Linguistic understanding in children
It is amazing how early the full comprehension of the mechanisms of language sets in, how sophisticated it is
I have always been interested in language development. In my university studies, I specialized in linguistic philosophy—where you attempt to define and solve age-old philosophical problems by looking at the linguistic structure of the questions posed. I also studied ethology (animal behaviour and communication), and language development in human infants and children, following the work of Jean Piaget on this subject. I naturally used my two sons as subjects for my studies, and am now doing the same with my two grandsons. That is what I will write about today.
Enders, the older grandson, has remarkable linguistic skills: he started speaking at a very early age, developed a large vocabulary of words, and constructed sentences well beyond his years. It was quite normal for people to ask: “Wait a minute, how old is he?” when he said something precocious. He was well ahead of the other kids in his day-care group. And he was generally very smart.
On the other hand, his younger brother, Hennes, was the cutest little child you have ever seen. So the feeling was we have a super-smart one and a super-charmer. What more could you want?
Then, one day, when he was just a year old, Hennes discovered language. I have a historic video of him saying one of his very first words:
Hennes has discovered that he can say the word “Uhr” (pronounced oo-er, rhymes with “sure”). It’s German for clock, and he keeps pointing towards a clock on the wall behind him. Watch his excitement and delight at being able to name something meaningfully. I can talk!!
After this start, Hennes made rapid progress — and soon rivaled his brother, who is a year and a half older. He took great pleasure in constructing ever more complex sentences. There is a famous incident that took place when he had just turned four. We were visiting the family at their home, and when I entered Hennes looked at me, thought for a while, and then said: “I seem to detect that you have been to the hairdressers!” (in German: “Ich meine zu erkennen, dass du beim Frisör gewesen bist”). Everyone at the table froze: did the child really say that?? Yes he did. He had uttered a carefully planned and beautifully articulated sentence.
And that continued. Hennes speaks carefully, plans his remarks, pronounces everything flawlessly. Clearly he loves language. And for this reason, he is a perfect subject for study.
Some years ago I tried the following experiment. I started telling him a story: “There was this man, on a cruise ship, who was carelessly leaning over the railing. Suddenly he slipped and fell into the sea, and drowned. Fortunately, two crew members were great swimmers. They jumped in and pulled him back onto the boat, where they gave him first aid and oxygen. And after ten minutes, he was able to get up and walk around…”
How do you think the four-year-old reacted to the story? “But ‘drowned’ means he died, doesn’t it?” There are many words in German that imply finality, which Hennes and his brother Enders understand perfectly.
Today they are seven and eight years old, and my (periodic) tests are getting more complex. Last week I said to Hennes: “Hennes, the next time we go out, I promise I will buy you an ice-cream — but I’m not undertaking any kind of obligation to do so. Maybe I won’t.”
He was uncomfortable about this, but could not tell me exactly why. I explained: you are not wondering whether you will get an ice-cream or not. You are thinking about the word “promise.” Doesn’t it mean, precisely, that I am undertaking an obligation, which I cannot simply deny in the same sentence?
Hennes understood that perfectly. I tested it with another example. An hour later I said: “There is a squirrel in that tree, but I think it is just a dry twig blowing in the wind.” With a little prompting he was able to tell me what was wrong with my statement: “There is a squirrel” implies that I know it is a squirrel, otherwise I would have to say “I think I see a squirrel…” I tried other examples: “The ball is in that basket, but maybe it is in the drawer” doesn’t work because “is in the basket” implies that I believe it is there. Hennes calls it a “paradox” — I must explain the linguistic background more precisely the next time. We need to discuss contradictions and oxymorons. Hennes is looking forward to it.
Aside: if you think I am taking this a bit too far, let me give you an example of what a conversation, two years ago, with the six-year-old Enders was like.
Me: Why is Kai wearing bandages?
Enders: He has “butterfly skin.”
Me: What is that?
Enders: It is a defect in his DNA.
Me: What is DNA?
Enders: Desoxyribonucleic acid.
The things kids know these days.
Currently, Hennes is puzzling over how he can answer the following simple question, and why it is so difficult to do so correctly: Tell me, Hennes, will your answer to this question be “no”?
Poor boy — but he seems to enjoy it.
