I lawer iawn o bobl sy’n medru mwy nag un iaith mae trawsieithu (neu translanguaging yn Saesneg) yn rhywbeth hollol anniddorol ac i siaradwyr Cymraeg mae’n rhywbeth nad yw’n hawdd iawn ei osgoi. Trawsieithu yw’r enw sy’n cael ei roi ar y broses o gymryd gwybodaeth i mewn drwy gyfrwng un iaith ac wedyn ei defnyddio mewn iaith arall. Gallai’r broses hon fod yn anffurfiol iawn; byddai darllen erthygl yn Saesneg ac wedyn sôn amdani ddiwrnodau yn ddiweddarach gyda’ch ffrindiau Cymraeg-eu-hiaith yn enghraifft o drawsieithu. Mae enghraifft fel hon yn ymddangos yn eithaf arferol i ni yng Nghymru- dyma’r hyn rydyn ni’n ei wneud bob dydd. Does dim modd i chi fyw eich bywyd drwy gyfrwng y Gymraeg yn unig- mae’r Saesneg o’n cwmpas ac mae’n rhaid i ni gymryd gwybodaeth i mewn yn un iaith ac wedyn defnyddio’r wybodaeth honno mewn cyd-destun ieithyddol arall. Mae’r pwnc wedi hawlio cryn dipyn o sylw yng Nghymru- credir taw yng Nghymru y daeth y term ‘trawsieithu’ i’r fei. Mae trawsieithu bellach yn rhan o gymwysterau cenedlaethol megis Lefel U Cymraeg Ail Iaith a Thystysgrif Sgiliau Iaith y Coleg Cymraeg Cenedlaethol.
Gwelir llawer o waith sy’n ystyried defnyddio trawsieithu mewn ysgolion uwchradd er mwyn meithrin sgiliau amlieithog a manteisio ar alluoedd ieithyddol amrywiol disgyblion mewn ymdrech i hybu cydweithrediad ieithyddol a diwylliannol mewn ysgolion rhyngwladol. Mae cysyniad syml y tu ôl i’w defnydd: nid oes angen i’r gwahanol ieithoedd y mae person yn eu siarad neu’n ceisio eu dysgu frwydro yn erbyn ei gilydd. Os ydych chi wedi dysgu mwy nag un iaith fel odolyn, fe fyddwch chi’n gyfarwydd â’r teimlad hynod o rwystredig o geisio dweud gair yn Almaeneg ond i’ch gwybodaeth Ffrangeg darfu ar y broses ar y foment olaf a striwo eich brawddeg Almaeneg berffaith. Mae diffodd un iaith er mwyn siarad iaith arall yn dasg wybyddol a hanner- hyd yn oed i siaradwyr rhugl neu alluog iawn. Os ydych chi wedi bod yn y gwaith yn siarad Cymraeg yn ddi-dor drwy’r dydd ac wedyn yn mynd i gyfarfod am 16:00 lle mae angen i chi gyfathrebu yn Saesneg mae’n gallu bod yn anodd diffodd eich Cymraeg: “If you’re mynd i consider- sorry… if you’re going to consider….” Mae hyn yn fwy anodd byth os oes pobl yn yr ystafell yr ydych chi fel arfer yn siarad Cymraeg â nhw.
Mae’r ieithoedd yr ydyn ni’n eu siarad i gyd yn ein hymenyddiau ac maen nhw’n cystadlu yn erbyn ei gilydd am ein sylw. Felly, yn hytrach na mynnu mai un iaith yn unig a ganiateir mewn dosbarth, rhoddir rhyddid i ddisgyblion ddefnyddio pa bynnag iaith y maen nhw am ei defnyddio. Mae’r sefyllfa ieithyddol yn gallu bod yn hyblyg iawn. Efallai y byddai 5 disgybl wrthi’n gweithio ar brosiect a phob un yn chwilio am wybodaeth ar y we yn ei (h)iaith ei hunan. Gwglo ac ysgrifennu nodiadau yn Bwyleg, Portiwgaleg, Sbaeneg, Hwngareg a Chymraeg. Byddai’r dysgwyr wedyn yn dod at ei gilydd i drafod eu hymchwil drwy gyfrwng un iaith, efallai Saesneg ac wedyn ymateb i beth bynnag yw gofynion y dasg mewn iaith arall, efallai Ffrangeg.
Mae trawsieithu yn rhywbeth yr ydw i wrth fy modd yn ei wneud gyda disgyblion o bob lefel ac mae sawl ffordd i’w ddefnyddio. Gan amlaf, bydda i’n darparu deunydd darllen neu fideo Saesneg i’r myfyriwr ei ddarllen neu wylio cyn y sesiwn nesaf. Byddwn ni wedyn yn mynd ati i drafod y deunydd hwn yn Gymraeg yn ystod y wers. Gall darparu cwestiynau dealladwyedd o flaen llaw yn Gymraeg helpu dysgwyr nad yw’n hyderus iawn yn siarad yn ddigymell neu ddysgwyr sydd yn hoffi paratoi o flaen llaw.
Does dim rhaid trafod y deunydd yn yr iaith darged- yn lle, gellir darparu deunydd yn Gymraeg ac wedyn ei drafod yn Saesneg. Yr hyn sy’n bwysig yw bod yr iaith darged yn bresenol yn un cam o’r broses isod:
MEWNBWN > PROSESU > ALLBWN
Rhywbeth arall sy’n hynod o effeithiol yw trawsieithu “cudd”: gellir gosod tasg i’r dysgwr sydd yn gyfangwbl drwy gyfrwng yr iaith darged, hynny yw, byddai pob cam uchod yn yr iaith darged ond bod y cam prosesu yn cynnwys iaith gyntaf y dysgwr mewn ffordd lai amlwg. Er enghraifft, gellir gofyn wrth y dysgwr ddarllen cyfieithiad o lyfr Saesneg y mae e neu hi’n gyfarwydd iawn ag ef. Dyma rywbeth dwi wedi’i drïo fy hun yn yr iaith dwi’n ei dysgu, sef Swedeg. Dwi’n ffan mawr o waith F Scott Fitzgerald, yn enwedig “the Great Gatsby”. Dyma lyfr yr ydw i wedi’i ddarllen nifer o weithiau ers i mi ei ddarllen am y tro cyntaf yn yr ysgol. Dwi’n gyfarywdd iawn â’r stori a’i themâu a’i chymeriadau. Felly, er yr oeddwn i’n straffaglu’n sylweddol ar adegau i ddeall brawddeg neu baragraff, roeddwn i’n gallu defnyddio fy ngwybodaeth am y nofel i ddehongli’r hyn oedd yn digwydd. Roedd yn heriol, ond roedd yn caniatáu imi gyfieithu heb eiriadur ac i ddyfalbarhau gyda chynnwys ieithyddol a oedd y tu hwnt i fy lefel gallu presennol.
Dwi’n ddigon ffodus i gael llawer o ddysgwyr brwdfrydig iawn sy’n medru sawl iaith. Dwi wedi mwynhau gosod tasgau sy’n galluogi fy nysgwyr i adolygu eu sgiliau Eidaleg wrth iddynt wneud eu gwaith cartref Gymraeg drwy ysgrifennu crynodeb Cymraeg o erthygl yn Corriere della sera. Mae’n ffordd hynod o effiethiol i’r Polyglots sydd am ddysgu gymaint â phosib a hwyluso’r broses o gaffael dwy iaith newydd ar yr un pryd. Ond yr hyn yr ydw i’n ei sylweddoli nawr yw nid oes angen eich bod yn medru sawl iaith er mwyn elwa o drawsieithu. Does dim angen i chi fod yn hollol rhugl mewn iaith arall chwaith. Yr hyn sydd angen yw bod yn agored i ddefnyddio ieithoedd mewn modd hyblyg a chreadigol.
Felly, peidiwch â cheisio gwahanu eich ieithoedd- cymdogion yn eich pen ydyn nhw, felly mae’n rhaid i chi sicrhau bod digon o Gymraeg rhyngddyn nhw.
Reading in your second or third language is difficult, especially when you first start. A popular idea amongst second language researchers has been percentage thresholds for understanding, i.e. what percentage of words in a text do you need to know in order to understand that text? Lots of research has considered how many word families a learner needs to know in order to adequately read a text. A word family can contain a number of different forms of a word, e.g. inform would be a family that would include: informed, information, informative, uninformative, informal, informing.
Early research reckoned that you needed about 3,000 word families or about 5,000 individual words in order to read a piece of prose text and understand it. There are lots of disagreement about what the threshold actually is, but most researchers’ findings seemed to coalesce around a figure of 95%. These research studies mainly used unfamiliar factual prose texts and tested comprehension by means of written comprehension tests and pass rates needed for formal examinations at university level education. This is quite a stringent way of testing. Lots of second or third language learners don’t have their gaze fixed on the goal of attaining a formal qualification. Research that looks at these kinds of thresholds isn’t really looking at a minimum level of comprehension, rather they’re looking at what you need to understand to pass a test.
It’s also quite difficult to work out how many words are in a word family. Paul Nation’s research on the British National Corpus shows that the most frequent 1000 word families of English average approximately six members each. Nation reckons that if you know 8000 word families then this means you can recognise and understand 34, 660 individual words. What does this mean for the thresholds idea? If we take the 1000 most common word families figure, this would mean that recognizing and understanding the most common words of English would actually mean knowing 6000 individual words. This is a smaller number than 34,660 but it’s still a dauntingly large figure. What are we meant to do with such a number? Would the idea be that this would inform teaching practices by making sure learners are exposed to the 6000 most frequent individual word tokens? Or that if we’re self-studying a language that we need to find out what the most common word families are and grill ourselves on these before we start reading?
Another problem with thresholds isn’t just how you test comprehension, but also what you get learners to read. Is the text formal or informal? Does the reader know something about the context of the piece already? Are they even interested in what they’re reading? Are they interested in reading in their first language? Are they competent readers in their first language? We know these things matter because research has shown they have big implications for how much a learner understands of a newly presented text.
Research by Norbert Schmitt and colleagues has found that the idea of a percentage threshold for academic texts could be as high as 98%. However, the researchers’ work doesn’t support the notion of a general threshold or benchmark figure above which readers can understand a text in their second language. Instead, they find there is a linear relationship between the percentage of vocabulary known and the level of understanding a reader has.
The upshot is that second language learners need to gradually increase their vocabulary in order to increase their understanding. Reading in your second language won’t make you fluent, nor is it an absolute given that it will increase your vocabulary. Wading your way through a French murder mystery or a Portuguese newspaper article might be satisfying once you finally finish it, but once you’ve put it down you’re probably going to continue with your day and forget any new words. Reading in an unstructured way isn’t helpful. Within the world of education, it’s difficult to go a few weeks without someone referring to “strategies”. It’s often a mendacious term that on closer inspection doesn’t actually mean anything, just another jargonistic bit of educational language. However, in the case of reading in a second language, there are some concrete things you can do to make your reading time actually contribute to your language learning. Here are some “strategies” or tips:
Choosing something to read:
Easyread adaptations: These are brilliant. Whole books reworked into simplified vocabulary and sentence patterns. I started my second-language Swedish reading with some easyread versions of popular Swedish novels. These books allowed me to read adapted Swedish classics as well as gain access to contemporary Swedish fiction. I was able to read an adaptation of “A Man called Ove” by Fredrik Backman and then see the film adaptation. Easyreads can give you a lot of motivating cultural insight into the language you’re learning by affording you direct access to it in the early stages of your learning.
However, there are some caveats: easyreads are great when you’re first starting out, but is something it’s best to move away from as soon as you can. Easyreads use a very reduced vocabulary and simplified grammar. Publishing houses producing easyreads will have their own linguistic style guides meaning that across different books and authors you’ll essentially be exposing yourself to a restricted set of recycled sentence patterns.
Another reason to progress onto reading something else is that you can get complacent. You can feel as though you’re making tonnes of progress. If you only need to look up two words every page in an easyread book it’s easy to cut yourself some slack and think that you’ve mastered the art of reading in your second language, or at least made substantial progress. The problem is that this confidence is quickly quashed when you then open a newspaper or try and read an email in your second language.
Avoid parallel texts! These seem like a great idea, but, unless you are incredibly disciplined or can avoid all the peripheral visual cues bombarding you subconsciously from the other side of the page, they aren’t very useful. Reading parallel texts removes a great deal of the useful linguistic challenge of reading. When we see a word we don’t know we can just automatically glance across and get a translation. We don’t have to think about the relationship between the word as it appears on the page and the other words surrounding it. We don’t form an association between this new word and others in the target language, instead, we just get a translation. Speaking and understanding a second language isn’t about translating. We don’t want to know that chamar = to call in Portuguese. Anyone could Google that. Instead, we want to know what Pode-me chamar um taxi para onze da manhã? means and we want to make an association between how chamar appears here and how a person introduces themselves by saying chamo-me.
Read something you’ve already read in English: One of the hardest things about reading a novel in a second or third language is building up the necessary context in which the characters appear and against which the story is played out. You have to work out where the story takes place (and then perhaps look it up), work out who’s related to who, who’s in a relationship with who, who hates who, glean any information about reported action (i.e. aspects of the story that happen before the author starts telling you what’s happening now). If you already know all this, then you can focus on the actual language. It might not mean reading for pleasure in exactly the same way as reading a book for the first time, but it will constructively lighten the linguistic load when reading in your second or third language.
Read books that are part of the same series: We mentioned context above and it’s the same idea here. Recurring characters and familiar locations will help as you’ll already have the context before you’ve opened the book. I’m a fan of the great Henning Mankell’s Wallander books. I know the eponymous detective has a poor relationship with his daughter, is divorced, has a borderline drinking problem, is a bit of a hypochondriac, increasingly doesn’t have any friends, finds it difficult to talk to women but somehow managed to have a Latvian girlfriend (after solving the murder of her husband) for a short time before she realised all his unattractive aforementioned characteristics and left him. This means I can get on with the actual story and new words instead of pouring over the initial pages trying to work out who’s who and why they don’t like each other. Reading books that are part of a series gives you some much-needed confidence in the reading endeavour without affording you the false sense of security we can feel when reading easyreads.
Read thenews: This is again a “strategy” of context. If you’ve already listened to or read the news in your first language that day, then you’ll know most of what’s already happening in the world (or at least what the world’s media are focussing on). This means you’ll be able to fill in lots of gaps. Using something like Google news is a good way to start. Read an article about an event in your language, then search Google news for translated keywords to find coverage of the same item in the language you’re learning.
Social media: Most people spend at least some time swiping and trawling through a news feed each day. You can easily turn this zombie activity into something more linguistic by liking or following media outlets, famous people or organizations that produce context in your target language and by turning off the irritating translate function on your webbrowser that auto-translates any non-English content. This isn’t as substantial as reading a book of course, but it does mean you’ll convert some deadtime into something useful. If you only pick up one new word about a news item as you’re eating your sandwich at your desk, at least that’s one more word than would otherwise have been drawn to your attention during that part of the day.
Don’t stop! If you see a word you don’t understand have a quick think about it, but don’t stop and reach for a dictionary. What you want to do is gain an overall understanding of the passage first. If you’re reading a book, aim to get to the end of a chapter before doing any googling or dictionary work. When you come across a word you don’t understand, simply underline it and move on. At the end of the chapter review all your underlined words. Whatever you do, don’t just immediately look up an unknown word. Instead, try and glean something from the word. Think about possible language families that word may belong to. Can you see any word endings that give you a clue about whether it’s a noun or a verb, whether it’s a masculine or feminine word? Can you see which case it’s in or whether it’s plural or singular? Once you’ve done this, then look it up. Make a note of the meaning in a list- don’t write a translation by the word in the book as you’ll just end up looking at that when you come to re-read it. Then re-read the chapter or passage paying attention to your underlined words, looking them up in your list if you’ve forgotten.
After you’ve read
Try and summarise what you’ve read in your second language by speaking out loud or discussing it with your language tutor. Writing a summary can also be a good way of practising the unfamiliar words that you collected by underlining as you went along. If you’ve kept a list of unfamiliar words from a text, try using these in written or spoken sentences.
Let’s say you didn’t know the following word:
You can start by keeping the word exactly as it is but changing the context:
I threw the ball to him
They threw the ball to me
You could then change the tense and person of the word and think about synonyms:
I had thrown it <> I had chucked it
I‘ll throw it across to you <> I’ll fling it across to you
You‘re throwing it to far <> You’re lobbing it too far
He throws the rubbish out on Fridays <> He puts the rubbish out on Fridays
Do you talk to yourself in your second or third language? Probably not because that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Another reason not to do it is because most language learning for adults is firmly rooted in what’s sometimes termed the conduitapproach or communicative approach. This is what commonly drives pedagogy in adult second language classes: the passing back and forth of information between conversational partners. This can be very structured, e.g. in the form of a gap fill exercise (e.g. relaying information about missing train times on a timetable). It might be less formally structured but still controlled by the teacher to some degree, e.g. “find out the following pieces of information from your partner”. Alternatively, your language teacher might set the communication context and ascribe roles, e.g. “you’re in a cafe in Istria, you are the waiter and you three are customers”. This is all good language practice. Ultimately you want to be able to talk to your in-laws in Welsh about something or you want to order something at a cafe in Croatia. That is, you want to communicate. However, language isn’t just something we do to other people in order to produce some kind of effect- language is also in our heads and we vocalise things even when no-one is around to hear it. If we’re struggling with a procedural task then we might talk ourselves through what the options are. This kind of speech often manifests itself as telegrammatic, i.e. not in full or proper sentences. It’s the kind of language we need after we’ve bought something from IKEA:
“Hmmmm. That one… no- wrong piece. Where is…? Right, put that…and yes! Done!”
Children who are learning their first language get to use this kind of speech all day every day. They get to sit in a chair in the middle of a room and point at things, name them and receive a constant stream of linguistic feedback from adults. They get to say absolute nonsense, but adults process it as having communicative import and offer interpretations and corrections of what the child says. A small barely-verbal child might say “It’s a booo blah eurgh!” and an adult will reply “Yes, it’s a sheep! It’s not blue though. Do you want the sheep?”. It’s very unfair really- we never get this optimum language learning environment ever again. All this language practice means kids end up speaking their native language fluently whilst having made no automatic or conscious effort.
They then use their language skills to talk to themselves whilst engaged in procedural tasks and play. Lev Vygotsky was a famous Soviet psychologist whose work on the development of children is difficult for any social sciences undergraduate to avoid. Vygotsky found that when children are confronted with difficult tasks they engage in private or self-directed speech in order to focus their attention and ultimately overcome these difficulties:
> “Where’s the pencil? I need a blue pencil. Never mind, I’ll draw with the red one and wet it with water; it will become dark and look like blue”(from Vysgotsky’s Thought and Language)
Object-regulation: this kind of language allows the speaker to “get a grip” of the situation or difficult they’re currently facing. These might take the form of metacomments about the task or about how the speaker is feeling about completing it. Some examples from Steven McCafferty include the following, which were taken from second language research on describing complex picture sequences:
“Think this picture is not good”
“I can do this in Spanish but not in English”
“I can see a boy walking down the street”
Other-regulation: addressing (otherwise irrelevant) questions to someone, i.e. in Mcafferty’s picture description task the subjects in the studies he considers often ask the researcher questions, e.g. “This picture… do you want to tell me, I tell you where he is or…?”. Also in this category are questions the speaker asks of themself, e.g. “How do I say this…? Hmmm. I know this word…”
Self-regulation: this is the final category identified by Lantolf & Frawley and concerns speech which signals the speaker is making progress in the task or correcting a difficulty or mistake, e.g. “five monkeys are playing with a man- no- the man is angry”.
Steven McCafferty surveys a number of studies that have examined second language speakers’ self-directed or private speech and finds that learners expend just as much or more effort in self-regulating and talking to themselves as they do in actually communicating and completing the task at hand. We use language to talk to ourselves when we’re small children, however, it doesn’t look as though talking to ourselves is something that dies out completely. It resurfaces in our native language when we’re engaged in completing a difficult task and it can also resurface in second language contexts. It seems that we have a natural linguistic predisposition to speak to ourselves.
However, adult language learners aren’t encouraged to speak to themselves. The focus is always on communicating, on imparting information to others and receiving information from conversational partners during evening classes. But what about talking to yourself in the target language? I teach a lot of people over Skype and in person who don’t live somewhere where Welsh is spoken, either in Wales, or England or more exotically in Canada and further afield. “I’ve got no-one to talk to! No-one to practice with”. Yes you have, you have yourself. It’s not the first sign of madness, it’s the first sign of language learning. If kids can talk to themselves, why can’t adult learners?
Here are some examples of how and when to use self-directed speech in your target language:
Prepare a list of self-directed phrases, e.g.:
“No that’s not right”
“Where did I put my pen?”
“I’ll move this a bit”
Use self-directed speech when engaging in a procedural task, e.g. talk yourself through the constituent stages of making a cake or mending your bicycle.
Plan in your target language: if you’re flicking through your calendar to try and find a convenient time to do something then go through the options out loud in the target language, e.g.:
“I can’t do Monday because I have a Greek lesson”
“I’ve got a meeting in Cardiff on Thursday so I can’t do it then”
“August would be best, but which day… ?”
Swear! Swearing in a second or third language has recently become a subject of psycholinguistic investigation. Language scientists use the term reduced emotional resonance to describe how second language speakers feel when they describe their new language as “meaning less to them” or “having less impact” than their native tongue. Swearing can be difficult because you don’t have the insight into what is normal or acceptable in your target language, particularly if you don’t live somewhere where the language you’re learning is routinely spoken. But swearing, particularly when used as an exclamation, is something everyone does, it’s automatic, it’s real-time language and represents a perfect opportunity for self-directed speech. Try replacing your first language exclamations with some from your target language- making sure they won’t cause a scene if you use them. Remember, you might have reduced emotional resonance in your second language, so check with a trustworthy native or proficient speaker before committing yourself to a selection of profanities! By making a conscious effort to swear or exclaim in your target language you can start to make language use, previously something confined to a classroom or book, into something which is instead instantly on your tongue, delivered without hesitation and used in real-time. Eventually, you can scream automatically, loudly and confidently at yourself in Polish or Welsh when you next drop something out your foot or realise you’ve forgotten your umbrella when it starts raining.
I’ll be taking one of this year’s Discover Welsh sessions at City Lit. We’ll introduce pronunciation and stress rules in Welsh in order to get you confidently and accurately pronouncing the language. Basic introductory phrases will be taught and practised in this informal and supportive session.
This session is pitched at absolute beginners. If you’ve been thinking about learning Welsh, this is a brilliant first step. Hope to see you there!
Wales has exported an awful lot over the centuries: we’ve churned out of coal, a lot of water has been extracted out of us and we now do a good line in pop singers, sports personalities and cheese. Since living in London and working as a Welsh tutor, I’ve noticed another one of Wales’ primary exports: the Linguistically Bereaved Welsh.
The Linguistically Bereaved Welsh are a group who left Wales in their early twenties to study or work in England or further afield and who don’t speak Welsh. Their linguistic bereavement doesn’t come directly and necessarily from an absence of the Welsh Language. We know that you don’t have to speak Welsh to be Welsh. Political analyst Dennis Balsom’s Three-Wales Model may now be approaching 35 years old, but it probably still holds a lot of water. The Three-Wales Model chops the country up into three broad parts:
Y Fro Gymraeg: Welsh-speaking, Welsh-identifying Wales (North Pembrokeshire, Ceredigion, Carmarthenshire, Gwynedd, Anglesey)
Welsh Wales: Non-Welsh-speaking, Welsh-identifying (Swansea, Gower and the Valleys)
British Wales: Non-Welsh-speaking, British-identifying Wales (South Pembrokeshire, Cardiff, Newport and the rest of the country)
The point is that we’re quite flexible when it comes to the language and our identity. For some of us, being Welsh is inextricably linked with speaking the language, for others not speaking Welsh is as much a part of their Welsh identity as screaming at the television during the Six Nations.
Here’s a table of Wenglish words with translation into English and proper Welsh:
dod o hyd i
Languages always borrow words from other languages. This is simply what happens in a globalised world in which we can hear and see other languages. English has borrowed an awful lot of words from other languages (from the word moped nicked from Swedish, to Hindi giving us the words shampoo and bungalow, to Dutch’s gifts of aloof, bluff, dam, yacht, smelt, snack, to the pronoun they form Icelandic and the thousands of French loanwords) as well as stealing lots of phrases (e.g. de facto, en route). Now that English is a behemoth linguistic force majeure, it’s other languages that are borrowing things from English and not the other way round. It shouldn’t really come as a surprise that a minority language like Welsh is adopting words from the super-dominant language in the British Isles. English speakers are seemingly fascinated by phrases and words from their language that get co-opted into other languages. Radio Sweden, a national English-medium broadcast service in Sweden, recently did a feature of the phenomenon of the importing of English swear words into Swedish.
Whilst lots of my adult learners laugh at words like smocio (ysmygu, to smoke) or smwddio (to iron), I’ve never encountered a learner who’s irritated at the use of “Wenglish” (which I’m now going to put in quotation marks from now on). This learner on Twitter was irritated. His call for linguistic purism criticised first language speakers for using “Wenglish” over Welsh words. It sparked a small Cymric Twitter storm as well as this article on the BBC’s Welsh language service, BBC Cymru Fyw.
The complaining learner on Twitter prefers to use what he calls “actual Welsh words”. The response from lots of native speakers has been that when they say dreifio instead of gyrru they are in fact using a Welsh word. It’s not just that fluent speakers see these words as actually being Welsh ones- rather, it’s that they are linguistically adapted when they are imported into Welsh. Siario is a linguistically Welsh word. These words aren’t just imported unchanged into Welsh. They are adapted to suit Welsh orthographic conventions (e.g. using f for “v”) and are pronounced according to the phonological rules of Welsh. This means they are said in a way that, for example, obeys Welsh’s stress placement rule. For example, proffesiynol (professional) has stress on the penultimate syllable, whereas the word in English has stress on the second syllable. Welsh doesn’t have a vowel reduction rule in unstressed syllables like most British varieties of English. This rule in English means we say “problem” as “problum” and not “problemme” and “Adam” as “Adum”. The vowel in the unstressed syllable is called schwa and is the most common sound in the English language. But in Welsh we keep the vowels’ original quality even in unstressed syllables, meaning that problem is pronounced as “problemme”. Welsh also has a tendency for word-final voicing. Lots of sounds can be put into pairs in which the only thing distinguishing the two sounds is whether it’s voiced or voiceless, compare “v” with “f” or “d” with “t” in English. Welsh’s preference for word-final voicing means that words like “cricket” and “basket” are rendered in Welsh with voiced consonants at the end: criced, basged.
When verbs are imported into Welsh, they also take Welsh inflexions (aka word-endings). It’s very common in North Wales for people to say licio for to like. -io is a common verbal ending in Welsh. The word like hasn’t just been wholesale imported into the language. Dw i’n likedancing isn’t a permissible sentence in Welsh: dw i’n licio dawnsio is though. The verb licio would also change its ending when we convert it into the conditional tense: Licietti goffi? (Would you like coffee?). Last week I was at a wedding in south east England and someone in response to my saying I was a Welsh tutor said “dim parcio!” and started laughing. Perhaps he’d just availed himself too readily of the free booze, but he seemed to genuinely find that phrase entertaining. A have a friend who finds cwstard funny (even though the English word is actually pilfered from the French word croustade) It’s a strange kind of mentality this. But it’s not too far removed from the way the Twitter learner calls out “Wenglish”. Both mentalities seem to think that Welsh should have its own words or different words from English. Welsh is somehow lessened by importing words from English. It becomes less of a language in these people’s eyes and more of a “patois” or dialect of English.
It’s not just about defending the use of these words by fluent speakers, or indeed by anyone who chooses consciously or otherwise to use them. There’s perhaps also a pedagogical consideration. Should we also be using these words more in Welsh second language education in schools, universities and adult courses? Are tutors guilty of presenting “pure Welsh” vocabulary when learners may not hear these words so frequently outside of the classroom environment? Are tutors linguistic hypocrites for teaching gyrru and hoffi, but then saying sa i’n licio dreifio i Aberystwyth (I don’t like driving to Aberystwyth) instead of the more standard dw i ddim yn hoffi gyrru i Aberystwyth? Perhaps the word hoffi is actually on the way out and we should just teach people licio instead? Whatever we decide, it seems tutors might also be guilty of the same kind of linguistic snobbery displayed by the Twitter learner.
No-one is bothered about the hundreds of thousands of loanwords in English, probably because most of them were borrowed hundreds of years ago. Welsh’s taking words from English is just an inevitability. It’s just what languages do. It’s not to do with the laziness of native speakers and it’s not about choosing non-Welsh words over linguistically indigenous ones. These loanwords’ gradual incorporation into Welsh is an example of Linguistic change happening in real time. It should be interesting to observe and, if we want, participate in it.
Perhaps we need to present “Wenglish” words as Welsh words and through guiding our learners through correct pronunciation offer them an insight into how these loanwords have become part of modern spoken Welsh.
There’s definitely no point in despairing of these words. They exist. Jyst relacswch!
At the end of March, I met with other City Lit language tutors to discuss how we teach pronunciation to our learners. Pronunciation was described as the elephant in the language classroom. It’s a problem from the outset for every single learner and yet it’s difficult to sort it out. Worst of all is trying to sort it out with advanced learners who might speak with pristine grammar, but with pronunciation that is at times hard to understand. Pronunciation is difficult for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s comprised of many different elements: the way you say individual sounds, intonation (variations in the pitch of voice), rhythm (the variation in stress over syllables and words) to name just a few. Whilst there’s the issue of what element of pronunciation we ought to focus on in class, there’s also the added problem of learners having to produce sounds they don’t have in their own language(s).
Drilling is the most common phenomenon. The teacher stands at the front and blasts you with a load of sounds which are either completely new or if they aren’t new then they’re in combinations that your own language doesn’t allow (e.g. <gwl> in Welsh or strč prst skrz krk in Czech/Slovak). There’s also the additional problem of trying to hear the difference between sounds which your own language doesn’t count as different. If you’ve ever tried to learn Mandarin you’ll immediately think of those seemingly impossible sounds that are represented in Pinyin as: z, zh, j, c, ch and q. They’re all affricates, i.e. scratchy sounds produced with turbulence in the mouth. But for an English speaker, the types of phonetic differences that are so obvious to a Mandarin speaker just can’t be heard. Drilling isn’t going to help you understand the differences between these two sounds. You need some metalinguistic knowledge- you need to be introduced to the phonetic underpinnings of sounds in order to understand the differences. Doing so will enable you to hear the differences and then to start producing the sounds yourself.
Phonetics is the scientific study of the sounds of human language. Trained phoneticians can produce any sound that occurs in any language by consulting their nifty chart. So how can we use phonetics to give our language learners insight about the sounds they are trying to produce. I’m not talking about blinding them with phonetic labels and terms for the sake of it, but using phonetics in such a way that it has a practical application in a language learning environment. With my beginner learners, I’m currently trying vowel quadrilaterals as a way of improving the pronunciation of vowels.
Vowels are incredibly slippery things and always so difficult for learners to get their heads around. The problem is worse for speakers of lots of British varieties of English because over 70% of vowel sounds in English end up being pronounced as the vowel schwa /ə/. This is the vowel at the start of the word ago or at the end of the name Adam. Vowels in unstressed syllables in English become this vowel. This is “good English” and students on TEFL and English as second languages courses are introduced to this rule as a way of improving their pronunciation.
ɑ ɵ ɛ ɪ œ ɶ ø
Daniel Jones was a 20th-century phonetician who came up with the idea of “cardinal vowels”. These are a bit like reference vowels with which we can compare and contrast vowels of the languages of the world. The cardinal vowels are arranged on a grid formation shown below. Vowels on the right of a pair are rounded (i.e. lips pursed into a circle- think French and Swedish vowels or how someone from Cardiff might say “ear”), whilst vowels on the left of the pairs are unrounded (i.e. pronounced with spread lips). There are two axes: height (running vertically) and frontness/backness (running laterally).
Height is referring to jaw height, i.e. how open the mouth is when the vowel is pronounced. So /ɑ/ is said with a gaping at-the-dentist style mouth, whereas /u/ is made with a very narrow mouth opening. Fronted means that the tongue is further forward (or at least that’s one definition- really there’s also just something about /i, e/ and the rest of the front ones that just sounds more “front” than the ones at the back. Whilst the quality of the vowel is determined by height and frontness, there’s also the dimension of roundness. This means we can have two vowels with exactly the same height and frontness, but which differ as one is rounded and one is unrounded. For example, if you were struggling to say the Swedish vowel written as ö in the word nöt (nut), you could aim for the unrounded cardinal vowel /e/ and then round your lips to make the rounded /ø/ sound.
Welsh Vowel Quad
A work in progress! Southern Welsh vowels (N.b. these aren’t IPA symbols)
This quadrilateral uses the actual letters of Welsh instead of phonetic symbols, but this doesn’t matter so much for teaching a phonemic (“phonetic”) language like Welsh where there is a(n almost) one-to-one correspondence between a letter or letter chain (called a grapheme) and a sound (called a phoneme).
A graph like this can be useful to help learners visualize the differences between the sounds they are trying to produce. It also goes beyond simple pronunciation instructions such as “if you see a circumflex over a vowel then it’s just a long version of that vowel”. This rule doesn’t quite cut it. w and ŵ aren’t really just long and short versions of each other. w, e.g. in the word cwm (valley), sounds like the vowel in the word cup when said by a northern English speaker so that it rhymes with put, wheres the ŵ has a different quality. ŵ is produced slightly higher, with the mouth more closed and the tongue slightly further back.
One colleague described how the problem of pronunciation is amplified when teaching British learners as opposed to learners from other countries. My colleague pointed out the eager readiness of French people to correct learners’ pronunciation, however, she felt that Brits never deign to correct a non-native speaker’s pronunciation. The situation is perhaps amplified in London where every interaction with a person is in a different accent. Perhaps we also just need to be more direct with our learners who are often extremely anxious about improving their pronunciation and sounding comfortably intelligible. This is a problem learners want us to help them solve. I think by employing more phonetic methods we can expunge the embarrassment element from the process by equipping learners with the words they need to describe and analyse the sounds they are themselves aiming to produce. There’s a different between “I just can’t make that sound- I never get it right!” and a learner instead thinking “I need to say that vowel as rounded and not unrounded” or “I need to increase the height of my i sound”.