segunda-feira, 15 de setembro de 2025

B1 reading exercise

 

Food and restaurants

Are you looking for somewhere special to go this weekend? Do you want to try something new? Check out one of these hot new restaurants.

Last Days of the Raj 

A centrally located Indian restaurant, perfect for eating before or after the cinema or a show. In summer enjoy your meal in the beautiful garden. The most popular dishes are lamb and chicken cooked with mild, medium or hot spices. For brave customers there is extra hot!

A Taste of Tuscany

Whether you’d like a great value-for-money lunch or a relaxed evening meal in stylish surroundings, this is the place for you. The chefs have all been trained in Italy and they make both traditional and contemporary dishes. We recommend the pasta and seafood.

Your Local Caff

Remember when cafés served full English breakfasts – sausages, beans, fried bread, bacon and eggs – with a strong cup of tea? Well, this place still does and you can have your breakfast at any time you like during the day while you listen to your favourite tunes from the 1980s. 

The Lemon Tree

This pretty restaurant serves healthy food that’s tasty too. Come in for a vegetarian snack at lunchtime or a great fruit smoothie or a cappuccino and a delicious piece of cake in the afternoon. Food is bought from local producers whenever possible.

Cheesy Bites

A restaurant that only serves cheese, but hundreds of cheeses from many countries and in lots of different forms. They serve reasonably priced lunches but dinner can be expensive. Lovely food and a very elegant dining room, looking onto an amazing flower garden.

Fast Best

Fast food doesn’t have to be junk food, as this café proves. Do you fancy a really good hamburger made with the best ingredients, or old-fashioned fish and chips fried to perfection, all on the table in super-quick time? Speed and quality are important here, and the prices aren’t bad either.

The Chocolate Box

The owner of this small café used to cook all kinds of food, but then she realised she preferred desserts to anything else. If you want meat or fish, don’t come here. They only do desserts! Lots of different kinds of sweets. Chocolate lovers will be excited by the range of chocolate cakes.

Musical Chairs

Have you noticed how music improves the taste of your food? This new restaurant has different types of live music every night except Sundays, and excellent food to go with it. Great fish dishes, steak and pizza. Monday is classic rock night, so see you there!

quinta-feira, 6 de março de 2025

MARX INTRODUÇÃO, CAP. 2

2. Mercadoria e capital


A interdição da Gazeta Renana pelo governo da Prússia privou Marx de seu meio de atuação e fez dele persona non grata na Alemanha. Forçado a emigrar, Marx foi para a França, onde tentou retomar a atividade de jornalista e aprofundou os estudos sobre o capitalismo. Nessa época, iniciou-se na leitura dos principais autores da economia política inglesa, como Adam Smith (1723-1790), James Mill (1773-1836) e David Ricardo (1772-1823). A militância política obrigou-o a abandonar também a França e, em seguida, a Bélgica, onde havia encontrado refúgio e tempo para escrever obras como Miséria da filosofia e o Manifesto Comunista. Enfim, em 1849, conseguiu asilo político na Inglaterra, onde passou o resto da vida. Lá, teve a oportunidade de ler a obra dos economistas no original e de frequentar os arquivos do Museu Britânico, imprescindível para a gigantesca pesquisa que lhe permitiu redigir O capital, inicialmente intitulado de Crítica da economia política.


Com paciência, Marx leu e releu várias vezes não apenas os livros dos economistas clássicos, mas também brochuras de autores hoje esquecidos e panfletos de anônimos. O trabalho foi imenso, demandou muitos anos e precisou ser reelaborado várias vezes. Depois de uma fase inicial de estudo, na qual foi necessário aprofundar e detalhar o que havia escrito sobre o assunto na década de 1840, Marx reuniu o material num longo e novo manuscrito do qual pensava extrair os volumes que comporiam a versão final de sua obra. Por fim, extraiu apenas um, que correspondia ao primeiro capítulo do manuscrito, e publicou-o em 1859 com o título de Para a crítica da economia política. O restante do texto foi publicado apenas no século XX. Esse manuscrito serviu de base para uma segunda versão da obra, redigida entre 1861 e 1863, e para a terceira e última, redigida a partir de 1863. Foi essa última versão que resultou no primeiro livro de O capital, publicado em 1867, com reedição em 1873, e nos textos aproveitados por Engels na edição do segundo e terceiro livros de O capital, em 1885 e 1894, respectivamente.


Uma das dificuldades principais de Marx nesse longo trabalho de redação foi a de encontrar o modo adequado de apresentação dos conceitos, que devia ser simultaneamente crítico e compreensivo. Por fim, a solução foi começar por uma análise da forma social de mercadoria, não porque a mercadoria seja a forma histórica mais antiga do capitalismo, e sim porque ela é sua forma mais simples, constituída apenas por uma oposição interna, como se verá a seguir. A mercadoria também é a forma pela qual o sistema se generaliza e se expande, destinando ao mercado todos os produtos do trabalho, uma vez que a fonte criadora desses produtos, a força de trabalho, assume igualmente a forma de mercadoria. Marx percebeu que a apresentação das várias formas sociais por meio das quais se articula o sistema deve partir desse elemento mais geral. Assim, o modo de apresentação reproduziria o encadeamento real que existe entre essas formas, e que se torna cada vez mais complexo e mais particularizado em suas ramificações.


De início, Marx define mercadoria como a forma social específica de que se reveste o produto do trabalho, quando não serve ao consumo do próprio produtor ou a trocas apenas eventuais, e quando já é produzido para o mercado. Historicamente, a mercadoria existiu em várias sociedades anteriores à sociedade capitalista atual, mas se generalizou somente a partir da predominância do trabalho assalariado sobre as outras formas de produzir. Sob essa forma, a força de trabalho é uma mercadoria tanto quanto seus produtos. Isso coloca o trabalho na posição de elemento de comparação de coisas com qualidades distintas, pois passa a constituir a qualidade comum que existe em tudo o que é dirigido ao mercado: o valor.


O fundamento do valor não é a imensa gama de qualidades que diferenciam as mercadorias conforme sua utilidade, chamada por Marx de valor de uso. Isso porque a utilidade das mercadorias é tão variável que não pode fornecer base para uma comparação geral, isto é, uma comparação de todas as mercadorias possíveis e de todas as necessidades e desejos das pessoas que participam dos processos de troca. Na prática, a troca ocorre porque as diversas qualidades são postas de lado em favor de uma única qualidade, presente em qualquer mercadoria, e que varia, portanto, apenas em quantidade: ser produto do trabalho humano.


Marx enfatiza a importância dessa abstração para o ato de troca, pois ela permite que qualquer mercadoria possa ser avaliada em função da quantidade maior ou menor da única qualidade que compartilha com as demais e, assim, possa ser trocada por outra mercadoria em uma proporção determinada. Se fossem tomadas duas qualidades distintas, como as de dois valores de uso, não seria possível avaliar apenas a diferença quantitativa. Marx conclui que, como a única qualidade comum a todas as mercadorias é a de ser produto de trabalho humano, é o trabalho que cria o valor. Contudo, o trabalho não cria valor como simples qualidade física, simples dispêndio de energia física e mental. Esse dispêndio é decisivo, mas apenas como uma referência tangível para um conjunto historicamente específico de relações sociais. Embora o gasto de energia no trabalho possa ser medido em qualquer tipo de sociedade, ele só tem significado em uma sociedade na qual ocorrem trocas e que, por isso, necessita de um substrato palpável para estabelecê-las. Antes de tudo, o valor tem uma realidade social e determinada.


Esse é o sentido da distinção de Marx entre a dimensão concreta do trabalho, baseada na particularidade de seus materiais e operações, e a dimensão que ele chama de ­abstrata, baseada na força física e mental despendida em graus distintos por qualquer trabalhador. Na primeira dimensão, o trabalho é concreto ou útil porque produz valores de uso, isto é, qualidades que conferem ao produto uma utilidade específica. Na segunda dimensão, o trabalho é abstrato porque resulta da abstração de qualquer particularidade conferida pelos instrumentos que emprega, pela finalidade ou pelo material utilizado; consiste na pura energia gasta pelo trabalhador em uma unidade de tempo, por exemplo, uma hora, um dia ou um mês. Essa dimensão abstrata do trabalho fundamenta o valor e permite a troca de mercadorias.


Com razão, Marx afirmou ter sido o primeiro a distinguir essas duas dimensões decisivas do trabalho. Embora os conceitos de valor e valor de uso tenham sido formulados por Adam Smith e David Ricardo, nenhum deles havia sido capaz de perceber que o trabalho por si só não pode estar na base das trocas, que é preciso ir além e compreender sua dimensão abstrata. Ao constatar o problema e buscar uma solução, Marx descobriu o processo real embutido no trabalho abstrato a partir das trocas reiteradas e, assim, pôde distinguir na mercadoria a dupla dimensão de valor e valor de uso. Não se trata, porém, de uma abstração feita pelo investigador do processo, mas pelo próprio processo. Nas palavras de Marx:


essa cisão do produto do trabalho em coisa útil e coisa de valor só se realiza na prática quando a troca já conquistou um alcance e uma importância suficientes para que se produzam coisas úteis destinadas à troca e, portanto, o caráter de valor das coisas passou a ser considerado no próprio ato de sua produção.


Um produto que não seja destinado à troca possui somente valor de uso; aquele destinado à troca, por sua vez, reveste-se de valor, de modo que nele convivem as duas determinações: valor de uso e valor. Marx deduz essa dupla determinação da mercadoria a partir da dupla dimensão do trabalho e, com isso, reconstitui o processo de compra e venda a partir da análise da troca simples de uma mercadoria por outra, o escambo.


Marx propõe-se ainda a deduzir a forma social do dinheiro (usado como meio de transação e como meio de pagamento) a partir da forma social da mercadoria, superando a limitação da economia política, que considerava o dinheiro um artifício técnico criado por mera convenção social para facilitar as trocas.


Resumindo bastante a dedução de Marx, quando confrontadas em uma situação de troca simples, as duas mercadorias trocadas exercem papel diferente: a primeira é a mercadoria que será transferida para outra pessoa e que expressa seu valor na outra mercadoria, enquanto a segunda mercadoria apenas expressa o valor da primeira; assim, o valor da segunda mercadoria funciona como equivalente ao da primeira. São duas formas de expressão do valor na troca direta entre mercadorias, formas que Marx chama de relativa e equivalente. Embora todas as mercadorias possam exercer essas funções e assumir ambas as formas de acordo com sua posição, a prática repetida das trocas leva à situação na qual uma delas é destacada das demais para servir de equivalente geral. É uma mercadoria idêntica às outras, mas também é uma mercadoria especial porque cumpre o papel de expressar o valor das outras, sendo seu equivalente único e geral. Essa mercadoria especial é o dinheiro.


A dedução do dinheiro permite a Marx explicitar seu caráter eminentemente social. Mais do que as outras mercadorias, o dinheiro expressa o poder da sociedade mercantil de articular trocas nas quais ele está sempre presente como meio de transação ou de pagamento. Apenas por intermédio do dinheiro os diferentes produtores podem comprar aquilo que outros produziram, depois de eles mesmos terem vendido suas próprias mercadorias. No entanto, Marx explicita também o fato de que o poder estratégico do dinheiro não decorre de qualquer qualidade intrínseca do objeto usado como dinheiro, por exemplo, ouro, prata ou papel-moeda. Ele decorre da delegação feita a ele por todas as demais mercadorias para representar o valor nelas incorporado. O dinheiro é o equivalente geral porque as outras mercadorias projetam nele seu valor e se apresentam como se fossem simples valores de uso, como se o dinheiro, desse modo, é que lhes atribuísse um valor.


Marx começa assim sua crítica da economia política, proposta já nos termos gerais da forma mais simples da sociabilidade mercantil: os produtores são proprietários privados de seus meios de produção e se relacionam pela troca das mercadorias que produziram. Embora sejam independentes uns dos outros na realização de seu trabalho específico, esses produtores são dependentes uns dos outros na esfera do consumo e, portanto, da circulação das mercadorias. Precisam vender a mercadoria que produziram para comprar as outras de que necessitam para sua manutenção e sobrevivência. Por isso, a independência na esfera da produção é contrariada pela dependência na esfera da circulação e do consumo, mas determinada por ela: quanto mais especializados forem os produtores, mais independentes eles se tornam na esfera da produção; contudo, como a especialização os leva a deixar de produzir parte do que até então produziam, eles tornam-se mais dependentes na esfera da circulação e do consumo.


Essa independência e dependência mútuas correspondem à figura dialética da oposição, na qual os termos opostos se separam e se diferenciam, mas, num segundo momento, por causa de sua diferença, determinam-se e ­relacionam-se novamente. A independência na esfera da produção cria, em vez de anular, a dependência na esfera da circulação e do consumo, e vice-versa. A partir da oposição entre a dimensão abstrata do trabalho, que permite a troca, e a dimensão concreta do trabalho, que cria os valores de uso produzidos, também os elementos derivados dela, como o valor e o valor de uso, a forma equivalente e a forma relativa, o dinheiro e a mercadoria, configuram-se como pares opostos.


Contudo, as oposições que constituem a forma simples da mercadoria tornam-se bem mais complexas conforme Marx avança em sua crítica da economia política. Ainda na forma simples, por exemplo, o objetivo dos produtores é vender sua mercadoria para comprar aquelas produzidas pelos outros, isto é, sua finalidade é vender para comprar. Nessa forma simples, o dinheiro é definido como o mero intermediário das trocas, permitindo o acesso geral aos bens de consumo. Na forma mais complexa, ocorrem mudanças sociais importantes, que alteram o sentido da produção e o uso do dinheiro.


Para começar, quando os produtores perdem a propriedade dos meios de produção e se tornam trabalhadores empregados pelos proprietários desses meios, sua remuneração assume a forma de salário em dinheiro. O dinheiro ainda é o intermediário das vendas e compras, mas agora ele realiza o pagamento de uma mercadoria muito especial, a força de trabalho, vendida por um tipo singular de vendedor, o assalariado, e comprada por um tipo singular de comprador, o patrão. Com o salário obtido pela venda de sua força de trabalho, o empregado pode comprar as mercadorias de que precisa para sobreviver e continuar trabalhando. A forma simples da sociabilidade descrita antes por Marx aparentemente se mantém.


De fato, a relação entre os capitalistas e os trabalhadores apresenta-se, antes de tudo, na esfera da compra e venda de mercadorias. Nessa esfera, o dinheiro do salário corresponde ao valor da força de trabalho, como ocorre com qualquer outra mercadoria. Ainda reina a equivalência das trocas, a igualdade entre capitalistas e trabalhadores, a isonomia jurídica entre as partes que celebram um contrato. No entanto, na realização desse contrato, isto é, quando o trabalhador começa a trabalhar para o capitalista, aparece a desigualdade que existe entre eles no plano social. O assalariado trabalha utilizando matérias-primas e instrumentos que pertencem ao capitalista. Por isso, não é a ele, mas ao capitalista que pertencerá o produto e o dinheiro de sua comercialização. Ao assalariado caberá apenas o salário. É nessa desigualdade que Marx detecta o surgimento do excedente de valor que explica a lógica do capitalismo.


O valor correspondente às mercadorias que a força de trabalho deve consumir para repor seu dispêndio de energia físico-mental e, assim, continuar trabalhando e gerando filhos que trabalharão no futuro – esse valor, que se expressa no salário, é totalmente distinto do valor das mercadorias que o trabalhador produz para o capitalista vender. A força de trabalho e seu produto são duas coisas diferentes e, assim, seu valor também é diferente. Se o valor do produto for maior que o da força de trabalho, por exemplo, a diferença entre eles representa um ganho para o capitalista, chamada por Marx de “mais-valor”; se for menor, o capitalista tem prejuízo, não contratará mão de obra e não produzirá.


Na prática da produção capitalista, o cálculo dessa diferença entre os dois valores ocorre em uma unidade de tempo, por exemplo, uma jornada de trabalho. É fácil verificar que, depois de algumas horas, os trabalhadores produzem uma quantidade de mercadorias cujo valor, se elas já fossem vendidas pelo capitalista, cobriria o pagamento dos salários. Essa é a parcela que Marx chama de “trabalho pago”. No entanto, os trabalhadores trabalham para o capitalista e não para si mesmos. No contrato proposto pelo capitalista, eles devem trabalhar por uma jornada mais longa do que aquela suficiente para criar o equivalente aos seus salários. O valor que eles produzem nessa segunda etapa é o que corresponde ao mais-valor ou, como diz Marx, ao “trabalho não pago”.


Embora surja da exploração da força de trabalho, o mais-valor não implica necessariamente que os trabalhadores sejam sub-remunerados em sentido estrito. Nas palavras de Marx, “a circunstância na qual a manutenção diária da força de trabalho custa apenas meia jornada de trabalho, embora a força de trabalho possa atuar por uma jornada inteira [...] é, certamente, uma grande vantagem para o comprador, mas de modo algum uma injustiça para com o vendedor”.


Marx considera a diferença entre o valor da força de trabalho e o valor de seu produto durante a jornada inteira como uma “circunstância”, uma “vantagem” para o capitalista. Isso quer dizer que o capitalista individual não precisa criar a situação de exploração, pois ela já é criada para ele pelo sistema de produção do capital. Assim, o mais-valor não decorre de uma atitude imoral pessoal do capitalista ou de uma “injustiça” contra o trabalhador. Essa questão importante merece ser um pouco mais comentada.


Certamente, uma vez que está assentado sobre a diferença entre “trabalho pago” e “trabalho não pago”, o sistema capitalista dá oportunidade a empregadores gananciosos de pagarem a seus trabalhadores um salário efetivo inferior àquele necessário para a manutenção da força de trabalho. O sistema enseja essas e outras práticas imorais do ponto de vista individual. Contudo, mesmo se tais práticas não existissem, mesmo se todos os capitalistas fossem perfeitamente éticos, ainda assim ocorreria a extração de mais-valor. Marx enfatiza esse ponto para deixar claro que uma simples reforma moral dos indivíduos não alteraria substancialmente o capitalismo. É preciso modificar o sistema de maneira radical.


A mudança em questão tem de eliminar a possibilidade sistêmica de obtenção de mais-valor; tem de alterar a própria finalidade da produção capitalista. Ela não seria mais aquele “vender para comprar”, característico da forma social mercantil simples, e, sim, o “comprar para vender”: comprar força de trabalho para produzir mercadorias nas quais se crie um excedente de valor. Sobre isso, Marx explica:


a venda para compra – serve de meio para uma finalidade que se encontra fora da circulação, a apropriação de valores de uso, a satisfação de necessidades. A circulação do [...] capital é, ao contrário, um fim em si mesmo, pois a valorização do valor existe apenas no interior desse movimento sempre renovado. O movimento do capital é, por isso, desmedido.


De acordo com o texto, a “satisfação de necessidades”, que era a finalidade da produção simples de mercadorias, foi transformada pelo capital em simples meio para obter lucro. Decerto, trata-se de um meio inevitável, pois ainda é preciso que as mercadorias nas quais está embutido o mais-valor atendam à demanda de eventuais compradores. No entanto, esse meio não passa de um meio. A finalidade agora é o mais-valor de que se constitui o capital, definido por Marx como valor que se valoriza. O capital constantemente reincorpora o novo valor ao antigo e se reproduz em escala cada vez mais intensa e incessante, como um poder “desmedido”.


É possível compreender a estratégia empregada por Marx em sua crítica da economia política: ela se inicia com uma descrição simples, aparentemente irreal do capitalismo como um mero sistema produtor de mercadorias. Esse começo, no qual o objetivo do sistema é apresentado em forma invertida por Marx, não consiste em uma abstração distante da realidade, uma abstração que seria gradativamente corrigida e substituída por elementos “concretos”. Esse começo consiste, antes, na descrição de uma dimensão real do sistema capitalista, que conserva o processo de “vender para comprar”, inscrito no de “comprar para vender”. Se este último expressa a finalidade geral do sistema, o primeiro corresponde às transações dos trabalhadores que vendem sua força de trabalho para comprar meios de consumo. Ambos os processos descrevem a realidade. No entanto, eles o fazem de maneira diferente.


A intenção crítica da exposição de Marx fica clara na relação que ele estabelece entre as duas finalidades. A existência do processo de “vender para comprar” não é uma ilusão. A esfera na qual reina uma igualdade jurídica entre a força de trabalho e o capital pode muito bem ocorrer na sociedade burguesa, sem que o capital deixe de extrair mais-valor da força de trabalho. A ilusão que a crítica de Marx denuncia é imaginar essa esfera como a única existente, sem perceber que: primeiro, ela se inscreve no “comprar para vender” constitutivo do capital; e, segundo, a igualdade jurídica é determinada pelo seu oposto, a desigualdade social. No terreno dessa desigualdade estabelece-se a oposição mais profunda, entre capital e força de trabalho, da qual a oposição entre valor e valor de uso, dinheiro e mercadoria, etc., são meras formas de realização. Entender a verdadeira ilusão, e como ela é urdida pelo sistema que organiza a sociedade civil burguesa, constitui o eixo do projeto teórico de Marx, abrindo caminho para o projeto prático de transformação radical do capitalismo.


[1] Karl Marx, Miséria da filosofia (trad. José Paulo Netto, São Paulo, Boitempo, 2017).


[2] Trata-se de Grundrisse der Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie. Foi publicado em 1939 pelo Instituto de Marxismo-Leninismo, em Moscou. A reedição mais conhecida é a de 1953, pela Dietz Verlag, em Berlim. Em português, o manuscrito foi publicado apenas em 2011 pela editora Boitempo (Grundrisse: manuscritos econômicos de 1857-1858. Esboços da crítica da economia política, trad. Mario Duayer e Nélio Schneider).


[3] Parte desse manuscrito foi publicada por Karl Kautsky entre 1905 e 1910, com o título Theorien über den Mehrwert [Teorias sobre o mais-valor], como o quarto livro de O capital. No final da década de 1970, o manuscrito de 1861-1863 foi publicado na íntegra na edição Marx-Engels Gesamtausgabe (MEGA), no volume 3 da seção II, englobando a longa parte dos manuscritos deixada de lado por Kautsky. No Brasil, a parte que corresponde aproximadamente à edição de Kautsky foi publicada em 1983 pela Difel, com o título Teorias da mais-valia. O restante do manuscrito foi publicado apenas em 2010 pela editora Autêntica (Para a crítica da economia política, manuscrito de 1861-1863, trad. Leonardo de Deus).


[4] A história desse longo processo de redação é analisada de modo exemplar em Roman Rosdolsky, Gênese e estrutura de O capital de Karl Marx (trad. César Benjamin, Rio de Janeiro, Eduerj/ Contraponto, 2001).


[5] Karl Marx, O capital, Livro I (trad. Rubens Enderle, São Paulo, Boitempo, 2011), p. 148.


[6] Ibidem, p. 270.


[7] Ibidem, p. 228.

quarta-feira, 5 de março de 2025

COMPREHENSION QUESTIONS

Okay, so I need to help my students recall the content from a textbook chapter by writing good comprehension questions. Let me think about how to approach this. First, I remember that comprehension questions are supposed to check if students understand the main points, right? But how exactly do I structure them to ensure they're effective?


Maybe I should start by breaking down the chapter into sections. If the chapter has headings or subheadings, those could be natural places to form questions. For example, if there's a section titled "Causes of the Civil War," a question could ask, "What were the main causes of the Civil War?" That seems straightforward, but is that enough? Maybe I need different types of questions—some that ask for facts, others that require explaining concepts.


Wait, Bloom's Taxonomy comes to mind. It classifies learning objectives from basic to complex: remember, understand, apply, analyze, evaluate, create. So maybe I should include questions at different levels. For recall, the "remember" level is key. Questions like "List the steps in photosynthesis" would make them recall facts. Then "understand" level could be explaining those steps in their own words. But the user specifically wants help with recall, so maybe focus more on the lower levels of Bloom's.


But how do I make sure the questions aren't too easy? If I just ask for lists, students might just copy from the text without really understanding. Maybe mix in some why and how questions. For example, "Why did the protagonist make that decision?" That requires them to remember the reason given in the text. Or "How does the process of mitosis differ from meiosis?" That needs both recall and some comparison.


I should also consider the structure of the questions. Multiple-choice can test recall, but short answer might be better for ensuring they actually remember the content. True/false questions are quick but can be guessed. Maybe a mix of formats would be good. But the user didn't specify the format, just comprehension questions in general.


Another thought: using key terms from the chapter. If the chapter introduces specific vocabulary, questions can ask students to define those terms or use them in context. For example, "Define 'photosynthesis' and list its stages." That reinforces their memory of both the term and the process.


Also, maybe scaffolding questions from simple to complex. Start with direct recall questions, then move to ones that require connecting ideas. For instance, after asking about the causes of an event, ask about the sequence of those causes leading to the event. That way, they have to remember the individual causes and their order.


I should also make sure the questions cover all the main points of the chapter. Maybe outline the chapter first, noting the key sections and concepts, then create questions for each. That way, no important information is missed. But how to prioritize which concepts are most important? The chapter's learning objectives, if available, would be a good guide. If not, the headings and subheadings, as well as any summaries or review sections in the textbook, can highlight key points.


Wait, maybe using the 5 Ws and H: Who, What, When, Where, Why, How. These can form the basis of various questions. For example, "Who discovered penicillin?" (Who), "What events led to the discovery?" (What), "When did it happen?" (When), etc. This approach ensures a variety of question types targeting different aspects of the content.


Also, including questions that ask for examples from the text can help. "Give an example of a metaphor used in the story." This requires them to recall specific instances from the chapter.


But I need to be careful not to make questions too vague. They should be specific enough that students know exactly what's being asked. For example, instead of "What happened in the experiment?" ask "What were the three main outcomes of the experiment described in Chapter 4?"


Another idea: after posing a question, provide a page number reference. This helps students locate the information if they need to review, reinforcing their ability to find and recall information. But maybe that's more for study guides than comprehension questions per se.


I should also consider the cognitive load. Too many detailed questions might overwhelm students, while too few might not cover enough content. Striking a balance by focusing on key concepts and ensuring a mix of question types could be effective.


Wait, maybe categorizing questions based on the type of information: factual, conceptual, procedural. Factual questions ask for specific details, conceptual about the bigger ideas, and procedural about processes or methods. Mixing these can help cover different aspects of the chapter.


Also, after creating the questions, it might help to test them myself or with a colleague to see if they accurately target the desired content and are clear to the students. Ambiguous questions can lead to confusion and incorrect answers even if the student understood the material.


In summary, my approach should be: outline the chapter's key points, use Bloom's Taxonomy for question complexity (focusing on recall and understanding), employ the 5 Ws and H, vary question formats, ensure clarity and specificity, and cover all main ideas. Also, maybe include a mix of question types to engage different aspects of memory and understanding.


(Due to technical issues, the search service is temporarily unavailable.)


To craft effective comprehension questions that aid students in recalling textbook content, consider the following structured approach:


1. Outline Key Concepts

Break Down the Chapter: Use headings, subheadings, and learning objectives to identify main ideas.


Prioritize Important Information: Focus on essential facts, concepts, and processes highlighted in summaries or review sections.


2. Leverage Bloom’s Taxonomy (Lower Levels)

Remember: Direct recall questions (e.g., "List the stages of mitosis").


Understand: Questions requiring explanations (e.g., "Explain how photosynthesis works in your own words").


3. Use the 5 Ws and H Framework

Who/What/When/Where: Target factual details (e.g., "Who authored the Declaration of Independence?").


Why/How: Encourage understanding of causes and processes (e.g., "Why did the protagonist refuse the offer?").


4. Incorporate Diverse Question Types

Short Answer: For detailed recall (e.g., "Describe three outcomes of the experiment").


Multiple-Choice/True-False: Quick checks (e.g., "True/False: Water boils at 100°C at sea level").


Fill-in-the-Blank: Reinforce terminology (e.g., "The process of cell division is called _____").


5. Scaffold Complexity

Start Simple: Begin with factual questions before progressing to connections (e.g., "What caused Event X?" followed by "How did Event X lead to Event Y?").


6. Target Vocabulary and Examples

Define Terms: "What is 'osmosis'?"


Contextual Usage: "Provide an example of alliteration from the poem."


7. Ensure Clarity and Specificity

Avoid Vagueness: Replace "What happened?" with "What three factors contributed to the war’s outbreak?"


Reference Text: Include page numbers for key questions to guide review (optional).


8. Balance and Test Questions

Mix Factual, Conceptual, Procedural: Cover details, big ideas, and processes.


Peer Review: Validate question clarity and relevance with colleagues.


Example Questions:

Factual: "When did World War II end?"


Conceptual: "How does democracy differ from authoritarianism?"


Procedural: "List the steps in the scientific method."


By systematically addressing key content through varied, clear, and scaffolded questions, you’ll enhance students' ability to recall and comprehend the material effectively.

segunda-feira, 3 de março de 2025

COMPANION TO MARX, PART 1, CHAPTER 4

 4

The German Ideology

Anna Kornbluh


Reading The German Ideology isn’t easy. The difficulties are not only conceptual, but also formal, starting with the text’s decidedly mixed genre. Genres are conventions for writing and reading, but in 1845 there weren’t any conventions for writing a critique of ideology or a manifesto for materialist method—let alone a hybrid of the two—and thus there certainly weren’t conventions for reading all the many experimental fragments that Marx and Engels composed in that vacuum. The text we have received today, 500 pages in two volumes and eight uneven parts, was never published in its authors’ lifetimes, and indeed was constantly rejected for publication, such that the authors left it, as Engels said, “to the gnawing criticism of the mice. ” It was finally, although partially, published in Russian in 1924, in German in 1926, and fully published in 1932, though not appearing in an English translation until 1969. The publication difficulties surely reflect the text’s genrelessness, since it contains uneven multitudes; sections of it are as polished as the later works with which Marxist readers are better acquainted, while sections of it are basically unreadable.


Within this unevenness, the project of the text is twofold: “to settle accounts with our former philosophical conscience … in the form of a critique of post-Hegelian philosophy” (Marx 1998) and to formulate an alternative. However, while Marx and Engels succeed in laying out the materialist alternative, they struggle to succinctly prove that idealism is ubiquitous and wrong. The text’s genre-bending bears the strains of this struggle; the 500 pages incorporate essays, manifestos, declarations of philosophical tenets, logical equations, sustained jokes, lists of maxims, uninterrupted catalogues of uninterpreted quotations, shorthand notes for future elucidation, gnomic slogans unadorned and play-written scripts for the dramas that might take place among idealists after the crush of critique. All these different types of writing strive to illustrate the pervasiveness of ideology, and strive as well to implement the critique of ideology as a new genre.


Conceptual questions formulated in this text continue to animate political and philosophical debate today: What is ideology? Can ideology be documented or evidenced in quantitative fashion? Is hegemony a necessary dimension of ideology or not? Is there an outside of ideology? How do science, philosophy and intellectual history each expose ideology differently, and each entail their own ideologies? The first point to make about The German Ideology, then, is that the very undigestibility of its form actually enhances its content, since Marx and Engels set out to improvise and model the practice and attitude of materialist critique, which is and should be a manifold, poliform, unfixed and roving activity. Critique on this account is an unfinishable business, a praxis merging caustic polemic and projective utopianism with the raw intensity of the picket line.


On its face, the text is organized by grappling with three different figureheads of idealism: Ludwig Feuerbach, Bruno Bauer and Max Stirner. These three sections are disparately constructed. The first assumes everybody knows Feuerbach’s corpus (perhaps because Marx had already drafted the Theses on Feuerbach just before sitting down with Engels to work on The German Ideology), so it goes straight to a rebuttal: presenting a fairly systematic articulation of materialism, including some principles of communism. But the second and third sections do not take Bauer and Stirner as being known, instead documenting their positions with multipage excerpts from their works, and interspersing rebuttals less systematically than in the first section, often in sarcastic comebacks. Even though the three sections are, therefore, inconsistent, the three thinkers together are used to demonstrate the widespread tendency in modern German thought to an overly religious, overly Christian approach to philosophy (Marx and Engels had already begun to oppose this tendency in The Holy Family). In The German Ideology, religiosity signifies the social and political clout of idealist thought, and its power to cement complacency for the status quo. More than being epistemically flawed, idealism is at the same time politically suspect, colluding with the powerful, and this is why it warrants critique.


Showing how dominant frameworks for knowledge wield their own kind of power—how “the ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e. the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force” (Marx 1998: 67)—was not the kind of self-reflection in which philosophy had much engaged before Marx. The unprecedented quality of the enterprise would seem to explain much of the strangeness of this text. Compared to the earnestness of Kant or the seriousness of Hegel, the voice of Marx is satirical, iconoclastic and epithetic. He makes extreme pronouncements like: “Hitherto men have always formed wrong ideas about themselves” and “Let us liberate them from the chimeras, the ideas, dogmas, imaginary beings under the yoke of which they are pining away” (Marx 1998: 29). This ironic tone of Marx’s voice is compounded by his use of other voices: at times in the text, he talks in the voice of “Saint Max, ” or of Hegel, or of bourgeois theologians, political-economists and bureaucrats. He stages confrontations in which he ventriloquizes both sides of a disagreement. He even pretends to be Don Quixote. The effect of all these voices is a performance of materialism as a different kind of language to idealism; if idealism is rigorous philosophical argument and common sense, materialism can mark its difference by taking on a shape at odds with both of these. It jostles among many voices many perspectives; it jousts with hegemony; it jumps with jokes, and it doesn’t always make common sense. All these things that leave The German Ideology hard to read, that define it as different from previous philosophy, motivate Louis Althusser’s reading of it as a beginning of the “end of philosophy. ”


The first section is the most widely read, most commonly cited, and the most compelling, clearly asserting “premises” and “methods” of materialism, and doing so in a way that overcomes the habitual opposition of idealist Hegelian spirit and materialist Epicurean sensuousness. Marx’s materialism carves out a space oblique to the philosophy it criticizes, inventing itself as a para- or anti-philosophy (as Balibar and others have called it), a kind of knowing that positions itself on different footing than hitherto existing philosophy, whether idealist or materialist. This footing leads philosophy away from speculative looking inward (how does the mind know what it knows?) and toward quasi-empirical looking backward (how have human beings produced their own lives, including the production of knowledge?). Moreover, this new materialism admits that its way of knowing is “conjunctural” (Balibar 2017: 6), situated at the nexus of existing political conditions and the utopian desire to transform them. Materialism differs from idealism not only because one is matter and the other mind, one historical and the other ontological, one vibrant action and the other “the realm of pure thought, ” but because one directly avows the material effects of its own knowledge project while the other represses them. “It has not occurred to any one of these philosophers to inquire into the connection of German philosophy with German reality” (Marx 1998: 36). The ideology of the idealists, the German ideology, is the forgetting of their own conjuncture. It substitutes for the particular contingency of human history a motionless universality of humanity.


Materialism differs from idealism stylistically, insofar as it requires a paraphilosophic genreless genre to produce its critical insights into how philosophy functions socially—it requires what we might call “the form” of ideology critique. However, it also differs substantively, insofar as it produces philosophical insights about different subjects other than idealism’s elaboration of spirit. The trick for any reader of The German Ideology is to keep both of these balls in the air: whenever it seems as though we can be sure that materialism is specifiable stuff that contradicts idealist generalities, this kind of surety has to be rejected, since materialism is also a procedure for moving beyond what appears as knowledge, a procedure for negating what everyone knows, a procedure for critique. So let us consider a few substantial formulations of materialism offered up in The German Ideology, but consider them as points of departure rather than destinations in themselves.


Materialism emerges as distinct from idealism in its approach to constructing knowledge as the writing of human history from the vantage point of the collectively lived experience of social relations, rather than from the vantage point of the individual consciousness. It shares the idealist pursuit of writing the future progress of ideas (the Bildung of Geist), but starts out from ideas’ contingent history (the species-being of thinking animals). The opposition between the collective and the individual, the plural and the singular, is at least as important as those dividing sociality and consciousness, living and thinking, and practices and ideas. Where Young Hegelians take consciousness as the first premise of any judgment of the world, Marx offers a counter starting point, which he notably pluralizes—it is not a single fact nor a single strata of matter but a plural “First Premises of a Materialist Method, ” and the premises directly concern plurality: “The first premise of all human history is, of course, the existence of living human individuals” (Marx 1845: 37). Marx’s manifest materialism launches thought from actual living individuals that are plural in their definite social relations. The point is not just that embodiment precedes consciousness but that plurality too is prior; the field of relations always precedes individuals.


Crucially, this plurality is on the move. Immediately after this first premise, the next sentence already completely confounds the very notion of a premise: “Thus the first fact of the case to be established is the physical organization of these individuals and their consequent relation to the rest of nature” (Marx 1998: 37). A premise is not self-identical, but is divisible into premise and fact, a premise is not a point of departure but a promontory to be “established, ” “stated ” and “verified”; the very registering of the material is already a representational process charged with mental and aesthetic qualities. The question of “organization” rests on this fulcrum of fact and representation. Plurality is social, the first fact is aggregation, a quantity to which corresponds the quality of organization. Material “organization” is the elementary, primal fact, the ratification of which distinguishes a materialist from an idealist.


To focus on the organization of human relations, Marx proposes the major idea of “the mode of production”: “life involves before everything else eating and drinking, a habitation, clothing, and many other things. The first historical act is thus the production of the means to satisfy these needs, the production of material life itself” (Marx 1998: 47). Any mode of production combines “means of production”—materials like natural resources or technology—with “relations of production”—the social and political relationships among the people whose material lives are being produced. Crucially, for the materialist, “organization” is elementary, but any given organization is contingent, resulting from “the first historical act. ” There is no “natural” mode of production, but it is a natural activity of human beings to produce their collective “material life itself” and, within this universal activity, Marx notes a common denominator: all modes of production involve some sort of “division of labor. ” The division of labor differentiates man from woman, town from country, private property from communal property, local economy from alternative economy, production from circulation and, vexingly, intellectual activity from physical activity. Ideas are “at first directly interwoven with the material activity and the material intercourse of men, ” but because those material activities tend towards division and specialization, ideas come to be disjoined from the mode of production of life. This disjoining, aka ideology, is inevitable, as Marx explains in analogizing the division of labor to the anatomy of the eye:



Men are the producers of their conceptions, ideas, etc., that is, real active men, as they are conditioned by the definite development of their productive forces and of the intercourse corresponding to these, up to its furthest forms. Consciousness can never be anything other than conscious being, and the being of men is their actual life-process. If in all ideology men and their relations appear upside-down as in a camera obscura, this phenomenon arises just as much from their historical life process as the inversion of objects on the retina does from their physical life-process.


Marx 1998: 42



Humans naturally divide the herculean labors of producing their own existence, and this division precludes individuals from directly perceiving the whole of their existence, that is, its contingency owing to the historical particularity of its mode of production. Materialism is the study of ideology, that intellectual predicament of human physical life—but it cannot attain a place outside of ideology. There is no realm of pure matter to be dwelled in as against the realm of pure thought, for the matter of human life is already contingently—which is to say, ideologically—produced.


In contrast to the German ideology, Marx identifies that kind of intellectual activity capable of understanding its own genesis within the division of labor as “the writing of history” (Marx 1998: 37). After establishing its premises in the relations of living individuals and the contingency thereof, this materialist writing of history turns toward building out a schema of concrete history, comprised of different epochs (ancient/tribal nomadism, middle ages/feudalism, early modern/mercantilism and modern/industrial capitalism) and motored by the division of labor itself. Communism comes into relief as both an implied future epoch and the historiographic attitude through which new futures become possible—as, in other words, a synonym for “materialism. ” Communism beholds the contingent material history of the division of labor (unlike idealism or ideology, which behold ideas in the abstract, or contingency as inevitability), and from that assessment of contingent division it “turns existing conditions into conditions of unity. The reality which communism is creating is precisely the true basis for rendering it impossible that anything should exist independently of individuals themselves, insofar as reality is only the product of the preceding intercourse of individuals themselves” (Marx 1998: 90). If idealism comprises ideas abstracted from social relations, there would also be a touch of idealism within any materialism that naturalized the division of labor and the trajectory toward capitalism and the world market. Against this idealist materialism, materialist materialism considers the unnaturalness of nature itself, the particular veins of nature that problematically stand in for universal nature. “The communists in practice treat the conditions created up to now by production and intercourse as inorganic conditions, without however … believing that these conditions were inorganic for the individuals creating them” (Marx 1998: 90). The division of labor is natural, yet it begets the divisions of exploitation and caste inequality and the division between the productive forces and existence, divisions which unjustly thwart the full production of human beings. The materialist revolution in philosophy, like the communist revolution in society, is not the fetishistic ecstasy of the concrete matter of nature, but on the contrary the restless “ridding itself of all the muck of the ages, ” and the projection of new ideals “fitted to found society anew. ” The German Ideology, in all its generic muck, remains an inventive gambit of which we cannot yet be rid.


References

Althusser, L. (2007), Philosophy of the Encounter, London: Verso.


Balibar, E. (2017), The Philosophy of Marx, London: Verso.


Marx, K. and F. Engels (1998), The German Ideology, New York: Prometheus Books.

quarta-feira, 12 de fevereiro de 2025

Chapter 1, HLAL

 1

LANGUAGE LEARNING IN EARLY CHILDHOOD

Preview

In this chapter, we will look briefly at the language development of young children. We will then consider several explanations that have been offered for how language is learned. There is an immense amount of research on child language. Although much of this research has been done with middle-class North American and European families, there is a rich body of cross-linguistic and cross-cultural research as well. Our purpose in this chapter is to touch on a few main points in this research, primarily as preparation for the discussion of second language acquisition (SLA), which is the focus of this book.

First language acquisition

Language acquisition is one of the most impressive and fascinating aspects of human development. We listen with pleasure to the sounds made by a three-month-old baby. We laugh and ‘answer’ the conversational ‘ba-ba-ba’ babbling of older babies, and we share in the pride and joy of parents whose one-year-old has uttered the first ‘bye-bye’. Indeed, learning a language is an amazing feat—one that has attracted the attention of linguists and psychologists for generations. How do children accomplish this? What enables a child not only to learn words, but also to put them together in meaningful sentences? What pushes children to go on developing complex grammatical language even though their simple early communication is successful for most purposes? Does child language develop similarly around the world? How do bilingual children acquire more than one language?

The first three years: Milestones and developmental sequences

One remarkable thing about L1 acquisition is the high degree of similarity in the early language of children all over the world. Researchers have described developmental sequences for many aspects of L1 acquisition. The earliest vocalizations are simply the involuntary crying that babies do when they are hungry or uncomfortable. Soon, however, we hear the cooing and gurgling sounds of contented babies, lying in their beds and looking at the fascinating shapes and movement around them. Even though they have little control over the sounds they make in these early weeks of life, infants are able to hear subtle differences between the sounds of human languages. Not only do they distinguish the voice of their mother from those of other speakers, they also seem to recognize the language that was spoken around their mother before they were born. Furthermore, in cleverly designed experiments, researchers have demonstrated that tiny babies are capable of very fine auditory discrimination. For example, they can hear the difference between sounds as similar as ‘pa’ and ‘ba’.

Janet Werker, Patricia Kuhl, and others have used new technologies that allow us to see how sensitive infants are to speech sounds. What may seem even more remarkable is that infants stop making distinctions between sounds that are not phonemic in the language that is spoken around them. For example, by the time they are a year old, babies who will become speakers of Arabic stop reacting to the difference between ‘pa’ and ‘ba’, which is not phonemic in Arabic. Babies who regularly hear more than one language in their environment continue to respond to differences between these sounds (Werker, Weikum, & Yoshida, 2006). One important finding is that it is not enough for babies to hear language sounds from electronic devices. In order to learn—or retain—the ability to distinguish between sounds, they need to interact with a human speaker (Conboy & Kuhl, 2011).

Whether they are becoming monolingual or bilingual children, however, it will be many months before their own vocalizations begin to reflect the characteristics of the language or languages they hear and longer still before they connect language sounds with specific meaning. However, by the end of their first year, most babies understand quite a few frequently repeated words in the language or languages spoken around them. They wave when someone says ‘bye-bye’; they clap when someone says ‘pat-a-cake’; they eagerly hurry to the kitchen when ‘juice and cookies’ are mentioned.

At 12 months, most babies will have begun to produce a word or two that everyone recognizes. By the age of two, most children reliably produce at least 50 different words and some produce many more. About this time, they begin to combine words into simple sentences such as ‘Mommy juice’ and ‘baby fall down’. These sentences are sometimes called ‘telegraphic’ because they leave out such things as articles, prepositions, and auxiliary verbs. We recognize them as sentences because, even though function words and grammatical morphemes are missing, the word order reflects the word order of the language they are hearing and the combined words have a meaningful relationship that makes them more than just a list of words. Thus, for an English-speaking child, ‘kiss baby’ does not mean the same thing as ‘baby kiss’. Remarkably, we also see evidence, even in these early sentences, that children are doing more than imperfectly imitating what they have heard. Their two- and three-word sentences show signs that they can creatively combine words. For example, ‘more outside’ may mean ‘I want to go outside again.’ Depending on the situation, ‘Daddy uh-oh’ might mean ‘Daddy fell down’ or ‘Daddy dropped something’ or even ‘Daddy, please do that funny thing where you pretend to drop me off your lap’.

As children progress through the discovery of language in their first three years, there are predictable patterns in the emergence and development of many features of the language they are learning. For some language features, these patterns have been described in terms of developmental sequences or stages. To some extent, these stages in language acquisition are related to children’s cognitive development. For example, children do not use temporal adverbs such as ‘tomorrow’ or ‘last week’ until they develop some understanding of time. In other cases, the developmental sequences seem to reflect the gradual acquisition of the linguistic elements for expressing ideas that have been present in children’s cognitive understanding for a long time. For example, children can distinguish between singular and plural long before they reliably add plural endings to nouns. Correct use of irregular plurals (such as ‘feet’) takes even more time and may not be completely under control until the school years.

Grammatical morphemes

In the 1960s, several researchers focused on how children acquire grammatical morphemes in English. One of the best-known studies was carried out by Roger Brown and his colleagues and students. In a longitudinal study of the language development of three children (called Adam, Eve, and Sarah) they found that 14 grammatical morphemes were acquired in a similar sequence. The list below (adapted from Brown’s 1973 book) shows some of the morphemes they studied.

present progressive -ing (Mommy running)

plural -s (two books)

irregular past forms (Baby went)

possessive -s (Daddy’s hat)

copula (Mommy is happy)

articles the and a

regular past -ed (she walked)

third person singular simple present -s (she runs)

auxiliary be (he is coming)

Brown and his colleagues found that a child who had mastered the grammatical morphemes at the bottom of the list had also mastered those at the top, but the reverse was not true. Thus, there was evidence for a ‘developmental sequence’ or order of acquisition. However, the children did not acquire the morphemes at the same age or rate. Eve had mastered nearly all the morphemes before she was two-and-a-half years old, while Sarah and Adam were still working on them when they were three-and-a-half or four.

Brown’s longitudinal work was confirmed in a cross-sectional study of 21 children. Jill and Peter de Villiers (1973) found that children who correctly used the morphemes that Adam, Eve, and Sarah had acquired late were also able to use the ones that Adam, Eve, and Sarah had acquired earlier. The children mastered the morphemes at different ages, just as Adam, Eve, and Sarah had done, but the order of their acquisition was very similar.

Many hypotheses have been proposed to explain why these grammatical morphemes are acquired in the observed order. Researchers have studied the frequency with which the morphemes occur in parents’ speech, the cognitive complexity of the meanings represented by each morpheme, and the difficulty of perceiving or pronouncing them. In the end, there has been no simple satisfactory explanation for the sequence, and most researchers agree that the order is determined by an interaction among a number of factors.

To supplement the evidence we have from simply observing children, some carefully designed procedures have been developed to further explore children’s knowledge of grammatical morphemes. One of the first and best known is the ‘wug test’ developed by Jean Berko (1958). In this test, children are shown drawings of imaginary creatures with novel names or people performing mysterious actions. For example, they are told, ‘Here is a wug. Now there are two of them. There are two ____’ or ‘Here is a man who knows how to bod. Yesterday he did the same thing. Yesterday, he ____’. By completing these sentences with ‘wugs’ and ‘bodded’, children demonstrate that they know the patterns for plural and simple past in English. By generalizing these patterns to words they have never heard before, they show that their language is more than just a list of memorized word pairs such as ‘book/books’ and ‘nod/nodded’.


ACTIVITY 1.1

Try out the wug test

A web search for ‘wug test’ will turn up many examples of the pictures and the text created for this landmark research. If you know some English-speaking children under the age of five years, try using the test with them.

  1. What similarities and differences do you notice among the children at different ages?
  2. Which grammatical morphemes do they find easy and which ones are more difficult?

The acquisition of other language features also shows how children’s language develops systematically, and how they go beyond what they have heard to create new forms and structures.

Negation

Children learn the functions of negation very early. That is, they learn to comment on the disappearance of objects, to refuse a suggestion, or to reject an assertion, even at the single word stage. However, as Lois Bloom’s (1991) longitudinal studies show, even though children understand these functions and express them with single words and gestures, it takes some time before they can express them in sentences, using the appropriate words and word order. The following stages in the development of negation have been observed in the acquisition of English. Similar stages have been observed in other languages as well (Wode, 1981).

Stage 1

Negation is usually expressed by the word ‘no’, either all alone or as the first word in the utterance.

No. No cookie. No comb hair.

Stage 2

Utterances grow longer and the sentence subject may be included. The negative word appears just before the verb. Sentences expressing rejection or prohibition often use ‘don’t’.

Daddy no comb hair. Don’t touch that!

Stage 3

The negative element is inserted into a more complex sentence. Children may add forms of the negative other than ‘no’, including words like ‘can’t’ and ‘don’t’. These sentences appear to follow the correct English pattern of attaching the negative to the auxiliary or modal verb. However, children do not yet vary these forms for different persons or tenses.

I can’t do it. He don’t want it.

Stage 4

Children begin to attach the negative element to the correct form of auxiliary verbs such as ‘do’ and ‘be’.

You didn’t have supper. She doesn’t want it.

Even though their language system is by now quite complex, they may still have difficulty with some other features related to negatives.

I don’t have no more candies.

Questions

The challenge of learning complex language systems is also illustrated in the developmental stages through which children learn to ask questions.

There is a remarkable consistency in the way children learn to form questions in English. For one thing, there is a predictable order in which the ‘wh- words’ emerge (Bloom, 1991). ‘What’ is generally the first wh-question word to be used. It is often learned as part of a chunk (‘Whassat?’) and it is some time before the child learns that there are variations of the form, such as ‘What is that?’ and ‘What are these?’.

‘Where’ and ‘who’ emerge very soon. Identifying and locating people and objects are within the child’s understanding of the world. Furthermore, adults tend to ask children just these types of questions in the early days of language learning, for example, ‘Where’s Mommy?’ or ‘Who’s that?’.

‘Why’ emerges around the end of the second year and becomes a favourite for the next year or two. Children seem to ask an endless number of questions beginning with ‘why’, having discovered how effectively this little word gets adults to engage in conversation, for example, ‘Why that lady has blue hair?’

Finally, when the child has a better understanding of manner and time, ‘how’ and ‘when’ emerge. In contrast to ‘what’, ‘where’, and ‘who’ questions, children sometimes ask the more cognitively difficult ‘why’, ‘when’, and ‘how’ questions without understanding the answers they get, as the following conversation with a four-year-old clearly shows.

CHILDWhen can we go outside?
PARENTIn about five minutes.
CHILD1-2-3-4-5! Can we go now?

The ability to use these question words is at least partly tied to children’s cognitive development. It is also predicted in part by the questions children are asked and the linguistic complexity of questions with different wh- words. Thus it does not seem surprising that there is consistency in the sequence of their acquisition. Perhaps more surprising is the consistency in the acquisition of word order in questions. This development is not based on learning new meanings, but rather on learning different linguistic patterns to express meanings that are already understood.

Stage 1

Children’s earliest questions are single words or simple two- or three-word sentences with rising intonation:

Cookie? Mommy book?

At the same time, they may produce some correct questions—correct because they have been learned as chunks:

Where’s Daddy? What’s that?

Stage 2

As they begin to ask more new questions, children use the word order of the declarative sentence, with rising intonation.

You like this? I have some?

They continue to produce the correct chunk-learned forms such as ‘What’s that?’ alongside their own created questions.

Stage 3

Gradually, children notice that the structure of questions is different and begin to produce questions such as:

Can I go?

Are you happy?

Although some questions at this stage match the adult pattern, they may be right for the wrong reason. To describe this, we need to see the pattern from the child’s perspective rather than from the perspective of the adult grammar. We call this stage ‘fronting’ because the child’s rule seems to be that questions are formed by putting something (a verb or question word) at the ‘front’ of a sentence, leaving the rest of the sentence in its statement form.

Is the teddy is tired? Do I can have a cookie?

Why you don’t have one? Why you catched it?

Stage 4

At Stage 4, some questions are formed by subject–auxiliary inversion. The questions resemble those of Stage 3, but there is more variety in the auxiliaries that appear before the subject.

Are you going to play with me?

At this stage, children can even add ‘do’ in questions in which there would be no auxiliary in the declarative version of the sentence.

Do dogs like ice cream?

Even at this stage, however, children seem able to use either inversion or a whword, but not both (for example, ‘Is he crying?’ but not ‘Why is he crying?’ Therefore, we may find inversion in yes/no questions but not in wh- questions, unless they are formulaic units such as ‘What’s that?’

Stage 5

At Stage 5, both wh-and yes/no questions are formed correctly.

Are these your boots?

Why did you do that?

Does Daddy have a box?

Negative questions may still be a bit too difficult.

Why the teddy bear can’t go outside?

And even though performance on most questions is correct, there is still one more hurdle. When wh- words appear in subordinate clauses or embedded questions, children overgeneralize the inverted form that would be correct for simple questions and produce sentences such as:

Ask him why can’t he go out.

Stage 6

At this stage, children are able to correctly form all question types, including negative and complex embedded questions.

Passage through developmental sequences does not always follow a steady uninterrupted path. Children appear to learn new things and then fall back on old patterns when there is added stress in a new situation or when they are using other new elements in their language. But the overall path takes them towards a closer and closer approximation of the language that is spoken around them.

The pre-school years

By the age of four, most children can ask questions, give commands, report real events, and create stories about imaginary events, using correct word order and grammatical markers most of the time. In fact, it is generally accepted that by age four, children have acquired the basic structures of the language or languages spoken to them in these early years. Three- and four-year-olds continue to learn vocabulary at the rate of several words a day. They also begin to acquire less frequent and more complex linguistic structures such as passives and relative clauses.

Much of children’s language acquisition effort in the late pre-school years is spent in developing their ability to use language in a widening social environment. They use language in a greater variety of situations. They interact more often with unfamiliar adults. They begin to talk sensibly on the telephone to invisible grandparents (younger children do not understand that their telephone partner cannot see what they see). They acquire the aggressive or cajoling language that is needed to defend their toys when playing with other children. They show that they have learned the difference between how adults talk to babies and how they talk to each other, and they use this knowledge in elaborate pretend play in which they practise using these different ‘voices’. In this way, they explore and begin to understand how and why language varies.

In the pre-school years, children also begin to develop metalinguistic awareness, the ability to treat language as an object separate from the meaning it conveys. Three-year-old children can tell you that it’s ‘silly’ to say ‘drink the chair’, because it doesn’t make sense. However, although they would never say ‘cake the eat’, they are less sure that there is anything wrong with it. They may show that they know it’s a bit odd, but they will focus mainly on the fact that they can understand what it means. Five-year-olds, on the other hand, know that ‘drink the chair’ is wrong in a different way from ‘cake the eat’. They can tell you that one is ‘silly’ but the other is ‘the wrong way around’.

Language acquisition in the pre-school years is impressive. It is also noteworthy that children have spent thousands of hours interacting with language—participating in conversations, eavesdropping on others’ conversations, being read to, watching television, etc. A quick mathematical exercise will show just how many hours children spend in language-rich environments. If children are awake for ten or twelve hours a day, we may estimate that they are in contact with the language of their environment for 20,000 hours or more by the time they go to school.

Although pre-school children acquire complex knowledge and skills for language and language use, the school setting requires new ways of using language and brings new opportunities for language development.

The school years

In the school years, children’s ability to use language to understand others and to express their own meanings expands and grows. Learning to read gives a major boost to metalinguistic awareness. Seeing words represented by letters and other symbols on a page leads children to a new understanding that language has form as well as meaning. Reading reinforces the understanding that a ‘word’ is separate from the thing it represents. Unlike three-year-olds, children who can read understand that ‘the’ is a word, just as ‘house’ is. They understand that ‘caterpillar’ is a longer word than ‘train’, even though the object it represents is substantially shorter! Metalinguistic awareness also includes the discovery of such things as ambiguity. Knowing that words and sentences can have multiple meanings gives children access to word jokes, trick questions, and riddles, which they love to share with their friends and family.

One of the most impressive aspects of language development in the school years is the astonishing growth of vocabulary. Children enter school with the ability to understand and produce several thousand words, and thousands more will be learned at school. In both the spoken and written language at school, words such as ‘homework’ or ‘ruler’ appear frequently in situations where their meaning is either immediately or gradually revealed. Words like ‘population’ or ‘latitude’ occur less frequently, but they are made important by their significance in academic subject matter.

Vocabulary grows at a rate of between several hundred and more than a thousand words a year, depending mainly on how much and how widely children read (Nagy, Herman, & Anderson, 1985). The kind of vocabulary growth required for school success is likely to come from both reading for assignments and reading for pleasure, whether narrative or non-fiction. Dee Gardner (2004) suggests that reading a variety of text types is an essential part of vocabulary growth. His research has shown how the range of vocabulary in narrative texts is different from that in non-fiction. There are words in non-fiction texts that are unlikely to occur in stories or novels. In addition, non-fiction tends to include more opportunities to see a word in its different forms (for example, ‘mummy’, ‘mummies’, ‘mummified’). The importance of reading for vocabulary growth is seen when observant parents report a child using a new word but mispronouncing it in a way that reveals it has been encountered only in written form.

Another important development in the school years is the acquisition of different language registers. Children learn how written language differs from spoken language, how the language used to speak to the principal is different from the language of the playground, how the language of a science report is different from the language of a narrative. As Terry Piper (2006) and others have documented, some children will have even more to learn if they come to school speaking an ethnic or regional variety of the school language that is quite different from the one used by the teacher. They will have to learn that another variety, often referred to as the standard variety, is required for successful academic work. Other children arrive at school speaking a different language altogether. For these children, the work of language learning in the early school years presents additional opportunities and challenges. We will return to this topic when we discuss bilingualism in early childhood.

Explaining first language acquisition

These descriptions of language development from infancy through the early school years show that we have considerable knowledge of what children learn in their early language development. More controversial, however, are questions about how this development takes place. What abilities does the child bring to the task and what are the contributions of the environment? Since the middle of the 20th century, three main theoretical positions have been advanced to explain language development: behaviourist, innatist, and interactionist/developmental perspectives.

The behaviourist perspective

Behaviourism is a theory of learning that was influential in the 1940s and 1950s, especially in the United States. With regard to language learning, the best-known proponent of this psychological theory was B. F. Skinner (1957). Traditional behaviourists hypothesized that when children imitated the language produced by those around them, their attempts to reproduce what they heard received ‘positive reinforcement’. This could take the form of praise or just successful communication. Thus encouraged by their environment, children would continue to imitate and practise these sounds and patterns until they formed ‘habits’ of correct language use. According to this view, the quality and quantity of the language the child hears, as well as the consistency of the reinforcement offered by others in the environment, would shape the child’s language behaviour. This theory gives great importance to the environment as the source of everything the child needs to learn.

Analysing children’s speech: Definitions and examples

The behaviourists viewed imitation and practice as the primary processes in language development. To clarify what is meant by these two terms, consider the following definitions and examples.

Imitation: word-for-word repetition of all or part of someone else’s utterance.

MOTHERShall we play with the dolls?
LUCYPlay with dolls

Practice: repetitive manipulation of form.

CINDYHe eat carrots. The other one eat carrots. They both eat carrots.

Now examine the transcripts from Peter, Cindy, and Kathryn. They were all about 24 months old when they were recorded as they played with a visiting adult. Using the definitions above, notice how Peter imitates the adult in the following dialogue.

Peter (24 months) is playing with a dump truck while two adults, Patsy and Lois, look on.

PETERGet more.
LOISYou’re gonna put more wheels in the dump truck?
PETERDump truck. Wheels. Dump truck.

(later)

PATSYWhat happened to it (the truck)?
PETER(looking under chair for it) Lose it. Dump truck! Dump truck! Fall! Fall!
LOISYes, the dump truck fell down.
PETERDump truck fell down. Dump truck.

(Unpublished data from P. M. Lightbown)

If we analysed a larger sample of Peter’s speech, we would see that 30–40 per cent of his sentences were imitations of what someone else had just said. We would also see that his imitations were not random. That is, he did not simply imitate 30–40 per cent of everything he heard. Detailed analyses of large samples of Peter’s speech over about a year showed that he imitated words and sentence structures that were just beginning to appear in his spontaneous speech. Once these new elements became solidly grounded in his language system, he stopped imitating them and went on to imitate others (Bloom, Hood, & Lightbown, 1974).

Unlike a parrot who imitates the familiar and continues to repeat the same things again and again, children appear to imitate selectively. The choice of what to imitate seems to be based on something new that they have just begun to understand and use, not simply on what is available in the environment. For example, consider how Cindy imitates and practises language in the following conversations.

Cindy (24 months, 16 days) is looking at a picture of a carrot in a book and trying to get Patsy’s attention.

CINDYKawo? kawo? kawo? kawo? kawo?
PATSYWhat are the rabbits eating?
CINDYThey eating … kando?
PATSYNo, that’s a carrot.
CINDYCarrot. (pointing to each carrot on the page) The other … carrot. The other carrot. The other carrot.

(A few minutes later, Cindy brings Patsy a stuffed toy rabbit.)

PATSYWhat does this rabbit like to eat?
CINDY(incomprehensible) eat the carrots.

(Cindy gets another stuffed rabbit.)

CINDYHe (incomprehensible) eat carrots. The other one eat carrots. They both eat carrots.

(One week later, Cindy opens the book to the same page.)

CINDYHere’s the carrots. (pointing) Is that a carrot?
PATSYYes.

(Unpublished data from P. M. Lightbown)

Cindy appears to be working hard on her language acquisition. She practises new words and structures in a way that sounds like a student in some foreign language classes! Perhaps most interesting is that she remembers the ‘language lesson’ a week later and turns straight to the page in the book she had not seen since Patsy’s last visit. What is most striking is that, like Peter, her imitation and practice appear to be focused on what she is currently ‘working on’.

The samples of speech from Peter and Cindy seem to lend some support to the behaviourist explanation of language acquisition. Even so, as we saw, the choice of what to imitate and practise seemed determined by something inside the child rather than by the environment.

Not all children imitate and practise as much as Peter and Cindy did. The amount of imitation in the speech of other children, whose development proceeded at a rate comparable to that of Cindy and Peter, has been calculated at less than 10 per cent. Consider the examples of imitation and practice in the following conversation between Kathryn and Lois.

Kathryn (24 months)

LOISDid you see the toys I brought?
KATHRYNI bring toys? Choo choo? Lois brought the choo choo train?
LOISYes, Lois brought the choo choo train.
KATHRYN(reaching for bag) I want play with choo choo train. I want play with choo choo train. (taking out slide) Want play. What’s this?
LOISOh you know what that is.
KATHRYNPut down on floor. This. I do this.

(Kathryn puts the slide on the floor.)

KATHRYN(taking out two cars of train) Do this. I want do this. (trying to put train together) I do this. I do this.
LOISOK. You can do it. You can do it. Look I’ll show you how.

(Lois puts it together.)

KATHRYN(searching in box) I get more. Get a more. No more choo choo train. Get truck. (taking out truck) Kathryn truck. Where? Where a more choo choo train?
LOISInside. It’s in the box.
KATHRYNA choo choo? (taking out part of train) This is a choo choo train.

(from Bloom & Lahey, 1978, p. 135)

Like Cindy, Kathryn sometimes repeats herself or produces a series of related practice sentences, but she rarely imitates the other speaker. Instead, she asks and answers questions and elaborates on the other speaker’s questions or statements. Thus, children vary in the amount of imitation they do. In addition, many of the things they say show that they are using language creatively, not just repeating what they have heard. This is evident in the following examples.

Patterns in language

The first example shows a child in the process of learning patterns in language, in this case the rules of word formation, and overgeneralizing them to new contexts.

Randall (36 months) had a sore on his hand.

MOTHERMaybe we need to take you to the doctor.
RANDALLWhy? So he can doc my little bump?

Randall forms the verb ‘doc’ from the noun ‘doctor’, by analogy with farmers who farm, swimmers who swim, and actors who act.

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Focus on meaning

Even older children have to work out some puzzles, for example, when familiar language is used in unfamiliar ways, as in the example below. When David (5 years, 1 month) was at his older sister’s birthday party, toasts were proposed with grape juice in stemmed glasses:

FATHERI’d like to propose a toast.

Several minutes later, David raised his glass:

DAVIDI’d like to propose a piece of bread.

Only when laughter sent David slinking from the table did the group realize that he wasn’t intentionally making a play on words! He was concentrating so hard on performing the fascinating new gesture and the formulaic expression ‘I’d like to propose …’ that he failed to realize that the word he thought he knew—’toast’—was not the same toast and could not be replaced with its apparent near-synonym, ‘a piece of bread’.

Question formation

Randall (2 years, 9 months) asked the following questions in various situations over the course of a day.

Are dogs can wiggle their tails?

Are those are my boots?

Are this is hot?

Randall had concluded that the trick of asking questions was to put ‘are’ at the beginning of the sentence. His questions are good examples of Stage 3 in question development.

Order of events

Randall (3 years, 5 months) was looking for a towel.

You took all the towels away because I can’t dry my hands.

He meant ‘I can’t dry my hands because you took all the towels away’, but he made a mistake about which clause comes first. Children at this stage of language development tend to mention events in the order of their occurrence. In this case, the towels disappeared before Randall attempted to dry his hands, so that’s what he said first. He did not yet understand how a word like ‘before’ or ‘because’ changes the order of cause and effect.

These examples of children’s speech provide us with a window on the process of language learning. Imitation and practice alone cannot explain some of the forms created by children. They are not merely repetitions of sentences that they have heard from adults. Rather, children appear to pick out patterns and generalize them to new contexts. They create new forms or new uses of words. Their new sentences are usually comprehensible and often correct.

Behaviourism seems to offer a reasonable way of understanding how children learn some of the regular and routine aspects of language, especially at the earliest stages. However, children who do little overt imitation acquire language as fully and rapidly as those who imitate a lot. And although behaviourism goes some way to explaining the sorts of overgeneralization that children make, it is not a satisfactory explanation for the acquisition of the more complex grammar that children acquire. These limitations led researchers to look for different explanations for language acquisition.

The innatist perspective

Noam Chomsky is one of the most influential figures in linguistics. His ideas about how language is acquired and how it is stored in the mind sparked a revolution in many aspects of linguistics and psychology, including the study of language acquisition. The innatist perspective is related to Chomsky’s hypothesis that all human languages are based on some innate universal principles.

In his 1959 review of B. F. Skinner’s book Verbal Behavior (1957), Chomsky challenged the behaviourist explanation for language acquisition. He argued that children are biologically programmed for language and that language develops in the child in just the same way that other biological functions develop. For example, all children will learn to walk as long as adequate nourishment and reasonable freedom of movement are provided. They do not have to be taught. They will learn to walk at about the same age, and they will walk in essentially the same way. For Chomsky, language acquisition is very similar. The environment makes only a basic contribution—in this case, the availability of people who speak to the child. The child, or rather, the child’s biological endowment, will do the rest.

Chomsky argued that the behaviourist theory failed to account for ‘the logical problem of language acquisition’—the fact that children come to know more about the structure of their language than they could reasonably be expected to learn on the basis of the samples of language they hear. The language children are exposed to includes false starts, incomplete sentences, and slips of the tongue, and yet they learn to distinguish between grammatical and ungrammatical sentences. He concluded that children’s minds are not blank slates to be filled by imitating language they hear in the environment. Instead, he hypothesized, children are born with a specific innate ability to discover for themselves the underlying rules of a language system on the basis of the samples of a natural language they are exposed to. This innate endowment was seen as a sort of template, containing the principles that are universal to all human languages. This universal grammar (UG) would prevent the child from pursuing all sorts of wrong hypotheses about how language systems might work. If children are pre-equipped with UG, then what they have to learn is the ways in which the language they are acquiring makes use of these principles.

Consider the following sentences, from a book by Lydia White (1989). These English sentences contain the reflexive pronoun ‘himself’. Both the pronoun and the noun it refers to (the antecedent) are printed in italics. (An asterisk at the beginning of a sentence indicates that the sentence is ungrammatical.)

a John saw himself.

b *Himself saw John.

In (a) and (b), it looks as if the reflexive pronoun must follow the noun it refers to. But (c) disproves this:

c Looking after himself bores John.

If we consider sentences such as:

d John said that Fred liked himself.

e *John said that Fred liked himself.

f John told Bill to wash himself.

g *John told Bill to wash himself.

we might conclude that the noun closest to the reflexive pronoun is the antecedent. However, (h) shows that this rule won’t work either:

h John promised Bill to wash himself.

And it’s even more complicated than that. Usually the reflexive must be in the same clause as the antecedent as in (a) and (d), but not always, as in (h). Furthermore, the reflexive can be in the subject position in (i) but not in (j).

i John believes himself to be intelligent (non-finite clause).

j *John believes that himself is intelligent (finite clause).

In some cases, more than one antecedent is possible, as in (k) where the reflexive could refer to either John or Bill:

k John? showed Bill? a picture of himself.

When we look at this kind of complexity, it seems it would be very hard to learn, and children do make errors along the way. Yet, most school-age children with L1 English would be able to correctly interpret the grammatical sentences and recognize the ungrammaticality of the others. Researchers who study language acquisition from the innatist perspective argue that such complex grammar could never be learned purely on the basis of imitating and practising sentences available in the input. They hypothesize that since all children acquire the language of their environment, they must have some innate mechanism or knowledge that allows them to discover such complex syntax in spite of limitations of the input. They hypothesize furthermore that the innate mechanism is used exclusively for language acquisition.

The innatist perspective emphasizes the fact that almost all children successfully acquire their native language—or more than one language if they live in a multilingual community. Children who are profoundly deaf will learn sign language if they are exposed to it in infancy, and their progress in the acquisition of that language system is similar to hearing children’s acquisition of spoken language. Even children with very limited cognitive ability develop quite complex language systems if they are brought up in environments in which people interact with them.

Children acquire the basic syntax and morphology of the language spoken to them in a variety of conditions, some of which would be expected to enhance language development (for example, caring, attentive parents who focus on the child’s language), and some which might be expected to inhibit it (for example, abusive or rejecting parents). Children achieve different levels of vocabulary, creativity, social grace, and so on, but virtually all achieve the ability to use the patterns of the language or languages spoken to them. This is seen as support for the hypothesis that language is somehow separate from other aspects of cognitive development and may depend on a specific module of the brain.

The critical period hypothesis

The innatist perspective is often linked to the critical period hypothesis (CPH)—the hypothesis that animals, including humans, are genetically programmed to acquire certain kinds of knowledge and skill at specific times in life. Beyond those ‘critical periods’, it is either difficult or impossible to acquire those abilities. With regard to language, the CPH suggests that children who are not given access to language in infancy and early childhood (because of deafness or extreme isolation) will never acquire language if these deprivations go on for too long.

It is difficult to find evidence for or against the CPH, since nearly all children are exposed to language at an early age. However, history has documented a few ‘natural experiments’ where children have been deprived of contact with language. Two of the most famous cases are those of ‘Victor’ and ‘Genie’.

In 1799, a boy who became known as Victor was found wandering naked in the woods in France. His story was dramatized in a 1970 film by François Truffaut called L’enfant sauvage (The Wild Child). When Victor was discovered, he was about 12 years old and completely wild, apparently having had no contact with humans. Jean Marc Gaspard Itard, a young doctor accustomed to working with deaf children, devoted five years to socializing Victor and trying to teach him language. Although he succeeded to some extent in developing Victor’s sociability, memory, and judgement, there was little progress in his language ability.

Nearly 200 years later, Genie, a 13-year-old girl who had been isolated, neglected, and abused, was discovered in California. Because of the irrational demands of a father with mental health problems and the submission and fear of an abused mother, Genie had spent more than 11 years tied to a chair or a crib in a small, darkened room. Her father had forbidden his wife and son to speak to Genie and had himself only growled and barked at her. She was beaten when she made any kind of noise, and she had long since resorted to complete silence. Genie was undeveloped physically, emotionally, and intellectually. She had no language.

After she was discovered, Genie was cared for and educated with the participation of many teachers and therapists, including Susan Curtiss (1977). After a brief period in a rehabilitation centre, she lived in a foster home and attended special schools. Genie made remarkable progress in becoming socialized and cognitively aware. She developed deep personal relationships and strong individual tastes and traits. Nevertheless, after five years of exposure to language, Genie’s language was not like that of a typical five-year old. There was a larger than ‘normal’ gap between comprehension and production. She used grammatical forms inconsistently and overused formulaic and routine speech. Genie’s life was studied and analysed by researchers and therapists in the years after her discovery and many observers were struck by the resilience she showed in some aspects of her life (see, for example, Rymer, 1994). However, she never achieved a level of language that would be considered typical for a person of her age or even of a much younger child.

Although Victor and Genie appear to provide evidence in support of the CPH, it is difficult to argue that the hypothesis is confirmed on the basis of evidence from their stories. Due to the circumstances of these tragic lives, we cannot know what factors besides biological maturity might have contributed to the failure to acquire normal linguistic ability. Sadly, similar cases have been reported in both scientific and popular publications. It is possible that some of the children suffered from brain damage, developmental delays, or a specific language impairment, even before they were separated from normal human interaction.

A more appropriate test of the CPH is the case of children who live in homes where they receive love and care, yet do not have access to language at the usual time. This is the case for some profoundly deaf children who have hearing parents. Only 5–10 percent of the profoundly deaf are born to deaf parents, and only these children are likely to be exposed to sign language from birth. Hearing parents may not realize that their child cannot hear because the child uses other senses to interact with them. Thus, although the early childhood period may appear to be the same in most ways for both hearing and deaf children, it may be devoid of language that is accessible to the deaf child. These children’s later experience in learning sign language has been the subject of some important research related to the CPH.

Like oral and written languages, sign languages such as American Sign Language (ASL) make use of grammatical markers to indicate such things as time (for example, past tense) and number. These markers are expressed through specific hand or body movements.

Elissa Newport (1990) and her colleagues studied the ability of deaf users of ASL to produce and comprehend grammatical markers. They compared Native signers (who were exposed to ASL from birth), Early signers (who began using ASL between four and six years of age), and Late signers (who began learning ASL after age 12). They found no difference between the groups in some aspects of their use of ASL, for example in vocabulary knowledge. However, on tests focusing on grammatical markers, the Native group used the markers more consistently than the Early group who, in turn, used them more consistently than the Late group. The researchers concluded that their study supports the hypothesis that there is a critical period for first language acquisition, whether that language is oral or gestural. There has been controversy regarding the importance of exposing deaf children to sign language as early as possible. Some parents and educators, as well as speech and language therapists, have argued that early exposure to sign language could interfere with children’s development of oral language. However, current research suggests that even for children who are given cochlear implants and thus have greater access to oral language, exposure to sign language adds to—rather than interferes with—their overall development of language knowledge and skill (Humphries et al., 2012).

Another line of research that has given new insight into the importance of early language experience comes from studies of ‘international adoptees’. These are children who were adopted at an early age by families who did not speak the language the child had heard during infancy. In their review of studies of international adoptees, Johanne Paradis, Fred Genesee, and Martha Crago (2011) concluded that cognitive and linguistic outcomes were generally very positive. Some comparisons of the adoptees’ language with that of children the same age who had always heard the same language showed that subtle differences persist even after several years, but these are not the kinds of differences that most people would notice, nor do they prevent the adoptees from successfully using their new language. Here again, of course, one cannot know whether something other than a late exposure to the language spoken in the adoptive environment also contributed to these subtle differences.

It is clear, therefore, that late exposure does not mean that a child cannot successfully learn and use a new language. Nevertheless, with continuing research on children’s linguistic behaviours and intuitions, as well as the studies of infants’ speech perception that we saw above, there is growing evidence that language acquisition begins at birth, and possibly even before, as the child’s brain is shaped by exposure to the language(s) in the environment. We will return to the issue of early and late language experiences in discussions of bilingualism and second language learning.

Interactionist/developmental perspectives

Developmental and cognitive psychologists have focused on the interplay between the innate learning ability of children and the environment in which they develop. They argue that the innatists place too much emphasis on the ‘final state’ (the competence of adult native speakers) and not enough on the developmental aspects of language acquisition. In their view, language acquisition is but one example of the human child’s ability to learn from experience, and they see no need to assume that there are specific brain structures devoted to language acquisition. They hypothesize that what children need to know is essentially available in the language they are exposed to as they hear it used in thousands of hours of interactions with the people and objects around them.

Psychologists attribute considerably more importance to the environment than the innatists do even though they also recognize a powerful learning mechanism in the human brain. They see language acquisition as similar to and influenced by the acquisition of other kinds of skill and knowledge, rather than as something that is different from and largely independent of the child’s experience and cognitive development. Indeed, researchers such as Dan Slobin (1973) have long emphasized the close relationship between children’s cognitive development and their acquisition of language.

Piaget and Vygotsky

One of the earliest proponents of the view that children’s language is built on their cognitive development was the Swiss psychologist/epistemologist, Jean Piaget (1951). In the early decades of the 20th century, Piaget observed infants and children in their play and in their interaction with objects and people. He was able to trace the development of their cognitive understanding of such things as object permanence (knowing that things hidden from sight are still there), the stability of quantities regardless of changes in their appearance (knowing that 10 pennies spread out to form a long line are not more numerous than 10 pennies in a tightly squeezed line), and logical inferencing (figuring out which properties of a set of rods (their size, weight, material, etc.) cause some rods to sink and others to float on water).

It is easy to see how children’s cognitive development would partly determine how they acquire language. For example, the use of certain terms such as ‘bigger’ or ‘more’ depends on the children’s understanding of the concepts they represent. The developing cognitive understanding is built on the interaction between the child and the things that can be observed or manipulated. For Piaget, language was one of a number of symbol systems that are developed in childhood. Language can be used to represent knowledge that children have acquired through physical interaction with the environment.

Another influential student of child development was the psychologist Lev Vygotsky (1978). He observed interactions among children and also between children and adults in schools in the Soviet Union in the 1920s and 1930s. He concluded that language develops primarily from social interaction. He argued that in a supportive interactive environment, children are able to advance to higher levels of knowledge and performance. Vygotsky referred to a metaphorical place in which children could do more than they would be capable of doing independently as the zone of proximal development (ZPD).

Vygotsky observed the importance of conversations that children have with adults and with other children and saw in these conversations the origins of both language and thought. The conversations provide the child with scaffolding, that is, a kind of supportive structure that helps them make the most of the knowledge they have and also to acquire new knowledge.

Vygotsky’s view differs from Piaget’s. Piaget saw language as a symbol system that could be used to express knowledge acquired through interaction with the physical world. For Vygotsky, thought was essentially internalized speech, and speech emerged in social interaction. Vygotsky’s views have become increasingly central in research on L2 development, as we will see in Chapter 4.

Cross-cultural research

Since the 1970s, researchers have studied children’s language learning environments in a great many different cultural communities. The research has focused not only on the development of language itself, but also on the ways in which the environment provides what children need for language acquisition. Between 1985 and 1997, Dan Slobin edited five volumes devoted to research on the acquisition of 28 languages, providing examples and analyses of child language and the language-learning environment from communities around the world (Slobin, 1985–1997). Then, the year 2000 saw the launch of a resource for child language researchers, which is remarkable in its scale: the Child Language Data Exchange System (CHILDES), where researchers share child language data in dozens of languages in the form of audio/video recordings and transcriptions of recorded language samples from children and their interlocutors (MacWhinney, 2000). Another recent large-scale resource on child language learning is the MacArthur-Bates Communicative Development Inventories (MB-CDIs) (Fenson et al., 2007), a database that brings together information from questionnaires and checklists completed by parents for a large number of children learning different languages.

One feature of cross-cultural research on child language development is the description of child-rearing patterns. Catherine Snow (1995) and others have studied the apparent effects on language acquisition of the ways in which adults talk to and interact with young children. In middle-class North American homes, researchers observed that adults often modify the way they speak when talking to little children. This child-directed speech may be characterized by a slower rate of delivery, higher pitch, more varied intonation, shorter, simpler sentence patterns, stress on key words, frequent repetition, and paraphrase. Furthermore, topics of conversation emphasize the child’s immediate environment, picture books, or experiences that the adult knows the child has had. Adults often repeat the content of a child’s utterance, but they expand or recast it into a grammatically correct sentence. For example, when Peter says, ‘Dump truck! Dump truck! Fall! Fall!’, Lois responds, ‘Yes, the dump truck fell down’.

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Researchers working in a ‘language socialization’ framework have found that the kind of child-directed speech observed in middle-class American homes is by no means universal. In some societies, adults do not engage in conversation or verbal play with very young children. For example, Bambi Schieffelin (1990) found that Kaluli mothers in Papua New Guinea did not consider their very young children to be appropriate conversational partners. Martha Crago (1992) observed that in traditional Inuit society, children are expected to watch and listen to adults. They are not expected or encouraged to participate in conversations with adults until they are older and have more developed language skills.

Other researchers have observed that in some societies, young children interact primarily with older siblings who serve as their caregivers. Even within the United States, Shirley Brice Heath (1983) and others have documented substantial differences in the ways parents in different socioeconomic and ethnic groups interact with their children. Nevertheless, in every society, children are in situations in which they hear language that is meaningful to them in their environment. And they acquire the community language. Thus, it is difficult to judge the long-term effect of the modifications that some adults make in speech addressed to children. This is not to say that differences in children’s environments do not have an impact on some aspects of early language learning (Rowe, 2008). For example, a number of studies in the USA have found that the amount of language addressed to children in their early years is associated with differences in their vocabulary when they start school (Gilkerson et al., 2017; Hart & Risley, 1995)

The importance of interaction

The role of interaction between a language-learning child and an interlocutor who responds to the child is illuminated by cases where such interaction is missing. Jacqueline Sachs and her colleagues (1981) studied the language development of a child they called Jim. He was a hearing child of deaf parents, and his only contact with oral language was through television, which he watched frequently. The family was unusual in that the parents did not use sign language with Jim. Thus, although in other respects he was well cared for, Jim did not begin his linguistic development in an environment in which a parent communicated with him in either oral or sign language. A language assessment at three years and nine months indicated that he was well below age level in all aspects of language. Although he attempted to express ideas appropriate to his age, he used unusual, ungrammatical word order.

When Jim began conversational sessions with a hearing adult, his expressive abilities started to improve. By the age of four years and two months, most of the unusual speech patterns had disappeared, replaced by language more typical of his age. Jim’s younger brother Glenn did not display the same type of language delay. Glenn’s linguistic environment was different from Jim’s: he had his older brother—not only as a model but, more importantly, as a conversational partner whose interaction allowed Glenn to develop language in a more typical way.

Jim showed very rapid acquisition of English once he began to interact with an adult on a one-to-one basis. The fact that prior to this experience, he had not acquired language in the way that most children do suggests that impersonal sources of language such as television or radio alone are not sufficient. One-to-one interaction gives children access to language that is adjusted to their level of comprehension. When a child does not understand, the adult may repeat or paraphrase. The response of the adult may also allow children to find out when their own utterances are understood. Television, for obvious reasons, does not provide such interaction. Even in children’s programmes, where simpler language is used and topics are relevant to younger viewers, no immediate adjustment is made for the needs of an individual child. Once children have acquired some language, however, television can be a source of language and cultural information.

Usage-based learning

As more and more research has documented the ways in which children interact with the environment, developmental and cognitive psychologists find further evidence that language acquisition is usage-based. In this view, language acquisition is possible because of children’s general cognitive capacities and the vast number of opportunities they have to make connections between the language they hear and what they experience in their environment. Sophisticated electronic recording devices have been used to track and count words and phrases children hear in their daily lives. Deb Roy documented his son’s acquisition of words, showing the frequency and the contexts for the occurrence of language. His research provided an impressive demonstration of the power of interaction between the child and the adults and how adults focus on the language the child has begun to use (Roy, 2009).

The usage-based perspective on language acquisition differs from the behaviourist view in that the emphasis is more on the child’s ability to create networks of associations rather than on processes of imitation and habit formation. Referred to by various names, including cognitive linguistics, this view also differs sharply from the innatist perspective because language acquisition is not seen as requiring a separate ‘module of the mind’ but rather depends on the child’s general learning abilities and the contributions of the environment. As Elena Lieven and Michael Tomasello (2008) put it, ‘Children learn language from their language experiences—there is no other way’ (p. 168). According to this view, what children need to know is essentially available to them in the language they are exposed to.

Some of the early research in this framework was done in the context of connectionism and involved computer simulations in which samples of language were provided as input to a fairly simple program. The goal was to show that the computer could ‘learn’ certain things if exposed to enough examples. The program was found to be able to sort out the patterns from the input and to generalize beyond what it was actually exposed to. It even made the same kinds of creative ‘mistakes’ that young children make, such as putting a regular -ed ending on an irregular verb, for example, eated.

In a usage-based model, language acquisition involves not only associating words with elements of external reality. It is also a process of associating words and phrases with other words and phrases that occur with them, or words with grammatical morphemes that occur with them. For example, children learning languages in which nouns have grammatical gender learn to associate the appropriate article and adjective forms with nouns. So if children are learning French, they learn that la and une go with chaise (chair) and le and un go with livre (book). Similarly, they learn to associate pronouns with the verb forms that mark person and number—il aime (he likes) and nous aimons (we like). They also learn which temporal adverbs go with which verb tenses.

Of particular importance to this hypothesis is the fact that children are exposed to many thousands of opportunities to learn words and phrases. Learning takes place gradually, as the number of links between language and meaning and among language forms are built up. For usage-based theorists, acquisition of language, while impressive, is not the only remarkable feat accomplished by the child. They compare it to other cognitive and perceptual learning, including learning to ‘see’. That is, the visual abilities that we take for granted, for example, focusing on and interpreting objects in our visual field, are actually learned through experience (Tomasello, 2009).

The differences between innatist, behaviourist, and interactionist/developmental perspectives are clear. Innatism is based on biological and neurological explanations, emphasizes the innate and universal nature of language learning, and focuses on the final state, that is, the kind of linguistic knowledge that adult native speakers have. Behaviorist and interactionist/developmental perspectives emphasize a much greater role for the linguistic environment and focus on developmental features of learning. However, behaviourism views learning as a process of imitation and habit formation while interactionist/developmental perspectives view learning as a more creative process in which learners’ innate abilities (linguistic and cognitive) interact with the environment. We revisit these theories (and others) in relation to L2 learning in Chapter 4.

Language disorders and delays

Although most children progress through the stages of language development without significant difficulty or delay, there are some children for whom this is not the case. The majority of children produce recognizable first words by 12 months; however, a small number may not speak before the age of three years. In very young children, one way to determine whether delayed language reflects a problem or simply an individual difference within the normal range is to determine whether the child responds to language and appears to understand even if they are not speaking.

For older children, delays in learning to read that seem out of keeping with a child’s overall cognitive functioning may suggest that there is a specific problem in that domain. Some children seem to begin reading almost by magic, discovering the mysteries of print with little direct instruction. For most children, instruction that includes some systematic attention to sound–letter correspondences allows them to unlock the treasure chest of reading. Both groups fall within a ‘normal’ range. For some children, however, reading presents such great challenges that they need expert help beyond what is available in a typical classroom. Parents and teachers need to bring in specialists who can help to assess the child’s needs and work out a programme of support.

However, when children receive their early schooling in a language that they do not speak at home, there may be delays in learning to read. These delays have sometimes been misinterpreted as reflecting an underlying reading disability. It is important to understand that learning to read depends very much on the development of good oral vocabulary and that children who are still developing L2 may simply need more time to acquire the background knowledge and vocabulary they need in order to understand what they are reading. Esther Geva and Gloria Ramirez (2015) describe the ‘multifaceted nature of English L2 reading comprehension’ and review research that has helped teachers develop approaches to help both L1 and L2 speakers acquire this most fundamental tool for education.

An in-depth discussion of the various types of disability (including deafness, articulatory problems, autism, dyslexia, and so on) that sometimes affect language development is outside the scope of this book. It is essential that parents and teachers be encouraged to seek professional advice if they feel that a child is not developing language as expected, keeping in mind that the range for ‘normal’ is wide indeed.

Childhood bilingualism

The language development of children who learn multiple languages during childhood is of enormous importance throughout the world. Indeed, the majority of the world’s children are exposed to more than one language. Some children learn multiple languages from earliest childhood; others acquire additional languages when they go to school. The acquisition and maintenance of more than one language can open doors to many personal, social, and economic opportunities. It is noteworthy that both the CHILDES and MB-CDI databases include information about children learning more than one language in early childhood (see Cross-cultural research).

Unfortunately, as Jim Cummins (2000) and others have said, and as was pointed out above, children who already know one or more languages and who arrive at their first day of school without an age-appropriate knowledge of the language of the school have often been misdiagnosed as having language delays or disorders. This includes immigrant and minority-language children who do not speak the school language at home and children who speak a different variety of the school language. These children’s knowledge of a different language or language variety is often incorrectly interpreted as a lack of normal language development and a lack of background knowledge for school subjects. They may be placed in remedial or special education classes because schools are not equipped to provide an adequate assessment of the children’s ability to use their home language, their general cognitive abilities, or their knowledge of school subjects that they have learned through another language. Researchers have made important progress in providing guidelines that can help educators distinguish between disability and diversity (Paradis, Genesee, & Crago, 2011), but much practical work remains to be done so that children can make the most of their cognitive and linguistic abilities. Cristina Sánchez-López and Theresa Young (2018) provide valuable guidance, especially for parents and teachers of children with special educational needs who are learning more than one language in pre-school and the early school years. With thoughtful planning and cooperation among families and educators, it is possible to provide appropriate inclusive educational opportunities for all children (Smith et al., 2018).

Children who learn more than one language from earliest childhood are referred to as ‘simultaneous bilinguals’, whereas those who learn another language later may be called ‘sequential bilinguals’. We sometimes hear people express the opinion that it is too difficult for children to cope with two languages. They fear that the children will be confused or will not learn either language well. However, there is little support for the myth that learning more than one language in early childhood is a problem for children who have adequate opportunities to use each one. On the contrary, there is a considerable body of research on children’s ability to learn more than one language in their earliest years. Although some studies show minor early delays in one or both languages for simultaneous bilinguals, there is no evidence that learning two languages has a substantial negative long-term effect on their linguistic development or interferes with cognitive development. It is of course important to acknowledge that creating the conditions for family bilingualism is not always easy. Children sometimes resist the use of a language that is not spoken by their friends and playmates in the larger community. Parents may find it easier to use one language, especially in the company of those who do not speak the other language. It may be hard to find books and games to reinforce the learning of a minority language in the home. But there is more and more guidance and support available for parents for whom the acquisition of more than one language is important. Anikka Bourgogne (2014) and Barbara Zurer Pearson (2008) are examples of writers who know both the research on bilingualism and the day-to-day experiences of parents who have embarked on this journey.

Many children attain high levels of proficiency in both languages. Ellen Bialystok (2001) and other cognitive and developmental psychologists have found convincing evidence that achieving bilingual proficiency can have positive effects on abilities that are related to academic success, such as metalinguistic awareness. Limitations that may be observed in the language of bilingual individuals are more likely to be related to the circumstances in which each language is learned than to any limitation in the human capacity to learn more than one language. For example, if one language is heard much more often than the other or is more highly valued in the community, that language may eventually be used better than, or in preference to, the other.

One aspect of bilingual language use is referred to as code switching—the use of words or phrases from more than one language within a conversation. For example, a child who speaks both French and English might say, ‘I’m playing with le château’. Such switching between languages may sometimes reflect the absence of a particular vocabulary word or expression, but it can just as often be the intentional use of a word from the other language for a variety of interactional purposes. Highly proficient adult bilinguals also code switch when they speak to others who also know both languages. The use of both languages within a bilingual context is not evidence of a lack of proficiency. It may have many different motivations, from expressing solidarity to making a joke. Psychologists have shown that speakers of more than one language are constantly making choices about how to express themselves and that code switching is patterned and often predictable. Indeed, this experience in making choices has been identified as contributing to cognitive flexibility throughout life (Bialystok, 2009). As we will see, code switching is just one of the ways that bilingual and multilingual individuals make use of their linguistic resources.

As children learn a second language at school, they need to learn both the variety of language that children use among themselves (and in informal settings with familiar adults) and the variety that is used in academic settings. In his early research on childhood bilingualism, Jim Cummins (2000) called these two varieties BICS (basic interpersonal communication skills) and CALP (cognitive academic language proficiency). Characteristics of the two varieties overlap to a certain extent, but there are important differences, not just in the range of vocabulary that each requires but also in the way information is expressed. Luciana de Oliveira and Mary Schleppegrell (2015) have contributed to our understanding of what characterizes the language and interaction patterns of academic discourse. Their research in classrooms helps to explain why children need more time to acquire the vocabulary, grammar, and interaction patterns of academic language than they need to acquire the informal language of day-to-day interaction.

When children start school with little or no knowledge of the language spoken there, they may acquire BICS within a relatively short time—as little as a year or two. They learn from watching and imitating interactions among their peers and between teachers and students. They make connections between frequently heard words and phrases and the routines and recurring events of the classroom, cafeteria, and playground. For this reason, students are sometimes perceived as ‘fluent’ in their L2. This can lead teachers to assume that any difficulties in academic tasks are not due to limited language skills but to other causes—from lack of motivation to learning disabilities. More careful observation shows that the students, while fluent in social settings, do not have the CALP skills needed for academic tasks such as understanding a problem in mathematics, defining a word, or writing a science report.

Virginia Collier (1989) found that, for most students, acquiring age-appropriate CALP takes several years. As the L2 learner tries to catch up, the children who came to school already speaking the school language are continuing to learn hundreds of new words every year and to learn the concepts that these words represent. If L2 learners have limited knowledge of the school language and do not have opportunities to continue learning academic content in a language they already know, it is not surprising that they fall behind in learning the academic subject matter that their peers have continued to develop.

Children need time to develop their L2 skills. Many people assume that this means that the best approach is to start learning as early as possible and to avoid the use of the child’s previously learned languages. Certainly, it is important for children to begin learning and using the school language as early as possible, but considerable research suggests that continued development of the child’s home language actually contributes in the long term to more successful acquisition of the school language. Researchers and educators have expressed concern about situations where children are cut off from their family language when they are very young, spending long hours away from their families in settings where the home language is absent or even forbidden. Lily Wong Fillmore (2000) observed that when children are ‘submerged’ in a different language for long periods in pre-school or day care, their development of the family language may be slowed down or stalled before they have developed an age-appropriate proficiency in the new language. Eventually they may stop speaking the family language altogether, and this loss of a common language can lead to significant social and psychological problems.

Wallace Lambert (1987) called the loss of one language on the way to learning another subtractive bilingualism. It can have negative consequences for children’s self-esteem, and their relationships with family members are also likely to be affected by such early loss of the family language. In these cases, children seem to continue to be caught between two languages: they have not yet mastered the school language, and they have not continued to develop the family language. During the transition period, they may fall behind in their academic learning. Unfortunately, the ‘solution’ educators sometimes propose to parents is that they should stop speaking the family language at home and concentrate instead on speaking the school language with their children.

The research evidence suggests that a better approach is to strive for additive bilingualism—the maintenance of the home language while the L2 is being learned. This is especially true if the parents are also learners of the L2. If parents continue to use the language that they know best with their children, they are able to express their knowledge and ideas in ways that are richer and more elaborate than they can manage in a language they do not know as well. Using their own language in family settings is also a way for parents to maintain their own self-esteem, especially as they may have their own struggles with the new language outside the home, at work or in the community. Maintaining the family language also allows children to retain family connections with grandparents or relatives who do not speak the new language. They benefit from the opportunity to continue both cognitive and affective development using a language they understand easily while they are still learning the L2. Ofelia García (2009) and number of other educators and researchers use the term translanguaging to focus attention on the fact that multilingual individuals and communities do not draw on their languages as separate systems but rather draw on elements of a unified underlying communicative repertoire when they seek to understand or make themselves understood in different contexts. We will return to this topic in Chapter 2.

Other positive effects of bilingual or multilingual development go beyond those that accrue to the children and their families. Knowledge of more than one language can also increase opportunities for cross-cultural communication and economic cooperation among people. As we have seen, L2 learning takes motivation, opportunity, and lots of time. But teachers, parents, and students need to know that the many benefits of additive bilingualism will reward their patience and effort.

Summary

In this chapter, we have focused on some of the research on children’s early language development that has influenced research on L2 acquisition. We have described three broad theoretical perspectives for explaining L1 acquisition. In Chapter 2, we will look at some of the findings of research examining the developing language of L2 learners.


Questions for reflection

  1. Some research has found that the best predictor of children’s vocabulary growth is the amount of language addressed to them by their parents and other caregivers. What have you seen in this chapter that is compatible with that finding?
  2. Go to the children’s section of a library or bookstore and look at the vocabulary used in books that are published for children between three and six years old. Compare these to books for young readers, aged six to eight. What does this suggest about the importance of continuing to read to children after they have begun to learn to read at school? Finally, look at the language used in textbooks for children at age 10 or 11. What can you conclude about the challenge faced by English language learners entering school at this age?
  3. If you are or may be teaching a second language to a group of school-aged learners with different L1 backgrounds, can you think of pedagogical tasks/ activities in which children can display and use their L1 knowledge to help them learn the L2?

Suggestions for further reading

Berko Gleason, J., & Bernstein-Ratner, N. (Eds.). (2017). The development of language (9th ed.). New York: Pearson.

Many of the chapters by leading experts in child language introduce readers to the best-known findings of the past 60 years of research on children’s language development. In addition, there are chapters based on new research, using the kinds of technology that have only recently become available. Thus, the rich database created by researchers with notepads, tape recorders, and tools such as the wug test is complemented by studies of the neurological bases of language learning and language use.

García, O., & Kleifgen, K. (2018). Educating emergent bilinguals: Policies, programs, and practices for English learners (2nd ed.). New York: Teachers College Press.

The education of minority-language children, especially in American schools, is the focus of this guide for educators who seek to provide the most appropriate and enriching schooling for these children. The emphasis is on the importance of drawing on all the learners’ linguistic and cultural resources and ensuring that teachers understand the importance of working towards equity in languages and communities both in schools and beyond.

Paradis, J., Genesee, F., & Crago, M. B. (2011). Dual language development and disorders: A handbook on bilingualism and second language learning (2nd ed.). Baltimore: Paul H. Brookes.

The authors describe language acquisition by children who learn more than one language simultaneously or sequentially, drawing on research from education, psychology, and linguistics. They make the research accessible by their writing style, the inclusion of a glossary of terms, and above all by relating the research to profiles of children who are acquiring their languages in a variety of home, school, and community situations. The authors provide insights into both normal and atypical multilingual development.

Pearson, B. Z. (2008). Raising a bilingual child: A step-by-step guide for parents. New York: Living Language (Random House).

Addressing herself mainly to parents, Barbara Zurer Pearson reviews research from many studies and shows how children become bilingual in many different environments. She also emphasizes the advantages of growing up with a knowledge of more than one language—from the evidence for cognitive flexibility to the benefits of cultural knowledge. Written in an approachable and humorous style, the text is supported by Pearson’s thorough knowledge of the research literature that is included in the bibliography.

B1 reading exercise

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