Franglais as a first language

The acquisition of language is a fascinating thing… at least for me. We are using a fairly classical bilingual approach with our Beirut baby, that is, the one-person-one-language system. I speak English, my husband French. It’s nothing compared to kids growing up in countries where three or four languages are the norm. Still there are some surprises.

The first surprise was that she wasn’t slow to talk, as it’s widely held that a slight delay is standard for bilingual kids. But when I looked it up, more recent reports suggest there is not necessarily a language delay at all. Which makes sense or I guess pretty much all Indian, most African, and a good many Lebanese kids would all talk “late”. Perhaps a misconception born out of the huge bulk of research being carried out in monolingual cultures?

Of course it’s different if one language comes from the parents and the second from the community. That’s a whole different type of bilingualism. If a child in that situation is assessed when starting school, they’ll be behind the other kids in the community language, but may speak as well or better in their home language.

Still within a few years both languages will be “native” and (in most countries) a few years later still the community language will be dominant unless efforts are made to build on the home language. Especially if the child never learns how to write in the home language, a problem compounded if the two languages are written in different alphabets.

In Lebanon this doesn’t really apply. Here the community speaks not one but several languages. You can play this one of two ways. Either parents can use it to reinforce the home language or to contrast with it since they can opt for schooling in French or English. So parents can, to a degree, “choose” a community language. Many Christian Lebanese kids grow up with French only learning Lebanese dialect as a second language, with classical Arabic coming a poor third or fourth. In Achrafieh the default mode is to speak French to any kids … even if you speak Lebanese with their parents. It especially makes me giggle when Filipina maids sing French nursery rhymes to my daughter.

Of course at 19 months, the community language – whatever it may be – has only a very minor role since she is not at nursery. Since daddy telecommutes, she gets a lot of time with both of us.  So balancing the influence of English against French is fairly simple.  However, we do speak more English between ourselves than French and that clearly shows in her vocabulary. By the end of 18 months she used about 50 French words compared to 70 English words, apart from 25 “neutral” words, such as names, Lebanese words and words which sound the same in both languages.

However you could also put it down to my mild obsession with language, which makes me more pedagogical whereas daddy is more playful! At any rate she’s learning both ways. She’s at ease translating words between the two languages. If she points and says “pawapluie” I only have to ask, “How does mummy say it?” and she responds “umbwella”.

Another surprise for me was that once my Beirut baby learns a word in one language she isn’t slower to learn it in the second language. Her first words were all for different things, not French AND English for the same thing (eg cat and chat) and it seemed to be a case of whether I got there first, or my husband did. But now the crossover of her two vocabularies is almost total. I thought that once the need was filled there would be less motivation to learn the equivalent word, but it actually comes quicker, as if the hard part is nailing the concept and getting a label on it, but then adding alternative names to the same notion is easy. Has anybody else found this?

We don’t know where we will end up living, so for now we are aiming for a good balance of the two languages at home. With time we’d appreciate an extra boost for French from the community to fight the international dominance of English. Ideally we’d also have the chance for our daughter to learn Lebanese in the playground when starting school, and literary Arabic a bit later in class.

Some parents focus so much on English or French that their kids find learning written Arabic a big chore, but if we were to leave Lebanon this is one major opportunity my Beirut baby would miss out on, as neither of us are able to teach her properly ourselves.

Buy one, get one free

TV babies Lebanon

Buy one, get one free

It’s rare I can actually understand billboards in Arabic. It’s a bit like humour I guess, it demands more than my basic conversational level. So I was quite happy to finally work an easy one out.

Literally it means “[One] TV on you, and the second on us” – that is, Buy one TV get one free. Naive ascetic that I am, I commented to my better half that it would work well if you paired up with a friend. Don’t be silly, he told me, Most people want an extra TV for the bedroom, sometimes several. Then he told me about the electrician we had round recently to fix some bits and pieces. The electrician had wanted to sell us a TV with a mirrored screen. When the telly’s off it just looks like a mirror. Which sounds all right as a way to disguise it when not in use. But he was selling it as an ideal installation for not just the living room but also the bathroom. Great for when you’re shaving, he said. Now it seems to me if you can’t do without television while you brush your teeth or shave, then you have a bigger problem than finding a decorative technique to hide your fear of being alone with your thoughts!

It’s true that there was no telly in my house when I was little, and by coincidence the same applies for my husband. Neither of our parents made rules about watching it at friends’ or relatives’ homes though. I guess I can be quite puritanical about telly for small kids. When the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP)  says babies under two shouldn’t watch TV at all, I agree. And when I read an article in a Lebanese mother and baby magazine citing these guidelines but then suggesting they are impossible to apply and that every mum needs an occasional break like when they are making dinner or having a shower (so twice every day?), I’m flabbergasted. Especially as these magazines are addressed at a middle class readership almost all of whom have a live-in maid, whether or not the mother works. Ever wish there were more hours in the day?  That’s an extra 60 hours’ of labour a week doing housework, errands and keeping your kids entertained when they are tired and ratty. Not to mention the benefit of extended family when it comes to getting the odd babysitting stint or a tupperware of dinner, which have to be two of the top perks for Mediterranean families.

Of course I’m biased given my upbringing, which is why I was interested to see this mother’s take on it, as she’s a self-confessed former TV addict. Many people feel TV is a good way for kids to learn extra languages. Her kids are trilingual and manage fine with just occasional online videos like on YouTube. I particularly like the way she concludes: “If they get to watch three of these videos, they think I’m very kind and generous, but they will last no more than 20 minutes in total!”

The irony is, I’m actually considering finding some Lebanese soap as a way to practice my Arabic while Beirut baby is safely in bed. Since I’m stuck indoors at nap time anyway, and Lebanese dialect can’t easily be studied on paper like a written language can, maybe a daily series could help. Anyone know of a lunchtime soap, especially one of those repetitive ones with exaggerated characters where you could almost guess the dialogue on mute?  Because that’s more or less what I’ll be doing.

Go tell the storm

The first storm of the season had us in darkness. There was some issue with the generator too. In Europe they say power cuts are often followed by a baby boom, the result of a change from the norm, dinner by candlelight, the impossibility of getting on with more mundane chores.

Here in Lebanon it isn’t much of a change from the norm but still an evening power outage in the past would have led to dinner out and long conversations over dessert about the intricacies of Lebanese dining habits or hosting etiquette and likely a couple of posts, maybe even one worth sending off to those nice people at the BBC who have always been quick to air a good piece. Now it just leads to me cooking dinner by candle light, baby in arms, trying not to trip over her “toys” (tupperwares) spread across the floor. And above all trying not to singe her on the matches, gas stove or candles.

But I still love thunder storms, and so does my Beirut baby. The proof is, the lightning-thunder sequence now has a third step. It goes Flash…Boom…”encore!” How to tell my baby that if I could control the weather then I’d also have the lights turn back on…

Famous already

Lebanon language

fridge magnets

One of my lovely readers recently alerted me to the fact that my blog was listed among the top 101 blogs in Lebanon on thewebsite of a couple of funny Norwegians who aim to get famous here in the Leb. I can’t say I blushed with pride. They really scraped the barrel to pull up that many blogs in the first place. But I was happy to learn that I was “already famous”. In fact this rather tickled me as I’m sure all my readers came across this blog by pure chance. Apart from my family, of course, who got press ganged into it.

Still it’s just as well I don’t have to keep climbing that celebrity ladder.  I’m not sure how I’d fit it in. Lately I seem to spend my days passing from room to room at a half trot, bent double to scoop up the blocks, rings, stacking cups and you name it that pretty much carpet the house . This week I threw the first big invitation in a long time. I made a whole batch of chocolate cherry cupcakes with a fridge magnet stuck to the bottom of my foot because I didn’t have time to peel it off.

When people ask what kind of impact the “situation” is having on us, I tend to say not much. Because Lebanon is the queen of life going on. Try throwing a bawling spewing vulnerable little bundle into the house that learns new tricks and new demands every day (and night). Now that’s what you call an impact.

But actually the increasing tension in the region has changed my days a fair bit, as it spurred me to action on two quite major fronts which have eaten up more of my time since the latest assassination. First, we’ve know that while a warzone might be fine for the childless footloose fancy-free types we once were, now we want a plan B for when it blows. A serious family-friendly plan B please. I cannot bear the idea of leaving Lebanon, but the way things are it demands serious consideration.

Second, if there were one thing worse than leaving Lebanon, it would be leaving after several years here having NOT LEARNED THE LANGUAGE. Yes I understand a lot and can hold very basic conversations, yes I can decipher signs so I know where parking is mamnou3 (everywhere and nowhere). But that isn’t the same thing as talking the talk. Will I become like those wonderfully naive Americans I used to cross paths with in Paris who tell you – I understand French, I just don’t speak much… and need help to buy their metro tickets.

So…my Beirut baby’s precious nap-times (now reduced to one short stint a day) are dedicated to these two goals. Any kind of concentration at any other moment of the day is impossible. If you’ve got any tips on learning the lingo on a tight schedule, comments are open.

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