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My dad, Larry and I got together for whisky last night. Larry tossed out a flavor he picked up...
L: Figs
D: Pigs?
L: No, figs
K: *thinking about how horrible a pig's sty smells, and trying to make the best of the pig notes (and yes, I did realize the actual word was "figs")* Yeah, like a freshly washed pig, lying on the living room floor.
I didn't think either of them heard me, but a minute later, my dad said, "that comment about pigs on the living room floor reminded me. When I was in grade school probably second grade, a girl came to school with her glasses broken. She was still wearing them, the lens had a crack running down it. I asked what happened to her glasses, and she said 'my glasses were on the kitchen floor, and the pig stepped on them.' It was a whole 'nother world down there."
My dad grew up in rural southeastern Indiana.
That story reminded him of another one. There were twin boys, who spoke their own language. They were young, and came from a large family, and they made up their own words and knew what each other was saying. But they didn't make up these words in the context that they were were sharing something unique, it was their language. They didn't understand English. Their parents said "we don't understand them either." My dad said he didn't know how they learned anything, since they didn't understand the teachers. It makes you wonder what happened to them.
L: Figs
D: Pigs?
L: No, figs
K: *thinking about how horrible a pig's sty smells, and trying to make the best of the pig notes (and yes, I did realize the actual word was "figs")* Yeah, like a freshly washed pig, lying on the living room floor.
I didn't think either of them heard me, but a minute later, my dad said, "that comment about pigs on the living room floor reminded me. When I was in grade school probably second grade, a girl came to school with her glasses broken. She was still wearing them, the lens had a crack running down it. I asked what happened to her glasses, and she said 'my glasses were on the kitchen floor, and the pig stepped on them.' It was a whole 'nother world down there."
My dad grew up in rural southeastern Indiana.
That story reminded him of another one. There were twin boys, who spoke their own language. They were young, and came from a large family, and they made up their own words and knew what each other was saying. But they didn't make up these words in the context that they were were sharing something unique, it was their language. They didn't understand English. Their parents said "we don't understand them either." My dad said he didn't know how they learned anything, since they didn't understand the teachers. It makes you wonder what happened to them.
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no subject
Date: 2017-06-16 12:13 pm (UTC)From:I have heard of other kids who create their own languages but never about kids who didn't understand the language everybody else at home spoke if they weren't adopted and brought in later, that is. As a language teacher I know that daily exposure to a language pretty much assure that you will at least understand it passively.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 01:29 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2017-06-18 12:40 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2017-06-18 09:54 pm (UTC)From: