[ExI] And Meta You Know

[PJ Manney]

On Jan 23, 2008 12:08 PM, hkhenson <hkhenson at rogers.com> wrote:
> This is most apparent with children.  The most sensible and in depth
> work on this subject is "The Nurture Assumption" by Judith
> Harris.  If you have not read this, do so.  It is a first class work
> in applied evolutionary psychology.  (Pinker recommends it, in fact
> he had a lot to do with it being written.)

Funny story about the pressure to conform: we moved from New Zealand
when my son was four and my daughter was just shy of two.  We
travelled the US for two months to introduce them to family and
friends and then settled in LA just days before preschool began.

During the two months of US travel, my children's thick Kiwi accents
didn't budge.  They had the nasal vowels, the upward inflection that
made every sentence sound like a question and the full-on Anglo
vocabulary: bangers n' mash, bonnets and boots, fish n' chips
(pronounced "fush n' chups"), etc.

After two weeks of American preschool, my son sounded like an total
and complete Yank.  All evidence of his foreignness disappeared, to
the point of denying he had been born overseas!  All except one thing:
 He kept calling what the Yanks refer to as French Fries, chips.  To
this day (7 years later!) his eyes still light up expectantly when the
word "chip" is mentioned but they turn to disappointment when a
paper-thin sliced potato or corn tortilla sliver is offered.  And we
laugh every time.

My daughter's accent hung on much longer (another year or two), even
though she also attended preschool and was so young.  I think that's
why it did -- at such a young age, she didn't sense that much
difference between her and her peers.  They all sound funny at two!

Post script: the pressure to conform only has a limited shelf-life if
other evolutionary pressures come to bear.  During a kindergarten
recess a year later, my son ran up to me (I was a playground monitor)
and said, "Mom, what's the Maori word for 'hello?'"

"Kia Ora," I replied.

"Kee Or?" he repeated?

"Kia Ora," I corrected him.

"Got it.  Kia Ora.  Kia Ora.  Kia Ora..." and he wandered off.

I watched him arrive at his destination: a group of kindergarten
girls.  With a cocky smile, he said, "Hey... Kia Ora."

He explained he was foreign and they thought that was really neat.  He
was a big hit.  Where on Earth he picked up that technique at that
age, I will never know, but as he discovered, sometimes being
different works to your advantage.

PJ