Sticky Moments in Language Development

Each morning at my son's preschool, the class recites what he calls "The Fledge of Allegiance." Pretty appropriate, I'd say--the thought of those fledgling citizens vowing their allegiance with none other than the "fledge."

For an AWANA club that he attends each week, he coincidentally had to practice the fledge along with the well-known Bible verse John 3:16. Despite repeated correction, he persisted in making the same error: For God so loved the world....(everything correct until)...whoever believes in Him shall not worry, but have returnal life." We finally got him switched from "worry" to "perish," but I had to explain that it meant "die"--quickly adding that because of Jesus we won't die, we won't perish (he's starting to worry about dying). But as much as I tried, I couldn't get him to switch to eternal. He stuck with "returnal life." I hope that the AWANA leader doesn't think that we're promoting reincarnation.

Another language story pertains to my third-grader. She writes like a third-grader, loses her papers like a third-grader and plays on the playground like a third-grader, but reads at a higher level. The teacher and I agreed that from time to time, we'd look for a more advanced book so that she'd be a little more challenged. When the class was assigned an animal book report, my daughter and I found a detailed book on the Giant Panda that was much more interesting than the early reader versions comprised of a few large-print sentences made up of single-syllable words. On the back page of her report, she was supposed to write out three new vocabulary words she learned, look them up and write out the definition to share with the class.

We were discussing possible words for that section, and I suggested "altitude." "Last night," I pointed out, "you weren't sure if that had to do with temperature. You should look that up, because then you'll know exactly what it means. Did you come across any other words you didn't know?"

"Well, there was one," she said. "It was...(she paused to work out the pronunciation) 'defecate.'"

"Defecate!" I exclaimed. I imagined her sweet, loving, soft-spoken third-grade teacher asking my daughter to share with the class her vocabulary words...I exploded in laughter! I laughed really hard, harder than was really called for, at least 20 full seconds. Every time I thought of how to answer, I laughed again with that whole scenario flashing through my head: 15 kids sitting cross-legged on the floor, my daughter at the front of the room reading "defecate" and defining it for them.

None of my children knew what it meant. I told them it was a fancy way of saying p--p. They thought it was funny enough, though they didn't imagine the look on the teacher's face, like I did.

"Does that fit with the sentence you read?"

"Yes," she said, "yes, it does. The sentence said that Giant Pandas spend the majority of their day eating bamboo, sleeping, and defecating."

"That fits," one of her sisters agreed.

"Don't use that word, okay? Find another word for your report. Don't you agree that you should hunt for something else?"

She grinned and nodded. "Yes. Definitely."

"I mean, I know my laughter made it seem hilarious," I continued, "but it really would be like potty talk, so don't mention it to your classmates. You can just have the pleasure of knowing it yourself. You won't tell anyone will you?"

"I won't," she promised.

"I won't, either," another vowed.

"Me, neither," said the third.

The five-year-old was silent, so I don't know when it will pop out of his mouth. Probably at the end of the Fledge.