years of instruction couldn't speak English fluently. No matter how slowly and carefully I spoke, no matter how simple the question, two out of every three of my questions were met with silence. I then had to work through a list of possibilities: Can you hear me? Is there noise on the line? Do you want me to rephrase the question?

After a couple of conversations she had a very good idea. She read out to me a piece of English she had prepared earlier and it was excellent. Clearly she understood English very well, at least when it was written down. I recommended extra listening practice.

A few conversations later and she got braver. She admitted that when she didn't understand a question, she had no idea what to do about it. I suggested she LingQ and learn the following phrases:

“This Skype connection's terrible!”
“Can you repeat that please?”
“I'm sorry, I have trouble understanding your accent!”
“Could you say that more slowly please?”
“Could you please rephrase the question?”
“I don't know this word:....”
“What do you mean by the phrase......?”
“Let me check that I have understood you. Are you asking me.....?”

I said that, even in an English examination, there should be no penalty for asking to have the question repeated, and if the examiner has an unfamilar accent you may need them to slow down and maybe even use different words. I also thought that, even if you DID understand the question, you could ask to have it repeated to give you a few seconds extra thinking time.

“What if I need more thinking time?” she asked.

Well, I'll save that question for next time. For homework, please practise the phrase “This Skype connection's terrible!”

What to say when words fail you

Several students of English have said to me lately: “I'm not very good at English because I can't speak fluently”. In vain I protest that their English is excellent. They don't believe me. “Oh, I can talk about my research into creating superintelligent woodlice,” they answer modestly, “But ask me about how to eliminate world poverty and I can think of nothing to say!” Well, I'm hardly suprised. The Pope, Barrack Obama and Bob Geldoff between them couldn't solve that one. The difference between them and you is, they could talk fluently, even passionately, on the subject despite having no really clever ideas.

Natives have strategies for continuing to talk when words fail them. Starting from the age of two, when a child points to an object and calls it a “bah-bah!”, rising through teenage years of using a restricted set of idiomatic vocabulary (innit, yeah?), to a career as a politician or a TV rent-a-gob. We learn how to keep our mouths working until ours brains catch up.

The main problem for intelligent people is that they tend to go to university where they are taught not to make a statement unless they can back it up with evidence. Collecting data, sifting out useful information and reasoning your way to a conclusion takes time. In England, when someone says “Lovely weather!” to you, by the time you have looked at the sky, estimated the air temperature, wind speed and the possibility of rain later, not only has your conversational partner walked away but the weather will have changed too. Sometimes all that is expected of you is to open your mouth and make some noise.

This problem gets worse when intelligent people decide to learn a second language. Teachers tell you how to communicate information correctly. To a smart person that means even more processing, even slower responses. To a listener this sounds like you haven't understood the question, or you are too stupid to answer.

Recently I asked someone whether there were a lot of trees in his country. It was a stupid question, I was just checking that he was still on the line and hadn't fallen asleep over his laptop. The answer was a long, puzzled silence. “Did you hear the question?” I asked finally. “I heard it and I understood it,” he admitted, bashfully, “but I'm afraid I don't know the answer!” Clearly he is an extremely intelligent person, because if he wasn't he would have said “Oh, yes!” 'Yes' is a nice, bright, shiny word, it trips off the tongue and makes people happy. Who cares if it is the right answer? It takes a lot of intelligence to make you afraid of making an ill-judged remark about forests.

I intend to write a series of pieces, aimed at the smart but tongue-tied student, explaining what you can say when you can't think what to say. My suggestions will not make you sound cleverer: you already know how to speak like an intelligent person. They will hopefully, however, make you sound more confident and comfortable in a conversation in English, which will make the process of speaking intelligently a less stressful experience. Who knows, they might even come in useful when you speak in your own language!

Robin can sing (a beginner 1 story)

Robin sings songs at school. He sings them with the other children in the nursery class. They sing “Twinkle twinkle little star”. It goes like this:

Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are.

Robin likes this song because it makes him think of space and rockets and the Doctor in his Tardis. Mum likes the song too and she sings it with Robin. Robin does not know how Mum knows all the words when she does not go to nursery class.

Mum knows another song. It goes like this:

London's burning
London's burning
Fetch the engines!
Fetch the engines!
Fire! Fire!
Fire! Fire!
Pour on water!
Pour on water!

Mum and Emma like to sing it together. When Robin knows all the words he will sing it with them.

Robin loves Daleks (a beginner 1 story)

Robin's big brother loves Doctor Who. Doctor Who is on TV on Saturdays after tea-time. Everyone sits down to watch Doctor Who. If anyone talks when Doctor Who is on James says “Shh!”

Robin likes Doctor Who too. He likes the Tardis when it flies through space like a space rocket. Robin likes all the aliens. The Cybermen are good and so are the Daleks and the Sea Devils and the Sontarans. The aliens all want to kill the Doctor so the Doctor has to stop them.

Robin does not understand all the words because the people are big and they use big words. He only understands some words like “You are the enemy of the Daleks” and “Kill the Doctor!” When Doctor Who is finished and the TV is turned off Robin runs around shouting “You are the enemy of the Daleks!” He runs around shouting until Emma runs him a lovely bath and makes him get into it.

Mum likes tea (a beginner 1 story)

Mum likes to drink tea. She boils water in the kettle and makes tea in her teapot. Then she pours tea into her cup and pours in milk and drinks it. Sometimes Robin pours the tea out for Mum. Robin is clever because he can pour tea from the teapot into the cup.

Mum shouts “Arrgh!”

Then she says: “Thank you, that's enough dear! Step away from the teapot!”

Mum thinks Robin's pouring is clever too.

Mum drinks a lot of tea. She drinks tea all day. She drinks tea with breakfast. She drinks tea with snacks. She drinks tea at the shops. She drinks tea in bed.

Robin does not drink tea because it is hot and he does not like hot drinks. Robin drinks cold drinks like water and milk and juice and lemonade and ginger beer. Ginger beer tastes hot although it is really cold. Robin thinks that is funny.

Emma drinks hot chocolate. That is too hot for Robin too. Dad does not drink hot drinks. Dad drinks water and lemonade and ginger beer. Robin thinks that Dad is clever because he does not drink hot drinks.

Mum has a cold (a beginner 1 story)

Mum does not feel well. She has a cold. She is in bed and Dad is looking after the children. Dad is cooking lunch. When Dad cooks lunch it is pizza. Dad likes to cook pizza. Robin likes pizza. Pizzas have cheese and tomato on them. James eats pizza with his fingers. Robin eats pizza with a knife and fork. Robin knows how to use a knife and fork. James knows how to use a knife and fork too. Robin does not know why James eats pizza with his fingers.

Mum gets up. She says “Eerrgh!”

Dad says: “You look horrible!”

Mum says: “Eergh eergh!”.

Dad says “Go back to bed because you look horrible!”

Mum says “Want tea now!”

Dad says: “Go back to bed you silly sick woman and I will bring you some tea!”

Mum goes back to bed.

When Mum's cold has gone she will cook lunch. Mum cooks noodles with vegetables or egg and beans on toast. These are nice too.

Dad likes chocolate (a beginner 1 story)

Dad likes to eat chocolate. He buys it from the shop. He keeps it in a cupboard in the kitchen. Robin knows which cupboard it is in. It is in a high cupboard but that is OK because Robin can climb up on a chair. When he is on the chair Robin can climb up onto the table. When he is on the table Robin can reach the cupboard. Sometimes the cupboard door is locked but that is OK too because Robin knows how to take the lock off.

The chocolate is wrapped but that is OK. Robin can take the wrapper off. He knows which drawer the scissors are in. He does not climb to reach the drawer. He stands on the floor and reaches up. The scissors are big and sharp and they can cut through the wrapper. Then Robin can eat chocolate. Robin likes chocolate a lot.

Making snacks (a beginner 1 story)

Robin likes making snacks. He likes to make himself a snack in the kitchen. The biscuits are in a tin in a cupboard. He can stand on a chair to open the cupboard and get the biscuit tin. Then he can eat lots of biscuits.

If he is thirsty he opens the fridge to get out the milk. He can pour out a cup of milk if the carton is not heavy. If it is heavy he drops the carton and the milk makes a mess on the floor. Mum clears it up.

Robin likes bananas. He knows you have to take the skin off because the skins taste bad. He leaves the skins on the table or on his chair. Mum and Dad always know how many bananas Robin has eaten. That is because they count all the banana skins. Sometimes they count all the way up to six. Six is more than Robin can count up to.

Robin's story (a series of beginner 1 lessons)

Your comments are welcomed! I shall record them and put them in the LingQ library when my cough goes away.

1.
Robin is a little boy. He has a brother called James. James is twelve years old. Robin's sister is called Emma. She is nine. Robin is three. Robin is little because he is only three. Robin knows that when he is twelve years old he will be big.

Robin and his brother and sister live with their mum and dad in a house with a lot of rooms. Mum and Dad have a bedroom and Robin and Emma have a bedroom. James has a bedroom too. One room has a bath and a toilet in it. This is the bathroom. One room has a cooker in it. This is the kitchen. One room has a table and chairs. One room has a sofa and a TV in it. Robin likes this room the best.

2.
Robin doesn't talk much. That's OK because the others talk a lot. Someone is always talking. James talks to Emma, Emma talks to Mum, Mum talks to her computer and Dad tells everyone to be quiet.

Robin doesn't like to talk. He likes to play with toys. The TV is a good toy. So is Mum's computer. Robin likes things with buttons, and he likes things that make a noise. The TV makes a lot of noise. Robin knows which buttons make the most noise. Then everyone tells Robin to be quiet.

3.
Robin goes to school. When he goes to school he wears a blue shirt and a red sweatshirt and pants and trousers and socks and shoes. He has to keep all his clothes on while he is at school, even the pants.

The teachers tell you what to do. If you want to have a wee you have to put your hand up and ask to go to the toilet. Robin doesn't like that. Sometimes he does a wee in his pants. Then he has to take off his pants and put on other pants. You have to have pants on all the time at school.

4.
Robin is in the nursery class. In nursery you can do a lot of things. You can draw and paint and play in sand and water. There are also toys to play with. The toys don't have buttons so Robin doesn't like the toys much. He doesn't talk to the other children in nursey much because they are very little and he doesn't talk to the teachers because they tell him what to do. Robin likes to paint pictures of toys with buttons.

On Fridays Emma comes to nursery to help the little children. Robin talks to Emma because she is big and he knows how to talk to big people. Emma tells Robin what to do. Emma likes telling people what to do. Robin and Emma like Fridays when Emma comes to nursery.

5.
At home Robin likes to play with James' toys. James has lots of good toys because James is big. James has Daleks and Cybermen and TARDISes. He keeps them in his bedroom when he is at school. That's OK because Robin knows how to open James' bedroom door. Robin likes to go into James' bedroom to play with James' toys.

Robin can switch James' computer on and he can play James' piano too. He likes to play with James' magic lantern. James' magic lantern is very old. It is even older than Dad. James loves his magic lantern. Robin loves it too. He can nearly make it work.

How to be offensive: a guide for the polite

A lovely Japanese lady, who must rank among politest people on the planet, has asked me to scrutinise her forums posts and let her know if any of them are offensive. Now, I doubt that she has ever written or said anything deliberately offensive in her life, certainly not to strangers on the internet. I said as much to her (tact is not my strong point).

She said of course not, not intentionally. But how can she tell if, writing in a foreign language, she unintentionally makes an offensive remark? How can she tell what is considered unacceptable in Britain, in North America, indeed to anyone, in any part of the world? Nothing that I have said about the general reasonableness of people or the unimportance of offending people who don't know where you live has satisfied her. She wants a clear action plan for avoiding doing something she has never done and would never dream of doing.

This is tricky. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes, it is a three-teapot problem. I have thought very hard over a lot of tea and come up with this idea: to teach her how to be deliberately offensive, so that she can recognise when she is doing it and so satisfy herself that she is not doing it.

I'm not an expert on offensive behaviour myself (it's not a compulsory subject in British schools), so I can only offer the following simple suggestions.

Consistently spell the person's name wrong.

If you quote their words, get them wrong. Make sure you give the impression that you did not read their words carefully.

If you like what they write, steal it. Put their comments on your web site without permission. Retell their best jokes and pretend you thought them up.

Tell them that they are ignorant of some common knowledge, like rules of good behaviour, grammar or punctuation. Telling them that they don't understand the history of their own country is a good move.

Question their mental state, also that of their political and religious leaders.

Make public any personal information you may have about them, in an unflattering way.

Make condescending remarks about their age, sex, race and religion. If possible, get at least one of these wrong. Say things like "I don't expect a kid like you to understand this, but...." to someone who a 27 year-old, call a Canadian an American, etc.

Deliberately misunderstand at least one point that they make every time you respond to them.

Either misspell your post to them (to show that you couldn't be bothered to check your words before posting them) or correct their spelling (to imply that they are too lazy to check their words before posting them). Be sure to correct their spelling if they are writing in their native language.

Express all your opinions as facts and say that anyone who disputes them is an idiot/bigot/heathen. Naturally, you should at the same time dispute every opinion expressed by your opponent.

Throw in very extremely unecessarily EMPHATIC language, such as &*$%ing OBSCENTITIES, CAPITALS and lots of EXCLAMATION MARKS!!!! This makes you look like an UNREASONABLE and VERY ANGRY person!

you could also try typing everything in lower case very long sentences with no punctuation at all which makes you look very mad and also unreasonable but not very angry.


I shall be setting all my politest and most charming students the task of writing me an offensive post. There may be a prize for the best entry. Watch this space.....

Talk like a three-year old

As both the readers of my blog will be aware, my smallest son has been getting into trouble at school. The teachers have reported very seriously that he has not been meeting his targets. Those are National Performance Targets, set by the Government. It's practically treason not to meet them.

"But he's only three!" I protested. "What can you possibly expect a three-year-old to be doing that he isn't doing?"

"He doesn't Interact Socially With Others. He doesn't Put His Hand Up to Ask to Go To The Toilet. In short, he doesn't talk."

Ah. This was difficult to refute. Birdy had by the age of three mastered the Old Homo Erectus dialect (point, grunt, point, SCREAM!) and decided that that was sufficient to meed his communication needs. Since he is a World Champion at opening closed cupboards, finding the biscuit tin, switching the TV on and switching Mum's computer off, he didn't really have any needs that he couldn't satisfy by himself. If the purpose of language is to satisfy our communication needs, then Birdy's language skills were impeccable.

I admit I was starting to get worried about him. Listening to all the other little children in his nursery class happily chattering away as they played Mummies and Daddies, I did wonder if Birdy might be missing a couple of cogs.

This term he has started playing with Big Brother's Doctor Who figures. (They are kept in a locked bedroom but that doesn't stop him.) He has been talking as part of his games, first repeating lines from the TV show, then riffing on them to create his own improvisations. I heartily approve. It's the LingQ Way.

First he amassed a collection of "all-purpose nouns". Anything with batteries in it is a deet-deet. Anything even remotely cylindrical and man-sized is a Dalek. Any tool is a screwdriver.

He also improvises new nouns. Shown a picture of a lawn mower he called it a "garden hoover". He explained to me how he wees out of his "willy button" (a part of his anatomy that I don't even know the proper name for). By putting two nouns together he can come up with a wonderfully descriptive, new name for something.

James at Birdy's age was good at making words up from scratch. He coined the verb "to spadge", as in "if you spadge together yellow and blue paint you get green". Emma would sing her remarks, and hum in the bits where she couldn't think up words.

It is interesting to think that, by the age of four, a child has amassed powerful coping strategies for talking about unfamilar objects or situations, whereas some advanced English students refuse to speak on "new" topics, for fear that their active vocabulary will fall short. I believe if they could learn to improvise, to "riff" on the language, they would be more confident speakers and also learn the "proper" vocabulary faster than they would by just avoiding tricky new topics.

Can we, as adult learners, learn to improvise like a three year old? Can teachers support learners in learning to improvise?

More on this topic later....

A funny story

"Can you read minds?" my daughter asked a small girl in the playground.

"No, I'm only on the blue books!" replied her little friend.

I want to be a teacher when I grow up!

[This is true]

I have applied for a teacher training course at my local college. I want to qualify to teach people, who don't speak English, to speak English. There ought to be a shorter phrase for that. In fact there are several. "English as a foreign language" implies that you are going to teach only foreigners, i.e. people who live abroad. "English as a second language" implies that you are going to teach only people who already speak only one other language, which discriminates against polyglots. "English for speakers of other languages" is wordy but inclusive, as it includes immigrants, the Welsh, sign language users, polyglots and extraterrestrials. But not, presumably, the mute. "English for thinkers in other languages" might be the ideal phrase, although I suppose that would discriminate against the very stupid.

My application form had no spelling mistakes and so I was offered an interview with aptitude test. I carefully dressed like a teacher (corduroy trousers and dangly silver earrings) and went along.

Only two of the other five applicants appeared to be native English speakers. In fact we seemed quite a multi-ethnic bunch. Reflecting on the wording of the application criteria I realised that being an English native, or a native speaker of English, weren't actually requirements. Fair enough, I thought. People who have learned English as a speaker of another language ought to be well qualified to teach English to speakers of other languages. As long as they know their subjunctives from their semicolons, and the students don't mind learning English with an Indian or a Portugese accent.

In her introductory statements our interviewer explained that knowing English grammar was actually quite important and we would have to have lessons to make sure we understood it. She also explained that there would be homework and it would really be a terrific idea if we did it all and handed it in. She said she had to make that very clear at the interview because people often drop out of the course because that they had failed to realise they might have to write an essay or two. I nodded thoughfully and doodled a cup of tea.

We were then handed our aptitude tests. I had to read the questions several times. Were they trick questions cunningly disguised to look like they had been written by an eight year old? There was one spelling question, one punctuation question, one singular vs plural verb question, and one reported speech question. Surely it couldn't be that easy? I put a perfect subjunctive and a semicolon into my answers just for devilment. I hadn't come all that way not to show off a bit.

Then there was an essay on "Why I want to be a teacher" (200 words).

While we were sucking our pens and looking thoughtful, or in my case fantasising about pots of tea, we were called in for our interviews.

I had explained about my LingQ experiences at some length on my application form, which had clearly amazed and possibly dismayed my interviewer. She read out with obvious disbelief the list of languages I claimed to speak.

"What is the commonest problem you have encountered with people learning English?" she asked.

"Perfectionism!" I replied without hesitation. "Many of my students are professional people who have invested years of their free time in learning English, and they still aren't satisfied with their achievements. They set themselves unattainably high goals and it affects their self-confidence."

There followed a short silence.

"You won't get students like that here," responded my stunned interviewer. "Our students are the kind who don't do any work and they wonder why they find it hard. How will you get them to do their homework?"

I thought about this. "I think I will explain to them that they should do their homework if they want to be able to speak English," I ventured at last.

The interviewer nodded. This seemed to be the expected answer.

After a few more questions (clearly she was using the same questions for each interview) the interviewer asked me the Time Management Question.

"How much time do you spend on your studies?" she asked.

"About three hours a day," I answered.

Another thoughtful pause, with more reading of my application form.

"You have three small children....yet you find THREE HOURS A DAY for study?"

I shrugged. I pulled my mp3 player out of my pocket and my ebook reader out of my shoulder bag.

"Here are my learning materials," I said. "I have little quality time, but I'm good at making the most of odd minutes. I listened to 10 minutes of Harry Potter in Russian just waiting for this interview to start."

I have no idea whether I passed the selection proceedure. I may have been too cocky, and I think the jokes I put in my essay went a step too far. I think, however, I made an impression on my interviewer. She was looking pretty shell-shocked when I left. She's not going to forget the Woman From LingQ in a hurry.

I've got a note from my kids excusing me from Parents Evening

[This is true]

I hate Parents Evening and I get out of going to it whenever I can. In theory, having three children in full-time education, I should attend three Parents Evenings per term. In practice James doesn’t seem to have them regularly and I suspect he has perfected the art of losing his letter on the walk home. That suits me just fine. Anything that spares me from hearing a teacher’s opinion on one of my kids is a bonus as far as I am concerned.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of respect for teachers. It’s just that, after nine years of having school age kids, I have come to realise that anything a teacher says about your child, another teacher will say the exact opposite based on exactly the same observations, and neither one is going to listen to what Mum has to say about it.

James’ teachers have always divided evenly between those whose think he is gifted and those who think he is psychologically disturbed, and they only need to answer the simple question: “Will he get a Nobel prize or an ASBO?” to give me all the benefit of their professional opinion that I need.

Mim’s teachers split into those that think she is dim and lazy and those that think she is clever and hard-working. Presumably it depends on whether they like her, or whether she likes them. In any case, whichever I hear at Parents Evening, next term or next year I will hear the exact opposite.

Birdy’s teachers worry that he doesn’t talk very much. There are no two ways about it: he doesn’t talk very much. They can’t fix it; I can’t fix it. Either he will catch up with the others or he will remain silent. He’s not dim, he’s just not chatty. I can’t see any point in spending another 10 minutes discussing it when we could all be drinking a cup of tea and eating a chocolate biscuit instead. Which goes to show: whatever the cause of his taciturnity may be, it runs in the family.

Let’s be honest: any teacher who needs to sit the parent down for 10 minutes once a term to say “Little Jimmy stills chews gums in class and can’t do long division” is a teacher with poor communication skills. Anything that the parents really need to know should have already been communicated to them, via letter or e-mail or a “Could we have a word in the corridor?” meeting.

A really experienced teacher can convey to me all I need to know about my kids’ progress with a shrug and knowing smile. In James’ case, often glancing up towards Heaven and crossing themselves as well.

James needs his head examining - again

[This is true]

What is it with my kids? No sooner have I soothed the ruffled feathers of one of their teachers when another of the kids gets into trouble.

On the positive side, the Health Visitor (otherwise known as Government Snoop) came round and talked to Birdy. She pronounced him as very bright, probably bored out of his little mind at nursery school, giving his teachers the silent treatment just to annoy them. That's a worry off my mind, I had been imagining a language disorder or Autistic Spectrum.

Onto the next problem child. James is in trouble (again) for poor timekeeping, disorganisation, forgetting his own name and generally being odder than his teachers feel they can cope with on a daily basis. He claims to see dead people, and although this is probably a joke, with him it is very difficult to tell. His teachers think he may be taking drugs.

I have grown accustomed to his ways, so I went to explain the notion of "schizotypy" to them. His teachers were clearly unnerved by the idea of a year seven boy having hallucinations, paranoid ideas or delusions of super powers. Although they seemed to believe what I was saying (which was a pleasant change from being treated as a fantasist), they weren't really happy about taking my word for it. If he is to be excused from Reality on a regular basis a note from Mum isn't really adequate documentation. A note from the doctor would carry much more weight in his permanent record, or better yet, a psychologist's report.

"There's not much point in referring him to an educational psychologist," I said, wearily. Been there, done that, got the psychologist's report. "They only look for evidence of learning difficulties. They aren't interested in his odd ideas."

"Nooooooo...." said the Special Needs Manager. "That sounds more like a job for mental health professionals."

"He's not ill!" I said quickly, deciding not to mention the telekinesis, visitations from the dead and UFO sightings.

"No, no, of course not!" said Mr Special Needs very soothingly and slightly too quickly. "But they are trained to assess these things, and they know all the terminology for hallucinatory experiences. His GP can refer him to CAMHS and they can assess him and write us a report for his file."

Ho hum. I suppose I'd better make him a doctor's appointment then. "Please can you arrange to have my son's head examined because he is acting so strangely that it's attracting attention even in a state school". I think, on balance, it might be better not to mention it to Grandma. She'll blame me for bringing him up mentally unstable.

Birdy won't talk

{A serious piece}

Birdy is in his second term of nursery school and his teachers are concerned because he doesn't play with the other children. Rather, he watches them play and then copies them. More worryingly, he doesn't respond to the sound of his name. If you want to grab his attention, the surest way is to go up and touch him on the shoulder.

The teachers asked me to have his hearing checked. "Oh, he can hear you just fine!" I responded with all my customary charm. "He's just not interested in listening to you." They didn't seem satisfied with that.

Next they asked if he talks at home. "Oh yes!" I responded brightly. "He's a little chatterbox. He talks about Doctor Who, Thomas the Tank Engine and space. Lives in his own little world."

They didn't seem very reassured and responded by asking me to sign an Individual Education Plan for him. I sat down on a dinky chair at a dinky little table and read it. In brief it said:

The Problem: Birdy doesn't talk very much
Desired Outcome: Make Birdy talk more
Action required to achieve this outcome: Talk to Birdy and get him to talk back.

As I sat, grumpily contemplating the near-idiotic superficiality of this problem solving process, two little boys came and sat next to me at the dinky little table. Exhibit A was Birdy, who sat and watched me in silence. Exhibit B was a little boy I had never noticed or spoken to before.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm reading this piece of paper," I answered.

"What's it about?" he asked.

"It's about Birdy not talking," I answered.

"Why doesn't Birdy talk?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered.

I looked at Exhibit B. Exhibit B looked back at me. Exhibit A practiced burping. I sighed.

"Well, if talking to strangers and asking questions all the time is normal for a three year old," I said to Exhibit B, "then you're normal and Birdy isn't. It's a fair cop," and I signed the piece of paper.

At home I googled language learning disorders. That led me to autistic spectrum disorders, which gave me somthing to ponder. Might Birdy be autistic? He doesn't call me "Mummy", in fact he rarely uses names for anyone or anything, including himself. Although he does talk, if you listen carefully you realise he is saying things like: "Michael Bentine's Potty Time take 1!" This is not only a straight copy from one of his favourite programmes, he even copies exactly Michael Bentine's voice. He's no different from a parrot who has learned to say "Polly wants a cracker!" and who then is puzzled when it gets given a cracker.

I went and asked the Special Needs teacher about autism. She was reassuring. She says it can't be ruled out (well, very little can at this early age) but there's no need to jump to conclusions. After all, our gifted little mimic copies our facial expressions, and seems to do so with the sole purpose of making us laugh. He seems rather to be a clown who doesn't understand the point of language, than a child who can't understand other people.

An alternative to autism is something which is sometimes called Semantic Pragmatic Disorder. This looks like autism but isn't necessarily accompanied by autism. These kids fail to grasp the working of language or to pick up on social clues about behaviour until they are much older, although they do finally catch up and become just like other kids.

Mrs Special Needs Teacher also reminded me that Birdy has two very smart, very much older siblings. If he has only them to play with then his behaviour is going to be unusual. He doesn't play with three-year old toys because he would rather play with (and break) twelve-year old toys. He watches Doctor Who (which he can't understand much of) because his big brother is a Doctor Who obsessive.

Hopefully, whatever Birdy has that is holding him back from talking and playing with other kids of his own age, is something that he will grow out of. Perhaps all he really needs, like his Mummy, is to get out more and meet people.

Charlie has musical motoring trouble

The further adventures of the Dunwich Family.

E-mail from Charlie to Mary:

Hello Dear!

I think that I need to get Harry to take a look at the CD player on the car, as it seems to be censoring the music I can listen to on the way to work.

It will only play Todd Rundgren’s “A Wizard, A True Star”, the first two Captain Beefheart albums (but nothing after his output became more challenging), and “Sir Henry at Rawlinson End”.

There must be a sensor built in to prevent steady rhythms, or anything working in 4/4, or anything sung by a woman.

As a result my driving is becoming prone to erratic jazz rhythms in 19/16 and 5/4 time which is getting a bit exciting on the icy roads between here and work.

Don't forget we need more bananas. Ben ate six for supper yesterday. I really don't know where he puts them all.

Love xxxxx

Schizotypy and Old schoolmates

(A serious piece)

“Facebook is for sad people” my son informs me . I have just joined Facebook, which has confirmed all his suspicions. I reply that it’s a socially acceptable form of stalking which doesn’t require me to find my shoes.

On joining I was asked to give my school details, and in an uncharacteristic moment of candour, I told the truth. This resulted in me finding several old classmates, triggering a series of flashbacks so vivid and so painful that I had to go and have a lie down in a darkened room.

I wonder what my classmates remember about me? I was painfully shy, with such low self-esteem that I was desperate to avoid attracting any attention. Being a schizotype, I was on a loser there. We tend to attract attention whether we want it or not. I struggled to remember where I was supposed to be and when, what I was meant to do and what clothes I was suppposed to be wearing to do it in. My teachers thought I was doing it to annoy them. I was extremely good (as schizotypes are) at grasping ideas and linking facts together, so I got top marks a lot. My classmates probably thought I was doing that to annoy them.

I hadn’t been diagnosed yet, back in the Eighties the psychologists hadn’t even invented schizotypy. Some are still arguing about whether the condition can present in school-age children. Well, I have some news for them. YES IT DAMN WELL CAN! I was showing all the typical characteristics of a benign schizotype by the time I was eleven. Dreams seemed real, reality seemed dream-like and some days I thought I was dead. Schizotypy isn’t a mental illness, but it predisposes you to anxiety, paranoia and depression, which you can do without in your teenage years. I didn’t have a social life and hadn’t learned social skills; if your parents are anxious, paranoid and depressed you tend not to.

My teachers, like my parents, were more concerned with the state of my socks than my mental health. As long as I did my homework (and frankly it was easier to spend my evenings studying than to sit with with my parents) then the teachers left me alone. I missed a lot of school in the Sixth Form due to depression and stress-related illnessed. I tried to leave but wasn’t allowed to because it would have upset the timetable or something.

If I were in that environment nowadays I would study languages and write witty, satirical pieces about what it is like being misunderstood. In those days I didn’t have the words to express the muddle in my mind and didn’t have the courage to keep trying to explain it to people who weren’t listening. I avoided all subjects which require you to speak, stuck my head in my books and kept it there until I was finally through the system and allowed to get away.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not writing this to feel sorry for myself. Life is good and it keeps getting better. I’ve travelled places and met people and done stuff. I've had treatment and I am no longer stalked by the demons of Anxiety and Despair. These days, when I talk about my experiences of mental illness, people assume I am joking and politely wait for the punch line.

What concerns me now is that my children have a better time of school than I did. My son is a schizotype, lower on anxiety but with a double order of hallucinations. He was acting noticeably oddly by the time he was nine. I went to the school and Had a Quiet Word with his teachers. Although puzzled, they were sensible enough to realise I wasn’t going to go away and so agreed to give him the support he needed. Mostly this involves helping him not to get overstimulated, as the hallucinations start when his brain overloads on data. Even a loud carpet can make him hear things.

He started at upper school last September. I went to the school and Had Another Word. I put it to his teachers that they had two choices: they can support him and watch him soar through school, picking up awards and inspiring others; alternatively they can crush his spirit with unthinking conformity and institutionalised bullying, which is likely to push him into a series of depressive episodes and ultimately screw up his academic career. It’s gratifying how readily his teachers come round to my point of view when it is expressed in those terms. Obviously, he is expected to work hard and do his best to be a credit to his school. Sometimes, however, teachers need reminding that being an individual is not in itself against the School Rules.

Imagination is a powerful and life-enhancing gift, and forgetfulness, poor timekeeping, a tendency to see and hear things that are not entirely real, and an ability to misunderstand simple instructions are not things that we should need to feel ashamed of or apologise for. The most important lesson I ever learned from my time at school is that you don't have to pull your socks up, shut up and copy everyone else just because that makes life easier for the grown-ups. I just wish I hadn’t left until now to learn it. It is knowledge that would have done me more good than everything I learned all the Double Maths lessons that I ever tried to turn myself invisible in.

[The characteristics of schizotypy are explained here if you can stand the long words: http://schizotypy.totallyexplained.com/].

In Which Ben has a Bath

It was Christmas evening and we were giving Ben his first bath.

Charlie was stumbling around in the loft, looking for some of James' (or, at a pinch, Minnie's) old clothes. Minnie was clearing up the mess downstairs with very bad grace.

Ben had had an envigorating first day. He had met people for the first time, got named, encountered various parts of his body and explored his living space. He had laughed for the first time, cried for the first time, and taken his first ever sip of water. He had also pulled the Christmas tree over on top of himself, dribbled on the TV remote control and poked Dodgson in the beak (earning himself a nipped finger). Clearly he was enjoying life outside his growing tank.


"Why does Ben have blue eyes when yours are brown?" I asked James. Ben was showing great interest in the bathing process. Àfter giving the soap an exploratory nibble, he weed in the water (another new and exciting experience) and then began to chew the rubber ducky. We wrestled the soap off him and put it to its usual use.

James shrugged. "Data errors," he said. "Clones are never exact copies. They have to check each one to make sure it's in proper working order. Some of the early ones had bits in the wrong places."

I shuddered. "I hope Ben's got all his bits in the right places!" I said fervently.

"Kate checked him over," answered James. "She said his heart and lungs were working properly, She wants to be a doctor when she grows up."

"Maybe we should get him checked over by a real doctor," I mused. I wondered how our family GP would react. "Here's our brand new three year-old, Doctor Proctor, I wonder if you could check him to see if he's correctly assembled?" She'd review my medication quicker than you can say Prozac.

We lifted Ben out of the bath (to the accompaniment of a howl of protest), and towelled him dry. Ben was not impressed and tried to free himself by biting his way through the towel.

Of all the things I find disconcerting about my newly-born son, the fact that he doesn't talk is possibly the strangest. He has the body of a three year-old, and he seems to have the mind of one, but he has no understanding of language and doesn't even go "goo-goo".

"I suppose he'll learn to talk in time," I mused aloud.

James nodded. "Virus says they soon pick it up," he assured me.

I sighed. "I don't put much store in Virus' parenting skills!" I grumbled. "I thought he was decidedly cold towards Ben."

James grinned. "Well, he is supercool!" he joked.

I grunted. I don't usually take an instant dislike to people, but I must admit I hadn't found my great-grandson at all appealing.

"Covered in permafrost would be more like it! He didn't treat Ben with the least warmth or kindness. What kind of person can hear a child cry and not try to calm it down?"

James shrugged. "I don't think Virus considers Ben to be a real person. He's just a home-made bendy to him. A science project, not a kid you want to keep."

I took a deep breath. I could feel a Moral Stand coming on.

"I want you listen to this very carefully, James Dunwich," I said flatly. "Ben is alive, he's human and - even more to the point - he's one of us. He is every bit as important and special as me, Dad, you or Minnie. He's not going to be disassembled, fiddled with, examined or experimented on. I hope I make myself clear?"

James looked affronted. "Of course, Mum!" he protested. "I don't think like that about Ben. I said that's what Virus thinks. Virus is soooo twenty-second century. He even eats meat! And he's really old."

James thinks his grandson is old. I decided not to think too hard about that in case my brain melted.

A crash, a muffled expletive and a dull thudding sound reminded me of my husband. I went out to the landing to find a black sack full of slightly musty children's clothes.

"Guess what, Ben!" I said brightly. "I've got a whole new sensory experience for you. These are called pyjamas, and you are going to wear them!"

A spirited but brief struggle later, Ben was thoughtfully contemplating a set of My Little Pony pyjamas from the inside. I lead him to the big bed (since he doesn't have a bed he'll have to sleep between me and Charlie) and read him, to his immense puzzlement, "Wibbly Pig can build a Spaceship".

He snuggled into the crook of my arm and drifted off to sleep, while I wondered how to explain his existence to the Authorities. No-one was going to believe that he was really our son, even though a DNA test would proves that we are his parents. Would Social Services accuse us of stealing him and take him into care?

He was going to need some proper documentation. A birth certificate at least. How many computer records does it take to be legally born in this country?

"I think I'm going to need the services of a mad computer genius and a time machine," I whispered to the sleeping child beside me. "I'd better bake a cake!"

Fragrance sensitivity

I've found out what I'm allergic to! Unfortunately, it's everywhere.

It's perfume, or more accurately, one or more of the many chemicals that manufacturers are permitted to put in large quantities in toiletries, cleaning products, even paint and glue. They don't have to state the ingredients on the label. Even products marketed as "unscented" can be perfumed. "Unscented" in this business just means "not as strongly perfumed as some of our other products".

I've suffered from general allergy symptoms for years, but because these "fragrance" chemicals are everywhere, I only found out by chance what was causing it. This weekend, while
queueing in the chemist, I got bored and sprayed myself with a perfume tester. It was like being hit with mustard gas. My eyes stung, I started to cough and gasp and retch. My daughter, similarly sprayed, was unaffected.

The next day we went to the supermarket, and my daughter accidentally smashed a bottle of hand wash. Again the "gas attack" reaction, again the nausea. This time the stuff hadn't even touched my skin. Airbourne particles were enough to trigger a reaction.

The products that made me sick contained linalool, limonene, benzo-something, hexa-something else and "parfum", which is code for "we're not telling you what gunk we put in this to make it smell nice". A quick search of the kitchen and bathroom turned up about twenty products containing some or all of these, many of which I put on my skin every day. I have bathed babies in this stuff! Is this twenty-first century child abuse?

I did a google search and found out about "fragrance sensitivity". The North Americans are ahead of the British on this one (when are they ever not ahead of us?) Second-hand fragrance is starting to be condidered as antisocial and unhealthy as second-hand tobacco smoke. Some workplaces in America are even starting to ban perfumes. I'd love to know how effective such a ban is in practice.

A perfume ban, even if it could be imagined on these "it's not polite to make a fuss" shores wouldn't be nearly enough though. I felt sick this morning after my husband used deodorant while I was in the same room. Last night he used too much conditioner on my little boy's hair, which made my eyes smart all evening. A deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, soap, shower gel and handwash ban would never catch on here. Especially when it's so difficult to find products that actually are fragrance free.

You have to love the irony though. I have been in contact with every unpleasant organic substance a small child can produce.You can roll me in vomit, half-rotted compost and hamster poo, and unpleasant as the experience will be, it won't make me sick.  If I have a nice bath to wash it off and use the wrong type of bubble bath, I'll feel sick and itch for days. Someone up there certainly has a sense of humour.