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Posts archive for: August, 2008
  • Will

    Keen watchers of the contents page will now no doubt be wondering 'What exactly will minimum effort...?' Will they perhaps be thinking 'Minimum effort will pervade the nation', or maybe 'Minimum effort will kill us all', or even 'Minimum effort will save the day'? Whatever these keen observers may suppose minimum effort will, we will all have to wait to see what this chapter makes of it all until after I come back from my holiday. For, as of this Saturday, I will be holidaying in Prestatyn for a week, and will thus have not a care or half a thought for blogging while I'm there, forgetting what it is to live a life that isn't mine, and charging up my flagging soul to take me through the months ahead.


    Word of the Week

    Will

    will¹ /wɪl/ v.aux. & tr. (3rd sing. present will; past would /wʊd/) (foll. by infin. without to, or absol.; present and past only in use) 1 (in the 2nd and 3rd persons, and often in the 1st: see SHALL) expressing the future tense in statements, commands, or questions (you will regret this; they will leave at once; will you go to the party?). 2 (in the 1st person) expressing a wish or intention (I will return soon). ¶ For the other persons in senses 1, 2, see SHALL. 3 expressing desire, consent, or inclination (will you have a sandwich?; come when you will; the door will not open). 4 expressing ability or capacity (the jar will hold a kilo). 5 expressing habitual or inevitable tendency (accidents will happen; will sit there for hours). 6 expressing probability or expectation (that will be my wife). [OE wyllan, (unrecorded) willan f. Gmc: rel. to L volo]

    Definition courtesy of the Concise Oxford Dictionary

  • Effort

    Well, well, well, I thought Lesley looked familiar! Lovely Lesley. She was, as I've just researched, a contestant last July, and went on to lose the game 88 – 72. So a very apt little period now for Channel 4, with them (or at least some of their television crew/cast) exerting the minimum effort possible in delivering to us programmes originally aired just over a year ago, and not continuing the present series of Countdown as we would expect. But in this instance they can be forgiven for putting Lesley back on our screens. Those in charge of Eggheads are also currently spinning the same yarn with programmes from (if I'm not mistaken) last year.

    In a similar vein to all of this it is possible for a person or organisation to exert not the minimum effort possible on a task or project, but the maximum amount in making it as inconvenient as possible for people to receive, as is the case with Channel 4's 4oD, on which I recently attempted to watch Monday's (unbeknownst-to-me repeated) episode of Countdown - the first after a two week break - only to discover, upon clicking the Get 4oD on your PC now button on this page, the rude message to the right of this paragraph. It can be found on this 'sorry' page if your computer outstrips the meagre requirements of 4oD, or if you click this link, you can see if yours just makes the cut. But why so specific? If the wonderful BBC iPlayer is available for all, why can Channel 4 not get its act in gear and provide a comparable service? This isn't good form, in my book. If a thing is to be made available, it ought to be available to all. Not just those who happen to fit a particular demographic, or happen to have buckets of money (pictured, left), or happen to have sold their soul to a religion of their choosing. This isn't to say that everything ought to be forced on everybody in an equally aggressive fashion to each, but that it merely be available, for a person free to choose whether to accept/embrace it or not. Consideration must always, I feel, be made to the 'best for all' - not the best outcome for the individual, but that which one may do in order to ensure the best situation for everyone.

    A simple example being those who drive fuel-guzzling cars. They may argue for everyone, saying that 'everybody can buy one of these cars, and be able to afford its upkeep were they to work hard for the money and save it wisely; it is a win-win situation for everyone: we all work hard - that is good - we can all buy lovely cars; nobody is excluded from that'. But then it must be remembered that these cars of which we speak are ones of the petrol-guzzling variety, thus the assertion that 'everyone can have one' is simply untrue, for the reason that there is not enough oil in the world for their upkeep. And this thought brings with it the case that, even were a person not interested in buying and maintaining such transportational machines, their lives would be detrimentally impacted upon by the existence and ownership of them in the form of their own petrol prices increasing. Were people to relinquish their selfish self-interest, and fund research into energy sources which will make as little impact on the natural and animal (animals are natural, of course, but I mean basically 'plant and animal' - including human, need I reiterate?) population, and nurture the happiness of all. Is that called 'do-gooding'? Well, fuck you if think so.

    Finally, on the subject of Effort, I've recently learnt that I passed my Open University course U211 Exploring the English Language with a disgraceful 'D'. The reason for the 'D' is my poor performance in the exam, for which I achieved a paltry 45%. However, with an average of 74% for the seven assignments I completed throughout the course, would it not be fair to assume that to account for a fair proportion of the final result? Thus I did assume, and had I known the real formula for calculating the final result (pictured, right - from here), I would have exerted myself more fully in the exam, and written as much as I could, rather than spend much time organising my thoughts, and selecting the ones I thought most relevant and conducive to receiving a marvellous mark. The technique obviously failed, but having tried it once and learnt it not to be the best, I can now go into my next course, A210 Approaching Literature, and try my hand at making an improvement.


    Word of the Week

    Effort

    effort /'efət/ n. 1 strenuous physical or mental exertion. 2 a vigorous or determined attempt. 3 Mech. a force exerted. 4 colloq. the result of an attempt; something accomplished (not bad for a first effort).

    Definition courtesy of the Concise Oxford Dictionary

  • Minimum

    Word of the Week

    Minimum

    minimum /'mɪnɪməm/ n. & adj. (pl. minima /-mə/) —n. the least possible or attainable amount (reduced to a minimum). —adj. that is a minimum. [L, neut. of minimus least]

    Definition courtesy of the Concise Oxford Dictionary

  • eTMA07 - Time in News Stories

    Well, this is a real stinker to finish off with, I'm afraid.

    For this one we were required to go and find a news article to use as our base material, and then analyse it in terms of the way time is expressed in it. Like with eTMA03, the layout of the article is intrinsic to the content, and to save me from rewriting it in its entirety, I've made a .png image out of my original document which you can view by following the link in Part 2. Also, if you would fancy to read the assignment in its original form (albeit converted from the original .odt document to a .pdf one) you can do so by clicking the lovely icon:

    Incidentally, the icons I'm using for these articles are the ones that I use on my own desktop. They are a part of the Dark-Glass icon theme that is freely available (both as in cost and freedom of information) from KDE-Look.org. However, the theme has since been updated (as to be expected in the vibrant and innovative world of open-source software), and I think these very icons are no longer a part of it.

    You now have all of my assignments, carefully presented for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy this last one, and that you have enjoyed all seven of them in the series. I leave you with the seventh.


    Time in News Stories

    Part 1. Please see references for the article's url.

    Part 2. Please click here to read the article (opens in a new tab).

    Part 3.

    Time expressions in the Darrell Hair story:

    Sentence number Story time Time expression
    S1 0 on 23 May
    S2 -7 after he wrongly accused Inzamam-ul-Haq ... in 2006
    S3 -5 in October 2007
      -4 seven days in to the tribunal
    S4 -2 before being reinstated ... in March
    S6 +1 until March 2009

    Time expressions in the Harbhajan Singh story:

    Sentence number Story time Time expression
    S9 -2 at the end of Mumbai Indians' match ... on Friday
    S10 +1 at the end of his hearing

    Time expressions in the England and Wales Cricket Board's Annual General Meeting story:

    Sentence number Story time Time expression
    S13 0 today
    S15 +4 before 2010
    S16 +3 until the end of the 2009 season
    S17 +1 in the county season

    Part 4.

    The first difficulty I encountered with mapping out how time is structured in the story in answer to question 2 was the issue of how the sentences of the article ought to be laid out in my table. Allan Bell asserts that 'each news sentence is usually also its own paragraph' (2007, p. 89), but although this is the case for the example in Figure 3.1 (p. 82), it isn't so for Angus Fraser's article in The Independent. In his article, none of the sentences stand on their own, but come in (mainly) pairs to form paragraphs. Because of this, sentences may begin in the middle of a line – one sentence (S6) in fact existing entirely in the middle of a line, with the next sentence beginning after it on the same line – thus making it difficult to satisfactorily label them in the 'Sentence number' column. To solve the problem I merely edited the original article so that all sentences begin on a new line, with new paragraphs being indicated, as previously, by a preceding blank line.

    The second difficulty I encountered was with regard to the story itself. Or, rather, to the fact that there seemed to be three of them, separate and unconnectable. I found that my designated time zero for the first portion of the article (S1 to S7) would be completely irrelevant to the second and final portions (S8-S12 and S13-S18 respectively). With this discrepancy to resolve, I decided that the best solution was to split my analysis into three portions, have three separate time zeros for the three stories, and to structure the time accordingly. In doing this for question 2, it then followed that I did the same for question 3. Another solution may have been simply to keep time zero as the time of the leading event of the leading story, and to structure all of the other events in the article around that – such that, for example, the entire middle portion of the article about Harbhajan Singh's hearing would be in negative time, since it all occurred before the date set for the resumption of Darrell Hair's international umpiring career – but since the two events, and the third, were so disconnected, I felt that such an analysis would be illogical, and that the solution I had devised was the least undesirable.

    The third difficulty I had was judging the level of detail required in my analyses. For example, will it suffice in question 2 to assign only one time for the (arguably) two events in S10; and would it be wiser to divide the events in S16 (England hosting the Twenty20 World Cup and playing Australia in the Ashes) into two separate times? A similar question can be asked of the time expressions in question 3. I suppose I resolved these issues by aiming for high detail, but allowed myself to exercise discretion where I deemed the level of detail to be inappropriate.

    Part 5.

    In the Darrell Hair story the real time chronology of events correlates with the time structure as represented in the story in some parts, but not in others. It doesn't correlate at all in the first paragraph of the story, where we begin at time zero and are then immediately taken back into the past to explain the incidents leading up to the resumption of Darrell Hair's career at time zero, describing first his accusation of Inzamam-ul-Haq, and then the preceding action of which he was accusing the cricketer. We are going steadily back into the past. In the second paragraph, however, the real time chronology of events correlates precisely with the time structure as represented in the story. The events are told in the order in which they happened, with no diversions and no back-story. The paragraph is bringing us from the past events described in the first paragraph, steadily closer to the time of the leading story. The third paragraph then takes us right back into the past, further than we went in the first (although knowledge outside of this story, which the reader may or may not happen to possess, is needed to be aware of this), to give us some background information about Hair's past and his apparent relationship with Asian cricketers. Finally in sentence six the most futural event of the story is mentioned, and then we are brought back into the ongoing near past with the knowledge provided in sentence seven.

    The time structure as represented in the Harbhajan Singh story has a slightly more complicated relationship with the real time chronology of events. Whereas the Darrell Hair story is based primarily in negative time (i.e. the time before the events of its time zero), this story depicts a series of very closely occurring events in and around time zero, weaving from negative time, into positive time, with a short excursion into negative time (for 'the two games he played') and finishing in positive time. Information is reiterated and explained in negative time, and outcomes of the main events are explained, naturally, in positive time.

    The simplest time structure to explain is that represented in the third story, where two reverse chronological waves can be identified. The first paragraph begins at time zero, as the others, and with the final words of its second sentence alludes gently back to ongoing events that began in the near past (viz. the Indian Premier League). With the second paragraph we are taken to the furthermost future of the entire article, notions of the year 2010, and then a second, larger, wave brings us back through the years until we are right back to the present with the discussions of those attending the annual general meeting. Overall, this story is much more concerned with the future than the previous stories. Indeed, if the three stories are taken as large blocks, and have noted their tendencies to describe past, present or future events, it can be argued that, contrary to Allan Bell's argument that 'news stories ... are seldom if ever told in chronological order', this article by Angus Fraser is told in chronological order, and does tend to look from the past into the future.

    6.Notwithstanding my previous observation, Bell's argument is borne out clearly in this article. As my analysis shows, time does not flow in one direction, from the past, through the present, to the future, but 'cycles through events taking us further back in time' (p. 86), explaining and elucidating those events until the entire story is known. I think this beginning in the present and cycling back in time may possibly be a product of the speed with which the news is expected to be communicated. If, for example, a person was an avid reader of the news, but found themselves with very little time to do so, it could be possible for them to read only the opening sentence of a news story, learn about the most recent events of an ongoing story, and their memories of previous news stories will enable them to understand and put these events into context without their having to read the entire story.

    However, although Angus Fraser will no doubt be aware of this continuation of news stories and the notion of a story's life cycle, he subverts the reader's ability to simply read the opening sentence and then put the pieces together, as it were, because the article is not only about one event. If the reader were to do as I suggested, (s)he would inevitably miss out on the events of two entire stories.

    One possible way to avoid such an occurrence would be to give a quick list of the contents of the article at the beginning before the first story, but this would mean eating in to the journalist's allotted word count, as well as creating more for the reader to read and repeating, albeit in very slight detail, material that will occur later in the article. Overall, I understand that time is of the essence in news English (the short sentences, incidentally, illustrating this equally as well as the rest), and that deadlines, journalistic competition and the general fast pace of modern life make concision and speed absolutely necessary.

    References

    Bell, A. (2007) 'Text, time and technology in news English' in Goodman, S., Graddol, D. and Lillis, T. (eds) Redesigning English, London, Routledge/Milton Keynes, The Open University

    'Hair to make international comeback at Old Trafford' Nexis® UK (must be signed in) http://www.lexisnexis.com/uk/nexis/history/recentdocview.do?listId=190075141&lni=4SD0-9N80-TXJ8-30W5&attachmentId=&attachmentType=&sourceId=8200&attachmentNum=&attachmentSMI=&displayType=&savedLocale=en_GB_ukBusiness&projectId=&returnTo=20_T3665615075&publicationDate=&docTitle=Hair+to+make+international+comeb...&start=1&documentType= (Accessed 3 May 2008)

  • eTMA06 - Why might 'academic' English need to be taught?

    Why might 'academic' English need to be taught?

    Entering into academia involves joining a discourse community in which ideas are shared, arguments are discussed, and knowledge is developed. Within the realm of academia are a large variety of disciplines, each, in the words of the educational researcher Gordon Wells, being 'dependent on its own particular practices ... [and each having] developed its own modes of discourse'. He explains that 'to work in a discipline, therefore, it is necessary to be able to engage in these practices and, in particular, to participate in the discourse of that community' (Wells, 1992, p. 290, cited in Hewings, Lillis and Mayor, 2007, p. 229). In this assignment I will attempt to present such 'modes of discourse' or linguistic features which have been found to exist in academic discourse generally and how these features vary in proportion across various disciplines, reasons for teaching these features, and possible results of teaching people how to understand and create 'academic' English.

    Linguist Michael Halliday (1994, cited in Hewings et al. 2007, p. 229) suggested that the creation of a specialised lexis is a common feature of academic disciplines. New words are devised 'for referring to newly discovered or specially defined objects, processes, relationships and so on', so we may find such terms as cerebral atrophy in medicine, debenture in accountancy, and atonality in music. As to the proportion of such specialised lexis across different disciplines, the examples of academic writing on pages 230 and 231 of Learning English (Hewings et al. 2007) provide some clues. Example 1 (from Martlew and Sorsby, 1995, p. 1), which is in the linguistic field of children's literacy development, contains seemingly few specialised lexical items, as does the example from Clare (1995, p. 1) in the field of published literary texts. Hewings et al. comment (p. 231) that 'even if someone is not a 'full' member of the relevant research community, a reader of a book on the English language [will more likely be able to make] sense of an article on some aspect of literacy that for understanding the contents of the Journal of Chemical Thermodynamics', from where the third example is taken (Pikkarainen, quoted in Bhatia, 1993, p. 89). This last example contains a higher proportion of technical terms than the previous two, and I would suppose that without having been taught the meanings of such terms as 'viscosities', 'binary' and 'solvents' the text would be more or less incomprehensible. At best the reader will be unlikely to fully understand the text. The text is further complicated by its use of specialised English morphology (employing numbers and dashes in 'propon-2-ol') and syntax (with its use of plus signs in '+ butan-1-ol'). It can be deduced from the text that these latter two terms are components known as 'aliphatic alcohols', but this is meaningless until it is known what an 'aliphatic alcohol' specifically is. However, features such as this specialised lexis form a large part of many disciplines – particularly sciences – and without the teaching of them, the discipline could barely exist – at least not to a particularly advanced stage – and so these terms are widely taught.

    The main difference between the three examples just mentioned is the type of discipline whence they came. Tony Becher divides up academia into the following four broad disciplinary groupings:

    Pure sciences (e.g. physics) hard-pure
    Humanities (e.g. history) soft-pure
    and pure social sciences (e.g. anthropology)
    Technologies (e.g. mechanical engineering) hard-applied
    Applied social sciences (e.g. education) soft-applied
     
    (Hewings et al. 2007, p. 232, adapted from Becher, 1994, p. 154)

    'Hard and 'soft' distinguishing between more objective and subjective disciplines respectively; with 'applied' referring to practically orientated fields (another example being computer programming), and 'pure' fields dealing with abstract concepts (such as the study of music, although performance may be regarded as serving more practical purposes). The first two examples from the previous paragraph both come from 'soft' fields, with the third belonging to a 'hard' field, and this may go some way to explaining the differing proportion of specialised lexis found in the texts.

    Ken Hyland produced an article describing inter-disciplinary difference with regard to directives, and it is to this I will now turn.

    Directives perform the interpersonal functions of engaging the reader, positioning the reader, and they can allow the writer the ability to be succinct and precise. Through his study of a '2.5 million word corpus of texts collected across eight disciplines and comprising three different genres' (Hewings et al. 2007, p. 234), Hyland found that 'the hard knowledge fields not only contained far more directives, but these were also more likely to function as a means of guiding readers through a procedure and to the conclusions of the writer' (Hyland, K. 2002, pp. 230-9, reproduced as Reading A in Hewings et al. 2007, p. 258). These functions of directives seem to me to be quite complex and I am undecided as to whether or not it would be a good idea to teach students how to use them. On the one hand, teaching students about directives may empower them to 'see through' arguments, and to recognise what the author is trying to do; but the other argument is that, in teaching students how to use directives, their usage may become formulaic, and the students will expend so much concentration on such linguistic devices that the substance of their arguments decreases in quality and their works amount to little more than superficial clauses strung together with fancy directives.

    This cannot be true of the ideational features discussed towards the beginning of the assignment because knowledge of a meaning-bearing word and displaying that knowledge can only be a sign of cognitive empowerment, but there are other interpersonal features of academic discourse the teaching of which may have similar possible outcomes to directives. Such features include hedges, reporting verbs of various flavours, identity and voice. It would, I imagine, be relatively straightforward to teach a student about hedges and their function, and the different types of hedges that can be created; similarly with the reporting verbs, be they of the factive kind ('Blofeld discovered...') or the more critical ('Agnew presumed...'); but I feel issues of identity and voice would be much more difficult to teach. However, if they could be taught, how beneficial or enchaining would it be for the student?

    The question of what is (not just the linguistic features of) academia and what are its purposes is always a pertinent one, but way out of the scope of this assignment. However, I feel it is reasonable to say that the main purpose of academia is to further expand the knowledge of the human race as a whole. With this in mind I feel it would be unwise to risk enchaining students to a set of linguistic features tailored for writing academic texts. Of course, this bleak state of affairs may never materialise, and students tutored in the art of academic writing may turn out to far surpass their forebears in their achievements, but I don't feel that learning to produce academic texts will necessarily enhance a student's ability to reason and form knowledge. Arguments may be made more strongly, but this may have a detrimental effect of convincing a vast amount of people that a flimsy idea is a sound and good concept. But, on the other hand, if everybody is to be taught how to create these academic texts, then it is to be assumed that everyone will be equally equipped to deflect any advances of 'spin' and see straight to the heart of an argument. There is, indeed, the more optimistic view that by being taught these features of academic discourse, students are enabled to reflect on them, assess their worth, and then possibly form their own ideas about how academic discourse ought to written, with perhaps a more informed logic than someone untutored in the subject.

    I don't think I've come to a conclusion as to 'why academic English might need to be taught', or indeed whether or not it should be taught, but I hope I've presented both sides of the argument, and demonstrated some knowledge of the problems involved.

    (1360 words)

    References

    Becher, T. (1994) 'The significance of disciplinary difference', Studies in Higher Education, vol. 19, no. 2, pp. 151-61.

    Bhatia, V.K. (1993) Analysing Genre: Language Use in Professional Settings, London, Longman.

    Clare, R. (1995) '“Who is it that can tell me who I am?” The theory of authorial revision between quarto and folio texts of King Lear', The Library: The Transactions of the Bibliographical Society, Oxford, Oxford University Press.

    Halliday, M.A.K. (1994) An Introduction to Functional Grammar (2nd edn), London, Edward Arnold.

    Hewings, A., Lillis, T. and Mayor, B. (2007) 'Academic writing in English' in Mercer, N., Swann, J. and Mayor, B. (eds) Learning English, London, Routledge/ The Open University.

    Hyland, K. (2002) 'Directives: argument and engagement in academic writing', Applied Linguistics, vol. 23, no.2, pp. 215-39.

    Martlew, M. and Sorsby, A. (1995) 'The precursors of writing: graphic representation in preschool children', Learning and Instruction, vol. 5, no. 1, pp. 1-19.

    Wells, G. (1992) 'The centrality of talk in education' in Norman, K. (ed.) Thinking Voices: The Work of the National Oracy Project, London, Hodder & Stoughton.

  • eTMA05 - Characteristic Patterns of Classroom Discourse

    Aah, I'm very fortunate with this one: there are no unusual presentational issues (as I had with eTMA03) to deal with, and no phonetic symbols needing to be found and copy 'n' pasted in from Wikipedia .

    Incidentally, those of you keen Contents watchers will see that, alongside their entries in the Table of Contents, each article is accompanied by the mark I achieved for it.


    Characteristic Patterns of Classroom Discourse

    Classroom discourse, like all genres of discourse, is built up of a number of elements: from words, register and gestures, to questions, turn-taking and issues of the balance of power. Initiation-Response-Feedback (IRF) exchanges were first described in 1975 by British linguists Sinclair and Coulthard, and they can be seen to be 'the archetypal form of interaction between a teacher and a pupil'. But Neil Mercer points out that IRF exchanges are not the only way in which discourse is conducted in the classroom, but that 'other kinds of talk involving different patterns of exchanges (for example, in which students ask questions of teachers, or of other students) may happen too' (Mercer, 2007, p. 122). In this assignment I will try to assess whether and to what extent any patterns can be found in the passage in question, and how they may relate to existing patterns which are considered characteristic of classroom discourse.

    The first pattern to be found is a very strong and consistent pattern, and it is with respect to turn-taking: Throughout the entire duration of the passage, the role of the speaker switches alternately between a student and the teacher. The only deviation from this pattern occurs between turns 12 and 13, in which the role of the speaker is taken by the teacher in both turns, but this is easily accounted for by the fact that part of the transcript is omitted between these two turns. Of course, in normal service it would be illogical to transcribe one person as having taken two turns consecutively, but it would be possible for two different students to speak one after the other. However, as already insinuated, this doesn't occur in the passage. I think this indicates a certain amount of control over the proceedings by the teacher, with her (or him) acting as a sort of intermediary between the students, their questions and, to a certain extent, the subject.

    But this isn't to say that the teacher exerts complete control over the discourse. This opinion is exemplified by the fact that the opening turn of the passage and the first question is asked by a student. This is in contrast to the typical patterns of discourse to be found in the Harikatha style of teaching employed in India, as described by G. D. Jayalakshmi in her article 'One cup of newspaper and one cup of tea' (Mercer, 2007, pp. 143-149). In this style of teaching the balance of power is much more with the teacher, who is the person who speaks for the vast majority of the time, and who barely needs to stop (besides the slight pause following the rising question intonation) to receive a reply from the class. The teacher is very much in control of the context of the discourse, and the students have little opportunity to introduce any original material to the class.

    Further to the quantity and duration of turns being more equally distributed in the passage in the Assignment Book, questions are also allowed to be asked equally whether you are a student or the teacher. And the nature of the questions is interesting, because they are not uniformly either open or closed, but a mixture of the two. The first question from the student Manuel is an open one (in that there are a multitude of possible responses, and he doesn't have a preformulated answer in mind) and it is only relatively loosely related to the speaking which has gone before (the teacher reading from a book about hurricanes and tornadoes). Of course, having not heard the reading myself, I cannot be quite certain that Manuel is introducing this business of the penguin of his own accord, and that he isn't responding to a character in the Antarctic from the teacher's reading. However, since later in the transcript the teacher asks Manuel to 'get the Emperor penguin book', I feel reasonably safe in assuming that she is asking for the book on the impetus of Manuel introducing the subject, and that Manuel did so of his own accord. The second question of the passage comes from the teacher, and it is a closed one: it only allows an answer of 'yes' or 'no', and the teacher perhaps has a preferred response in mind. However, she doesn't wait for a response but immediately asks another question, this time an open question, allowing the children the opportunity to practice using their powers of deduction and reasoning: 'What kind of protection could a penguin have [if it goes under water]? The very concerned student Bernardo then answers this question with an open question of his own: '... how would a penguin go underneath the water if there's enemies?' Interestingly, this question could have replaced the preceding turn from the teacher in answer to his fellow student's suggestion that '[the penguins] could go under water', but this would have damaged the turn-taking pattern of alternating student and teacher. With this further piece of evidence, it seems that this pattern may be a convention of this teacher's classroom discourse. Predictably enough the teacher then responds to Bernardo's question, and with a closed question of her own, which is then immediately followed up with an open one. This inclination of the teacher to ask a closed question immediately followed by an open one seems to form a pattern, and she follows this pattern both times she asks a question. More evidence is needed to be absolutely sure, but it seems that this pattern is characteristic of this teacher's teaching method.

    One pattern which is decidedly absent is the alleged 'archetypal form of interaction between a teacher and a pupil', IRF exchanges. In such an exchange, the teacher is meant to Initiate the discourse by introducing a particular point usually in the form of a question, then the student is expected to Respond to the point, and finally the teacher is to provide Feedback on that response. But in the passage in question it is predominantly the students who are initiating the discourse, with the teacher responding and then generally asking out a further question. In fact, at the very beginning of the transcript, Manuel begins by asking the question '... if tornadoes go to the Antarctica, what the penguin gonna do?', to which the teacher begins to respond 'Oh, you know what...', but after beginning is interrupted by a second child who responds to Manuel's question with the suggestion that 'They could go under water'. Only then does the teacher manage to provide feedback to this response by turning his response directly into a question (only swapping the first two words, presumably accompanied by a raised pitch on 'could'), and then she initiates another exchange with the question 'What kind of protection could a penguin have?'. This may have led to a regular IRF pattern, but the following turn from Bernardo is not a response to her question but is actually a refutative question to the 'going under water' suggestion. He is in effect delivering feedback to his fellow student. This piece of feedback then in turn receives positive re-enforcement feedback from the teacher, who then picks up on his point about enemies and responds to the class as a whole with the question 'Well, who's his enemies?'. As can be seen, IRF exchanges in their typical form are not present in this passage, but rather the roles of Initiator, Responder and Feedback provider are shared among all participants.

    At this point in the transcript we can note the appearance of a familiar aspect of classroom discourse: that of the chorus response, with children generally saying 'The seal'. This is particularly prevalent in the Indian methods of teaching influenced by the Harikatha storytelling traditions, and I personally remember such exchanges occurring in my own days at primary school. Three turns later a very common gesture in classroom discourse is mentioned by the teacher when she says 'Manuel had his hand up'. This last feature hasn't been transcribed by Shuart-Faris and Bloome, so I've had to rely on the teacher mentioning it for me to know that it happened, and I would argue that it is perfectly possible that the raised hand had been a feature elsewhere in this discourse, thus creating a pattern of hands raised followed by initiation or response from a student.

    In conclusion, this passage seems fairly atypical of classroom discourse. The IRF exchanges in their typical form are absent, any influences of the Harikatha tradition which might have travelled across the oceans are barely there, and the teacher does not seem to have direct control over the direction of the discourse. However, it does contain patterns all of its own, with the alternating turn-taking, the teacher's inclination to first ask closed questions and then immediately follow them up with open ones, and there are the two common elements of hand raising, and chorus responses.

    (1487 words)

    References

    Mercer, N. (2007) 'English as a classroom language' in N. Mercer, J. Swann and B. Mayor (eds) Learning English, London, Routledge/ The Open University

  • eTMA04 - The Importance of Context in Language Play

    The Importance of Context in Language Play

    Language play can be found in a wide variety of contexts: from extended fictional narrative and public oratory; through song and poetry; to the (generally) shorter forms of newspaper headlines, graffiti, witty utterances, nicknames and, of course, jokes. Within these contexts a wide variety of linguistic features can be played with, which Cook (2002, cited by Beard, 2007, p. 85) separates into three broad areas: Linguistic form, Semantics and Pragmatics. In this assignment I will attempt to expand on Cook's criteria, explaining what each area consists of, and look at examples of how these linguistic features are played with in a variety of contexts, and why contextual knowledge is needed by all involved for the successful comprehension and enjoyment of the play.

    I will begin with an example of a semantically focused witty utterance from this week's episode (Monday, 4th February) of the Radio 4 comedy panel game Just a Minute; the game in which players are asked to speak on a given subject for sixty seconds without hesitation, repetition or deviation. But before I provide the intended example, there already, in the rules of Just a Minute, we have an instance of language play. Here we can identify repetition of the bound morpheme '-tion' and its corresponding phoneme /ʃən/, which each fit into Cook's area of Linguistic form, being the area which 'focuses on the look and sound (phonology) of words' (Beard, 2007, p. 85). Furthermore there is a rhythmic repetition throughout the three words: each word begins with two unstressed syllables, then a stressed syllable, and ends on an unstressed syllable – which, according to Stephen Fry (2005, p. 121), is a quaternary foot known as a Third Paeon. These types of repetition, I feel, serve to provide cohesion and to bind the words together, thus serving the pragmatic purpose of making them more memorable. As a final observation on these rules, there are also three of them: the triadic structure, being a 'rhetorical device traditionally associated with public oratory' (Goodman, 2007, p. 215)

    This first example of language play is fairly ordinary, I think. It is reasonably unspectacular, there are no incongruities, and it all just seems to fit together rather nicely. My original opening example is quite different, and it introduces the last area of Cook's features of language.

    Clement Freud was due to speak on a given subject for sixty seconds; he was given the subject of 'killing time', upon which impetus he proceeded to describe a particular time on a Tuesday when there is generally plenty of killing. He is relying specifically on our contextual knowledge of what it means to 'kill time', and then subverts that knowledge to provide what you call, Netta, a clash of expectation. He is playing with the semantics of the phrase by shifting it from the expected action – 'to kill time' (verb) – to that time of day which he describes (abstract noun); and this shift from the expected serves the pragmatic function of first confusing the listener, then providing a feeling of joy for the listener when (s)he gets the joke, and this mischievous subversion of authority – since the intended topic was quite different from the one he chose to describe – endears him to the listeners, who unite with his against the authoritative definition of the phrase. That is if they understand the context, of course, and are inclined to celebrate rebelling against authority.

    These two examples of language play differ greatly, both in the responses they draw from the listener, and in the styles of play which are involved. They also differ in the kinds of detail which are required to describe the play to a third party. As for the first example, I think the context of understanding for it to be enjoyed is narrower than that for the second, and I also feel that the enjoyment to be had from that first example is much less than the second. However, the detail required to describe the first example of language play to a third party is absolute, in that without presenting the words 'hesitation, repetition, deviation' the play is difficult to describe; whereas with the example from Clement Freud the whole of his utterance needn't be replicated exactly, but only giving the gist will suffice for the person receiving the explanation to enjoy the play. Of course, a person's response to a given thing is entirely their own, and I cannot hope (or intend) to account for each individual taste in my analysis, but can only truthfully provide my own reaction to these plays; however, the notion of contextual knowledge depth is fairly objective, I would say, and so I feel safe in deducing, from the evidence of these present examples, that the wider the context of understanding, the greater the enjoyment. Furthermore, it seems that semantic language play is more enjoyable than play on linguistic form. However, more evidence is needed before a firm conclusion can be drawn, so I will now explore some.

    This Tuesday's edition (5th February) of the free Manchester newspaper, the Metro, offers two examples. Both of them being headlines relating to rail travel around Europe, they are perhaps more fairly compared, with the principal difference being the areas of language play which are involved. The first headline reads: 'You'll have a rail of a time'. I understand that the person responsible for this headline merely took the stock phrase 'you'll have a whale of a time' and changed that one word 'whale' – or, indeed, just that one consonant /w/ for a /r/ - and made 'rail'. Context is vitally important here for the understanding of this play, because without it – as the case may be with the original phrase, it could be argued – it makes very little sense. Without knowing that to have a whale of a time means to have a fabulous time, the headline may simply mean nothing to the reader; and without have heard the original phrase, no connection can be made. The context of the newspaper is also necessary for the play to make sense. Only when all of these contexts are understood does the play make sense, and it takes on its pragmatic role of associating that original phrase with the new one, and conjuring up for the reader the ideas bound up with having a whale of a time, with the word rail signifying that this grand enjoyment is to be had in a railway carriage. This association of ideas could even be thought of as a collocation.

    Apparently simple as that piece of language play may be (banal may not be too coarse a word), the second headline from the Metro is even more so: 'Get your ticket to ride'. There is no play on linguistic form, no semantic play, so might I have lost my mind in citing this as an example of language play? A person unfamiliar with the Beatles may be inclined to think so. But a person familiar with them, and particularly with their song 'Ticket to Ride', will immediately make a connection between that song and this headline. Thus, the headline employs a form of pragmatic play, providing the reader with some pleasure of recognition, creating solidarity with those who understand it, and perhaps conjuring up a feeling of nostalgia for those who lived during the period of the Beatles.

    My final example, suitable, perhaps, is one which I don't understand and cannot fully appreciate. It is unrecorded and is a sort of live 'performance' at which I was present, and as I didn't understand it I can only do a general description.

    The Ukrainian band in which I play bass had been playing one evening. We had finished and the patrons were variously sitting around drinking, singing and being generally merry, when suddenly Baz Jarega, the father of our accordionist and our singer, got himself centre-stage and proclaimed a long and elaborate speech in what sounded to me like Ukrainian. Of course, I didn't understand a word of it, but everyone else was howling with laughter. When he did finish, and the general murmur resumed, I turned to my friend and asked him what it was all about. It turns out that he didn't know, and neither did anyone else! Apparently Baz had been talking complete gibberish, stringing lots of long and complicated words together, and perhaps creating some of his own, using the characteristic /t͡ʃnɪ/ and /skɪ/ sounds. But I, having virtually no contextual knowledge – although I did understand it must have been funny, judging by everyone's reaction – assumed it to be perfectly genuine Ukrainian. Thus, the importance of context in this example cannot be underestimated.

    I hope in this assignment I have managed to demonstrate the importance of context in understand language play, and throughout the course of it I have been able to reformulate my idea of what language play consists of. I began assuming that all language play must be funny, or at least provoke a smile, but some of the examples demonstrate that humour is not required, and that the most important thing is context.

    (1515 words)

    References

    Beard, A. (2007) 'Language play in English' in J. Maybin, N. Mercer and A. Hewings (eds) Using English, London, Routledge/ The Open University

    Fry, S. (2005) The Ode Less Travelled: Unlocking the Poet Within, London, Hutchinson

    Goodman, S. (2007) 'Market forces speak English' in J. Maybin, N. Mercer and A. Hewings (eds) Using English, London, Routledge/ The Open University

  • eTMA03 - Linguistic Definitions and Transcription Techniques

    An extraordinarily interesting assignment, this one, for it required us to find and transcribe a piece of unrehearsed speech from either a television or radio programme. I opted for the radio programme, Just a Minute, and selected a one-and-a-half minute section of the programme, to use for this assignment.

    The audio excerpt which I used I have included in the relevant place (that is, Part 2), and there I have left instructions on how to proceed if you would like to listen to the excerpt while reading my transcription. The transcription itself requires very specific dimensions in terms of its width, so, feeling unable/unwilling to completely rewrite it for the purposes of this blog, I've created a .png image out of the original .odt document, which, naturally, keeps said dimensions, and which will have to be viewed separately. I've also uploaded the entire document in .pdf format, which can be viewed by clicking the following icon:

    I hope that all makes sense, and that you enjoy reading this interesting assignment.


    Linguistic Definitions and Transcription Techniques

    Part 1

    • face-threatening act noun if face is the term used for people's public self-image (Maybin, 2007), then a face-threatening act is a speech act which does something to threaten the integrity of that self-image. Janet Maybin gives the following as an example: 'saying there seems to have been a bit of an accident here rather than how the hell could you have been so stupid!' (p. 10). Another example could occur in a situation where one person, John, poses a question to Rebecca and Alan, Rebecca can be seen to be trying her hardest to answer the question, but Alan undermines her and answers with the face-threatening, 'We don't know'. Face-threatening acts can be avoided be using hedging expressions such as I think perhaps, sort of or possibly.
    • collocation noun nominalisation of the verb to collocate, meaning to put together. In linguistic terms refers to two or more words which are commonly found in conjunction with each other. In Reading A of Chapter 2 of the course book Norman Fairclough presents collocations he found in a study of '53 speeches of Tony Blair's between 1997 and 1999' (p. 73). He found that 'the most frequent collocations are 'New Labour' ... and 'New Deal''. Other examples could be 'laboratory experiment' or, in computing, 'Free and Open-Source Software (FOSS)'. One possible effect of collocations is to spread the meanings of each word in the collocation to the others, so that one word may be used and the meanings of the other(s) will be associated with it.
    • nominalisation noun the act of turning one syntactic form, e.g. a verb, into another, e.g. a noun. In the course book Mike Baynham and Janet Maybin highlight the replacement of the verb invest in Extract 1 by a related noun investment in Extract 2 from earlier in the chapter (p. 125). Nominalisation could also occur from a verb to an adjective, as in like and likeable, or from an adjective to a noun, as in lonely and loneliness. Nominalisation from verb to noun often occurs in formal written texts (indeed, it is said to be 'particularly characteristic' of the genre (p. 125)), and has the effect of making the text more lexically dense, i.e. there are a higher proportion of lexical items (meaning-bearing words) to grammatical items (connective words).
    • marketisation noun a type of border crossing in which techniques of 'sales language' are used in informative texts to make them more persuasive. Such techniques include making the text more informal – use of contractions (won't or you'll), the active voice (we surveyed one hundred people) or by addressing the reader directly – using more than one semiotic mode in one text (words and images, or words and music), or using triadic structures (i.e. presenting a proposition in three parts) (Maybin, 2007, p. 215). An example of these techniques is given in a page from a Department of Health leaflet (p. 219), in which luscious images and enticing language work together to convince the reader that its message is beneficial. Other such persuasive techniques can be found in television news and weather programmes, in which attractive visuals and 'authoritative' music are used to present a professional, and therefore trustworthy, appearance. However, some viewers or readers may simply want the bare facts, and these slick visuals serve only as distractions, and thus despoil the trustworthiness of the information.

    Part 2

    (If you would please to click on the icon to open the image in a new tab, and then, once loaded, to come back to this page, click play, and then go back to the opened tab to read the transcription. Thank you.)



    Part 3

    I think the first decision which had to be made, once I'd chosen my portion of speech, was whether to employ a standard or a column transcript layout. I decided on the latter, judging it to be more suitable for recording a group of people, with many interruptions, turns and overlaps. A fine example of these elements occurs from lines 55-62, and I feel this particular passage would not be as successfully recordable had I chosen to use a standard transcript layout. However, this very passage illustrates one primary flaw of the column transcript layout: whereas in a standard transcript the speakers need not be defined in advance, but can simply appear as they speak, column transcripts depend upon each speaker being defined with their own column, otherwise the system may become unstable and conflicts may occur. Chris Neill is a case in point, here. He speaks only once during the entire conversation, so to save space I decided not to give him his own column. However, if his one utterance had coincided directly with utterances from each of the other speakers, I would have been in trouble, because there would have been nowhere to record it. It was only good fortune on my part that Josie Lawrence wasn't speaking at the time, which saved the system from falling apart.

    After deciding which layout I wanted to use, I had to establish which features of speech I wanted to record. Speed and Pitch were two elements I considered, but rejected them both on grounds of practicality. Instead I tried to concentrate on moods (with urgency) and timings; and the use of the comments column, bracketed times and line divisions I found very useful to accomplish this. Moods could be conveyed in the comments column for single utterances, but there are also two occasions when the mood has extended beyond one utterance, across the boundaries of an interruption, and which I have signified by using red text. I found this a more expedient method than either underlining all the utterances to which the comment applies, or by using 'open and close tags' in the column (e.g. with drama, start and with drama, end). My method kept the comments column as clean as possible, and enabled me to comment on Nicholas's utterance (line 26), without having to worry about Josie's ongoing drama. With regards line divisions, my policy was that when the state of the utterance changed (from solo to interruption, or back again) the line was divided, bearing in mind that the audience's reactions constituted utterances.

    The extract is from Monday 7th January's episode of the Radio 4 comedy panel game Just a Minute, a game in which avoiding common features of speech – hesitation, repetition and deviation – earns points, and so which I thought would make a curious and interesting subject for a transcription. However, only two words of the extract are uttered within the confines of the game's rules (Josie's 'I remember' on lines 119-120), almost the entirety being regular spontaneous speech, and a great many features of typical speech can be found. Personal forms of address are used, such as Nicholas's darlings in lines 12 and 15. At this point he is authoritatively upholding the 'law' (no hesitation), but this form of address works to soften the impact, and save Josie's face. This softening is also a type of hedging. Furthermore, it creates a sense of solidarity, so he is seen to be with the panellists, as opposed to authoritatively against them. An alternative (and possibly more realistic, in this instance) explanation is that Nicholas is simply an affectionate person, and naturally addresses people as 'darling'.

    There are also a series of interruptions around this passage (lines 12-26), in which Nicholas is interrupted, and immediately quietens to allow his interrupter to continue. This act of Nicholas's works to fulfil his negative face needs – his desire not to impose himself on others. A series of false starts then occur in Nicholas's solo from lines 28-34. He begins by reiterating the complaints made against Josie, but then he stops himself and goes on to explain what he usually does in the game. In this way he is saving Josie's face again, and is instead offering her positive advice on how to continue the game.

    There are so many features in just the beginning of this extract, as there are in the whole of it, and as there were in the entire episode, but I feel I must finish with another example, my favourite, from near the beginning of the transcript. There are a couple of echoes in lines 12 and 13: Nicholas says /dɑ/ at the same time as Paul says /ɑ/, and then just as Paul says /maɪ/ Josie says /aɪ/. These rhyming echoes may have occurred entirely by chance, throwaway sounds at the spur of the moment, but I feel it would be nice to think of them as the hidden keys to these people's relationships, as very strong indications of the deep solidarity that these people have between them.

    (2054 words)

    References

    J. Maybin, N. Mercer and A. Hewings (eds) Using English, London, Routledge/ The Open University

  • eTMA02 - Received Pronunciation

    Received Pronunciation

    Question

    'RP was an accent which simultaneously raised hackles and overawed.'
    (Jack Aitken, DVD1, An English accent)

    Discuss the above statement, with reference to the development of RP over time.

    Since its beginnings in the eighteenth century the notion of a standardised accent seems to have done just what Jack Aitken describes: Dr. Samuel Johnson, in the Preface to his A Dictionary of the English Language of 1755, declared that, 'Sounds are too volatile and subtile for legal restrains; to enchain syllables, and to lash the wind, are equally the undertakings of pride, unwilling to measure its desires by its strength'; whereas the title page of Thomas Sheridan's dictionary of 1780 would deliver an entirely contrary opinion, reading: A Complete Dictionary of the English Language, both with regard to Sound and Meaning. One main Object of which is, to Establish a Plain and Permanent Standard of Pronunciation (Mugglestone, 2007, pp. 154-155). However, according to David Crystal (2004), Received Pronunciation, 'the non-regional educated British accent of the twentieth century, ... did not exist at the end of the eighteenth century,' but it could be said to have started by the 1830s, when 'writers were advising people to speak like Londoners' (p. 468). Thus, I will begin at this point in history, and attempt to present a balanced discussion with an equal amount of evidence in support of both Johnson's and Sheridan's schools of thought, describing how Received Pronunciation and people's reactions to it have developed over time.

    I think an idea worth investigation is the notion of how people's professions and interests influence their perception of Received Pronunciation, but perhaps first a definition of RP, courtesy of the phonetician Alexander Ellis from 1869, may be required to clarify the term. He says that, 'In the present day we may ... recognise a received pronunciation all over the country ... It may be especially considered as the educated pronunciation of the metropolis, of the court, the pulpit and the bar ... (Crystal, 2004, p. 468). Ellis is not at all prescriptivist in this definition, but rather, as we may expect of a phonetician, whose interests are linguistically, and not socially, motivated, circumspect in his approach. It may even be fair to say that neither were his hackles raised nor was he overawed by this 'Received' type of pronunciation, but that he wanted impartially to analyse and describe the then current trends in phonology. His reaction to it, in other words, was neutral. However, besides the 'Received' type of pronunciation – which word it was he who implemented it as a technical term – Ellis identified five other kinds. The six, in the order presented by David Crystal (2004, p. 468), were: Received, Correct, Natural (Untamed), Peasant, Vulgar (Illiterate), and Dialect. I think by modern standards, this categorisation may be seen as somewhat dubious. But Ellis's method of categorisation isn't important at present; rather, the results of this categorisation may shed some interesting light on his reactions to the various accents which he identified. Assuming he employed the same order as that which Crystal presents, Ellis seems to have had a fairly elitist attitude to accents, particularly with regard to the notion of RP being the epitome of type: he perhaps subscribed to the 'inherent value hypothesis'. On the other hand, he may not, and was merely reflecting the general consensus of the time.

    Occupations are obviously not homogeneous masses of identically thinking people, but if Alexander Ellis is at all representative of phoneticians – who, by their nature, it could be argued, are descriptivist, rather than prescriptivist – then we will have to look at another occupation, to find if that will influence the occupied into either of Johnson's or Sheridan's schools of thought. To take as an example the occupation of 'instructing manual author' or 'etiquette teacher'.

    Lady Agnes Grove (Crystal, 2004) was one such person, and in her etiquette guide of 1907 she wrote, 'Nothing ... is more irritating than the sedulous pronunciation of mid-verbal “h's” or the sounding of the “t” in often' (p. 469). I think I understand that these pronunciations were features of RP, and that she was railing against them. But at the same time she was subscribing – not surprisingly, given the nature of her occupation – to ideas of prescriptivism, and the notion of a preferred speech. Thus, it is fair to say that she fits perfectly Jack Aitken's description of simultaneously having her hackles raised and being overawed. Like I say, this situation is not surprising, given her occupation.

    But perhaps an author of fiction might have a different perspective on RP. Fiction is, after all, the domain of the boundless imagination, and ought to be impervious to the shackles of convention, such as an accent like RP is wont to impose. Indeed, Charles Dickens, as Crystal (2004) illustrates, puts dialect (and, so, it is to be assumed, accent) into the mouths of his characters, and Crystal observes that 'dialect is more often put into the mouths of characters who are honest, genuine, sincere, and down-to-earth' (pp. 497-498). This is a much more positive reaction than Grove's complaints over “h's” and “t's”.

    Thus we have two authors working in different genres, each apparently subscribing to the opposite school of thought from the other: Dickens in Johnson's; Grove in Sheridan's. Then in the twentieth century the BBC was created, and assumed the mantel, I believe, of a sort of 'public educator'. RP was adopted as its accent of choice, and Lord Reith, its founder, explained this decision by stating that 'Since the earliest days of broadcasting the B.B.C. has recognised a great responsibility towards the problems of spoken English' (Crystal, 2004, p. 470). But nowhere in this passage can I find an explanation of what this problem is: it seems to be a complete assertion, taken for granted. Nevertheless, RP, as it has been since its beginning, is held up as a bastion of educated speaking, and any other accent is considered inferior by default. Then when Wilfred Pickles arrived to read the news during the Second World War there was outrage, with complaints from listeners saying 'they felt that they couldn't believe the information that they were being given,' since it was being read in a Northern accent (Mugglestone, 2007, p. 166). The BBC obviously held such an influence over its audience, that if they hadn't adopted RP as their own spoken accent, they expected it as their 'heard accent'.

    The stage, I would presume, holds a comparable influence over its audience, and attitudes to performance may not be too dissimilar to those held for broadcasting on the BBC. Particularly in such theatre as Shakespeare, feelings about conventions may be stronger that in other theatre: in effect doing for theatre what the BBC does for broadcasting (or it may be more logical to think of it the other way around). However, if attitudes to Shakespeare have been similar to those to the BBC, those attitudes are changing in the present day. In 'An English accent' on the U211 DVD-video, Barrie Rutter, the actor in Northern Broadside, declares, 'I've never really been able to lost my accent,' implying that such a loss may at one time have been desirable. But he then goes on to describe how he 'find[s] no rhythm in /lɑːf/ or /bɑːθ/ or /grɑːs/' - the RP method of pronunciation – and says that 'the Northern languages, from about Nottingham upwards, including the whole of Scotland, at their best, in terms of heightened language for the stage, have short vowels and good, hard, concrete consonants, and it's the consonants that give it the toughness and the vitality and, for me, the real excitement, rhythmic excitement.' All notions of a Received Pronunciation being the standard to which all should aspire are absent in this speech, and with the multitude of accents now to be found on the BBC it seems that the days of Received Pronunciation as the singularly viable accent in which responsible broadcasting ought to be conducted are over.

    My personal feeling is that RP has been a blip on the linguistic landscape of English. I understand that an accent common to all – not to say that RP is or ever has been such – will enable highly efficient communication between all of its speakers, but that would be to destroy the rich variety of naturally developed accents that exist (or formally existed) throughout the land. And this, I feel, would have a further consequence, which is currently present in language due to the standardisation of English throughout the world: that is that the speakers of this standardised accent will have no need to exercise wit or judgement to decipher an accent with which they are unfamiliar, because no such accent will be spoken. The case is now that there is little necessity for an English-speaker to learn a second language, because a large proportion of the Earth's population speak English anyway. This lack of necessity, I feel, can breed laziness. So in the interests of mental health and our faculties of understanding, I would say that the use of prescribed accents should be positively discouraged.

    (1494 words)

    References

    'An English accent' U211 DVD-video

    Crystal, D. (2004) The Stories of English, London, Penguin

    Mugglestone, L. (2007) 'Accent as social symbol' in D. Graddol, D. Leither, J. Swann, M. Rhys and J. Gillen (eds) Changing English, London, Routledge/The Open University, pp. 153-188.

  • eTMA01 - Snide

    Thus the pilferer's favourite series returns. It isn't long to go until I get the final result for my most recent course with the Open University, U211 Exploring the English Language, and here I present to you the assignments which I wrote during the course of it, and which will hopefully contribute to my passing it all with flying colours.

    I'm not sure that an introduction will be necessary for all seven of them, but this first perhaps deserves a brief one. It took a very interesting form, in that each of us had to select a word which we considered to be either a 'dialect word', a word with a specific new sense which we recently noticed in the media, or one which has become extinct or highly archaic, research our chosen word, and then post our findings about it into our tutor forum. We would then be able to read each other's research, and, as a part of our assignment, chose one person's to which would write a response. Collaborative learning, I think it can be called, and a very enlightening process it was for me.

    Here is the assignment, as best presented as I can manage.


    Units 1-4

    Part 1

    a) An English dialect spoken word from your own area or other personal experience.

    I remember as children at Primary School we would frequently find reason to cast aspersions on each other – particularly with regard to our generosity – and if we considered a person to be lacking in that department, we would describe them as 'snide'. If one were to go back to the days of my youth at St. Peter's Primary School in Hazel Grove, and listen to what we had to say, such utterances as these may be heard:

    “Come on, don' be snide! Le' us borrer yer ruler!”

    or

    “Nah, a wouldn' bother askin' 'im fer a sweet: e's well snide!”

    The eighth edition of The Concise Oxford Dictionary from 1993 (around the time I would have been hearing or using such phrases) gives us this definition:

    snide /snɑɪd/ adj. & n. −adj. 1 snearing; slyly derogatory; insinuating. 2 counterfeit; bogus. 3 US mean; underhand. —n. a snide person or remark. ❏❏ snidely adv. snideness n. [19th-c. colloq.: orig. unkn.]

    The third adjectival sense in this definition is the one we used; but we had our own variations as well. The bound morpheme -y would frequently be appended to make 'snidey', and in our later, more daring, years we would add -arse and -arsed (to the original 'snide'). So, now, as well as being snide or snidey, an individual could be a more pungent 'snide-arse' (noun) or its adjectival derivative. Of course, we wouldn't have used these latter forms when speaking to a teacher, but the -y form would be used in preference over the original in these situations, thus:

    “He's being snidey, Miss. He won't let me borrow his ruler.”

    So if somebody was presently 'being snidey', that form would be used; otherwise, the original 'snide' would be favourite.

    These were the only words, with only these meanings, that were in our dialect at that age and in that place. It wasn't until I moved on to High School in Macclesfield that any of the other senses of the dictionary's definition began to exist for me, viz. the 'counterfeit; bogus' sense. I remember a friend describing something – not a person – as snide, and, although it was the first time I'd heard the word used with respect to an inanimate object, I knew that he couldn't be using the same meaning to which I had been accustomed, but that he meant he considered the thing to be of 'poor quality'. On another occasion somebody might have said:

    “That's a bit of a snide excuse. I'd think of something better if I were you.”

    Meaning the same: 'poor quality'. This is slightly difference from the dictionary's definition – e.g. something could be completely genuine, not counterfeit, and could be considered snide if of particularly poor quality; or, conversely, something could be counterfeit (like an invented excuse) but be of sufficiently good quality so as not to be considered snide – so perhaps a further sense needs to be added to the dictionary. I feel that in encountering this new sense of the word I was discovering a new dialect, with possibly many more opportunities to expand my vocabulary. Joan Swann (2007, p.11) describes dialects as being 'varieties that differ... in terms of grammar and vocabulary', and if the word 'vocabulary' doesn't encompass this, I would like to add 'semantics' to that list. For I definitely feel that these two senses of the word 'snide' belong to two distinct dialects. But, if it is considered that they don't, there is no denying that since leaving school my usage of the word has severely declined to the point where it was almost forgotten. It belongs to my youth, to the dialect of school children.

    (610 words)

    References

    Allen, R. E. (ed) (1993) The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Current English (seventh reprint of the eighth edition), Oxford, Oxford University Press.

    Swann, J. (2007) 'English voices' in D. Graddol, D. Leither, J. Swann, M. Rhys and J. Gillen (eds) Changing English, London, Routledge/The Open University, pp. 5-28.


    Part 2: response to Susan's posting on 'emmet'

    Your investigation into the word 'emmet' is very interesting, Susan. I had never heard of the word before – as I hadn't with many of the words investigated for this assignment - so I was firstly interested to learn of its existence; and then to follow your investigation from its 'disparaging' beginnings, through the light-hearted usage of the word, and then finishing with the possibility that both meanings are applicable, I found very intriguing. I was left feeling not quite sure whether I understood it as a harmless, light-hearted word, or whether it was something more sinister. Of course, I completely agree with you that 'there are no boundaries to the flexibility of meaning with the understanding of words and phrases and that understanding is between writer and reader', but if I am to use (or read) the word, I would like to have a reasonably clear idea as to any positive or negative connotations I understand it to carry; and so I went and did a little investigating to try and perhaps clarify the situation.

    After consulting my Concise Oxford Dictionary and discovering no more information than your OED offered you, I looked to Google and immediately found Michael Quinion's website, World Wide Words, on which he had written a short article about the words 'emmet' and 'grockle'. Quinion concurs with your investigation in his short paragraph about the word, but he doesn't go into much detail, instead swiftly moving on to relate it to the word 'grockle', which is to be found on the other side of the River Tamar from Cornwall in Devon. He, like you and I, finds it peculiar that the word 'emmet' is isolated to Cornwall, with 'grockle' being found in Devon and 'other tourist areas', but Wikipedia's entry for 'emmet' may provide something of an explanation. There it is written that 'many Cornish people consider Cornwall to be separate from England', so if this is the case, and if this sentiment has been held throughout history, and been noted by non-Cornwall residents – particularly residents of Devon – perhaps the people of Devon and elsewhere were simply unwilling to borrow the word from such ungracious neighbours. Alternatively, the word may have been in the vocabulary of both Cornwall and Devon, but after discovering this sentiment of the Cornish the people of Devon abandoned the word to spite their neighbours. Also in this article there is a rather pungent analogy drawn up between the way in which 'both tourists and ants are often red in colour and appear to mill around': this is a distinctly sinister analogy, I feel, and is far removed from the realms of light-hearted banter.

    Further investigation led me to dictionary.net's definition of 'emmet'. There they note the reference to 'an ant', but the second entry 'Emmet hunter, the wryneck' I thought needed some further investigation. So I Googled 'wryneck' and found that Wikipedia has an article about it. A wryneck is a woodpecker from the Genus Jynx. In the article, it is explained how they got their name wryneck: '...from their ability to turn their heads almost 180 degrees. When disturbed at the nest, they use this snake-like head twisting and hissing as a threat display. This odd behaviour led to their use in witchcraft, hence to put a “jinx” on someone.' Could these 'non-emmets' from Cornwall possibly be described as emmet hunters, and could these signs in car windows be analogous with the wryneck's jinxing of their pray? If this is so, the word 'emmet' has, for me, more sinister connotations than it has light-hearted ones.

    (601 words)

    References

    Allen, R. E. (ed) (1993) The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Current English (seventh reprint of the eighth edition), Oxford, Oxford University Press.

    'Definition of Emmet from dictionary.net' http://www.dictionary.net/emmet (Accessed 30 October 2007).

    'Emmet (Cornish) – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia' The Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmet_%28Cornish%29 (Accessed 30 October 2007).

    'Wryneck – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia' The Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wryneck (Accessed 30 October 2007).

    'World Wide Words: Emmet and grockle' Michael Quinion http://www.worldwidewords.org/weirdwords/ww-emm1.htm (Accessed 29 October 2007).


    Susan's original posting on 'emmet'

    Whilst living in Cornwall many years ago my attention was drawn to car stickers proclaiming, ‘non emmet.’ Through local enquiries I found that the term emmet refered disparagingly to tourists who flock into the county in an ant-like manner. The car stickers were stating that the driver was not a tourist. We have lived in different parts of the country and I have not heard the word emmet used anywhere apart from Cornwall.

    The Oxford English Dictionary refers to emmet as a synonym of ant and that it is mainly used in dialect form in Cornwall. Emmet is derived from aemete an Old English word, first used c850. The Oxford English Dictionary explains that ae in stressed initial syllables were often shortened during the transition to Middle English and represented according to dialects by a or e, resulting in amete and emete. Amete became ‘ant’ and emete became ‘emmet.’

    Gillen and Rhys (2007) asks the reader to consider the flexibility of language in the area of semantics and suggests that ‘there are no boundaries’ to the flexibility of meaning with the understanding of words and phrases and that understanding is between writer and reader. They note that the meanings of words may alter as shown in the semantic broadening of the word emmet. Leith (OU p.61) comments on examples of the change from 'Old English' to 'Modern English.' Another change shown by Leithand Graddol (2007 p.87) is the modern polysemic change in the word emmet showing how words can mean more than one thing. Leith shows these changes in Fig.3.4 (2007 p.88) between the years 1300 and 1700.

    Although the use of the word emmet now appears to be confined to Cornwall, it is found in the 1609 Douay Bible. Proverbs Chapter 6 verse 6, says, ‘Go to the emmote a sluggard.’ and is translated in the New King James Bible (1982), ‘Go to the ant you sluggard. The Douay Bible was originally translated from Latin for English Catholics indicating that the word has been in wider use.

    The Oxford English Dictionary records the first use of the word emmet as a reference to tourist in 1975. In her book Mill on the Floss (1917), George Elliot (1917) describes two characters, Dodson and Tullivers as emmet-like, showing that describing people as emmets came into earlier use in works of fiction.

    Contact with Garry Tregidga, Assistant Director of the Institute of Cornish Studies cast further light on the use of emmet. He notes that sometimes it is used to refer to people who have settled permanently in Cornwall from other areas in Britain. It can also be used in a light-hearted way and that some people take pride in being referred to as emmets. Dialect can be an indication of identity of people or an area. It may also foster, as David Crystal (2004) states an ‘inward-looking, group solidarity’ and ‘outward-looking, group resistance.’ This is seen in the light-hearted way the Cornish people wish to state that they are ‘non-emmet.’

    Emmet has been used to describe an ant and as description of people as early as 1917. Over time the meaning of words change or mean more than one thing. The ant-like image of the tourist may be amusing but may also convey the feelings of Cornish residents towards visitors. Why this word may be isolated to Cornish use has not been discovered by this author.

    (567 words)

    References

    Crystal D The Stories of English.2004. Penguin Books. London. p 368

    Elliot, George (1917) Book IV The Valley of Humiliation Ch1. A Variation of Protestation Unknown to Bossuet. Rogets Thesaurus, OU Library. (Accessed 12th October 2007)

    Gillen J, Rhys M (2007) ‘Resourse and Reference Materials1, U211: Exploring the English Language, The Open University, London p.17.

    Leith D (2007) Changing English ’The Origins of English’ in D.Graddol, D. Leith, J. Swann, M.Rhys and J. Gillen. (eds) Changing English, London, Routeledge/ The Open University, p 61.

    Leith D and Graddol D (2007) Modernity and English as a National Language, in Changing English London, Routeledge The Open University, p. 87 and 88.

    New King James Bible (1996) Thomas Nelson Inc, Tennesse. Proverbs, Chapter6, verse 6. Oxford English Dictionary online at http://dictionary.oed.com/entrance.dtl (Accessed 10th October 2007)

    Proverbs (Oxford English Dictionary O.U. website seen 25th September 2007)

    Tregidga G Institute of Cornish Studies. Exeter University. England

  • Project Summation

    Thus the most recent of my ground-shattering achievements comes to its conclusion. It's been a project of varying success, I feel, but overall it's gone alright. The main concern with this one was that the principal intention (viz. writing one article per day) remained intact. And so it has! It's been a very active period, really, what with the arrival and sinking of the Black Pearl, the appearance of the Blogship Lollipop and my heroic rescue thereto. Previously I'd discovered something of a liking for Star Trek: The Next Generation, and later on, after Mr. Brown's retirement, my joining of Facebook. My musical life has also been scantily documented, and I've been entrusted with designing and building a second website. And on a fairly more downbeat note, my grandad fell ill (although briefly) and had to make his début sleeping over here. But, plenty of action, you will no doubt agree.

    Just a few things I overlooked in my Musical Extravaganzas series: I helped start a short-lived band called The Lure with a few chaps from High School whom I met at the first rehearsal; I taught a girl how to play the bass; and, I briefly taught a slightly more older lawyer the rudiments of classical guitar. I'm sure I've forgotten many more joys, which I will present as and when they are remembered.

    But, as for now, we head out of this flaming chapter and into the next. Which I designate as my OU U211 eTMAs chapter - by which I mean that, like I did with my assignments for my first Open University course, I will publish my assignments for my previous course 'U211 - Exploring the English Language', all seven of them, in the order I did them, and as they were delivered to my tutor (as far as that's possible, mind you). These seven I plan to publish over the next two days, and then snap straight out of that chapter on Wednesday to start another, in which I plan to exert the bare minimum of effort that I can get away with!

  • Musical Extravaganzas - Nocturne

    (Continuing the story...)

    ...but I've forgotten something fairly significant! A trip a few of us in Primary School made to Manchester's Bridgewater Hall to hear our Hallé orchestra perform Holst's The Planets. Significant, I think, because I believe it was the first classical concert I'd attended, or at least the first world-class orchestra I'd heard perform in front of me. Also, I only mentioned one performance I played at London's Royal Festival Hall in the previous part of the story: I have in fact performed there twice.

    With that cleared up, I head into All Hallows High School, eager to learn the subject for which the school has a very good reputation, and meet Mr. Donaldson, my second and no less wonderful music teacher, who inspired me in the classroom, arranged a yearly Young Musician of the Year competition - in which I twice participated: first achieving third prize with Beethoven's piano piece "Für Elise" in Year Seven [first year]; and then achieving no prize for my rendition of Anonymous's Romance on the classical guitar in Year Eight - and Mr. Donaldson's crowning achievement (in the scheme of my life and personal development), arranging all of the music for, rehearsing and taking the whole school orchestra and drama group to Bad Bergzabern in Germany, and performing Andrew Lloyd-Webber's Joseph!. This, I think, is my most favourite and memorable musical extravaganza of my whole life. And doing a little hunt around just now, I've found the website for Bad Bergzabern's Gymnasium (site in German); and following the projekte link, and (without much hope of discovering anything too far into the past) hovering over the Musische und Sportprojekte image, I saw the words 'Musical "Joseph"' and clicking which was delivered to a new page with the fondly remembered logo for our very own production, with details of the dates and time on which we performed! And if you care to click on Team, and scroll down to the Orchester section, you'll see my name, Matthew Mascarenhas, next to Baßgitarre, and between the maths teacher Mr. Steven Cunningham and drum teacher Jamie Muncaster, with my old music teacher Mr. Andy Donaldson providing a perfect conclusion to the credits. It was, in fact, a music exchange program, and you can even see the name of my exchange partner, Monika Bösl, among the cellists. Photos there are, too; although none of myself personally. And all back in 1999 - what a blast from the past, eh?

    Well, this was, as I say, my very favourite musical experience of my life, and still remains to be surpassed. In fact, looking through that list of people involved in that production, I see the name of my old friend Marc's sister Katherine Arrowsmith - I don't think I remember her being there; "Hallo, Katherine!". Oh, well. Those names, eh; they do bring back memories.

    Indeed, after this production was replayed at our school in Macclesfield the following year (remembering now, in fact, Marc himself came to see it after he'd left to go to Harrytown, and I remember going and sitting next to him and his dad before the show began, with my Joseph! t-shirt on, delighted to see him back in the old place again, but still not making the connection with his sister - oh, well); yeah, after the replay in Macc, I believe my musical career began to take a downturn. Mr. Donaldson had retired, and the gaggle of buffoons who came to try and assume the role of 'Head of Music', or regular music teachers, couldn't do anywhere near so good a job, to the point that they couldn't be arsed teaching the course for my GCSEs because 'there were only four of us wanting to do it, and it wouldn't be worth putting it on'. So All Hallows's good reputation for music, it seems, was singularly the magnificent reputation of the one man, Mr. Donaldson, and with his retirement the whole department was in jeopardy. However, it wasn't an insurmountable problem, and I went to take my GCSE Music in one year, with the tutoring of John Pyatt, and achieved an A.

    While doing all this, a few of us would take to going into the drum room on our break times, and fool about, teaching each other to play the drums (I even had a few [unofficial] pupils, would you believe?!), and making up various bits of music with the clavichord that was in there with the drum kit.

    After all of this, however, I went to Aquinas College, deciding to take Music, Music Tech, Computing and Psychology, and came out of the whole thing with three D's for all but Music Tech, and an E in said subject at AS Level. A rousing failure, you will no doubt agree. However, a failure it wasn't entirely, for there I met my good friends Major and Andy Melnyk, as well as Ollie Cox with whom I played some music, and Dave Paul, now (and also then) of the wonderful band Laymar, with whom I also managed to play some music; Major with whom I am now beginning again to plan some amazing music making, and Andy with whom I now play in the Ukrainian band Yarema.

    And I think that brings us just about up to the present. I have played in a couple of theatrical productions locally, and gone back to play some concerts with Mr. Brown since leaving all of my formal education, and am continuing quietly to make my own unintrusive music at home. The story will no doubt go on, but for now we must let time do its thing, and only wait to see what further musical extravaganzas it may bring.

  • (post/indie-rock) Slint - Spiderland

    As we come towards the end of the chapter, I have a second trick up my sleeve to present, which will then complete the pair of memorable articles I've written around the internet, and which I feel deserve a place here.

    An article I wrote about Slint's wonderful album Spiderland back in July of 2004 when I was only eighteen, as it appeared back then, but with the additional loveliness of two songs of theirs, which I've previously presented on this blog, to accompany it, 'Nosferatu Man' and 'Good, Morning Captain'. Enjoy, and 'twill be followed by the final Musical Extravaganza, with following on the 3rd of August a summation of the lot to conclude the chapter.


    20th July 2004, 02:53 PM

    (post/indie-rock) Slint - Spiderland

    Yeah, David's in Zwan.

    Spiderland is my favourite album that I've got and Slint are my favourite band that I've heared! I kinda 'understood' what the album was about a few months ago, and came up with a concept for it - I don't know whether Slint intended this concept though. I can't decide whether there's one concept for the whole album, or two seperate concepts for each side. If there's one, then the same guy is involved (read on) in all the songs. If there's two, then the first three songs are about a guy called Don (hence the track entitled 'Don, Aman [a man]', and the latter three tracks are about a completely different guy. I'm going to set it out very simply because I'm not too great with words. Anyway, here goes:

    Breadcrumb Trail

    Don goes to the amusement park and meets his wife to be.

    Nosferatu Man

    For some reason the bastard's a vampire (Nosferatu) and he ends up sucking his wife's blood ['Like a bat I flushed the girl']. I presume she ends up being a vampire like him ['I snuck away from my queen's brooding stare' (a bit vague though)]. They keep tormenting each other throughout the rest of the story - now Don's a vampire, now his wife is (I don't know anything about vampire's but I suppose they have something in common with the warewolf who supposedly turned into the wolf form when the full moon was shining, so something would trigger off the vampireness in a vampire - I don't know).

    Don, Aman

    Don's at some kind of party and he decides to go outside ['Don stepped outside'] to get some fresh air and think about what he's done to his wife.

    Next concept, maybe. It could be the same one though - if Don is the Captain of a ship.

    Washer

    This is basically a flashforward (opposite of a flashback) from Good Morning, Captain. Don (or some other guy) is now dead ['Goodnight my love, remember me as you fall to sleep. Fill your pockets with the dust and the memory, that rises from the shoes on my feet...'] and he's singing this song back to his wife (she's probably dreaming it). He's basically comforting her, telling her not to worry ['I know it's dark outside, don't be afraid. Every time I ever cried for fear was just a mistake that I made...']. He then tells her that stuff on Earth doesn't matter at all once you move on ['Wash yourself in your tears and build your church on the strength on your faith...'] and suggests that stuff you do on Earth doesn't affect what the hell happens to you afterwards - therefore, crumbling the idea of religion (which I despise). Nice one Brian!

    For Dinner...

    Our hero's wife is just having dinner the day after she's had her dream and the absence of lyrics states very obviously that there's very little action going on at this dinner table. I love this piece because it gives you the opportunity to make up your own mind about what she's thinking, and to reflect on all that 'Don' said in her dream.

    Good Morning, Captain

    Here is where we find out how 'Don' dies - or at least we find out that he's shipwrecked, and far from home. I still haven't completely made my mind up about these lyrics, as to where everyone is, etc. The 'blood stained eyes upon the beach' I suppose are Don's crew who have managed to get to safety, looking at the ship where Don is still.

    ***

    I hope I've been interesting. I find it kind of weird that I get pulled towards the lyrics on Spiderland because I usually just love music without listening to the lyrics too much. I think with the fantastic quality of the musicianship and the lyricism that Slint have brought together it's necessary to listen to their music as one big whole, instead of as seperate instruments playing together with lyrics on top (or underneath as the case is sometimes). Just out of interest, my favourite song is 'Nosferatu Man'. I love the lyrics on 'Breadcrumb Trail' though, and I love 'Good Morning, Captain' aswell. And I love the lyrics and music on 'Washer'. Oh man... I just love this album! My favourite songs on Tweez are 'Carol', 'Warren' and 'Pat'. I love the whole of their untitled EP. I almost wish they had made a few more albums. I'm sure they wouldn't have spoilt what they did with Tweez, Spiderland and their Glenn/Rhoda EP.

    Thanks for reading.

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