A tale of two words


This post is about a tiny ubiquitous word and a large infrequent word. The tiny ubiquitous word is and. The large infrequent word is polysyndeton. How do they relate?

In literature (and other stylized forms of language, like speeches, songs, and play or film dialogue), polysyndeton is a device in which conjunctions, like and, are repeated in close succession to produce a particular stylistic effect. Take this passage from the King James Bible (Joshua 7:24):

And Joshua, and all of Israel with him, took Achan the son of Zerah, and the silver, and the garment, and the wedge of gold, and his sons, and his daughters, and his oxen, and his asses, and his sheep, and his tent, and all that he had.”

One of my favorite authors, Cormac McCarthy, makes heavy use of polysyndeton in his writing. From Blood Meridian:

“They rode on into the darkness and the moonblanched waste lay before them cold and pale and the moon sat in a ring overhead and in that ring lay a mock moon with its own cold gray and nacre seas. […] The flames sawed in the wind and the embers paled and deepened and paled and deepened like the bloodbeat of some living thing eviscerate upon the ground before them and they watched the fire which does contain within it something of men themselves inasmuch as they are less without it and are divided from their origins and are exiles.”

From The Road:

“He pulled the blue plastic tarp off of him and folded it and carried it out to the grocery cart and packed it and came back with their plates and some cornmeal cakes in a plastic bag and a plastic bottle of syrup.”

In linguistics, polysyndetic coordination is a construction where all conjuncts are linked by coordinators (in English, these are and, but, or, nor).

On the opposite side, there’s (literary) asyndeton – where words/phrases in a list are separated only by commas; and (linguistic) asyndetic coordination – where the coordinate construction lacks an overt coordinator. (Both versions “lack an overt coordinator” in fact, but the focus on commas is unique to the literary definition, since punctuation is irrelevant for speech.)

I would delightfully dive into a detailed breakdown of how coordinator types and positions vary across languages[1], but I’ll spare you that tangent today. One relevant factoid is the following. Many languages (like English) allow coordinator omission in a multiple coordinate construction, where either:

  1. all but one coordinator are dropped, e.g., I’ll have beans and rice and cheese and avocado → I’ll have beans, rice, cheese, and avocado; or
  2. all coordinators are dropped, e.g., I’ll have beans and rice and cheese → I’ll have beans, rice, cheese

Not only does the grammar “allow” it, but it is in fact the unmarked (i.e. default) way of saying or writing lists, such that the other way – with all coordinators present – has its own special fancy term.

However, some languages don’t allow this omission. Ponapean, a Micronesian language, requires that the coordinator oh (‘and’) remain present in every instance:

Soulik oh Ewalt oh Casiano oh Damian pahn doadoahk lakapw

‘Soulik, Ewalt, Casiano and Damian will work tomorrow’[2]

I’ll end with a quote from Henry Miller (another of my favorite authors), who requisitions asyndeton as part of his stylistic flair. From Tropic of Cancer:

“Tania is a fever too – les voies urinaires, Café de la Liberté, Place des Vosges, bright neckties on the Boulevard Montparnasse, dark bathrooms, Porto Sec, Abdullah cigarettes, the adagio sonata Pathétique, aural amplificators, anecdotal seances, burnt sienna breasts, heavy garters, what time is it, golden pheasants stuffed with chestnuts, taffeta fingers, vaporish twilights turning to ilex, acromegaly, cancer and delirium, warm veils, poker chips…”


[1] If you’re very interested, Haspelmath has a terrific (although quite technical) typological survey. See Haspelmath, M. (2007). Coordination. In Language typology and syntactic description, volume II: complex constructions. Ed. By T. Shopen. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1-51.

[2] Haspelmath, M. (2007), p.13

Baby sign language (science or hype?)


Recap: What is “baby sign language”?

I made an attempt at defining this concept in the last post, which I’ll reproduce here: baby sign language is signing between (hearing) parents/caregivers and young children, where the signs are either from a real sign language like ASL, are idiosyncratic inventions of the family using them, or are some combination of both. Even if the signs come from a legitimate sign language, they’re often simplified, and the fuller grammar is not usually taught to/learned by parents or their children.

In this post, I’ll talk about baby sign timelines and tips, and then we’ll look at the supposed benefits versus the science.


Taking into account your baby’s development, signing with them might roughly follow this path:

  • 6-9 months: Introduce basic, highly relevant signs
    • At this age, babies really start associating language (verbal or signed) with their world
    • Their long-term memory is now primed to start retaining the language heard around them
    • Their motor skills and hand-eye coordination are growing more precise
  • 7-12 months: Baby is likely to start signing back to you
    • Their first signs will be physical approximations – they may be less detailed and only roughly resemble the sign’s actual shape or location – and they may also be semantic approximations – for example, where the meaning of the sign is broader than the standard/adult meaning (a phenomenon called overextension).
      • My son Ryden’s first sign was more. He started using it in the same context in which we modeled it – during meals to indicate “I want more food” – but then began using it in many different contexts, all the time. From these various contexts, we guessed his meaning was something like “do / keep doing the thing that I like / that makes me happy”. His usage was still related to the concept of more, but it also communicated things that would be captured by a larger variety of expressions in standard ASL. 
  • 12+ months: Introduce slightly more complex (and maybe abstract, but still relevant) signs
  • ~2 years: Child may start stringing signs together, and combining them with speech

Still, like with spoken language, an infant will grasp a sign’s meaning before they’re able (or willing) to produce the sign themselves.

I started signing for Ryden when he was about 5 months old. Signs I used daily were milk, drink, sleep, food/eat, more, read, book, mommy, water, change, diaper, and bath; and I included some of these into the two-word phrases drink milk, read book, more food, and change diaper. Signs I used a bit less frequently, but still repeatedly, were daddy, hungry, cereal, sing/song/music, outside, I love you, play, all done, and up. 

Ryden always seemed to pay extra attention when I used a sign (he grew quiet and still, looked intently at my hands and face), and I could tell by way he responded at 10-11 months that he recognized all of them. But except for adopting the “more” sign around 11 months, he didn’t produce any others. By then he had begun voicing some semi-intelligible words anyway, so I kind of dropped off signing to him.[1]


Here are some common-sensical tips for signing with your baby:

  1. Be consistent and contextual.
    • Use the same sign for the same thing. Sign at the time of the event.
  2. Be open and encouraging to any efforts.
    • As mentioned, your baby’s first attempts will be approximations. They may even make up a totally different “sign”.
      • Before Ryden began using the more sign, he would just open his mouth really wide and whine impatiently in between spoonfuls (he’s been a voracious eater since the start of solid food). Even though he wasn’t signing, his desire was very clearly (if not pleasantly) communicated.
      • When he began signing more, he would kind of slap his hands together (like a clap, but with his fingers slightly curled) – definitely an approximation of the precise adult sign.
  3. Make signing fun.
    • Use it in games; be excited; don’t scold if your baby doesn’t sign back. 
  4. Be multimodal.
    • Say the word when you are signing it.
  5. Be repetitive.
    • Incorporate the signs into your daily routines.
  6. Use signs for tangible objects and actions over more general and abstract words/concepts, and choose signs for things that interest your baby.
    • Try milk, dog, and crawl before yes or please.

Proposed benefits (versus the science)

Infants are little sponges. They start soaking up the language around them immediately – as soon as they’re born (and newer research points even earlier, to in-utero). At 6 months old, they comprehend considerably more than one might imagine. Language production, however, takes a while longer. The earliest that babies produce their first spoken words is 8-10 months. More often it’s closer to one year. (Ryden’s first word, cup [“kah!”], was around 11 months.) Proponents of baby sign language claim that babies can produce signs before speech. According to this claim, an infant’s hand/arm muscles develop before their articulatory system. Thus one of the main motivations for teaching a preverbal child some basic signs is to enable them to communicate sooner.

The babysignlanguage.com website groups the benefits of baby signing into three types, and most of the other material I’ve seen proposes benefits that fall into these categories.


If babies have the tools to communicate what they want, they will use those tools instead of crying and tantrum-ing. Parents will be able to understand when their child wants Cheerios, or has a poopy diaper, or is tired, and respond appropriately. There is less frustration all around.


Increased communication between parents and their preverbal children tightens the bonds between them. Parents report feeling closer to their babies, better able to anticipate and understand their needs. And their babies, secure in this close connection, are generally less fussy.


Advocates assert that signing with your baby improves their long-term cognitive development. Per babysignlanguage.com, this means a +12 IQ point advantage, a larger speaking vocabulary, earlier reading and higher reading comprehension, and better grades. 

Bill White and Kathleen Harper of “Happy Baby Signs” also state that signing with babies:

  • “Accelerates language acquisition.” Babies that sign usually speak earlier and have larger vocabularies;
  • Employs more diverse brain pathways like the visual and kinesthetic (in addition to the auditory) to process language[2]; and (again)
  • “May actually improve a child’s IQ.” Research that tracked signing babies as they grew found that those children, at eight years old, scored an average of 12 points higher in IQ testing than a non-signing control group (after accounting for socioeconomic differences). 

This sounds awesome. I want a sweeter, brainier, more communicative baby! So let’s delve a bit further.

The practical and emotional benefits seem obvious. However, they both hinge on the assumption that infants really can and do learn to sign before they start communicating verbally – or even with gestures (like pointing[3]). It’s actually unclear whether this is true. I recommend reading this article on the subject, but here are the basic points:

  • It’s difficult to determine what counts as a baby’s first real spoken words (versus the syllables they’ve been babbling up to that point), because their early attempts are necessarily imperfect – approximations.
    • When your baby says “dada” for daddy, should that be considered a real word? If you observe that your little one says “dada” whenever he/she sees dad, it makes sense to count “dada” as their legitimate word for daddy. But at this stage, “dada” could also be meaningless babble. Thus “researchers who study the emergence of speech must find ways to sift those instances out. They need to establish a set of objective criteria for recognizing an utterance as a spoken word.”
    • Similarly, (as discussed above) a baby’s first signs are going to be approximations.
    • Comparing the onset of infant signing to infant speaking requires using the same criteria for what counts as a word.
  • If infants really can learn to sign before they learn to speak, we should see evidence that deaf babies and babies of deaf parents sign earlier than hearing babies. But there aren’t any solid studies (with large sample sizes) demonstrating this.

As for the long-term cognitive benefits… again, the research is weak. The most frequently-cited work in this area is that by Linda P. Acredolo and Susan W. Goodwyn (1988, 1998, 2000)[4]. Their studies followed children from infancy to 36 months, and found that the ones who were taught to sign had slightly larger receptive vocabularies than babies in a control group – but only at a couple points in the middle of the study. By the end, differences between the two groups were not statistically significant. 

More recent and well-controlled studies[5] have also failed to uncover longer-term language gains for sign-taught babies.

On IQ, Dr. Gwen Dewar (author of the article referenced above) states: “the relevant research has yet to appear in any peer-reviewed journal. On this question, it’s safe to say that the jury is still out.”

Wikipedia also underlines the questionable nature of baby sign language benefit claims on the internet by detailing two studies conducted on sites making these claims. In the first study, over 90% of the information was opinion pieces or marketing products, with no research backing. The second study found only 10 articles out of 1747 (!) that presented research on the developmental effects of baby signing. And the consensus among those 10 articles was that baby signing doesn’t improve linguistic production or caregiver-child relationships. (That said, neither is there evidence that teaching babies to sign could be detrimental.)

My take

My brief takeaway is – sign with your baby if it interests you and seems fun. I enjoyed learning a bit of ASL just for myself. But temper your expectations. Don’t expect your child to sign back quickly / much / at all before they start on verbal language (unless maybe you AND other caregivers sign to them constantly). And don’t expect that it will later transform them into a linguistic super-genius.

Resources / Further reading

[1] All babies are different, but my main guess as to why he didn’t produce any other signs before starting speech is that he needed more input – more than the few words I regularly used, and from more people (his father, our nanny, etc.).

[2] From White, W.P. and Harper, K.A. (2017). Signs of a Happy Baby: The Baby Sign Language Book. United States: Morgan James Publishing. [Google Books link] (pp. 11-12):

“When you say the word ‘milk’, babies hear the word […] That auditory stimulus travels from the ears to the language center of the brain to be stored as the word ‘milk’. However, […] when babies watch their parents sign milk and hear them say the word, […] [they] also have the wonderful opportunity to see what the word looks like. This additional visual information travels from the eyes back to the occipital cortex, which is commonly called the visual center of the brain. […] Your baby also knows what the word ‘milk’ feels like. When babies start signing back using their hands, that is what is called kinesthetic information. The motion of their hands and arms is being controlled by a third part of the brain called the motor cortex.”

[3] Do not underestimate the communicative powers of pointing! As soon as Ryden started pointing (between 11-12 months), it became much easier to intuit what he wanted or was interested in – because he simply pointed at it.

(1) Acredolo, L.P. and Goodwyn, S.W. (1988). Symbolic gesturing in normal infants. Child Development 59: 450-466.
(2) Acredolo, L.P. and Goodwyn, S.W. (1998). Baby Signs. Chicago: Contemporary Books.
(3) Goodwyn, S.W., Acredolo L.P, and Brown, C. (2000). Impact of symbolic gesturing on early language development. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior. 24: 81-103.

(1) Johnston, J.C., Durieux-Smith, A., and Bloom, K. (2005). Teaching gestural signs to infants to advance child development: A review of the evidence. First Language 25(2): 235-251.
(2) Kirk, E., Howlett, N., Pine, K.J., and Fletcher, B.C. (2013). To Sign or Not to Sign? The Impact of Encouraging Infants to Gesture on Infant Language and Maternal Mind-Mindedness. Child Dev. 84(2):574-90.
(3) Seal, B.C. and DePaolis, R.A. (2014). Manual Activity and Onset of First Words in Babies Exposed and Not Exposed to Baby Signing. Sign Language Studies 14(4): 444-465.

A Norwegian smörgåsbord


Okay, “smörgåsbord” is a Swedish borrowing, but close enough. It’s appropriate for this post, which will be a buffet of miscellaneous facts about the Norwegian language.

I became interested in and started learning Norwegian because my brother has been living in Oslo for the past several years, where he is getting his Ph.D. in lichenology.[1] My family and I traveled to visit him last summer. To characterize the country in a few words, I’d say Norway is – more iconically – Vikings, fjords, trolls, nature, Norse mythology, and – more personally – lichens, stellar black coffee, gross sweet brown cheese, overly-restricted booze-purchasing hours, part of my paternal ancestry, and vampires.[2]

Heddal stavkirke (stave church), built in the early 13th century

So what’s cool about Norwegian?


First (as I mentioned in one of the recent dialect posts), Norwegian forms a dialect continuum with Swedish and Danish, languages with which it is, to a greater or lesser extent, mutually intelligible. These are Scandinavian or North Germanic languages, along with Icelandic and Faroese. My brother, who now has a decent command of Norwegian, says he can understand Swedish relatively well too, although Danish is harder. Have a listen to differences between Danish and Norwegian in this video.

However, there are also a staggering number of Norwegian dialects spread across Norway. People claim it’s often harder to understand someone from a different part of the country (for example, Oslo inhabitants vs. speakers of trøndersk, a group of sub-dialects in north-central Trøndelag county) than it is to understand a Swede speaking Swedish. Wikipedia corroborates: “Variations in grammar, syntax, vocabulary, and pronunciation cut across geographical boundaries and can create a distinct dialect at the level of farm clusters. Dialects are in some cases so dissimilar as to be unintelligible to unfamiliar listeners.”

There are two official standard forms for the written language, even if there is no standard for spoken Norwegian (since local dialects rule in most situations). Bokmål (literally “book tongue”) is used in the majority of publications, and Nynorsk (“new Norwegian”) in under 10% of written communication.

Lexicon and Morphology

Onto smaller language-y bits: words and morphemes. Norwegian is super fun because it is prone to extensive compounding (like German), and these compounds often break down into etymologically amusing or charming pieces. By this I mean that the component words reveal interesting (but usually sensible) semantic relationships with the larger compound. Let me give you some examples:

Norwegian compound English word Individual morphemes
fruktkjøtt “pulp” frukt (“fruit”) + kjøtt (“meat”)  ⇒  “fruit meat”
matbit “snack” mat (“food”) + bit (“bite”)  ⇒  “food bite”
sommerfugl “butterfly” sommer (“summer”) + fugl (“bird”) ⇒  “summer bird”
morkake “placenta” mor (“mother”) + kake (“cake”)  ⇒  “mother cake”
verdensrommet “(outer) space” verden (“world”) + s (possessive) + romm (“room”) + et (“the”)  ⇒  “the room of the world”
skyehus “hospital” skye (“sick”) + hus (“house”)  ⇒  “sick house”
grønnsak “vegetable” grøn (“green”) + sak (“thing”)  ⇒  “green thing”
støvsuger “vacuum cleaner” støv (“dust”) + suger (“suck[er]”)  ⇒  “dust suck[er]”
flaggermus “bat” flagger (“flying”) + mus (“mouse”)  ⇒  “flying mouse”
piggsvin “hedgehog” pig (“spike”) + svin (“pig”)  ⇒  “spike pig”



Rest stop on the road back to Oslo. Rømmegraut is the Nynorsk word for a traditional porridge – kind of like cream of wheat, but sweeter and topped with butter.

One facet of Norwegian morphosyntax that was novel to me is the structure of its determiners. In English, both definite (“the”) and indefinite (“a / an”) articles are independent words that always precede their noun or noun phrase. So we have:

“the house”          “the big blue house”
“a house”             “a big blue house”

The same is true for the Romance languages I know about (French, Spanish, Italian), the other Germanic language I’m familiar with (German)… and it is simply not relevant for the Asian languages I’ve dabbled in (Japanese, Cantonese) because they lack articles entirely.

In Norwegian (as well as in Swedish and Danish), indefinite articles are, familiarly, the independent words which precede the noun, while definite articles are actually suffixes, which attach to the end of the noun they modify. What’s more – if you place something in front of the noun, like an adjective or a number, there’s another set of determiners to use, called demonstratives (in English: this, that, these, those). These precede the noun phrase (adjective/number + noun), where the noun already contains its definite suffix. Again, a table might help illustrate:

Norwegian (Bokmål) determiners

Indefinite articles

Definite articles

Masc. singular

Fem. singular

Neuter singular

Masc. singular

Fem. singular

Neuter singular







en sykkel
“a bicycle”

ei jente
“a girl”

et hus
“a house”

“the car”

“the door”

“the house”

Demonstratives + noun phrase




den røde bilen
“the red car”

den røde døra
“the red door”

det røde huset
“the red house”

Because Norwegian and English are closely related in their linguistic genealogy, a native English speaker may have less trouble learning Norwegian than, say, Taa (also known as !Xóõ, a southern African language with possibly the largest phoneme inventory in the world, including dozens of clicks) – but as the determiner situation here demonstrates, it’s still no piece of bløtkake.


View (!) from our rental house deck on Hardangerfjord

Phonology and Prosody

Norwegian is what’s called a pitch-accent language. There are roughly three categories of languages when it comes to stress and pitch. Here’s a super abridged breakdown [3]:

  1. Stress-accented languages

Stress (emphasis) is placed on a syllable in a word, or on a word in a phrase/sentence. This can create a difference in word meaning, but it doesn’t have to. Stress is a combination of loudness, length, and higher pitch.

  • Example languages: English, Czech, Finnish, Classical Arabic, Quechua, Italian
  • Example words/phrases [English]:
    • On a word in a sentence (no difference in meaning) – “I REALLY like your jacket”
    • On a syllable in a word (meaning difference) –

REcord vs. reCORD
INcrease vs. inCREASE
PERmit vs. perMIT

  1. Pitch-accented languages

A syllable on a word/morpheme is accentuated by a particular pitch contour (instead of by stress). So only pitch is involved, not loudness or length. Distinct tonal patterns occur in words that otherwise look and sound the same, giving them different meanings.

  • Example languages: Norwegian, Swedish, Japanese, Turkish, Filipino, Yaqui (a Native American language)
  • Example words/phrases [Norwegian]:
    • Norwegian has two kinds of tonal accents or pitch patterns:


(Audio extracted from video by “Norwegian Teacher – Karin”)

hender – “hands” vs. hender – “happens”
ånden – “the spirit” vs. ånden – “the breath”
bønder – “farmer” vs. bønner – “beans”
været – “the weather” vs. være – “to be”

  1. Tonal languages

Each syllable of the language has an independent tone or pitch contour. Tones are used to distinguish between words (they create a difference in meaning between words that otherwise look and sound the same).

  • Example languages: Mandarin, Cantonese, Thai, Zulu, Navajo, Yucatec (a Mayan language)
  • Examples words/phrases [Mandarin]:
    • Tones combine with the syllable ma, resulting in different words:
  1. “mother” [high level tone]
  2. “hemp” [mid pitch rising to high pitch]
  3. “horse” [low with slight fall]
  4. “scold” [short, sharply falling tone]
  5. ma (an interrogative particle) [neutral, used on weak syllables]


The pitch-accent feature of Norwegian contributes to the language’s sing-song quality. Just listen to the melodiousness of Norway’s King Harald V as he gives a speech:

(Audio extracted from full NRK video)


Norwegian writing uses the same Latin alphabet as English, except that it has three additional letters at the end – æ, ø, and å. I highly recommend insist that you watch this ridiculous video to hear how the vowels are pronounced, as well as be entertained in musically nerdy fashion. (Final note: Contrary to the video’s main argument, several letters – c, q, w, x, and z – are not actually used to spell Norwegian-native words, although they’re sometimes used in loan words. One could therefore quibble that they shouldn’t count towards the alphabet size…)




[1] If you want to ogle some gorgeous macrophotography of lichens, scope out his Instagram, https://www.instagram.com/lichens_of_norway/.

[2] The ancient stave churches for some reason reminded me of True Blood (plus three of the show’s main characters, Eric, Pam, and Godric, were Swedish and Norwegian); also I was coincidentally reading The Vampire Lestat while we were there… but NO I’m not generally obsessed with vampires.

[3] This subject gets really complex. There are a lot more subtleties and distinctions than I make above.

Career interviews: Linguistics Project Manager at a branding firm

working wugs_cropped

Wugs go to work

Something I’ve been planning to post occasionally are interviews with career linguists and related language folk – especially those working outside of academia. Yes, they (we) exist! Until recently these were rare birds, but lately the numbers are growing. I credit several factors: the growth of the discipline generally; the growth of technology industries trying to wrangle natural language; globalization; and (sadly), the increasing impracticality of landing a faculty position that pays a living wage, at least in the U.S.

Another (more popular!) language and linguistics blog has been running a job interview series over the last several years as well. I encourage you to also take a look over there: Superlinguo Linguist Job Interviews.

* * * * *

I met Noah on our team of linguists at Samsung Research America. For this interview, I asked him to talk about the job he had previous to Samsung – which was at Lexicon, a branding agency based in Northern California. Lexicon has come up with brand names for some of today’s most popular products, including Blackberry, Febreze, (Subaru) Outback, Dasani, Swiffer, Pentium, and ThermaCare.


  1. What kind of work did you do at Lexicon?

I was a linguistics project manager, which basically meant that I coordinated with Lexicon’s network of linguists worldwide (85 countries with something like 50 or 60 languages represented). I basically sent them lists of names for real-time evaluation and also helped coordinate with another linguist in Quebec to prepare reports for deeper dives into particular names in order to ascertain particular issues a name might face in a target language or culture. Basically, you learn a lot of multilingual profanity doing this, and realize you shouldn’t name a company Zinda.

  1. Describe a typical day at that job.

It was a small company, so I wore whatever hats necessary. I prepared real-time and comprehensive reports, editing and working with the linguists to determine whether or not a given name that either a client had brought to us or one that we had brought would work well in a particular language, and also trying to read between the lines to figure out whether we should take a linguist’s comments at face value or do a little more digging and cross-checking, including interviews with native speakers. This was mostly done by our network, not in-house. But aside from the linguisty side, I also created names. Lots of names for lots of projects. Most of which didn’t actually make it through, but still it was a creative pursuit that stretched creativity. I also helped write a program to categorize and classify and try to ascertain good brand names using NLP [Natural Language Processing] techniques. Things like consonance, assonance, alliteration, etc. It was pretty helpful for going through our backlog of names and finding viable names to use going forward.

  1. How did your linguistics background inform that work?

Well, my fascination with language itself inherently got me the job and kept me entertained, though it would have easily, I think, been doable with some other kind of background. But creating a good name, actually looking into the science of sound symbolism, helping with a few linguistic studies. Pretty cool stuff.

  1. What did you enjoy most and/or least about the job?

I most enjoyed getting to see what kinds of things big clients were trying to market and create next. Some pretty cool things there, with an insider’s perspective as to what the market was going to look like in the future. Issues were managerial in nature, in combination with the claustrophobia that a small company can engender, but overall it was a very good way to get some experience in the field.

  1. What did you study in college and/or grad school?

Major: Linguistics. Minor: English. Minor: Business Administration (useless). Interest: everything else.

  1. What is your favorite linguistic phenomenon?

Splicing. Or whatever that thing was that we came up with as an inside joke that you should write a fake blogpost on.[1]

  1. (If you had the time) what language would you learn, and why?

ASL [American Sign Language]. As a monolingual, sign language has always fascinated me the most, oddly enough. Alas, those CSD [Communication Sciences and Disorders] students and their required classes.

  1. Do you have any advice for young people looking to pursue a career in linguistics?

Be overzealous, and marry linguistics to another discipline. In industry, you’ve got for the most part three choices: linguistics + [design, management, or computational]. Or astrobiology and linguistics if you happen to work with NASA. Might be cool. But yeah, linguistics is interdisciplinary by nature, so I assume everyone who studies it must enjoy the interplay of different subjects like I do. Oh, maybe start a computational linguistics club in undergrad when you don’t know anything about computational linguistics. It’ll make you learn, if nothing else.



[1] Noah sent me his responses long enough ago now that I cannot for the life of me remember what this was. Not that I would explain it even if I could remember, to preserve the opportunity of writing said fake blogpost. 😛