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En el video, “El acento andaluz, el primer cosa que el menciona es que esto dialecto no es de origen castellano. El dice que puedes expresar no como “no, ni, y na”. Ellos presentan características como yeismo, y aspiracion de s como “vamo” en el video. El dialecto tiene seseo y ceceo, tambien. Hay un elisión de /d/ y /r/ (uso wiki tambien)

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El acento canario, el preferido por los españoles

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El acento canario, el preferido por los españoles

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En el video, “El acento canario, el preferido por los españoles” los reporteros y gente de las islas canarias hablan sobre porque el dialecto es bueno. En un estudio, actualmente, el dialecto canario fue buscado estar el dialecto más preferido. Ellos dicen que el dialecto es muy divertido, dulce, cariñoso, afectuoso. Era interesante y peculiar a mi que eso dialecto es asociada con la sensualidad mucho. Me pienso que esto dialecto está asociada con estas características porque es muy suave. No hay “th” o /d/ fuerte con todas las personas que hablaron. El nivel de sonido con esto dialecto es más bajo también.

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El acento canario, el preferido por los españoles

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En el video, ¿como es el acento chileno?, el hablante menciona las características básicas del español chileno. Primero, es claro que el español chileno es muy rápido. Un ejemplo de eso es cuando el dice “montana” como español caribeño o mexicano y luego dice “montana” como un Chileno. En lugar de “pues” ellos dicen “po”. En muchas palabras, él explican que la primera sílaba es acentuada, como cuando el dice “como estas”. También hay un elisión de /s/ en palabras que terminan con s, y /d/ debiles existen.

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La “G” se pasó porque los romanos usaron el sonido de “G” pero no tuvieron un letra por el sonido actual. Ellos representaron el sonido de “G” con “C” pero no fue hasta que el siglo tercero que el “G” naci. La similaridad entre los dos no es una causalidad, porque G es de C.

Los romanos adopta la letra “Z” de los Griegos. Roma conquistó Grecia en el siglo segundo, y eso es cuando mucha de la lengua latín entra el griego. En resuelta, el alfabeto se vuelve más grande.

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Veintisiete letras. En ellas se resume el abecedario español desde la publicación de la nueva Ortografía de la Lengua Española. Antes eran 29, pero se han "caído" la "ch" y la "ll", que pasan de ser grafemas a ser dígrafos, palabras que parecen haber sido inventadas por el enemigo. La nueva Ortografía, en la que jugó un papel decisivo -coordinador del proyecto- el académico asturiano Salvador Gutiérrez Ordóñez, explica el origen del abecedario español. El alfabeto español viene del latín, que a su vez procede del griego. Y en medio, el alfabeto etrusco.

Los etruscos hablaban una lengua no indoeuropea, aún no descifrada del todo, y su abecedario era una especie de variante occidental del alfabeto griego. Hablamos de un pueblo asentado en la península Itálica a comienzos del primer milenio (a. C.), mucho antes de que se fundara la ciudad de Roma, génesis del Imperio. La actual provincia de la Toscana (la de Florencia, Siena, Pisa...) fue el corazón del asentamiento etrusco.

El abecedario latino estaba compuesto por 21 letras, el esqueleto del alfabeto español actual. Por cierto, todas representadas con mayúscula como mandaba la tradición romana (no es casualidad que los números romanos estén diseñados en mayúscula). En esa lista de 21 letras estaban todas las actuales menos la J, la Ñ, la U, la W, la Y y la Z. El orden de colocación en el alfabeto latino era prácticamente el mismo que el actual.

La G, por ejemplo, era algo así como una recién llegada porque los romanos siempre utilizaron la letra C para representar el fonema /g/. Fue en el siglo III (a. C.) cuando a la C se le añadió un trazo en su parte inferior y nació la G (tampoco es casualidad, por tanto, que las dos letras tengan cierto parecido ortográfico). Los romanos habían heredado de los griegos la letra Z, retirada de su abecedario cuando en su idioma, el idioma del Imperio, desapareció el fonema que la Z representaba. La Z estaba colocada entre la F y la H, y precisamente en ese hueco instalaron la nueva G.

Roma, que había bebido culturalmente de Grecia, acabó por conquistarla a mediados del siglo II (a. C.). Las armas eran de Roma, pero la cultura helénica entró a saco entre los conquistadores. Tal influencia generó una rápida incorporación al latín de numerosos términos de origen griego, lo que motivó una ampliación del abecedario. Ya hablamos antes de la Z, y ahora hay que hablar de la Y, que por algo se denomina "i griega". Roma decide incorporarlas al final de la serie y a partir del siglo I (a. C.) el alfabeto latino pasó a constar de 23 letras.

Por tanto, las letras del actual abecedario español que no formaban parte del inventario latino -leemos en la nueva Ortografía de la Real Academia Española- son la U, la J, la Ñ y la W.

Las formas de la U y la J existían ya en la escritura latina, pero como variantes respectivas de la V y la I y, de hecho, el punto sobre la J minúscula es herencia del punto sobre la I minúscula. Y como tales variantes pervivieron durante siglos. Fue a lo largo del XVI y XVII cuando el uso les dio marchamo de letras con toda autonomía. La U y la I se reservaron para los fonemas vocálicos, y la V y la J para los consonánticos. ¿Dónde instalarlas? Pues al lado de las letras a las que históricamente estuvieron vinculadas: la U, junto a la V, y la J, junto a la I.

El abecedario español estaba ya casi completo en el Siglo de Oro. A excepción de dos letras: la Ñ y la W. La Ñ tiene su origen en el dígrafo NN, abundante en el español medieval. En realidad, la Ñ es una abreviatura de ese dígrafo que poco a poco acabó convirtiéndose en letra. La pequeña raya sobre la N servía para diferenciarla de esta letra, presente en el abecedario español desde sus inicios. A esa raya superior el Diccionario de la RAE la denomina virgulilla, que está especificada como "el apóstrofo, la cedilla, la tilde de la letra ñ". La situación de la Ñ en el abecedario estaba cantada: por detrás de la letra N, de la que procede.

Y lo mismo sucedió con la letra W, la última en incorporarse al abecedario español. Una incorporación que no se decidió oficialmente hasta la publicación de la Ortografía académica de 1969. La W, para qué decirlo, es letra que procede de un dígrafo, como su nombre indica. Llega a nuestro abecedario para representar fonemas de las lenguas germánicas, pero a muchos les extrañará que ya se usara en la Edad Media en la escritura de determinados nombres extranjeros. En España, durante el tiempo en que la W estuvo en el limbo, hubo muchas palabras que trocaron la W por la V (la Ortografía de 2010 menciona, como ejemplos, las palabras vagón o váter, que acabaron consolidándose). Hoy, a nadie sorprende ver las palabras waterpolo (aunque muchos siguen expresándola con la V), sándwich (con tilde en la á, porque ya es una palabra española a todos los efectos) y, por supuesto, web, una palabra impensada hace apenas veinte años.

Así que en 1969 se completó nuestro abecedario que ahora cambia, a la baja, con la exclusión de las ya referidas Ch y Ll.

Junto a las letras heredamos sus nombres. La mayoría proviene del latín, con fórmulas fonéticas simples: añadiendo una vocal a ese sonido primigenio (ge, ce, pe, te...) o incluyendo el sonido entre vocales (efe, ele, eme...). Hay tres letras que en latín representaban el fonema /k/ que añaden vocales de apoyo distintas: son la C, la K y la Q.

La X tuvo su nombre, la "ix", la Y -que es la ípsilon griega- se quedó en "i griega" y ahora la Ortografía recomienda el cambio de denominación por el de "ye" siguiendo la norma general marcada para la mayoría de las consonantes del abecedario español. Por último, la Z es la única letra que conservó el nombre griego como tal: zeta.

Hay nombres que requieren explicación. El de la letra H, por ejemplo. Parece tener su origen en Francia, asevera la Real Academia Española, nombre que heredamos a finales de la Baja Edad Media. El nombre francés "hache" tiene que ver con el del latín vulgar "hacca" que responde al sonido aspirado de esta letra. El problema fue que ese sonido aspirado desapareció muy pronto del latín hablado.

El nombre "uve" protagoniza una de las historias más sorprendentes del idioma español. Es una denominación que no se incorpora al Diccionario oficial de la RAE hasta el año 1947, y a la Ortografía hasta 1969. Decenas de generaciones españolas estudiaron la "uve" como "u consonante" para diferenciarla de la "u vocal". En 1869 pasó a denominarse "ve" siguiendo la pauta característica de los nombres de la mayoría de las consonantes. "Durante mucho tiempo ésta fue la única denominación reconocida para la V". El nombre "uve" nace, lógicamente, de la necesidad de distinguir oralmente el nombre de las letras B y V, tal como explicó el académico asturiano Salvador Gutiérrez Ordóñez en la presentación de la Ortografía.

De la V la Ortografía recoge varias denominaciones históricas, muchas de ellas aún en vigencia en América: "uve", "ve", "ve corta", "ve chica", "ve pequeña" y "ve baja".

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Veintisiete letras. En ellas se resume el abecedario español desde la publicación de la nueva Ortografía de la Lengua Española. Antes eran 29, pero se han "caído" la "ch" y la "ll", que pasan de ser grafemas a ser dígrafos, palabras que parecen haber sido inventadas por el enemigo.

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Poema de Fernán González (estrofas 71 a 76)

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Poema de Fernán González (estrofas 71 a 76)

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Esta poema de por Fernán González es sobre el sentido y acciones de una guerra. Esto cito dame ambos de los transcripciones, medieval y moderno. En esta sección de la obra, vemos ejemplos de degeneración con los consonantes múltiples (passar-pasar, 72) y (fuesse-fuese, 75). Tambien, hay reducción de los consonantes nasales con (tienpo- tiempo, 76) y un otro vez con (conplido-cumplido, 75). El “y” cambia a “j” en (yuntados-juntarse, 76), cual es palatalización.

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III. Los musulmanes invaden España - Poema de Fernán González

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III. Los musulmanes invaden España - Poema de Fernán González. Estrofas 71 a 76 del Poema de Fernán González

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Latín vulgar, o también se llama romance común, fue un grupo de dialectos sociales de latín en el región meditariano durante el empire romano. Documentación de latín vulgar es un versión menos estandarizado que latín clásico. Todas las lenguas romances son de latín vulgar.

Latín vulgar no tuvo ortografía oficial. Muchas de las obras escritas fueron de latín clásico, y eso es un otro razón que no vemos mucha de latín vulgar.

Dado que la lengua no tuvo ortografía oficial o muchas reglas concretas, la lengua empezó a morir en el siglo tercero

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By its nature, Vulgar Latin varied greatly by region and by time period, though several major divisions can be seen. Vulgar Latin dialects began to significantly diverge from Classical Latin by the third century during the classical period of the Roman Empire.

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Hay una lengua en “Futurama”, se llama “Alienese”. En esta lengua, hay símbolos por cada de las letras del alfabeto inglés. Es más fácil a comprender y aprender porque es directamente de inglés. Sin embargo, la lengua fue cambiado a un sistema de números porque fue tan fácil. Cada símbolo tiene un valor de un número, y los mensajes son traducido al inglés. Necesita transducir el símbolo primero, y luego substrae el valor del numero que corresponde del símbolo.

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El orden VOS es una de las formas más populares en el mundo (4th). Mientras que VOS es un poco popular, hay solo dos lenguas que lo usan. Típicamente, esta usada en las lenguas de mayan y austronesiaa ascendencia. Esta forma es muy flexible entre las formas verbos-iniciales.

Hay un debate como las cláusulas de VOS están derivados, pero hay mucha evidencia que da una respuesta a esta cuestión. VOS esta derivado de SVO. El razón por la derivación no es claro, sin embargo.

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In linguistic typology, a or verb-object-agent language - commonly abbreviated VOS or VOA - is one in which the most-typical sentences arrange their elements in that order which would (in English) equate to something like "Ate oranges Sam."

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Mientras que pensamos sobre la sintaxis con lenguas que hablamos, computadoras tienen sintaxis de su propio. En la ciencia de computadoras, la sintaxis es las reglas que definen las combinaciones de símbolos que puede formar algo comprensible. Por ejemplo, cuando vemos “@”, sabemos que es un correo electrónico porque un correo electrónico tiene una sintaxis de su propio, típicamente con un nombre, un “.”, números, y un .com.

Hay cuatro partes que forman la sintaxis de una computadora, específicamente en Java. La primera cosa que haces es usa una palabra, y esa palabra estará el tipo de palabra.  Luego, creas el nombre de la variable (puede contiene números, letras y “-“). La tercera cosa que haces es da un nivel de valor a la palabra. La ultima cosa que haces es marcar el segmento con un; y eso completa el proceso.

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Welcome back to our fourth lesson in our five part series on the 5 basic concepts of any programming language. Today's concept is syntax.

What is syntax? As always, let's hop over to wiki for a quick definition:

In computer science, the syntax of a programming language is the set of rules that define the combinations of symbols that are considered to be correctly structured programs in that language.

Alright, so I would say that's almost English, but what do they mean by "combinations of symbols that are correctly structured"? Well, I would choose a different word than symbols. I would define syntax to be a particular layout of words and symbols. An example of this in the case of Java would be round brackets (), curly brackets {}, and variables, among other things. Think of it like this, when you look at an email address (i.e. john.smith@company.com), you can immediately identify the fact that it's an email address right? So why is that? Why does your brain make the connection that it's an email address, and not, say, a website address? Well, it's because an email address has a particular syntax. You need some combination of letters and numbers, potentially with underscores (_) or periods (.) in between, followed by an at (@) symbol, followed by a website domain (company.com) That is a defined combination of letters and symbols that are considered correct structure in the "language" of the internet and email addresses. So, syntax in a programming language is much the same, there are a set of rules that are in place, which when you follow them, allows your programming language to understand you and allow you to create some piece of functioning software. But, if you don't abide by the rules of a programming languages' syntax, you'll get errors 🙁

How about an example of syntax in Java? Well you've seen it already back when we talked about variables and control structures. To define a variable in Java, you need to do this:

There are four parts to the syntax of creating a variable in Java. The first is the word , this is the variable's type. Remember when we talked about variable types in the first part of this series? I mentioned , and , three different variable types that allow you to store three different kinds of data. A in this case, allows you to store regular letters and special characters. The second part to this variable creation syntax is the variable name, in this case I arbitrarily chose helloVariable. I could have just as easily chosen holyCowThisIsAVariableName. Variable names can be made up of letters and numbers, but the only special characters they can contain are underscores (_). They also usually start with a lower case letter, they don't have to, but that's kind of an accepted and suggested convention (at least in the Java world). The third part of the syntax for creating a variable is the value that the variable will hold. In this case, we have a variable, so we have the value "Hello Everyone!" . In java, Strings are defined by wrapping regular letters/numbers/special characters in quotes (" "). Again, that's just the syntax that Java uses. The last part of this syntax, is the part that marks this particular code segment as being complete. In Java, we use the semi-colon (;) to mark a part of our code as complete. You will see that almost every line of code in Java will end with a semi-colon (;). There are certain exceptions to this, for example control structures aren't marked with semi-colons, as they use curly braces to make their beginning and end. Think of it like putting a period at the end of every sentence. If we didn't put a period, we would just have one long unstructured run on sentence, and that wouldn't help us to understand anything that's being said.

So, as I mentioned before, the syntax of any programming language will likely be your biggest hurdle as a new developer, but as you see more and more examples of code and are introduced to more and more syntax in the language, you will become comfortable. There is good news though, as people have realized that dealing with syntax can be tough, so certain companies (or groups of enthusiasts, a.k.a nerds) have created tools to help us with the syntax of programming languages. These tools are called IDEs, or, Integrated Development Environments, which you can download onto your computer and use to create programs. These IDEs have built in syntax checkers (much like the grammar checker in MS Word) that will let you know if your syntax is incorrect, and will even give you hints with what it thinks you meant to put! So don't you worry, I'll cover those tools in the next section of this 5 part series.

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So, let's sum up. In today's post, we have learned that syntax just means that there's a " correct" way to write down your code, and that this allows the programming language understand what it is that you're trying to tell it to do. Unfortunately for us, computer's can't read our minds (yet!) and know what it is that we want them to do, so some very smart people have created this "computer language" that, when understood by programmers, allows us to tell the computer what actions we would like it to carry out... whether that action be to send a bill payment to our credit card company, or to play a game of poker online with a virtual table full of strangers. Syntax is our systematic way to talk to a computer and convey our wishes.

I hope I have taken a little bit of mystery out of the term syntax, and I look forward to teaching you about our final subject... tools! A developer's best friend 🙂

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The 5 Basic Concepts of any Programming Language - Concept #4 - How to Program with Java

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Welcome back to our fourth lesson in our five part series on the 5 basic concepts of any programming language. Today's concept is syntax. Variables Control Structures Data Structures Syntax Tools What is syntax? As always, let's hop over to wiki for a quick definition: In computer science, the syntax of a programming language is the set of ...

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En este artículo, el autor describe cual lenguas tiene géneros y las alternativas a lenguas con géneros. El menciona que Finís, Hurgarían, y la mayoría de las ingles. También, hay tres genros en German, que se llama masculino, femenina, y “nueter”. El ultimo genero identifica objetos y cosas. En los sesentas, Las suecos deriva el genero neutral “hen” en lugar de el y ella. Es interesante porque vemos esto hoy en los estados unidos y muchos países diferentes

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French can be a funny old language. Anyone who's learned it will have, at some point, read a phrase like "Bernard and his sisters, have they [masculine] arrived yet?" or "Madame le Ministre" and stifled a giggle. But it's far from trivial, if we acknowledge how language shapes our world.

British francophone journalist Alex Taylor described his despair when, as a child, he discovered that even the most neutral objects, devoid of any symbolic connotation, had a gender. He stared in vain at the table in front of him, trying to find a trace of feminine elegance.

Why these arbitrary gender assignations - and why does the masculine gender tend to have right of way?

Useful Or Not?

If the distinction between masculine and feminine seems perfectly normal to French speakers (and perfectly bizarre to English speakers), we would do well to remember that every language has its own peculiar approach to gender. Sometimes it doesn't exist at all, as with the Finno-Ugric languages: these do not distinguish between masculine and feminine, but rather between animate and inanimate, as do Slavic languages. If a Hungarian or a Finn speaks of how their grandmother told stories, they speak of "it" and not "her." Basque, Estonian, Turkish, and to an extent Mandarin, all completely ignore gender.

Looking more closely, it's easy to see why the animate/inanimate distinction preceded the masculine/feminine. Why? Quite simply because the latter was not useful, argues Antoine Meillet, one of the principle linguists of the 20th century. He cites as proof the chaos that reigned between different languages, which demonstrates that we cannot derive the gender of a word from its "real" characteristics. Why should a key be masculine in German ( der Schlüssel) but feminine in French ( la clé)? Another indicator is the occasional discord between "grammatical" and "natural" gender, such as the German word for a young girl, Mädchen, which is in fact neuter. (Or, to quote Mark Twain: "In German, a young lady has no sex, while a turnip has.")

Such differences between languages are evident, but the real mystery of gender can be seen even within a language. It's easy enough to see a symbolic link with grammatical gender in the case of, say, mother earth ( la terre in French and feminine in most languages). But then how on earth does a banana ( la banane) evoke a feminine figure? One might almost, ahem, consider it a rather masculine noun.

Hence why many linguists refuse to see our experience of the world reflected in grammatical gender. It can be useful for specifying a situation, but often not in a general context. Another French example: nobody gets their nose too out of joint with a phrase like " les lions chassent " (the lions hunt), except that it's the lionesses who are actually doing the charging. But the Finns, with their lack of gender, have a simple solution: they simply add a "male, female, man, woman" to the noun whenever necessary.

And God Created Man - And The Feminine Gender

Efforts to reconstruct a theoretical Proto-Indo-European language, the supposedly prehistoric reconstruction of our current European languages, tend to show that animate/inanimate was the primary distinction. This is typical of an animist vision of the world, of a time when rituals and beliefs were strongly attached to the natural elements. The distinction disappeared bit by bit, ceding place to masculine and feminine, just as monotheistic religions were replacing animistic beliefs. Whereas the feminine was strongly associated with notions of force and power in pagan times, monotheistic religions associated them with masculinity. Arent J. Wensinck and Jean Markale are among the scholars who have put forth this idea, but it remains difficult to prove.

Much more evident and retrospectively traceable is the gradual dominance of the male gender. In Greek and Latin, the Rule of Proximity decided grammatical accord. (Basically, this says that the verb is governed by the element nearest to it, e.g. in the sentence "There was neither ice-cream nor chocolates at the party." You can say "was" instead of "were" here because ice-cream is singular. Got it? Never mind.) Under this logic, a Frenchman could write " ces phénomènes et créatures dangereuses " - as a Quebecois can, incidentally - but unfortunately under modern French grammatical rules, he can't. In 1675 the delicate ears of l'Abbé Bouhours were so affronted by this offense to the noble masculine gender - if both masculine and feminine were present, surely the adjective could not decline to the feminine! - that from that day forth, the masculine gender ruled the French roost.

Gender - A History Of Culture

So it seems that grammatical gender is not primarily linked to our experience of the world. Neither does it seem to be born of a true communicative need. It is instead a story of historical evolution, influenced by grammar, certainly, but above all by culture.

The linguistic diversity of the world bears witness to the fact that grammatical gender is not universally perceived in the same way. Quite the contrary. Between Finnish and Hungarian which have no genders, German that juggles three and English that retains gender for people and lumps everything else into the ubiquitous "it" category, everyone's got their own unique take. But tastes change. Swedish has proved that far from being eternal, the structure of a language is quite capable of evolving in tandem with social norms. The neutral personal pronoun " hen" was first suggested as an alternative to "he" and "she" in the 1960s. Hen has gained popularity since then, and can even be heard on radio and seen in newspapers. It's now used as a pronoun for non-binary people and in instances where a person's gender need not be mentioned. Out of need for a new pronoun, one was invented; perhaps it will help emancipate the language from too binary a vision of the world.

"Language... is quite simply fascist," said Roland Barthes, a sentence that asserts the real, concrete power of language, sweeping aside the argument that a debate over grammatical gender is merely trivial. Yet if gender is not born out of real life experience, it nevertheless shapes our vision of the world: isn't it time we reconsidered the ideological values of how we use gender?

As for whether Shakespeare would have seen the moon as masculine or feminine... the mystery remains.

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French can be a funny old language. Anyone who's learned it will have, at some point, read a phrase like "Bernard and his sisters, have they [masculine] arrived yet?" or "Madame le Ministre" and stifled a giggle. But it's far from trivial, if we acknowledge how language shapes our world.

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Palabras de bebes y desarrollo (diminutivos)CAP3 

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Palabras de bebes y desarrollo (diminutivos)CAP3 

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En este artículo, el autor menciona como las palabras diminutivas como kitty, doggy, bunny ayuda con el desarrollo de palabras. La primera cosa que ayuda es que muchas lenguas tienen diminutivas que tiene terminas limitados como “-y” en inglés. La segunda cosa que ayuda es el estrés de los silabas claras. En kitty, ki siempre tiene el estrés, y en puppy es pu. En español, el estrés es en el silabo medio, como aguita con gui. Esto ayuda con el segmentación de palabras y como identifica que es una palabra

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Diferencia entre lenguas sintéticas y analizados  CAP3

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Diferencia entre lenguas sintéticas y analizados  CAP3

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En este artículo, el autor enfoque su obra en la diferencia básica entre lenguas sintéticas y lenguas analizados. La primera cosa que el menciona es que lenguas sintéticas tienen un nivel de morfema alta, y, en contra, lenguas analizados tienen un nivel de morfema baja. Lenguas analizadas usan sintaxis a demuestra un mensaje, y se depende en contexto. Lenguas de África y China son ejemplos de lenguas analizadas. Lenguas sintéticas, en contra, se depende en el uso de morfemas en un idioma. Básicamente, es más fácil a cambiar fonéticas y morfemas en lenguas sintéticas

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Analytic Languages vs Synthetic Languages

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Analytic languages use syntax to convey information that is encoded via inflection in synthetic languages. In other words, word order is not significant and morphology is highly significant in a purely synthetic language, whereas morphology is not significant and syntax is highly significant in an analytic language.

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En este artículo, el autor enfoque en la importancia de iconicidad para niños que son aprendiendo sobre las palabras. Iconicidad ayuda con la comunicación cuando objetos no son allí para los niños y facilita la habilidad a comunicar en el primer lugar. La iconicidad promueve las habilidades sensoriales. Las maneras de iconicidad común son onomatopeyas como “boom” o “meow”, y los gestos de los manos.

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Understanding how children acquire language is one of great challenges for the social sciences with critical implications for education and for intervention in atypically developing children. Vocabulary learning is a core part of language development and is characterised as a particularly hard problem: How do children know that the sounds people make with their mouths are 'words' and that they are names for objects, actions or properties? The assumption that words are only arbitrarily linked to objects and actions in the world (i.e., there is nothing in the sound of 'cat' that brings to the mind's eye what a cat looks like, how it moves etc) makes the task of learning words especially hard: how can the correct object be found in a visually cluttered world (when the object is one among many present), or worse, when the object is absent from the immediate environment? We argue that language is, in addition to being indisputably arbitrary, also fundamentally iconic (i.e. maintaining transparent links between spoken form and meaning) and that arbitrariness and iconicity coexist to aid learning in different ways. In particular, iconicity would provide powerful cues to support learning, especially when communication concerns objects and events not visually present, by bringing some of their sensory-motor properties to the mind's eye (e.g., when a caregiver elongates the vowel in "taaall" to refer to a very tall person).

Language has potential for iconicity in different channels of expression. First, iconicity can be found in the phonology of words, e.g. in onomatopoeia such as 'meow' or 'drip'. Moreover, co-speech gestures, hand movements made by speakers can evoke the shape or movement of objects being talked about, and prosody (as in the 'tall' example) both have a high potential for iconic mappings. We ask: (1) Do caregivers use iconicity (in phonology, gestures, and/or prosody) in their input to children? (2) Does iconicity aid children's word learning? (3) Is iconicity especially useful when talking about objects which are absent in immediate environment? These questions are addressed in a complementary series of studies using naturalistic observation, semi-naturalistic methods, and standard experiments that assess iconicity in the speech, gestures, and prosody of caregivers and children aged 2-3 years. We focus on this age as it is a time of remarkable vocabulary growth in which communication is often about things not present in the immediate environment (happened before, or even imaginary), and at which children understand and produce iconic gestures. In Strand 1, we take advantage of Prof. Goldin- Meadow's unique corpus of caregiver-child conversations in order to assess the presence of iconic cues in caregivers and their correlation with vocabulary measures taken later in life (at school entry). In Strand 2, we complement this data with collecting a semi-naturalistic audio-visual corpus of caregiver-child interactions in which objects to be talked about are present or not, and these objects may be known to the child or be novel (in order to assess learning for new label-referent pairs). This corpus will be annotated along similar lines as the naturalistic corpus in order to assess the presence of iconicity in caregivers' communication. Finally, in Strand 3 we ask whether iconic cues in the input are causally linked to learning by experimentally manipulating the presence and kind of iconic cues (and the channel in which they occur) in learning novel words. As this research has the potential for important impact on learning and development in the early foundational years, we will actively involve educators and developmental speech-and-language therapists by setting up a researcher-practitioner network to disseminate and discuss implications of research within the community of practitioners.

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The Role of Iconicity in Language Learning - Language and Cognition Lab

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Understanding how children acquire language is one of great challenges for the social sciences with critical implications for education and for intervention in atypically developing children. Vocabulary learning is a core part of language development and is characterised as a particularly hard problem: How do children know that the sounds people make with their mouths ...

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el proceso de palabras en el diccionario 

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el proceso de palabras en el diccionario 

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En este artículo, el autor describe las etapas por una palabra se vuelve una palabra “real”. El primer cosa que el autor menciona es que los editores del diccionario busquen palabras que han sido en fuentes conocidos—como periódicos y revistas. La próxima etapa que ellos toman es que ellos citan las palabras  (hay diez y siete millones de citaciones). Luego los editores buscan para la frecuencia de la palabra usada y estúdiala. También, al artículo menciona que las palabras que no son en el diccionario son palabras reales. En realidad, no hay algo que hace una palabra “real”, pero hay un proceso de buscando palabras por las diccionarios.

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A while ago, the people at Grammarly asked us a question: has the Internet changed the pace at which new words enter the dictionary? Do we enter new words more quickly now? The answer was so interesting that we ended up writing a series of articles on slang in the dictionary. Today, we'll begin with the obvious: How does any word get into the dictionary? Next, we'll look at the earliest dictionaries to include slang, and our third installment will focus specifically on the Internet and the dictionary.
Click here to see the infographic that accompanies this story.
Dictionaries have always been data-driven. A dictionary isn't an idea museum, it's a user's manual for communication.
So how does a word get into the dictionary?
A word gets into a dictionary when it is used by many people who all agree that it means the same thing. If your toddler nephew invented a great word that the English language simply can't do without, don't write to us to recommend that it be added to the dictionary. Use it. First, you drop the word into your conversation and writing, then others pick it up; the more its use spreads, the more likely it will be noticed by dictionary editors, or lexicographers. If your nephew's word is one that English speakers decide we need, it has a good chance of getting into the dictionary.
This is what dictionary editors do all day
Dictionary editors read actively, looking for changes in the language. To find vocabulary that has entered mainstream life-terms like bucket list or sexting or unfriend, we look at sites and publications with wide national readership. For words that begin as specialized vocabulary but might become more common over time, we look at medical, industry, and tech journals for words like obesogenic and fracking. Captions for comic strips have lots of words that are more frequently spoken than written. It all adds up.
We collect citations of new words
Each example of a word becomes a citation that is collected with its context and source and then keyed into a searchable database that constitutes the first stage of research for the dictionary. These hand-chosen examples form a unique corpus that is the raw form of the dictionary-they provide both the evidence of a word's use and the basis for extracting a definition from the way the word is used in the citation. We collect new words as well as new ways of using old words, which can be much harder to detect. We have nearly 17 million such citations.
Next, we research how widely a new word is used
We search through other databases that include millions of words in the form of complete articles, books, and speech. We're looking for three criteria: frequent use, widespread use, and meaningful use. Frequent means that the word is used that way over time. If it's a trendy flash in the pan that comes and goes, we don't enter it into the dictionary. Widespread usually means that the word is used by people across industries or regions, in other words that an average adult is likely to encounter the word and need to know what it means. Meaningful should be obvious, but it isn't, always. Famously, the "longest word in the dictionary" isn't actually a word by these standards, because it's never used to mean what it seems to describe. It's only used as an example of a very long word. It's not in our dictionary.

The definer must judge whether there is enough evidence to put a new word in; that judgment will be reviewed by more senior colleagues as the dictionary moves through the editorial process, but there's no committee, no advocacy, no meetings for new word inclusion. If a word seems promising but shows insufficient evidence for inclusion this time around, those citations will be reviewed for the next edition, at which time the word may have flourished-or vanished.
Some "new" words are already in the dictionary
New words like hashtag and selfie get a lot of attention, but many of the new words we add are new meanings of words that are already staples in our language: think of the recent meanings of mouse and cookie that have nothing to do with rodents or baked goods. The Internet-specific senses of lurk and browse built upon the existing meanings of those terms. A verb that we use every day, access, was first entered in the Collegiate Dictionary in 1973, and a specific reference to computers was added in 1993. These words may not make headlines, but they're just as important as words that are newly coined.
What about words that don't make it into the dictionary?
They're still real words! Many words that aren't widespread enough to make it into the dictionary-words that are particular to a region or profession or even a family-are perfectly good words; it's just unlikely that a person outside that area or group would encounter them. For now.
Next: Slang and the Dictionary Need to check how you're using new words? Try Grammarly (it's free).

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A while ago, the people at Grammarly asked us a question: has the Internet changed the pace at which new words enter the dictionary? Do we enter new words more quickly now? The answer was so interesting that we ended up writing a series of articles on slang in the dictionary.

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el experimento de lenguaje con Nim Chimpsky 

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el experimento de lenguaje con Nim Chimpsky 

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En las setentas, un psicólogo se llama Herbert Terrece empezó el proyecto “Nim”. El objetivo del experimento fue ver si un chimpancé podría aprender ASL como una lengua. El enfoque fue.. lengua o lenguaje? Mientras que Nim tuvo la habilidad hace signos, fue difícil decir es “lengua”. La situación fue similar a Washoe, y en muchas casos, Washoe fue más desarrollado con sus palabras.

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Nim's story begins at the research facility in Oklahoma that was founded by the notorious Dr. William Lemmon. Early in his academic career chimpanzees became the focus of Lemmon's lifelong research, and helped to make him - for a time --the most prominent psychologist in Oklahoma. Over several decades, he authored many of the state's mental health policies, helped to shape numerous public programs, and virtually founded the clinical psychology department at the University of Oklahoma (OU), where he remains a legendary figure thanks to his early chimpanzee experiments. From its inception until its demise, Lemmon ran the Institute for Primate Studies (IPS), the place where Nim Chimpsky was born. Lemmon bred and owned Nim. As a result, the psychologist was responsible, often behind the scenes, for every major event that shaped the chimp's life, both before and after Project Nim.

Virtually everyone who ever had anything to do with Lemmon (Bill, as he was called) or his chimpanzees came away with strong feelings about the psychologist, but what those feelings were varied considerably. Some loved Lemmon, some despised him, and some still won't speak about him at all because it's just too painful. Lemmon, who has been dead for more than two decades, remains a controversial figure in Norman and the wider primate world, where his unconventional methods of animal husbandry and research are often attacked. He ruled his chimpanzees with an electric cattle prod, as many unenlightened keepers still do, and tried every possible disciplinary technique, including shock collars, all kinds of guns, and a pair of Doberman pinschers trained to tree escapees. (This last was not an effective method; the chimps dominated the dogs and ripped one of them apart.) When asked by a friend, "How do you discipline a chimpanzee?" Lemmon responded, "Any way you can."

The chimps learned to respect their keeper. Lemmon's graduate students also understood their place. One claims that he locked her in a cage inhabited by a few adult chimps, just to see her reaction. She survived to tell the story, one of many about the sadistic pleasure Lemmon took in pushing people to the edge. Lemmon's proteges, employees, and patients all worshipped him - or fled.

Still, however much he was feared by both his experimental animals and his students, Lemmon was one of a very few researchers in the 1960s who had any expertise in raising and breeding chimpanzees in captivity, where they rarely survived or reproduced. Lemmon and his carefully selected graduate students studied chimpanzee mating habits, sexuality, and social development, and they even collected data on the personalities of individual chimps. Unfortunately for Lemmon, and for the field in general, little of this research, apart from a handful of articles, was ever published. Lemmon's vast knowledge of chimpanzees mostly benefited those who became members of his prestigious inner circle in Norman. Ultimately, the scientific community labeled his work "anecdotal," their way of deeming it worthless. For better or worse, he was an outsider who was destined to remain on the margins because he refused to maintain his academic status by regularly publishing his results or writing books. In the long run, this arrogance did not serve him or his animals well. But in the short run, it made IPS, known as the "chimp farm," a compelling place for students to cut their teeth on primatology.

Lemmon was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1916. A prodigy of sorts, from a working-class family, he earned his doctorate at Ohio State University, where he studied with Carl Rogers. The promising young psychologist had a background in biology and a passion for the theories of Sigmund Freud. By twenty-eight, Lemmon had married, fathered three children, and become the director of clinics in the psychology department at the University of Maryland. There he fell in love with one of his graduate students and moved on to the next chapter of his life.

Dorothy Lemmon - known as Dottie - met her husband-to-be in a classroom, where she found herself enthralled by his erudite lectures, liberally sprinkled with literary references and stories about his personal experiences. Dottie was said to have had a Mona Lisa smile and a dark, mysterious appeal. After Lemmon divorced his first wife he and Dottie promptly moved to Norman in 1945, where Bill had been offered a position in the department of psychology at OU, and where they had two children, Peter and Sally. Dottie, like her mentor and husband, became a clinical psychologist. But she opened an office at a local mental health center, maintaining as much distance as possible from Lemmon's university sphere. Throughout her life, Dottie's carefully nurtured independence from her powerful husband was critical to her emotional survival. She had her own practice, her own friends, and even her own plants-in a greenhouse where her husband was not welcome to dig around. He had a greenhouse too, separate from hers, where there was more than enough dirt.

However, the greenhouses, as well as the chimpanzees, came later in the marriage, some years after the Lemmons found an affordable farm, which they bought in 1957. Located on the outskirts of Norman, on East Lindsey Road, it was a private paradise just a short distance from the OU campus. The original wooden farmhouse, built in 1907, was far up on a hill, at the end of a long, winding driveway, surrounded by 140 acres of meadows, woods, and ponds. There were few amenities-the house had no bathroom or running water-but the land was spacious and ideal for farm animals, or any other kind of animals. At the time Lemmon bought the farm, animal behavior and comparative psychology had already become the focus of his research, and he envisioned turning the place into a research institute, which he would stock with multiple species. He promptly began to design one, which was constructed over a period of years, as funds became available.

Although Lemmon supplemented his university income with money from a highly successful private practice, as a professor in the 1960s he made a modest salary, so it took some time for his dream to become a reality. Meanwhile, he started to purchase exotic birds and small mammals the way other people buy baseball cards or stamps, grabbing one of each kind to round out their collections. By the early 1960s, the Institute for Primate Studies had come into existence on Lemmon's farm, and moving there enabled the psychologist to add more birds as well as border collies, spider monkeys, gibbons, sheep-and anything else he could get his hands on. Lemmon liked to purchase one or preferably two of each species, Noah's ark-style, so that they would breed and he could scrutinize their mating habits, gestation periods, and physical and psychological details of reproduction. He sold the resulting offspring to other researchers or gave them away to friends. On occasion, he did more elaborate, and less humane, behavioral experiments on his animals. The farm allowed him to be more ambitious. Hidden away from OU, Lemmon had a new sense of freedom.

Over the years, the old wooden farmhouse was transformed into a modern residence covered with a pinkish stucco surface, and other buildings were constructed to house Lemmon's growing menagerie. The animals appeared content and well cared for. The grounds were dotted with jerry-rigged pens and numerous gardens where flowers, fruit trees, and vegetables were plentiful. Both Lemmons were amateur horticulturists, in their separate greenhouses, and the farm, though not a lavish place, had a genuine elegance of sorts, a seedy rustic charm.

Lemmon's popularity as a professor and a psychotherapist grew as rapidly as his farm. Well known on campus for his idiosyncrasies, he was admired by his students for his refusal to conform to convention-in either the academy or his personal life - regardless of the consequences. Even Lemmon's attire challenged university standards. At a time when most OU professors wore jackets and ties to class, Lemmon, a proto-beatnik, wore leather sandals over bare feet and shaved his head; he had wild bushy eyebrows and a well-trimmed goatee. During cold spells, the professor donned a belted trench coat, the collar flipped up, as if he were a spy. Typical OU faculty members dressed up, not down; they also did not keep cobalt-blue hyacinth macaws, the largest species of parrot in the world, in their campus offices.

Not surprisingly, Lemmon was a target from the very beginning of his time in Norman, where everything he did was noticeably different from what other professors were doing. Already in 1946, the dean of the university was asking Lemmon (in a letter on official stationery) to wear socks and shave off his signature goatee, as people were beginning to "think he was eccentric." Lemmon continued to wear his sandals barefoot but immediately shaved off his goatee - and grew it right back.

But the problems between the charismatic Lemmon and the conservative university, which started early and escalated for years, went far deeper than surface appearances. The more consequential trouble had to do with Lemmon's academic views, the radical nature of his chimpanzee research, and the highly irregular relationships he fostered among his students, his colleagues in the clinical psychology department, and even the patients in his private practice. Lemmon, inhabiting some parallel chimp universe, had much in common with Alfred Kinsey. He shared Kinsey's intensity, his originality, his love of controversy - and his interest in sexuality. By the 1970s, Lemmon was doing research on clitoral orgasms in female chimpanzees. Operating on the cutting edge, he exerted a magnetic effect on many of those in his sphere of influence, who saw him as a visionary, a leader. Lemmon, however, would never make a significant contribution to his field. His ideas were often too far out to be fundable - even if they were in fact doable.

Eccentric as he was, no one could deny Lemmon's popularity on campus, which irked other professors in the psychology department. Undergraduates lined up to get into his famous introductory courses, and graduate students clamored for acceptance into his program, known as the Psychological Clinic, to undergo Lemmon's intensive training program for therapists. Lemmon wanted only the brightest, most devoted acolytes, and in a grueling process of selection he handpicked each student for the program. Other professors competed for the same students and lost. For students, getting a green light from the master therapist was equivalent to a coveted membership in a club.

Lemmon turned the Psychological Clinic into his headquarters. The clinic operated out of a building on a separate area of campus known as South Base, which was a short distance from the main campus, and Lemmon ran it virtually as his own private enterprise. Home to his delightful macaw as well as other research animals he occasionally brought in for observation, it had an atmosphere the students found exotic and appealing. Lemmon's students functioned almost like a cult, supporting each other and worshipping their leader. They filled his workshops to capacity, used him as an advisor for every decision large and small, and longed for hands-on time with his endlessly fascinating, not to mention highly amusing, chimps, who began showing up in Norman in the early 1960s. An invitation to Lemmon's "home" - IPS - was a badge of honor.

Lemmon had a mystique, an aura, which attracted students looking for inspiration, guidance, or perhaps just a father figure. Students literally scrambled to get physically near him, and some even emulated his personal habits. If Lemmon smoked a certain brand of cigarette in class, his students switched to that brand. Once he conducted an experiment to see how far they would go to imitate him. Lemmon began smoking big stinky cigars - and observed that the smokers in his entourage did the same.

As a prerequisite for entrance into his clinical program, Lemmon's students had to undergo psychotherapy or some alternative therapy with a faculty member or with the master himself. Lemmon, of course, was the most revered and feared therapist of all. Students were often both therapist and patient, simultaneously in therapy with one of their professors while treating one of their peers. The interior of Lemmon's building on South Base looked more like a real clinic than an academic setting. There were small offices, each one with a couch, where Lemmon and his graduate students saw private, paying patients in between classes and training sessions, day and night. Other professors, along with associates, often moonlighted in the building to augment their modest academic salaries. Some of the professors who didn't moonlight charged those who did with unethical conduct in an academic building.

Lemmon never took his opposition, mostly experimental psychologists in the department, too seriously. But ignoring his critics did not make them go away. They scrutinized Lemmon's program ever more carefully in an effort to gather ammunition to destroy it and snatch his students. Lemmon's conservative colleagues wanted to see some rats and pigeons and some grants to support them, not to mention an end to the lucrative therapy sessions, which they viewed as a disgrace to the department. Lemmon had no intention of preaching the theories of B. F. Skinner, or what he called "rat science." He was a Freudian, which was unusual for a clinical psychologist. Even more unusual, he did Freudian-type research on his chimpanzees, hoping to explore their early development and how their personalities formed.

Lemmon was best known in Norman for his highly successful chimp breeding program and for his long-term cross-fostering experiments, which began in 1962 with the purchase of his first two chimpanzees, Pan (born in Ghana) and Wendy (born in Sierra Leone). The young chimps, a year old when they arrived, were raised in the Lemmons' home with their two human children, Peter and Sally, ages eleven and ten. (Three half siblings from their father's first marriage made periodic visits.) Peter Lemmon, who remembers Pan and Wendy fondly, describes them as "his first two hairy brothers and sisters." There would be many more.

Convinced that comparative studies between humans and chimpanzees would lead to new insights into the evolution of the human brain, something researchers still knew very little about, Lemmon wanted to find out everything he possibly could about chimpanzee behavior and early development. The key, he believed, was raising the chimps in human homes, where their "humanness" could be reinforced and made more distinct and observable. Lemmon planned to cultivate a colony of human-raised chimps that were kept isolated from members of their own species, and a parallel colony of chimps reared by their natural mothers and living in a large social group. When in a whimsical mood, he wondered, occasionally to the press, whether or not chimps could learn to talk, understand the value of a dollar, or drive cars. As of yet no one had proved otherwise. Chimp genetics, DNA forensics, the discovery of AIDS, the Endangered Species Act, and Project Nim were still years ahead.

Pan and Wendy were the beginning of all Lemmon's aspirations. For their first few years, the young chimps were attention magnets and about as big a novelty in Oklahoma as the first Model T. People had seen a few chimps in movies or on television but never up close and personal. Eager to show them off, Lemmon allowed those he trusted to hold them and interact with them, which was a rare treat. His chosen students lined up to help collect detailed data, sometimes hour by hour, on Pan and Wendy's development. They were magnificent ambassadors for their species, and simultaneously remarkably like human children, which made them infinitely endearing. Lemmon's associates had adopted all kinds of animals in his wake, mostly exotic birds and monkeys, and now they wanted their own chimps too. Lemmon, eager to collect more data for his research, set out to bring more chimps to Norman.
Excerpted from Nim Chimpsky by Elizabeth Hess Copyright © 2008 by Elizabeth Hess. Excerpted by permission of Bantam, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Project Nim was a research study conducted in the 1970s meant to find out if a chimpanzee could learn to sign. The study's chimp -- named Nim Chimpsky -- lived in a Manhattan brownstone with a family who could teach him sign language.

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 La percepción auditiva y fonética en los niños con el desorden apraxia

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 La percepción auditiva y fonética en los niños con el desorden apraxia

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En este artículo, el autor describe un experimento entre niños con apraxia y niños/adultos normales. Dos experimentos fueran conducidos. En el primer experimento, vocales fueran construido con frecuencias de valuaciones extremas, pero fue remplazado con vocales neutrales. En el segundo experimento, las resultas fueran presentado a los niños con apraxia y los niños sin apraxia. Juntos, ambos de los experimentos demuestran que los niños con apraxia tuvieron percepción baja de vocales y la fonética. El parte del experimento enfocado en discriminación muestran percepción baja de las funciones auditivas también.

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Auditory and phonetic perception of vowels in children with apraxic speech disorders. - PubMed - NCBI

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Clin Linguist Phon. 2003 Sep;17(6):447-67. Research Support, Non-U.S. Gov't

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 Fonología y fonética en el bilingüismo (solo introducción)   

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 Fonología y fonética en el bilingüismo (solo introducción)   

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En este artículo, el autor esta enfocado en la dificultad de sonidos para un idioma nuevo. El menciona que, en muchas lenguas, hay muchos sonidos que no existen en otras lenguas.  En resuelta de esa, los sonidos y estructuras no son tan natural por ellos porque ellos no tienen experiencia con el sonido. Sin embargo, cuando alguien obtiene fluidez en una lengua y no usa su lengua materna, ellos retienen un acento extranjero en su lengua materna. Muchas personas crean que esa se pase porque las lenguas interactúan juntos y que ellos no pueden elegir su cerebro procesa las lenguas

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date: 04 February 2019

Abstract and Keywords

This chapter provides a selective overview of recent research on the phonetics and phonology of bilingualism. The central idea put forth in the chapter is that, in bilingualism and second-language learning, cross-language categories are involved in complex interactions that can take many forms, including assimilations and dissimilations. The sound categories of the two languages of a bilingual seem to coexist in a common representational network and appear to be activated simultaneously in the processing of speech in real time, but some degree of specificity is attested. The chapter then goes on to explore some of the characteristics of cross-language sound interactions, including the fact that these interactions are pliable and appear to be mediated by the structure of the lexicon.

Keywords: phonetics, phonology, bilingualism, cross-language, phonemes, contrasts, acoustics, lexicon, speech perception, spoken-word recognition

Introduction

People who learn a second language in adulthood often struggle to acquire new sound categories (i.e., sounds that exist only in the target language), new sound contrasts (i.e., phonological distinctions present only in the target language), and/or new detailed articulatory and perceptual habits. These difficulties are, for the most part, predictable from the structure of the first or native language of the learners ( Lado, 1957). Even proficient bilinguals often retain a "foreign" accent after many years of experience with their non-native language (e.g., Oyama, 1976; Flege, Yeni-Komshian, and Liu, 1999). A reasonable conclusion is that the first language of bilinguals interacts with the second one. This view, which has by now been corroborated by manifold empirical studies, was articulated as early as 1939 by N. Trubetzkoy, who claimed that bilinguals' difficulties with the sounds of their non-native language are due to their "incorrect evaluations" of the non-native sounds, which in turn are caused by "the differences between the phonological structure of the foreign language and the mother tongue of the speaker" ( Trubetzkoy [1939] 1969: 55). Interlingual interactions are operationalized in all modern theories of second-language phonetics and phonology, such as the Speech Learning Model (Flege, 1995, 2007), the extension of the Perceptual Assimilation Model to include second-language learning ( Best and Tyler, 2007), and the Second Language Linguistic Perception model ( Escudero, 2005). For Trubetzkoy, native phonology serves as a "sieve" with which listeners evaluate perceived sounds. Second-language learners and bilinguals seem to use the "sieve" of their native language to process the sounds of their second language. It may thus be said that the first language interferes with the second one. Interlingual interactions are the focus of the present chapter, and these have been detected in early proficient bilinguals as well as in adult foreign-language learners, in children as well as in adults, in speech production data as well as in speech perception data.

The majority of empirical studies on bilingualism support a view according to which the two languages of a bilingual are integrated. The processing of a bilingual's two languages is also nonselective. Research on visual and spoken-word recognition in bilinguals, for instance, suggests that the two lexicons are stored in a common space or network. The process of finding words during reading or auditory comprehension does not proceed in a language-selective manner, but activates words from both languages simultaneously (cf. Dijkstra, 2007). The following example from the literature on bilingual spoken-word recognition is very illustrative. In a series of studies V. Marian and M. Spivey ( Spivey and Marian, 1999; Marian and Spivey, 2003a, 2003b) tested Russian‒English bilinguals on their auditory comprehension of English words using the visual world paradigm. Participants were asked to interact with a collection of objects placed on a table while wearing a head-mounted eye tracker. The participants' looks to the objects were captured upon their hearing of a particular instruction such as: Put the marker below the cross. The participants had simultaneous access to four objects. One of the objects was the target object (the one named in the instructions: marker), two were fillers, and a fourth object was an interlingual competitor (an object whose English name bore no phonological similarity with the target item, a stamp, but whose Russian name did: marka is Russian for "stamp"). The results showed that, upon hearing [mark]-, bilinguals were momentarily distracted by the object representing a stamp before settling for the target, a marker. Apparently, not only same-language but also different-language words compete for selection during spoken-word recognition in bilinguals, even in unilingual settings (i.e., when the task requires the use of only one language) (cf. Weber and Cutler, 2004). These findings show that the robust nonselective effects found in the visual word recognition literature (cf. Dijkstra, 2007) were not due to orthographic overlap, but to bona fide processes of nonselective lexical searches. This further suggests that the phonological forms of words are partially shared across the two languages of the bilingual-phonological categories are reutilized.

For the phonological categories that may not be simply "copied" from the native language and "pasted" into the non-native language because they are phonetically different, the evidence suggests that bilinguals develop links between similar sounds across the two languages. These connections are generally revealed by cross-language assimilations, but sometimes they may be reflected in the form of dissimilations (e.g., Flege, 1995, 2007). Flege (1987) provided a relatively early example of a case of cross-language phonetic category assimilation in two groups of French‒English bilinguals. One of the bilingual groups consisted of native speakers of English who immigrated to France as adults and the other consisted of native French speakers who immigrated to the United States as adults. (The voiceless stops were acoustically examined.) Phonetic analyses revealed that the bilinguals' productions were not identical to the monolingual controls, neither in the target (non-native) language nor in the source (native) language. In other words, this study, as well as many others, suggests that bilinguals establish formal connections between the phonetic categories of their non-native language and the closest phonetic categories of their native language. These cross-linguistic connections may lead to difficulties in the establishment of novel phonetic categories (i.e., categories specific to the non-native language). Even in cases in which novel categories have been formed, these do not seem to easily become independent from the closest ones in the native language as they are consistently revealed to be assimilated, at some level, to native ones.

An example of dissimilation is provided in Flege et al. (2003). This study measures the acoustic characteristics of the English /e ɪ/ vowel, as in day, as produced by two groups of bilinguals from Canada, early and late learners of English whose native language is Italian. It would seem that Italian‒English bilinguals establish a link between English /e ɪ/ and Italian /e/, its closest vowel category. These two phonetic categories, however, are not acoustically identical-while the Italian vowel is a monophthong, the English one is a diphthong. The study revealed that early bilinguals produced English /e ɪ/ with more formant movement than English native controls. The authors propose that this was due to the fact that the bilinguals had formed a novel category for English /e ɪ/, separate from Italian /e/, and this had led to an acoustic dissimilation of the two sounds-a process akin to phonetic category dispersion. A dissimilation still reveals the existence of a connection of some sort between a native and a non-native phonetic category.

The studies discussed in this section reveal that the two languages of a bilingual occupy a single representational network and share cognitive resources during processing. It is important to approach the study of bilingual phonetics and phonology from this standpoint. How are the phonological networks of the two languages of a bilingual connected with each other? How selective (or not) are the (phonetic) processing mechanisms of a bilingual? This section has laid the ground regarding cross-linguistic category interactions by discussing some basic concepts, such as those of category assimilations and category dissimilations.

Phonetics, Phonology, and the Lexicon

The present chapter is concerned with phonological knowledge and phonetic behavior in bilinguals. In my view, this means that the chapter is about mnemonic representations of language sounds (phonology) as well as patterns of sound production and perceptual processing (phonetics) as manifested in people who speak two languages.

According to some schools of thought, phonological knowledge consists of an inventory of sound categories, some of them called phonemes, and a set of rules to combine them to form lawful sequences. The sounds of a language differ in the nature of their status within the system. According to one view, one can distinguish between contrastive and non-contrastive sounds-the former are called phonemes. Whether a sound is contrastive or not is revealed by comparing words. A phoneme is a phoneme by virtue of being associated with a set of words and excluded from another set of words. For instance, Spanish [k] and [g] are contrastive because they may be exploited to distinguish a word pair such as casa ['kasa] "house" and gasa ['gasa] "gauze," while [g] and [ɣ] are not contrastive because they are in complementary distribution in this language. It follows that knowledge of a phonological category, or phoneme, consists of (i) knowledge of a phonetic category (perhaps an abstract, symbolic representation including phonetic-substance information or a cloud of detailed statistical information) and (ii) knowledge of the set of words that contain this category. If a second-language learner manages to acquire a new phonetic category, as revealed by identification and discrimination tasks with isolated sounds, but does not learn which words possess this category and which words do not, the leaner may not be said to have acquired a phoneme or a phonemic contrast. An important goal of phonetic and phonological research on bilingualism, in addition to exploring new category formation and the development of language-specific production and perceptual habits and strategies, is to obtain an understanding of the storage and retrieval of the phonological forms of words (e.g., Bybee, 2001).

The effects of the structure of the lexicon on second-language phonetics and phonology have been investigated in manifold studies. Some of these are reviewed in this chapter. Consider the following finding. Amengual (2011) measured the acoustics of Spanish word-initial /t/ as produced by several groups of Spanish‒English bilinguals differing in linguistic experience. Among other phonetic features, utterance-initial Spanish /t/ differs from English /t/ in that, when pronounced, the former is not aspirated while the latter is. Proficient Spanish‒English bilinguals presumably use aspirated [t h] in English, but not in Spanish ( Magloire and Green, 1999), but bilinguals have been found to use voiceless stops with aspiration values intermediate between those of their native language and those of the second language (e.g., Flege, 1987; Fowler et al., 2008). The latter finding is generally attributed to having established a cross-language interaction between the voiceless stops of the two languages. But just what interacts with what? Amengual's study focused exclusively on the production of Spanish words; some of the Spanish words in the study had English cognates ( teléfono "telephone," total "total") while others did not ( teclado "keyboard," tejado "ceiling"). Even in an entirely unilingual environment, [t]s in Spanish-English cognates displayed slightly longer latencies between the time of articulatory release and the onset of voicing (i.e., a small period of aspiration) than [t]s in Spanish words with no English cognates. This shows that Spanish /t/ is more similar to English /t/ in words that are arguably densely connected in the lexicon, or that share a semantic representation across the two languages, and more different in words that are not so densely connected. (Further research on lexical connections is needed, but cf. Mora and Nadeu, 2012.) Amengual's findings strongly suggest that cross-language interactions take place in the lexicon, or at least are mediated by lexical connections. This study suggests that a thorough understanding of the phonetics and phonology of bilingualism needs to incorporate an understanding of the structure of the bilingual lexicon. Therefore, theoretical models of the phonetics and phonology of bilinguals should be able to account for findings in the bilingual speech production and perception literatures as well for findings in the literature on lexical processing. This position justifies, in my view, the discussion of spoken word recognition studies in a chapter on the phonetics and phonology of bilingualism.

If a bilingual shows evidence of having acquired a second-language phonetic category or having developed accurate discrimination abilities of a second-language contrast, this is still not proof that a phoneme has been established. The linguistic, structural consequences of this feat, therefore, would still need to be proven with different experimental tasks. In a recent study of Catalan‒Spanish bilinguals, Bosch and Ramon-Casas (2011) reported on data that raise this issue, even if only indirectly. Bosch and Ramon-Casas measured the acoustics of two Catalan mid-front vowels produced by a group of Catalan‒Spanish bilinguals differing in their language-dominance patterns. Catalan contrasts /e/ with /ɛ/ while Spanish possesses /e/; it is reasonable to assume, therefore, that both Catalan vowels are assimilated to (or interact with) Spanish /e/. Unsurprisingly, Spanish-dominant bilinguals were found to produce a merged mid-front vowel rather than two acoustic distributions for the two Catalan phonemes. Catalan-dominant bilinguals produced both vowel phonemes in different acoustic distributions; that is, when the acoustics of the target vowels of words with /ɛ/ and those with /e/were compared, these were found to be different. Spanish-dominant bilinguals did not distinguish between /ɛ/- and /e/-words in terms of the acoustics of their target vowels. This suggests that Spanish-dominant bilinguals had experienced a merger due to interactions between these vowels and their own Spanish /e/ (cf. Simonet, 2011, for a similar account regarding Catalan /o/‒/ɔ/). It is interesting to note, however, that a phonetically trained native speaker of Catalan heard the vowels produced by the Spanish-dominant bilinguals in terms of two categories, [e] and [ɛ], and not in terms of one merged category, which is what the first statistical analysis had revealed. When these vowel realizations were statistically compared following a "phonetic" (auditory) rather than "phonological" (lexical, etymological) classification, two statistical distributions arose. This could suggest that Spanish-dominant bilinguals had not failed to establish separate phonetic categories but had failed to associate these with words or word lists. Perhaps what they lacked were stable lexical representations of these sounds. According to the definition of "phoneme" we employed earlier, what these bilinguals had failed to do was to form two new phonemes or a new phonemic contrast-they may have learned [e] and [ɛ], but not /e/ and /ɛ/. This study illustrates that, before we can claim that a second-language learner has been able to acquire a phonemic contrast of her/his second language, in addition to proving that the learner perceives two categories as categorically distinct, one would need to show that s/he has memorized the list of words that have one category versus the other.

Non-native Contrasts and (Asymmetric) Lexical Access

There exists a literature on the process of spoken-word recognition in bilingualism. According to my personal view, these studies investigate the processing of phonemes, phonological patterns, and phonological entries by virtue of the fact that they investigate the link between sounds and words. This is why some of the findings in this literature are discussed here.

Pallier et al. (2001) tested two groups of Catalan‒Spanish bilinguals on their lexical processing of several Catalan contrasts, such as the /e/‒/ɛ/ contrast. The experimental paradigm used in this study relied on the phenomenon of priming in an auditory lexical decision task. It is a recurrent finding that listeners recognize a word faster if they have recently been exposed to the word. Pallier and colleagues selected a set of minimal pairs in Catalan that contrasted on the basis of sound categories that do not exist in Spanish and, presumably, would provoke difficulties to Spanish-dominant bilinguals, such as the /e/‒/ɛ/ contrast mentioned earlier. The hypothesis was that, upon hearing the second member of a minimal pair in a list (['ne.tə] "granddaughter," ['nɛ.tə] "clean, fem.") Catalan-dominant listeners would not experience priming or lexical facilitation; on the other hand, Spanish-dominant listeners would experience priming or facilitation on the account that they would process the word as a repetition of the other member of the minimal pair-instead of having heard a different word they would have heard a second rendering of the same word. The findings corroborated that (i) both groups of bilinguals experienced repetition priming for words that were actual repetitions of previous items, (ii) they did not experience any repetition priming for words involved in minimal pairs made up of phonemic categories shared by both languages, and, importantly, (iii) the Catalan-dominant bilinguals did not experience repetition priming for words involved in minimal pairs involving contrasts specific to Catalan while the Spanish-dominant bilinguals did. The authors interpreted this finding as follows: Spanish-dominant bilinguals had not only presumably failed to establish a phonetic category for the novel Catalan sounds, they had in effect stored minimal pairs as homophones. Phonetic category interactions had had an effect on lexical storage, and therefore on phonological knowledge.

This interpretation has not remained unchallenged. Hayes-Harb and Masuda (2008: 8), among other scholars (cf. Darcy et al., 2013), have pointed out that the findings of Pallier et al. (2001) do not necessarily confirm that minimal pairs are stored as homophones in the Catalan lexicon of Spanish-dominant speakers. Alternatively, it could be that these bilinguals have represented these words as minimal pairs (i.e., as heterophones), and thus have associated two lexical sets with two contrastive sounds, but fail to access lexical entries efficiently during lexical retrieval due to performance, perceptual-encoding limitations (rather than representational differences). Although this is certainly a possibility, at present we lack detailed models of how language learners would be able to store phonemic contrasts in the lexicon if they experience perceptual difficulties with non-native sounds. Some proposals have been made (one includes the role of orthography, for instance), but in my opinion we are far from having a full grasp of the process, and more research is needed in this regard.

The fact that bilinguals may be able to store lexical (phonological) contrasts for non-native phonemes while experiencing perception difficulties with the phonetic realizations of these phonemes has been corroborated in a number of recent studies. Cutler et al. (2006), following up on an unexpected finding in Weber and Cutler (2004), investigated the process of English spoken-word recognition in Japanese-speaking English learners, who are known for their difficulties with the English /l/‒/ɹ/ contrast. This study used the visual world paradigm and the eye-tracking technique (e.g., Spivey and Marian, 1999). The design showed four pictures on a computer screen. One of the pictures was the target (the one named in the instructions: locker), two were fillers, and a fourth object was a minimally paired competitor (an object whose name began with the opposite member of the /l/‒/ɹ/ contrast: rocket). A revealing finding was that competition between /l/ and /ɹ/ words was asymmetric. Upon hearing /ɹ/-words, /l/-words were activated (i.e., locker competed for attention with rocket upon hearing rocket). On the other hand, upon hearing /l/-words, /ɹ/-words were not simultaneously activated (i.e., rocket did not compete for attention when locker was played). The most significant aspect of this finding is that, for the Japanese learners of English, rocket and locker did not begin with some undefined, unspecified, identical consonant. The fact that confusion was asymmetric indicates that, at some representational level, the phonological contrast between /l/ and /ɹ/ words is maintained by these learners, even though they experience serious difficulties when processing [l] and [ɹ]. This finding suggests that the learners do not store rock and lock as homophones. In other words, they have problems with English [l] and [ɹ], but not so much with English /l/ and /ɹ/. It could be said, for instance, that their representation of /l/ includes [l] and [ɹ] while their representation of /ɹ/ includes only [ɹ] or something similar (crucially, not [l]).

How could a second-language learner master a second-language phonemic contrast if the phonetic nature of the distinction is problematic for her/him? I am not aware anyone has provided us with a compelling answer to this question yet. I believe, however, that one of the directions in which future research could go to explore this question is this: We could not only recognize, but actively and explicitly investigate the separate levels of encoding possibly involved in auditory speech comprehension. Consider the following finding-one of many related findings. It is sometimes claimed that the difficulties experienced by bilinguals with certain non-native sounds occur at some relatively high encoding level, not at a very basic acoustic encoding level. For instance, Mann (1986) reported that Japanese-speaking learners of English who were unable to identify the English [l]‒[ɹ] distinction showed, nonetheless, a pattern of compensation-for-coarticulation of [al] versus [aɹ] on a [da]‒[ga] continuum, just as native English speakers do. In other words, the acoustic or articulatory difference between [aɹ] and [al] did not go unnoticed by Japanese-speaking learners, at least at some basic, pre-lexical level of encoding. How do the levels of encoding (in case there are indeed separate, sequentially ordered levels,) interact in bilinguals? Can early stages of encoding produce representational entries (e.g., have an effect on lexical representations) after significant exposure while later (post-lexical, meta-lexical) stages of processing continue to manifest categorization difficulties?

Cross-Linguistic Category Interactions Are Dynamic

Communicative environments affect phonetic behavior-speech production and perception. In turn, phonetic adaptations to a communicative environment may have transient but, sometimes, long-lasting impact on linguistic representations. Pardo (2006) showed that speakers tend to converge in the acoustics of their speech even after a brief period of conversation. Clarke and Garrett (2004) found that English-speaking listeners improve in their perceptual processing of foreign-accented speech after a brief experimental training phase. Norris et al. (2003) demonstrated that phonological categories (i.e., phonetic categories as represented in the lexicon) are "updated" during speech performance. In this study, listeners were exposed to sounds that had been manipulated to be ambiguous between [s] and [f]. Some listeners were exposed to this ambiguous sound in words containing /f/ (in Dutch words such as witlof "chicory") and others heard this sound in words containing /s/ (in Dutch words such as naaldbos "pine forest"). Subsequently, these listeners categorized fricative stimuli on an [f]‒[s] continuum; those who heard the ambiguous sound in the /s/ context labeled more of the stimuli as "s" and those who heard it in the /f/ context labeled more of them as "f." Among other things, these data indicate that categorical entities such as /s/ and /f/ are constantly "updated." McQueen et al. (2006) verified that perceptual recalibration (category "updates") affects lexical recognition; that is, training tasks of the sort in Norris et al. (2003) were found to modulate patterns of spoken word recognition, as measured by a priming paradigm, and not only patterns of labeling of sound continua. In other words, /f/ and /s/ are "updated" as a result of exposure to variable speech.

The fact that there is evidence that sound categories are "updated" and that phonological representations in the lexicon are also involved in this phonetic recalibration is important for our understanding of second-language speech learning. A case that has received ample attention in the literature is that of Japanese-speaking learners of English. English contrasts /l/ and /ɹ/, such as in lock and rock. Native speakers of Japanese are well known for the difficulties they seem to experience when learning this English contrast. Apparently, both English sounds are assimilated to Japanese /ɾ/, albeit poorly ( Aoyama et al., 2004). Logan et al. (1991) and Lively et al. (1993) trained a group of Japanese speakers on the English contrast and found that, if the training consisted of exposing the learners to the items of multiple English talkers, its results were "better" (i.e., listeners showed more perceptual improvement) than if training had only used the speech of one single talker. Exposure to more variability led to the Japanese speakers generalizing their learning to new words and to new speakers (cf. Iverson et al., 2005). Further research showed that the "positive" effects of perceptual training also included production ( Bradlow et al., 1997), and that improvements remained three months after training and, albeit more modestly, also six months after training ( Lively et al., 1994). These findings suggest, among other things, that cross-linguistic interactions are dynamic; that is, whatever cross-linguistic connections Japanese-speaking learners of English form between the two English phonetic categories and their closest Japanese category at the earliest stages of exposure, these are modifiable and they are indeed modified as a result of exposure to variable speech. Cross-linguistic phonetic category interactions (not only the categories themselves, but the connections between the categories) are, therefore, malleable-they are plastic.

The plasticity of cross-linguistic phonetic category interactions does not end there. A number of research studies have provided evidence to the effect that these interactions can be revised as a function of the immediate communicative environment in which a bilingual finds herself/himself. While Flege (1987) and Fowler et al. (2008), among many others, have found that bilinguals behave as if they have developed intermediate phonetic categories between the sounds of the first language and the sounds of their second language, other studies have reported that these findings could be due, at least in part, to an experimental artifact. Antoniou et al. (2010) measured the acoustics of stops produced by Greek‒English bilinguals; English voiceless stops are aspirated whereas Greek ones are not. These bilinguals were heritage Greek speakers who were brought up in an English-speaking country (Australia) and who seemed to be dominant in English even though their first language was Greek. The bilinguals were randomly assigned to two groups: one group provided materials only in English and the other provided materials only in Greek. All instructions and materials were also in the appropriate language. In these controlled environments, the bilinguals' English stops did not differ from those produced by English monolinguals and their Greek stops were not different from those produced by a group of monolingual Greek speakers from Athens, Greece. While this is a between-speakers finding, a similar result was obtained by Magloire and Green (1999) using a within-speakers design. It would seem, therefore, that the strength of cross-linguistic phonetic category interactions can be inhibited, at least by some bilinguals, in unilingual contexts. It can even be reduced to nothing.

Further proof of the malleability of cross-linguistic category interactions comes from a case study of a Portuguese‒English speaker from Brazil ( Sancier and Fowler, 1997). Production data were collected from the same bilingual speaker in two experimental sessions: one of the sessions took place in the United States and the other in Brazil. Both Portuguese and English materials were collected in both occasions, and the bilingual speaker distinguished between both English and Portuguese materials in terms of the acoustics of her stop consonants. An interesting finding was that the acoustic characteristics of the English stops recorded in the Brazilian session resembled those of Portuguese and the acoustic characteristics of the Portuguese stops produced in the American session resembled those of English-recall, however, that these assimilations did not lead to cross-language merger of categories. By hypothesis, the Portuguese‒English bilingual had been speaking mostly in English prior to providing the English and Portuguese materials in the American session, while she had been speaking mostly Portuguese before she participated in the Brazilian session of the study. In other words, a reasonable conclusion is that recent experience matters-it affects the strength and direction of cross-linguistic interactions.

The finding that cross-linguistic category interactions are pliable extends to very dynamic or transient situations. Olson (2013) and Simonet (2014) examined the effects of transient, dynamic cross-linguistic category interactions in two production studies. Olson tested a group of Spanish‒English bilinguals participating in a language-switching, cued picture-naming task. One of the experimental manipulations in the study was as follows: In one session (unilingual), most of the words pronounced by the bilinguals were in one language (95%) while only a few were in the other language (5%); in a second session (bilingual), the number of words in the two languages was balanced (50%). The acoustic characteristics of the English and Spanish stop consonants produced by the bilingual participants were more different from each other when data from the two unilingual sessions were compared than when data collected in the bilingual session were compared. In other words, a balance in the presence of words from both languages led to an increase in cross-language phonetic similarity, which suggests that the cross-language interactions established by the speakers between native and non-native stop categories had been circumstantially, transiently strengthened. Simonet (2014) explored the productions of a group of Catalan‒Spanish bilinguals with a general experimental design similar to the one used by Olson. In Simonet's study, three groups of Catalan‒Spanish bilinguals differing in their linguistic experiences were recorded while producing Catalan words implementing the Catalan /o/‒/ɔ/ contrast. (Spanish has one mid-back vowel, /o/, and Spanish‒Catalan bilinguals presumably assimilate the two Catalan mid-back vowels to the one Spanish mid-back vowel.) The bilinguals participated in two sessions. In a unilingual session they exclusively pronounced words in Catalan; in a bilingual session they produced both Spanish as well as Catalan words, the same Catalan words produced in the unilingual session. Speakers were asked to shadow speech recordings collected from native speakers of the target languages, three Catalan-dominant and three Spanish-dominant "talkers." The participants thus had an immediate acoustic model for their production, and the Catalan acoustic models were the same in the two sessions. An analysis of the two Catalan mid-back vowels indicated that, in the bilingual session, both vowels had become acoustically more similar to the Spanish vowel than they were in the unilingual session. In sum, both Olson (2013) and Simonet (2014) reported findings that indicate that cross-language phonetic category interactions are measurably strengthened in communicative contexts that lead to the use of the two languages of a bilingual. Studies of the phonetic effects of code-switching take the pliability of cross-language phonetic interactions one step further ( Antoniou et al., 2011).

The evidence discussed in this section suggests the following. (i) Bilinguals develop links or connections of one sort or another between the phonetic categories in their native language and the closest ones in their non-native language. (ii) Moreover, these connections are pliable or plastic; that is, they are transiently strengthened in contexts that induce the activation of both languages and inhibited in contexts that favor the use of only one of the languages. This interpretation agrees with Grosjean's Bilingual Language Modes model (e.g., Grosjean, 2001). The extent to which the inhibition of cross-language category interactions is absolute, even in the most unilingual of the occasions, remains controversial. It would appear less controversial that increased activation of both languages leads to increased effects of cross-language interactions, but further research is needed, especially on whether (or how much) different bilingual populations show this pattern, and in what occasions this occurs.

Language-Specific Perceptual Strategies: Now You See Them, Now You Don't

Several studies have examined whether bilinguals make use of language-specific perceptual strategies when perceiving speech. The studies reviewed in this section examine whether listeners' expectations regarding the language they "believe" they are processing alter their categorization of the speech signal. They examine whether listeners can control their perceptual processing mechanisms or whether at least effects of communicative context lead to transient changes in perceptual strategies. If this is attested in an experimental task, it could be suggested that bilinguals possess language-specific perceptual systems and that these systems alter perceptual processing selectively, in real time. This would be robust proof of pliability in cross-language phonetic category interactions. This evidence would be extremely relevant since most evidence from other domains, including spoken word recognition ( Spivey and Marian, 1999; Marian and Spivey, 2003a, 2003b), seem to suggest that language activation is not language-selective.

Before we discuss the literature on language-specific perceptual strategies, let us ponder over the role of language-selective perceptual processing during spoken word recognition. Consider the findings of Ju and Luce (2004), who presented Spanish‒English bilinguals with spoken Spanish words beginning with voiceless stops. Recall that Spanish word-initial voiceless stops are not aspirated, unlike their English "counterparts." The Spanish spoken words played to the Spanish‒English bilinguals in this study were manipulated so that their word-initial consonant could present aspiration (or not). For instance, the word playa "beach" was presented without aspiration, as is typical in Spanish, or with aspiration, more typical of the English word pliers. Bilinguals wore a head-mounted eye-tracker, and they were asked to mouse-click on one of four line drawings appearing on a computer screen. One of the items was the target item (a line drawing of a beach when hearing the Spanish word playa "beach"), two were fillers, and a fourth was a cross-language competitor (a line drawing of a pair of pliers, alicates in Spanish). When Spanish auditory stimuli were presented with English-like phonetic characteristics (aspiration), looks to cross-language competitors ( pliers) were significantly more frequent than when Spanish auditory stimuli had Spanish phonetic characteristics. In other words, the activation strength of playa was stronger when /pl/- was not aspirated than when it was. Interestingly, even though the experiment induced a unilingual mode, in that the entire task was done in Spanish, and the bilinguals were exclusively asked to respond to Spanish lexical items, English-like phonetic characteristics present in Spanish auditory stimuli had the power to increase the activation strength of English lexical competitors. An important aspect of the findings of this study is that they suggest that the use of language-specific phonetic properties in bilinguals has the effect of reducing cross-language competition during lexical access and turning the process into a rather language-selective one. It would follow that actively manipulating perceptual strategies so that they reflect language-specific behavior aids bilinguals in the process of finding words in a certain language while rejecting words from the non-intended language.

In the studies aiming to determine whether bilinguals exploit language-specific perceptual strategies, bilinguals are asked to categorize stimuli drawn from an acoustic continuum into two phonetic categories, such as /p/ and /b/. Crucially, the two languages of the bilingual are hypothesized to possess these (at least) two phonological entities, albeit their phonetic implementation is thought to differ as a function of language. This is the case with the Spanish and the English /p/‒/b/ contrast-both languages contrast voiceless with voiced bilabial stops but the phonetic realization of these categories differs as a function of language. On the one hand, Spanish /b/ is pre-voiced ([b]), Spanish /p/ is not ([p]); on the other hand, English /p/ is not generally prevoiced but it displays a brief lag between the release of articulatory closure and the onset of voicing ([p]), and English /p/ is aspirated ([p h]) ( Lisker and Abramson, 1964; Abramson and Lisker, 1970, 1973). In a two-alternative, forced-choice identification task conducted on a [b]‒[p h] acoustic continuum one expects the responses of native Spanish listeners and those of native English listeners to result in sigmoids with different horizontal 50% cross-over points. In particular, the point at which the Spanish sigmoid crosses 50% should be earlier (overall more "p" responses) than that of the English sigmoid function. These studies ask bilinguals to categorize the same stimuli in two languages or, more appropriately, language contexts or modes. The hypothesis is that, if bilinguals possess language-specific perceptual strategies, their behavior will result in language-specific perceptual boundaries detected on the same acoustic continuum. This would support a view according to which speech perception in bilinguals is language-selective, at least to some extent.

The first studies to test this hypothesis generally resulted in null findings-bilinguals were able to produce language-specific phonetic categories but did not show two different identification boundaries for the same acoustic continuum in two language modes ( Caramazza et al., 1974; Williams, 1977). The question arose as to what may lead bilinguals to acquire language-specific phonetic categories to be used on pronunciation and yet not adapt their perceptual system to make it more efficient during speech comprehension.

Elman et al. (1977) offered the possibility that the null findings of Caramazza et al. (1974) and Williams (1977) could be due to the methods used to induce language contexts or environments. Elman et al. suggested that conversations and instructions prior to the identification of synthetic stimuli did not necessarily guarantee that a participant would remain in a particular language mode throughout the task; furthermore, the use of synthetic stimuli might not be entirely conducive to the activation of language- or even speech-specific perceptual strategies. Elman et al. tested Spanish‒English bilinguals on a ranked natural set of stimuli recorded by a bilingual speaker; each stimulus was preceded by an auditory language-appropriate instruction, such as Write the word or Escriba la palabra. An assortment of language-appropriate filler words was randomly played during the task-bilinguals were thus "reminded" of the language environments throughout the experiment. Language-specific categorization was found-bilinguals switched their identification of ambiguous stimuli, stimuli that would be classified as "p" in a Spanish mode and as "b" in an English mode. Other studies that were able to capture language-specific perceptual strategies by means of different methods were those of Hazan and Boulakia (1993) and Flege and Eefting (1987).

One perceptual phenomenon raised serious doubts regarding Elman et al.'s conclusions. The authors of this study later published an experimental report the findings of which suggested that the original effects could have been triggered by the acoustic characteristics of the precursor sentences rather than the language modes ( Diehl et al., 1978). Thus, instead of inducing a Spanish-specific perceptual strategy in bilinguals, sentences such as Escriba la palabra may have affected the categorization of the [b]‒[p] continuum by the mere presence of the [p] (and not [p h], for instance) in palabra. Effects of precursor materials on stimuli categorization are well known (cf. Eimas and Corbit, 1973), and Diehl et al. (1978) showed that listeners tended to classify ambiguous [b]‒[p] sounds more as "p" after hearing a clear [b] and more as "b" after hearing a clear [p]. In fact, Bohn and Flege (1993) were able to detect "language-specific" responses even in monolinguals, which was really puzzling indeed. Bohn and Flege tested Spanish‒English bilinguals and monolinguals and collected data in two language-specific sessions. Precursor sentences were presented throughout the study to ensure language specificity in perceptual behavior. The fact that the classifications of both bilinguals and monolinguals resulted in "language-specific" identification boundaries suggested that the effect obtained for the bilinguals was not due to language-specific perceptual strategies but rather to something else, most likely the presence of acoustic precursor sentences.

Note that both Elman et al. (1977) and Hazan and Boulakia (1993) found that, when bilinguals presented two perceptual boundaries, the difference between these two boundaries was larger for early, proficient bilinguals than for less proficient bilinguals. Therefore, the possibility remained that both factors, language-specific perceptual behavior and the presence of precursor sentences, contributed to the effects. García-Sierra et al. (2009) set out to find whether "the level of confidence in using English and Spanish (reading, writing, speaking and comprehension)" was correlated with the size of the boundary effect ( García-Sierra et al., 2009: 369). They tested both monolingual English and Spanish‒English bilinguals on a [g]‒[k h] continuum and expected to find a correlation for the bilinguals (but not for the monolinguals). Both bilinguals and monolinguals participated in two "language-specific" sessions. García-Sierra et al. found significant language-context effects for both bilinguals and monolinguals. Interestingly, bilingual proficiency correlated with the size of the perceptual boundary effect for the bilinguals but the monolingual effect was random. This study replicated previous findings with a more sophisticated and careful methodology. The authors recommended that subsequent research on the double perceptual boundary effect should (i) ensure that the language environment or context is kept constant throughout the perceptual task and (ii) try to "influence participant's phonetic judgements" not by means of acoustic precursor sentences but by means of other experimental manipulations ( García-Sierra et al., 2009: 378).

Two studies have managed to do just that. García-Sierra et al. (2012) investigated the early stages of speech perception by analyzing event-related brain potentials (ERPs) obtained from Spanish‒English bilinguals processing auditory stimuli from an acoustic stop continuum. The researchers selected stimuli that could be termed ambiguous (i.e., stimuli that would be classified as "g" by an English speaker and as "k" by a Spanish speaker). Event-related potentials are able to reflect pre-attentive perception, and the participants are not required to respond to the stimuli actively. Participants were reading a language-appropriate magazine (Spanish in the Spanish setting and English in the English setting), and they were played the synthetic stimuli in the background. This experiment, therefore, did not use precursor sentences. In these studies, one stimulus token is played repetitively and occasionally a different stimulus token is played. Event-related potentials' data capture whether the occasional changes in the stimuli trigger any sort of pre-attentive reaction in the listeners. The hypothesis in this study was that Spanish‒English bilinguals would react differently as a function of two different language environments. In particular, the difference between [k] and [k h] would provoke a strong reaction in the English environment (as the stimuli belong to two different categories in this language, /g/ and /k/, respectively) but not in the Spanish environment (as they belong to the same category in this language, /k/). On the other hand, the difference between [g] and [k] would trigger a robust reaction in the Spanish environment (as these stimuli belong to two different categories in this language, /g/ and /k/, respectively) but not in the English environment (as they belong to the same category in this language, /g/). The results of the study confirmed the expectations of the researchers. It appears, therefore, that bilinguals have language-specific expectations and these influence speech perception even at pre-attentive stages.

Finally, consider the findings in Gonzales and Lotto (2013). This study also tested Spanish-English bilinguals on an acoustic continuum. The crucial aspect of this experiment is that bilinguals were presumably induced in two different language modes (Spanish, English) solely by the stimuli to be categorized. Interestingly, all conversations and instructions with the participants were in English (in both language contexts), so as to completely avoid any potential effects of acoustic precursors. The key was in the nature of the stimuli. Gonzales and Lotto selected two items that were pseudo-words in both Spanish or English: bafri and pafri. The <r> letter is pronounced as a tap in Spanish and as a retroflex or bunched approximant in English. An acoustic [b]‒[p h] continuum was then used to draw tokens to replace the initial consonant of the pseudo-words so that two experimental continua were created, one from bafri to pafri in which the "r" was a tap ("Spanish" version) and one from bafri to pafri in which the "r" was an approximant ("English" version). By hypothesis, upon hearing a tap and seeing an <r> on the screen, bilingual participants would be set in Spanish mode; upon hearing a retroflex approximant and seeing an <r> on the screen, bilinguals would be set in English mode. The findings corroborated the authors' expectations: bilinguals labeling the "Spanish" version of the acoustic continuum had a perceptual boundary different from the one the bilinguals labeling the "English" version had, supporting the existence of a double perceptual boundary.

The study by Gonzales and Lotto (2013) raises a number of questions the authors themselves do not address. What do the two variants (the tap and the approximant) actually activate? Do they activate language-specific lexicons? Do they activate language-specific inventories, sound patterns, or networks of phonetic categories? How and why do they create language-specific expectations? On the one hand, [p]s and taps coexist in Spanish words, only seldom in English words, and [p h]s and retroflex approximants coexist in English words, never in Spanish words. However, it is not reasonable to suggest that, in this specific study, taps activated Spanish lexical entries (which ones?) and approximants activated English lexical entries (which ones?). An explanation based on the structure of the lexicon would not need to make any reference to the existence of connections between phonetic categories (devoid of lexical information) in language-specific networks, but it would be problematic because rhotics and word-initial bilabial stops may not be connected through lexical entries in the items used in the study since neither pafri nor bafri are real words in neither Spanish nor English. Are we to posit a language-specific link between [b] and [ɾ]? On the basis of what? This question deserves further theoretical modeling and it opens the door to a multiplicity of studies examining the nature of inter-category connections, within and across languages, in bilingualism as well as in monolingualism.

Can bilinguals switch between language-appropriate perceptual strategies as a function of the linguistic environment in which they find themselves? It would appear that, although triggering language-specific perceptual systems is difficult (switching off the "other" system requires some particular conditions), it is indeed possible. Therefore, some degree of language-selectivity is available during the perception of speech.

Conclusion

The present chapter has provided a very selective overview of the research on the phonetics and phonology of bilingualism. In selecting the points to be discussed, I have favored studies that illustrate the fact that, in bilingualism and adult second-language acquisition, speakers seem to develop complex interactions between the sounds in the native language and the sounds in the non-native language (e.g., Flege, 1987; Flege et al., 2003). Two important points discussed in the chapter were as follows: (i) cross-language sound interactions appear to be mediated by the structure of the lexicon (but further research and theorization are needed), and (ii) these interactions are pliable or plastic (but their nature deserves further exploration). On the one hand, lexical associations appear to impact the strength of the cross-language sound interactions created by a bilingual ( Amengual, 2011; Mora and Nadeu, 2012). On the other hand, bilinguals may learn to perceive and produce novel phonetic categories without mastering to associate these with different lexical sets ( Bosch and Ramon-Casas, 2011; cf. Simonet, 2014), and interestingly they may acquire the skill to process specific phonological contrasts as they are instantiated in the lexicon without fully absorbing the physical nature of the phonetic categories that implement these contrasts in the speech of monolingual speakers ( Weber and Cutler, 2004; Cutler et al., 2006). An accurate understanding of bilingual cross-language sound associations can only advance in tandem with an apprehension of lexical storage and processing in bilingualism. Otherwise, research on the phonetics of bilingualism and second-language speech learning runs the risk of being irrelevant for linguistic theory.

Regarding the malleability of cross-language interactions, it was discussed that the requirements of different communicative situations seem to trigger modifications in the strength of cross-language sound interactions-some situations inhibit interactions while others maximize them ( Magloire and Green, 1999; Antoniou et al., 2010, 2011; Olson, 2013; Simonet, 2014). The chapter concluded with a review of the literature on language-specificity in bilingual speech perception ( Caramazza et al., 1974; Elman et al., 1978; Hazan and Boulakia, 1993; Ju and Luce, 2004; García-Sierra et al., 2009, 2012; Gonzales and Lotto, 2013). While this body of literature serves to illustrate that cross-language category interactions are pliable, it also opens new questions regarding the nature of the connections or networks created by bilinguals not only across language (sub-)systems but also within them.

Notes:

() Interestingly, recent studies have found that, under at least some circumstances, cross-language interactions in bilinguals are mutual, so that the sounds of the first language may be impacted upon learning the sounds of the second language (e.g., Chang, 2012). The phonology of the native language is, therefore, not immune to cross-language interactions.

() For further theorization, see Darcy et al., 2012, 2013.

() An alternative interpretation might be that training provided listeners with a sufficiently large set of /r/s and /l/s produced by different speakers in different phonetic contexts and words, which made the bimodal (rather than seeming unimodal) distribution of /r/ and /l/ become apparent. This view does not require "updating" the link between native and non-native categories.

() Speakers of some English dialects pronounce <r> with a tap rather than an approximant and thus this would not be true of those speakers. The speakers in Gonzales and Lotto (2013), who live in Arizona, pronounce <r> as an approximant, not a tap. These speakers flap some of their /t/s and /d/s, but in this experiment the tap/flap was associated with <r>, not <t> or <d>.

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Phonetics and Phonology of Bilingualism - Oxford Handbooks

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This chapter provides a selective overview of recent research on the phonetics and phonology of bilingualism. The central idea put forth in the chapter is that, in bilingualism and second-language learning, cross-language categories are involved in complex interactions that can take many forms, including assimilations and dissimilations.

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El este artículo, el autor describe como facilitar el aprendizaje de la fonología de un idioma. La primera cosa que el recomienda es que necesite identificar los vocales y constantes. El menciona que debes enfocar en los sonidos que no existen en la lengua materna del estudiante. Si el estudiante es confortable, debes tratar de tener una conversación breve con los sonidos difíciles. Las fuentes auditivas pueden ayudar también, como música, diálogos, y películas. Básicamente, si llegas más exposición a los sonidos de una la lengua, la lengua se volverá más fácil.

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How Phonology Affects Language Learning: Linguistics Phonology Language Variation

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How does phonology affect language learning? The sounds that make up the sound system of your language have a huge effect on how easy or hard it is for you to acquire a second language. If you study a language with a phonology similar to that of your mother tongue, you may find language acquisition is easier.