I have been honored to conduct interviews with multilingual families during my Fulbright – speakers of Spanish and Yucatec Maya – about beliefs and practices surrounding child language acquisition. I have been invited into homes, shared home cooked meals, and participated in the daily activities of the village. You can read some of our preliminary findings in the posters above in Spanish and in Yucatec Maya. Muchas gracias a las familias de Maní, este proyecto no sería posible sin ustedes.
How do children learn to speak the language(s) of their families and communities? Existing research emphasizes the important role that child-directed speech (CDS), or direct, one-on-one language input from a caregiver (usually a parent) to a child, plays in language acquisition. Yet almost all of this work focuses on children in Western contexts where CDS is the cultural norm. Less is known about the role that other-directed speech (ODS), between adults or older children, may play in the process of early language acquisition. In the context of contemporary Maya families from the Yucatan peninsula, Learning by Observing and Pitching In (Rogoff et al., 2014) has been proposed as a model of informal learning in which children are considered an important part of daily activities and learn through attentive engagement with adults in multigenerational settings. How might the LOPI framework apply to language learning? This project aims to study variability in patterns of language learning in diverse cultural contexts and inform ongoing language maintenance efforts in this region of Mexico.
If today is Wednesday, is tomorrow “this Thursday” or “next Thursday”? Do you picture time moving linearly from left to right? Or in a never ending circle like a zodiac calendar? Or in layers with the past providing the foundation and the future reaching up into the sky? Mental representations of time vary across cultures and there are seemingly infinite ways that languages can encode time to express events that will happen, have happened, or are happening. Telicity is a grammatical aspect indicating whether an event is conceptualized as having an endpoint (telic) or not (atelic). It is a mystery why telicity is reflected in the syntax of some languages but not others. In Finnish, there is an obligatory contrast between a resultative (complete) and irresultative (incomplete) action. In English, telicity can be indicated either semantically or syntactically and interpretation may be influenced by event structure and objects involved. For instance, “he drank beer” is an ongoing action with no clear quantity or endpoint, but “he drank a beer” involves a countable noun and an ostensive ending. In Spanish, the imperfect verb tense can be used for descriptions of past events or actions without a specific endpoint in time (corría) compared with events with a clear end (corrí). Yucatec Maya is thought to be a “tenseless” language, but time is nonetheless expressed in many ways through the context. Do we map our concepts of time onto the languages we learn or are events represented universally and then described in language-specific ways?
Janal Pixán
Tuve la oportunidad de hacer un mucbipollo con Lol-beh en Maní. Es una de las comidas tradicionales de las pueblas mayas, que se elabora durante la temporada de muerte (o Janal Pixán en Yucatán) y suele adornar las ofrendas a los difuntos.
Primero, se forma un bol con una mezcla de masa salpicada con espelón. Luego agrega pollo, cebolla, jitomate, habanero, epazote, y una salsa llamada Kol (hecho con masa, achiote, y tomate).
Después de taparla y envuélvelo en hojas de plátano, se mete al horno o se cocina en un píib (horno subterráneo). Cómelo or ponlo en el altar para alimentar a los familiares fallecidos durante el año hasta el siguiente día de muertos.
How do humans manage to communicate ideas to one another? The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein argued that one cannot guess at how a word functions; rather, one has to experience its use and learn from that. Immersion in a second language provides many opportunities to experience words in different ways. I am often amazed at the ways we stretch semantics to convey information. I never would have guessed, for example, that the word for tab (i.e., I opened another tab in my browser) in Spanish is pestaña, which means eyelash. There are indeed limits to our inferences about how words will function and much of it is based on the context in which we live and the ways that language is mutable and layered in both meaning and structure. I love the flexibility in pragmatics and the imagery evoked by all of the eyelashes I have opened (yes, I currently have 250 open, don’t judge….and yes, I know there is a more elegant way to organize tabs, but I like to have a linear timeline of the random thoughts that pop into my head so I can scroll backward to remember what I was interested in last week or last year…a peek into the past if you will allow me to extend the eye metaphor). But on the other hand, language is often predictable in its use. For instance, parachoques (para + choques = for + shocks/bumps/crashes) is the word for bumper (bump + er) which follows the same English structure of nominalization albeit with a compound word instead of adding the derivational morpheme -er to modify the root noun.
We took our first trip to the village of Maní today, about 90 minutes outside of Mérida – a beautiful drive through the Reserva Geohidrológica Anillo de Cenotes (Ring of Cenotes). We were welcomed into to two Jardines de Niños where we will recruit preschool children from families who speak Spanish and Yucatec Maya to participate in our project. My host at CINVESTAV, Dra. María Dolores Cervera Montejano and I are pictured here in the town center. What you can't see in this picture is that it is almost 100 degrees with an excessive heat warning. Slowly getting used to this tropical climate, but quite a difference from the Pacific Northwest!
Wayfinding in an unfamiliar city can be a challenge. In Mérida it can be tricky to locate an address because there aren’t any street names, only numbers. You will need to know the primary street number (e.g., Calle 60), the number of the house or business (e.g., 982) as well as the cross streets (e.g., 62 x 63). Without all of this info, you could end up on the other side of town. But one of the first things you notice in Mérida is that most street corners in the Centro are also marked with a brick red plaque with an icon and a nickname that connects the building with part of the city’s history. Some of these stories are long forgotten, and some have become legend or lore, but you can ask around to learn about some of the city’s secrets. Read more info about these markers here: https://yucatantoday.com/en/story-every-corner/
I had the pleasure to visit Dr. César David Canul Can, professor of Lengua Maya at Universidad Autónoma de Yucatán (UADY), and director of the Corpus Lingüistico at the Centro Institucional de Lenguas. He showed me the incredible project they are working on including naturalistic video and audio recordings of native speakers of Yucatec Maya: T'aantsil. More impressively, they are working on transcribing, translating, and tagging lexical items in each recording. The corpus serves not only as a record of the language and culture but also as a potential teaching tool for future generations. You can learn more here: https://cil.uady.mx/lenguamaya/corpusmaya
¡Totopos y sikil p'aak! When you sit down to eat at a Yucatecan restaurant, chances are that you will be served the house-made sikil p'aak – a delicious dip made from pepitas (pumpkin seeds or sikil in maya) blended with tomatoes (p'aak), lime, salt, and habanero peppers. Every restaurant prepares it slightly differently and the recipe is easy enough to try at home too!
Mérida is a circular city that spreads from the Centro to the Periférico. It can be traversed via one-way streets laid out on a grid that is superimposed on top of radial spokes extending outward like a sunflower starfish. Although there are a few semáforos, mostly there are stop signs which seem to be suggestions. When approaching a blind intersection, drivers who have the right-of-way will do a gentle double-tap on the horn to alert the cars at the stop sign to wait. They call this maneuver "pitar o sonar el claxon" (to beep or sound the horn). I love the word claxon. Apparently the root is from the Greek, I shriek, which feels apt. The term klaxon refers to a horn or alerting device and is used widely for imminent danger alerting systems (e.g., seismic activity). It has also made its way into many lexical systems across the globe besides Spanish to refer to the car horn like Japanese and Korean!
What number is this: 10000? We were sitting at Cuerno de Toro and my kids were talking about learning math in Mexico where they use commas instead of decimal points (so 50,00 is 50.00). My 11 year old has also been learning math in Japanese for 6 years and I was shocked when he shared that 1,0000 = 10,000! Why is this the case? It has to do with language of course! English is based on thousands and gets a new number word every three digits (thousand, million, billion) but Japanese is based on 10 thousands and gets a new number word every four digits. I can't say that I'm good at explaining it (or even understanding it) but here is a short article that might help.
One of the other subjects my kids get to learn at their new school in Mexico is Matemáticas Mayas, which is, after one short lesson, their new favorite subject. At the heart is the concept of zero, which is the beginning, the end, and so much more, although it is a vigesimal system (based on the number 20!). I am thrilled that they have the opportunity to learn with their classmates about indigenous numerical systems. Read more on centering indigenous knowledge in mathematical learning for equity from UW Professor Filiberto Barajas-López.
What would you call the objects you use to turn on your shower? Knobs? Handles? Something totally different? I learned three different Spanish vocabulary words for shower handle/knob today. El mango is used for un objeto para asir (an object to grab), primarily for objects with affordances for grasping or grabbing like a long, linear pot/pan handle; la manija is a handle more often used in the case of a drawer pull; and la perilla is a knob with a characteristic round shape. All of these words were used to describe the knobs in our Airbnb shower! Why? Because they don't fit neatly into a category! They have a round base, but a protruding handle! This is a great example of cross-linguistic categorization. The way we carve up and label the objects and events in our world sometimes aligns across languages, but sometimes we have totally different conceptual categories and corresponding labels (read Soonja Choi's fascinating paper on Korean and English spatial prepositions for more)!