Describe the difference between cost-saving and cost-increasing technology-based innovations. Provide an example of each and analyze why a cost-increasing innovation would continue to be used. PROVIDE IN TEXT CITIATION
CHAPTER 9 What Drives Social Action?
Jenny Mandelbaum Rutgets University
Anita Pomerantz Temple University
Conversation analysts aim to make sense of sense-making-to explicate the met hods through which everyday interactants produce discourse. This involves the close examination of tape-recorded, transcribed everyday conversations. Some of the topics studied by conversation analysts include how interactants take and give up turns (Sacks, Schegloff, & Jefferson, 1974), orient to sequences (Schegloff &Sacks, 1973), repair their own and others’ talk (Schegloff, Jefferson, & Sacks, 1977), issue invitations (Drew, 1984). seek information (Pomerantz, 1988), and tell about their troubles (Jefferson, 1980). ‘
Throughout these and other studies, we (as conversation analysts) are funda- mentally interested in participants’ concerns, orientations, and enterprises. At the same time, however, we have resisted addressing the question of intention. We often have written about participants’ orientations and concerns in almost behavioristic ways, giving discourse features as evidence of proposed orienta- tions and concerns. We have often proposed actors to be concerned about discourse features, a s opposed to being concerned about pursuing actions. Traditionally conversation analysts have described participants’ concerns in terms of their orientations to features of conversation. For instance, participants a r e portrayed as being concerned about whether or not a particular turn is to be understood to be the reason for the call, or whether and how the conversation is to be closed. and so forth (Schegloff, 1986; Schegloff & Sacks, 1973). These orientations are formulated as participants’ answers to the question, “Why that now?”-why is he or’she saying that thing a t this particular point?
Whereas conversation-analytic studies have tended to downplay or be inex-
152 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANTZ
plicit about the role of intentions, studies in speech communication have fre- quently unquestioningly treated interaction as wholly intenlional and goal- driven. As Craig (1 986, p. 257) has noted, tlie assumption that lluman behavior is goal-oriented is pervasive in many fields. Much of the work on goals in the speech communication field seems to be influenced by cognitive science models of action (e.g., Schank & Abelson, 1977). This work implicitly. and sometimes explicitly, takes the position that discourse is constructed in such a way as to enable interactants to achieve goals. I f it is a routine goal, actors will have a familiar script to play out in order to achieve the goal. I f not, a plan will be formulated for engaging in behavior that will lead to the satisfaction of the goal. According to this view. interaction is seen to be designed by a pre-existing goal. (For instance, cf. Rule & Bisanz, 1987; Canary, Cunningham, & Cody, 1988; Dillard, 1990, re: compliance-gaining goals. See Manusov, 1989. for a useful review.) Actions that a r e not in concert with that goal a r e sometimes described as “digressions” (Jacobs. Jackson, Hall, & Stearns, this volume).
Conversation analysis’s tendency to disattend or be inexplicit about partici- pants’ concerns, and speech communication’s tendency to regard all of social action a s goal-driven, suggest the need for a closer look at what drives social action, if indeed “driving” is the appropriate metaphor. Conversation analysis’s particular strength is its ability to identify details of social action by looking closely a t interaction. In this chapter we address the question of participants’ intentions in social action from a (our) conversation-analytic perspective. Drawing inferences from analysis of a fragment of conversation, we propose that. rather than generally being planfully driven by goals, .social action some- times is shaped by various types of concerns. We also note, however, that there a r e taken-for-granted features of interaction, and some more formal properties of it. that influence how social action is organized. In this chapter, we show how a close look suggests that social action is worked out between participants i n a n ongoing way, rather than driven by goals.
In order to answer the question, “What drives social action?”, we discuss a telephone conversation in which it is rather clear what the participants were trying to achieve. One participant was asking for help, and the other was declining t o help. This conversation provides us with materials for illustrating the distinctions we wish to make. Whereas some discourse choices were respon- sive to primary, multiple and contingent, or prerequisite concerns, other dis- course choices were influenced by taken-for-granted considerations or by other properties of social interaction. Below we clarify the proposed three concerns and two other influences by showing how they are manifested in conversation. Before turning to the telephone call, we briefly outline some of the issues raised by these distinctions.
First, we emphasize that we are dealing with inferredconcerns. Our data are the details of interaction. This approach does not permit us to determine what a n a r t i c i ~ a n t “actually” is concerned about. Indeed, we take it that such informa-
tion is currently very hard to obtain. Even self-reports of “actual” concerns a r e mediated by the situation in which they a r e solicited and may simply provide an account of what a participant remembers himself or herself to have been concerned about when prompted to think about it by a researcher. We inferred the mental states of the interlocutors from patterns in their interaction.
Second, level of awareness or consciousness of concerns is another cognitive matter to which we have no direct access. As noted above, when we propose that someone had a concern, we are involved in a process of inference. Sirni- larly, we inferred probable consciousness or absence of it from various features of the participants’ behavior. Although these parlicipants made their concerns apparent for one another and acted in ways that indicated that they wereat least sbhewhat aware of what they were achieving, we mark as problematic the answers to (a) how “aware” or “conscious” participants are, and@) the affects of their awareness (or lack of it) on their actions.
The following telephone call’ provides us with data for exploring an answer to, “What drives social action?”
O Ring
1 Sheila: Hello?
2 Rorlny: ‘lo Sheila,
I Ronny: ((7’s) Rjonny.
5 Sheila: Hi Ro~iny.
G Ronny: Guess what.hh
7 Sheila: What.
8 Ronny: .hh My ca:r is sta::lled.
9 (0.2)
10 Ronny: (‘n) I’m u p here in the Gle117
1 1 Sheila: 011::.
12 Ronny: h h h
13 Ronny: A:nd.lrh (0.2) 1 don’ know if it’s: po:ssible, but
14 .Ill111 see I heveta open up the ba:nk.hh
‘We wish lo thank Manny Scheglolf lor providing the data and for his contributions to theanalysis. We are also ~ r a t e l u l for his feedback on a late draft of this chapter. See appendix for transcription symbols.
154 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANTZ
16 Ronny: a:t uh: (.) in Brentwood?hh=
17 Sheila: =Yeah:- en I know you want- (.) en I whoa-
18 (.) en I would, but- except I’ve gotta leave
19 in about five min(h)utes. =
20 Ronny: [=Okay then I gotta call somebody else.right away.
21. Sheila: [(hheh)
23 Ronny: Okay?=
24 Sheila: =Okay [Ron 1
25 Ronny: [Thanksla lot.= Bye-.
26 Sheila: Bye:.
We offer five distinctions to help us better understand what drives the social action in this fragment of talk. These include primary concerns, rnultlple and contingent concerns, prerequisite concerns, taken-for-granted sustained achievements, and unmindful actions.
PRIHARY CONCERNS
We infer that Ronny’s primary concern here was to get help (most likely a ride) and that, in order to satisfy this concern, he called Sheila. The inference that this was Ronny’s primary concern is based on the following features of his talk. The call was organized around getting help. It was his first and only official business after identification was achieved. Ronny’s talk was limited to what was neces- sary for determining whether or not Sheila could help him: He identified the answerer as Sheila and himself to Sheila (lines 2-5), he indicated he had news to tell (line 6): he reported a problem that Sheila might have helped him to solve (lines 8, 10, 13-14, 16), and he closed the call immediately upon learning that Sheila could or would not help him out (line 20).
These details suggest that this was a single-purpose call. One could hypothe- size that there was an additional motive to the request. In the way that friend- ships may be tested with requests (Baxter & Wilmot, 1984), Ronny might have been testing whether Sheila was prepared to put herself out for him in time of need.2 w e do not know enough about the doing of secret tests to say whether or
‘We are differentiating Ronny’s making the request to test Sheila’s friendship from an effect that compliance with or relusal lo a request may have on a relationship. More specifically, although
9. WHAT DRIVES SOCIAL ACTION? 155
not this is likely. We see rlotlling in the discourse, however, to indicate that Ronny was concerned with testing the relationship.
MULTIPLE A N D CONTINGENT CONCERNS
In writing of “dialectical goals,” Craig (1986) pointed out that “people often face the need to do more than one thing a t the same time” @. 264). For example, In asking for someone’s help, participants often a r e concerned both with getting the help they seek and with not imposing on the other more than is necessary. Likewise, in declining to help friends, participants often are concerned both with not committing themselves to perform the help-tasks and with not engendering negative reactions.
We propose that both Ronny and Sheila were dealing with multiple concerns. More specifically, we propose that, when Ronny and Sheila enacted their primary concerns (i.e., getting help and declining to give help, respectively), there were additional concerns attached to those enactments. Next, we describe in detail how Ronny asked for help from Sheila in a way that minimized the degree to which he was imposing on her. This concern not to impose can be seen a s an additional concern that came about contingently, that is, upon finding that he needed to turn to someone for help. Sheila declined to help Ronny while displaying a sympathetic and friendly attitude toward his asking. This concern to be sympathetic and friendly also can be seen a s a contingent concern that came into being when Sheila chose not to help Ronny.
A characteristic of Rontly’s talk that makes available his contingent concern is its neutrality with respect to what he wanted. He began with “Guess what,” which indicated news but did not suggest whether the news was good or bad. He told his problem, without stating the upshot of it: “My ca:r is sta::lled . . . (‘n) I’m up here in the Glen? . . . see I haveta open up the ba:nk.hh . . . a:t uh: (.) in Rrentwood?hh.” Thus. Sheila was put in a position of “inferring” why he was reporting the situation to her. By describing a problem without making a n explicit request, Ronny gave Sheila a chance either to volunteer to help or to treat what he said as news. Sheila treated it as news in line 11 by indicating, with her “Oh::.,” that she had just been informed by what he said (see Heritage, 1984, re: change of state tokens). In reporting an event that can be heard a s a “trouble” or “problem,” Ronny most likely was counting on Sheila’s understanding of problems as needing solutions. In telling her the trouble or problem, he made available to her that she might help him, but he did not directly indicate anaction .
Sheila’s not having given help (or giving help had she done so) may or may not have had consequences for how Ronny viewed their friendship, that is quite separate lrom whether he made the rrn~lmt a s a Imt of her Irie~~dship.
9. WI-1AT DRIVES SOCIAL AC’KION? 157 156 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANTZ
that he would have liked Sheila to take in response to his p r ~ b l e m . ~ Thus Ronny gave Sheila an opportunity to offer the help or not, rather than putting her in a position of having to respond yes or no to an explicit request.
In addition to not making an explicit request for help. Ronny gave Sheila an “out.” In saying. “A:nd.hh (0.2) 1 don’ know i f it’s: po:ssible” (line 13), Ronny was displaying a n awareness that Sheila may have to turn him down. Ronny offered a basis that Sheila might have for not helping him that minimized the poter~tial offensiveness of her not helping him out. He proposed not that she would not want to but that she may not be able to, that is, that it would not be her choice. Hence he was making it easier for Sheila to not help, should that be the option she was selecting.
We a r e arguing, then, that through the way that Ronny constructed his talk, he showed Sheila that he had concerns that were attached to getting help. The way that he constructed his talk shows that he was also concerned with not imposing on Sheila. In reporting his problem without officially requesting Iiclp, Ronny enabled Sheila to volunteer to help him. In naming an inoffensive basis for her not helping him, he may have made it easier for her to decline to help. Thus, he attempted to actualize his primary concern in a way that was sensitive to his concern of not imposing on her.
Our account of what motivates Ronny here is based in details intrinsic to the talk, as is usual in conversation-analytic inquiry. ltis also possible to posit a more social psychological explanation for the phenomenon. As the following social psychological explanation indicates, though, it may be difficult to ground this explanation in the details of the talk.
Rawlins (1983a, 1983b) proposed a “dialectic” of friendship, in which friends a r e torn between the contradictory impulses of the freedom to be independent and the freedom to be dependent. Rawlins says. “While each person is free to pursue individual goals and interests separate from the other and without the friend’s interference o r help, each retains the liberty to call on the other for assistance, should it be necessary” (1983a, pp. 259-260).
In friendships, tensions often arise between wanting to help a friend, on the one hand, and wanting to pursue one’s own concerns, on the other. In asking a favor of a friend, interactants often a r e sensitive to this dilemma and attempt to minimize the expected inconvenience, avoid having the friend sacrifice per- sonal priorities, and/or insure that the friend perceives that h e o r she can say no. Ronny’s concern for getting help (his primary concern) carries with it a contin- gent concern of not overly imposing on Sheila.
Ronny again displayed this contingent concern in dealing with Sheila’s
‘See Drew. 1984. for a similar method used wilh respect lo making and lurning down ir~vilations. Drew noted that. when a speaker offers n report and leaves Ihe recipient lo draw the upsl~ot of tlic report. this is a device a spenker may use lo avoid making “rejecting” the talk’s ofliclal business.
declination to help. In lines 17-19, Sheila “anticipated” what Ronny was calling for and offered a reasoll for not helping him:
17 Sheila: =Yeah:- ell I know you want- (.)en 1 whoa-
18 (.) en I would, but- except I’ve golta leave
1 $1 in about five tnin(11)utes. =
In response to her giving a reason, lionny right away accepted her refusal. He did not question or challenge her reason. He did not plead, cajole, threaten, promise, or make any appeals designed to make her change her mind. Rather, he immediately accepted the reason and announced his intention to solve the problem another way:
2 0 ~ o n n y : [=Okay Ihen 1 gotta call somebody else.right away.
Ronny’s abandoning his attempt to get help from Sheila may have been related to his not wanting to put pressure on her to do something that she did not want to do. This concern might have emerged in that he was attempting to solicit Sheila’s help, where Sheila’s giving help may involve some degree of sacrifice on her part.
To reiterate, Ronny’s alertness to the possibility of imposing was suggested in the ways in which he made the request in the firs1 place and dealt with her response to it. He presented the matter in a way that allowed her to volunteer, and, once she indicated a problenl with giving the help that she inferred he wanted, he was very quick to accept her position.
Deriving our observations from this conversation we have argued that a favor asker may orient to the presumed imposition or cost of the recipient’s compli- ance by providing a choice and giving a legitimate out for the recipient. In addition, a favor asker may orient to the presumed imposition in deciding whom to ask. If one imposes to some degree on the selected target when soliciting help, then one selecls a target where that imposition is more or lessappropriate to the relationship. Ronny selected Sheila as a target for his request. When Sheila indicated unwillingness to help, Ronny quickly moved to report that he would select another target. ‘The multiple concerns of getting help while not “overly” imposing would seem to affect both the selection of the target and the manner in which help is sought.
Similarly, we infer that Sheila had contingent concerns in turning down Ronny’s request for help. Although Sheila clearly was concerned with pursuing her own activities, she turned him down in a way that showed friendliness toward him and a sympathetic attitude toward his problem. In lines 18-19, she turned dowri liis inexplicit request i l l a way that claimed a willingness to have done tlle favor but for circumstances:
158 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANT? 9. WHAT DRIVES SOCIAL ACTION7 159
18 Sheila: . . . en I would, but- except I’ve gotta leave 19 In about five rnin(h)utes. =
Sheila cojoined a claim of willingness (“en 1 would”) with a claim of uncontrol- lable circumstances (“I’ve golta leave in about live min(h)utes0 [emphasis a d d ed]). With this format, she treated his request as legitimate, that is, as one that was appropriate for him to askof her. In other words, in her refusal sl~e.in~plicitly claims that she was an appropriate target for the request, despite the refusal. Additionally, she may have displayed a sympathetic attitude toward his request by producing the refusal with disfluency, that is, behaving in a way that was interpretable as a show of discomfort a t turning him down.
Both Ronny’s and Sheila’s enactments show that contingent concerns accom- panied their primary concerns. Faced with the prospect of “needing to get help” or “turning down a request.” interactants may experience additional concerns, such as not imposing or offending the cointeractant. These additional concerns shape the way the actions are carried out.
A qualification is necessary here: We have called “not imposing” and “main- taining a friendship” contingent concerns because they manifested themselves in the enactments of Ronny’s getting help and Sheila’s declining to help, respec- tively. Presumably, a contingent concern in one circumstance may be a primary concern in another.
PREREQUISITE CONCERNS
Assume that an actor has a primary concern and engages in some interaction in an effort to satisfy that concern. Some of the behaviors displayed a r e shaped by his or her attempting to satisfy the primary concern (e.g., getting help). There also a r e behaviors that a r e shaped by contingent concerns (e.g., not overly imposing). Still other behaviors are products of yet another kind of concern: concerns that emerge by virtue of getting into the position of attempting to satisfy the primary concern. We call these prerequisite concerns.
A prerequisite concern is one that is a prerequisite to achieving the business of the conversation. For instance, prerequisite to Ronny’s getting help from Sheila is for Ronny to reach her. We assume that Ronny was oriented to whether Sheila was home or not, because his being able to reach her was a prerequisite for his seeking help from her. We d o not know whether Ronny presu~ned that Sheila would be home, thought it likely, or was indeed concerned about catching her. In the discourse that we have from the start of the phone call, we see no display of this concern.
We offer another example of a prerequisite concern. In order for Ronny to try to get Sheila’s help, he had to know that she knew that he was the caller. Hadshe
shown that she recognized his voice, he would have known that she knew his identity. As it turned out, she did not show that she knew who was calling (line 3):
O Ring
I Sheila: Hello?
2 Ronny: ‘lo Sheila,
In line 3, she confirmed her own identity without offering to identify the caller. In response tosheila’s just confirming her own identity, Ronny identified himself (line’ 4):
2 Ronny: ‘lo Sheila.
3 Sheila: Yea[:h 1
4 Ronny: [(‘t’s) Klol~ny.
5 Sheila: I l i Ronny.
Ronny’s specific concern to be recognized emerged after Sheila’s behavior in line 3 suggested that she may not have recognized him. Although in some phone calls the interactants unproblematically recognize each other’s voice, in other phone calls, interactants nlay become concerned with being recognized and/or recognizing the other by voice (Schegloff, 1979, 1986). In this case, we suggest that Ronny’s concern about whether Sheila recognized him may have emerged when her talk exhibited some doubt about it.
The two prerequisite concerns that we discussed are Ronny’s possible con- cern with whether Sheila was at home and Ronny’s emergent concern with whether Sheila recognized him as the caller. Both a r e offered as concerns that Ronny may have dealt with before being able to seek help from Sheila.
I need a research proposal about specific topic:
The Linguistic tendencies of Bilingual children and the difficulties they will face after they return home and enroll at schools in Saudi Arabia
I need 4 pages of research proposal with 4-5 references.
It must be in APA style.
the age group is elementary school
They learned in English I’m USA and when they back home the language at the public schools is Arabic
their parents have scholarship in USA and after they finished they have to back home to Saudi Arabia.
I would love to mention about code-switching and other point that will make the proposal strong.
Directions:
Research Proposal
The title
1- Introduction: This research proposal aims to explore…………
2- Research Problem
3- Research Purpose/Aim: This is a (qualitative/ qualitative) study that aims to explore and identify……….
4- Research Questions: Two & three questions
5- Literature Review: Keeping in view the aim of this study, in this section, some relevant literature is reviewed in order to provide a context and background for the study
6- Research Strategy
7- Research Design
8- Data collection method
9- Ethical considerations
10- References
(if there is any grammatical mistake in the title, please fix it.
A). CONSTRUCT A GRAMMAR FOR NOUN PHRASES IN INDONESIAN
NP→{N(AP)(DP)}
The two languages are similar because in both English and Indonesian noun phrases, the lexical category ‘N’should be present. The NP in both Indonesia and English contains other categories that are optional such as AP, AdvP and PP. However, the arrangement of the various lexicons in the NP is different in the two languages.
In English, adjectives are mostly placed before the nouns they modify but in Indonesia, modifying adjectives are placed after nouns. In addition, demonstrative pronouns and possessive pronouns come after the noun they modify in Indonesia but in English, these come before the noun.
[B] EXPANSION I
S→NP VP
NP→{N (AP)(DP)}
VP→ V (PP)
(NP)(DP)
PP→(NP)(AP)(DP)
This expansion generates all the grammatical sentences by ensuring that all the lexical categories fall at the right place of the sentence structure. Ungrammatical sentences, such as *Minum anak kecil ini cannot be generated by this expansion since it would call for a change in the position of the VP to generate this kind of a sentence.
[C] EXPANSION II
S→N AP
NP
PP
NP→N (AP) (DP)
AP→P
PP→P(NP)(DP)
The grammar in Expansion II shows that the NP in Indonesian sentences can expand to include the VP. Therefore, the phrase VP is not included in the structure tree as it is represented by the NP. This is different from the English sentence where S→NP VP. In English, it is not possible to merge the VP into the NP. Further, the structure of the English sentence is always represented by S→NP VP but the Indonesian sentence structure is more flexible than the English sentence as it is possible to have different structures such as, S→NP VP; S→NP AP; S→NP PP and S→NP NP.
[D] EXPANSION III
S→NP AP
NP
PP
NP→N (AP) (DP)
AP→P
PP→ (Advdeg)P(NP)(DP)
This expansion adds the lexicon Advdeg to the PP to accommodate the sentences with this lexical category. The VP can also be included in the phrase that follows the NP so that it carries the meaning of both the VP and the original meaning of the phrase.
[E] CONCLUSION
The phrase structure rules are similar to the ones arrived at in class for English in that they have similar lexical categories as those in the English sentence. The sentence structure is always represented by S→NP VP. However, this is not always the case in the Indonesian sentences as the VP can be replaced by NP, AP or PP. In English, this is not possible as the phrase structure rule requires that S→NP VP always.
The position of various lexical categories in the phrase structure differs in both languages. In English, adjectives precede the nouns that they modify while in the Indonesian sentences, adjectives come after the nouns. Moreover, determiners in English also come before the nouns they introduce.
Assignment Seven
M
Important Reminder
Please (re)-read the guidelines for doing written assignments before you begin this task.
ˆePhrase Structure of Japanese
Your task in this assignment is to construct a mini-grammar of Japanese that will
account for the sentences below. Your grammar should consist of:
(a) a lexicon that lists the Japanese words given below, their category type, their
meaning, and any other relevant information;
(b) a set of phrase structure rules; and
(c) rules that describe the distribution of ga and o.
ˆree HelpfulWarnings
: Japanese exhibits some word order freedom. But in analyzing the
sentences below, you should assume that the words can occur in the order in
which they are shown.ˆis is false, but we will have something to say at a later point
about how to deal with this word order freedom.
: Write morphological rules to insert -ga and -o. Do not write any
other morphological rules.
: Japanese has no definite or indefinite articles.
: Experience suggests that this is one of the harder assignments in
the course. Please plan accordingly and leave yourself lots of time—to get the most
out of it and to show what you are capable of. Nothing in the assignment depends
on material that we will cover in the course of the coming week.
A
First formulate a mini-grammar to account for the sentences below. Draw trees for
(c), (a), and (b). What is your best guess about the subcategorization of yatta
‘gave’?
() a. John ga kita. John came
b. Tegami ga kita. A letter came
c. Tuma ga sinda. ˆe wife died
d. John ga oyoida. John swam
() a. John ga Mary o butta. John hit Mary
b. John ga tegami o yonda. John read the letter
c. John ga hon o yonda. John read the book
d. Sensei ga kodomo o sikatta. ˆe teacher scolded the child
() a. John ga Tokyo ni itta. John went to Tokyo
b. John ga Tokyo kara kita. John came from Tokyo
c. John ga Mary to atta. John met with Mary
() a. John ga Cambridge de Mary o mita. John saw Mary in Cambridge
b. John ga kawa de oyoida. John swam in a river
() a. John ga Mary ni hon o yatta. John gave a book to Mary
b. John ga Mary to kurumu de Kobe ni itta. John went to Kobe in a car
with Mary.
B
Next revise and expand your grammar to account for the following. Give trees for
() and ().
() John ga omosiroi hon o kaita. ‘John wrote an interesting book’
() Mary kara tegami ga kita. A letter from Mary arrived
() John no otoosan ga sinda. John’s father died
() Sensei ga John no kodomo o sikatta. ˆe teacher scolded John’s child
() John no atama gaMary no atama to butukatta. John’s head collided with
Mary’s head
C
Now revise the lexicon and phrase structure rules to account for the following. Give
trees for () and (). What is your best guess about the subcategorization of suki
‘fond’?
: Treat desu and da as forms of the same verb (desu is polite; da is
informal).
: Do revise any of your morphological rules! Treat the second
ga in sentences ()–() as a selected .
() John ga gakusei desu. John is a student
() John ga kanemoti desu. John is rich
() Yamanoki ga kirei desu. ˆemountains’ trees are pretty (yama= ‘moun-
tain’)
() Saru ga ningen no senzo desu. ˆe monkey is man’s ancestor (ningen =
‘man’)
() John ga Mary ga suki desu. John is fond of Mary
() John ga nihongo ga nigate da. John is bad at Japanese
() John ga nihongo ga zyoozu da. John is good at Japanese
D
Finally, extend your system one more time, so that it will account for the data seen
in ()–(). Do try to account for the difference between -ga in the earlier
examples and -wa in these examples. Assume for present purposes that these are
the same thing.
() Kore-wa
this
hon
book
desu
is ‘ˆis is a book.’
() Kore-wa
this
hon
book
desu
is
ka
INTERR
‘Is this a book?’
() John-wa nihongo-ga
Japanese
muzukasii
difficult-is
to itta
said ‘John said that Japanese is difficult.’
() Mary-wa John-ga baka
stupid
da
is
to omotta
thought ‘Mary thought that John was stupid.’
Problem set 7:
A. First formulate a mini-grammar to account for the sentences below.
S→NP (NP) (PP) VP
NP→N
PP→NP P
Morphological rules to insert ga and o.
ga – a particle that indicates the subject in a sentence.
o – a particle that indicates the object.
What is your best guess about the subcategorization of yatta→ ‘gave’?
This is a transitive verb because it requires an object to complete its meaning.
Draw trees for (2c), (3a), and (4b).
2c. John ga hon o yonda. John read the book
(3) a. John ga Tokyo ni itta. John went to Tokyo
4b. John ga kawa de oyoida. John swam in a river
A. Next revise and expand your grammar to account for the following.
S→NP (AP) (NP) (PP) VP
NP→(PossP) (NP) (AP)
PossP→NP
PP→NP P
Give trees for (7) and (10).
(7) Mary kara tegami ga kita. A letter from Mary arrived
(10) John no atama ga Mary no atama to butukatta. John’s head collided with Mary’s head.
C. Now revise the lexicon and phrase structure rules to account for the following.
S→NP (NP) (AP) VP
PossP
AP→NP A
What is your best guess about the subcategorization of suki ‘fond’?
‘Suki’ can be subcategorized as an adjective because it gives us more information about a noun.
Give trees for:
(14). Saru ga ningen no senzo desu. �e monkey is man’s ancestor (ningen =‘man’)
16). John ga nihongo ga nigate da. John is bad at Japanese
D. Finally, extend your system one more time, so that it will account for the data seen
in (18)–(21). Do NOT try to account for the difference between -ga in the earlier
examples and -wa in these examples. Assume for present purposes that these are
the same thing.
S→NP (NP) (AP) VP (INTERR)
VP→(CP) V
AP→NP P
CHAPTER 9 What Drives Social Action?
Jenny Mandelbaum Rutgets University
Anita Pomerantz Temple University
Conversation analysts aim to make sense of sense-making-to explicate the met hods through which everyday interactants produce discourse. This involves the close examination of tape-recorded, transcribed everyday conversations. Some of the topics studied by conversation analysts include how interactants take and give up turns (Sacks, Schegloff, & Jefferson, 1974), orient to sequences (Schegloff &Sacks, 1973), repair their own and others’ talk (Schegloff, Jefferson, & Sacks, 1977), issue invitations (Drew, 1984). seek information (Pomerantz, 1988), and tell about their troubles (Jefferson, 1980). ‘
Throughout these and other studies, we (as conversation analysts) are funda- mentally interested in participants’ concerns, orientations, and enterprises. At the same time, however, we have resisted addressing the question of intention. We often have written about participants’ orientations and concerns in almost behavioristic ways, giving discourse features as evidence of proposed orienta- tions and concerns. We have often proposed actors to be concerned about discourse features, a s opposed to being concerned about pursuing actions. Traditionally conversation analysts have described participants’ concerns in terms of their orientations to features of conversation. For instance, participants a r e portrayed as being concerned about whether or not a particular turn is to be understood to be the reason for the call, or whether and how the conversation is to be closed. and so forth (Schegloff, 1986; Schegloff & Sacks, 1973). These orientations are formulated as participants’ answers to the question, “Why that now?”-why is he or’she saying that thing a t this particular point?
Whereas conversation-analytic studies have tended to downplay or be inex-
152 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANTZ
plicit about the role of intentions, studies in speech communication have fre- quently unquestioningly treated interaction as wholly intenlional and goal- driven. As Craig (1 986, p. 257) has noted, tlie assumption that lluman behavior is goal-oriented is pervasive in many fields. Much of the work on goals in the speech communication field seems to be influenced by cognitive science models of action (e.g., Schank & Abelson, 1977). This work implicitly. and sometimes explicitly, takes the position that discourse is constructed in such a way as to enable interactants to achieve goals. I f it is a routine goal, actors will have a familiar script to play out in order to achieve the goal. I f not, a plan will be formulated for engaging in behavior that will lead to the satisfaction of the goal. According to this view. interaction is seen to be designed by a pre-existing goal. (For instance, cf. Rule & Bisanz, 1987; Canary, Cunningham, & Cody, 1988; Dillard, 1990, re: compliance-gaining goals. See Manusov, 1989. for a useful review.) Actions that a r e not in concert with that goal a r e sometimes described as “digressions” (Jacobs. Jackson, Hall, & Stearns, this volume).
Conversation analysis’s tendency to disattend or be inexplicit about partici- pants’ concerns, and speech communication’s tendency to regard all of social action a s goal-driven, suggest the need for a closer look at what drives social action, if indeed “driving” is the appropriate metaphor. Conversation analysis’s particular strength is its ability to identify details of social action by looking closely a t interaction. In this chapter we address the question of participants’ intentions in social action from a (our) conversation-analytic perspective. Drawing inferences from analysis of a fragment of conversation, we propose that. rather than generally being planfully driven by goals, .social action some- times is shaped by various types of concerns. We also note, however, that there a r e taken-for-granted features of interaction, and some more formal properties of it. that influence how social action is organized. In this chapter, we show how a close look suggests that social action is worked out between participants i n a n ongoing way, rather than driven by goals.
In order to answer the question, “What drives social action?”, we discuss a telephone conversation in which it is rather clear what the participants were trying to achieve. One participant was asking for help, and the other was declining t o help. This conversation provides us with materials for illustrating the distinctions we wish to make. Whereas some discourse choices were respon- sive to primary, multiple and contingent, or prerequisite concerns, other dis- course choices were influenced by taken-for-granted considerations or by other properties of social interaction. Below we clarify the proposed three concerns and two other influences by showing how they are manifested in conversation. Before turning to the telephone call, we briefly outline some of the issues raised by these distinctions.
First, we emphasize that we are dealing with inferredconcerns. Our data are the details of interaction. This approach does not permit us to determine what a n a r t i c i ~ a n t “actually” is concerned about. Indeed, we take it that such informa-
tion is currently very hard to obtain. Even self-reports of “actual” concerns a r e mediated by the situation in which they a r e solicited and may simply provide an account of what a participant remembers himself or herself to have been concerned about when prompted to think about it by a researcher. We inferred the mental states of the interlocutors from patterns in their interaction.
Second, level of awareness or consciousness of concerns is another cognitive matter to which we have no direct access. As noted above, when we propose that someone had a concern, we are involved in a process of inference. Sirni- larly, we inferred probable consciousness or absence of it from various features of the participants’ behavior. Although these parlicipants made their concerns apparent for one another and acted in ways that indicated that they wereat least sbhewhat aware of what they were achieving, we mark as problematic the answers to (a) how “aware” or “conscious” participants are, and@) the affects of their awareness (or lack of it) on their actions.
The following telephone call’ provides us with data for exploring an answer to, “What drives social action?”
O Ring
1 Sheila: Hello?
2 Rorlny: ‘lo Sheila,
I Ronny: ((7’s) Rjonny.
5 Sheila: Hi Ro~iny.
G Ronny: Guess what.hh
7 Sheila: What.
8 Ronny: .hh My ca:r is sta::lled.
9 (0.2)
10 Ronny: (‘n) I’m u p here in the Gle117
1 1 Sheila: 011::.
12 Ronny: h h h
13 Ronny: A:nd.lrh (0.2) 1 don’ know if it’s: po:ssible, but
14 .Ill111 see I heveta open up the ba:nk.hh
‘We wish lo thank Manny Scheglolf lor providing the data and for his contributions to theanalysis. We are also ~ r a t e l u l for his feedback on a late draft of this chapter. See appendix for transcription symbols.
154 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANTZ
16 Ronny: a:t uh: (.) in Brentwood?hh=
17 Sheila: =Yeah:- en I know you want- (.) en I whoa-
18 (.) en I would, but- except I’ve gotta leave
19 in about five min(h)utes. =
20 Ronny: [=Okay then I gotta call somebody else.right away.
21. Sheila: [(hheh)
23 Ronny: Okay?=
24 Sheila: =Okay [Ron 1
25 Ronny: [Thanksla lot.= Bye-.
26 Sheila: Bye:.
We offer five distinctions to help us better understand what drives the social action in this fragment of talk. These include primary concerns, rnultlple and contingent concerns, prerequisite concerns, taken-for-granted sustained achievements, and unmindful actions.
PRIHARY CONCERNS
We infer that Ronny’s primary concern here was to get help (most likely a ride) and that, in order to satisfy this concern, he called Sheila. The inference that this was Ronny’s primary concern is based on the following features of his talk. The call was organized around getting help. It was his first and only official business after identification was achieved. Ronny’s talk was limited to what was neces- sary for determining whether or not Sheila could help him: He identified the answerer as Sheila and himself to Sheila (lines 2-5), he indicated he had news to tell (line 6): he reported a problem that Sheila might have helped him to solve (lines 8, 10, 13-14, 16), and he closed the call immediately upon learning that Sheila could or would not help him out (line 20).
These details suggest that this was a single-purpose call. One could hypothe- size that there was an additional motive to the request. In the way that friend- ships may be tested with requests (Baxter & Wilmot, 1984), Ronny might have been testing whether Sheila was prepared to put herself out for him in time of need.2 w e do not know enough about the doing of secret tests to say whether or
‘We are differentiating Ronny’s making the request to test Sheila’s friendship from an effect that compliance with or relusal lo a request may have on a relationship. More specifically, although
9. WHAT DRIVES SOCIAL ACTION? 155
not this is likely. We see rlotlling in the discourse, however, to indicate that Ronny was concerned with testing the relationship.
MULTIPLE A N D CONTINGENT CONCERNS
In writing of “dialectical goals,” Craig (1986) pointed out that “people often face the need to do more than one thing a t the same time” @. 264). For example, In asking for someone’s help, participants often a r e concerned both with getting the help they seek and with not imposing on the other more than is necessary. Likewise, in declining to help friends, participants often are concerned both with not committing themselves to perform the help-tasks and with not engendering negative reactions.
We propose that both Ronny and Sheila were dealing with multiple concerns. More specifically, we propose that, when Ronny and Sheila enacted their primary concerns (i.e., getting help and declining to give help, respectively), there were additional concerns attached to those enactments. Next, we describe in detail how Ronny asked for help from Sheila in a way that minimized the degree to which he was imposing on her. This concern not to impose can be seen a s an additional concern that came about contingently, that is, upon finding that he needed to turn to someone for help. Sheila declined to help Ronny while displaying a sympathetic and friendly attitude toward his asking. This concern to be sympathetic and friendly also can be seen a s a contingent concern that came into being when Sheila chose not to help Ronny.
A characteristic of Rontly’s talk that makes available his contingent concern is its neutrality with respect to what he wanted. He began with “Guess what,” which indicated news but did not suggest whether the news was good or bad. He told his problem, without stating the upshot of it: “My ca:r is sta::lled . . . (‘n) I’m up here in the Glen? . . . see I haveta open up the ba:nk.hh . . . a:t uh: (.) in Rrentwood?hh.” Thus. Sheila was put in a position of “inferring” why he was reporting the situation to her. By describing a problem without making a n explicit request, Ronny gave Sheila a chance either to volunteer to help or to treat what he said as news. Sheila treated it as news in line 11 by indicating, with her “Oh::.,” that she had just been informed by what he said (see Heritage, 1984, re: change of state tokens). In reporting an event that can be heard a s a “trouble” or “problem,” Ronny most likely was counting on Sheila’s understanding of problems as needing solutions. In telling her the trouble or problem, he made available to her that she might help him, but he did not directly indicate anaction .
Sheila’s not having given help (or giving help had she done so) may or may not have had consequences for how Ronny viewed their friendship, that is quite separate lrom whether he made the rrn~lmt a s a Imt of her Irie~~dship.
9. WI-1AT DRIVES SOCIAL AC’KION? 157 156 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANTZ
that he would have liked Sheila to take in response to his p r ~ b l e m . ~ Thus Ronny gave Sheila an opportunity to offer the help or not, rather than putting her in a position of having to respond yes or no to an explicit request.
In addition to not making an explicit request for help. Ronny gave Sheila an “out.” In saying. “A:nd.hh (0.2) 1 don’ know i f it’s: po:ssible” (line 13), Ronny was displaying a n awareness that Sheila may have to turn him down. Ronny offered a basis that Sheila might have for not helping him that minimized the poter~tial offensiveness of her not helping him out. He proposed not that she would not want to but that she may not be able to, that is, that it would not be her choice. Hence he was making it easier for Sheila to not help, should that be the option she was selecting.
We a r e arguing, then, that through the way that Ronny constructed his talk, he showed Sheila that he had concerns that were attached to getting help. The way that he constructed his talk shows that he was also concerned with not imposing on Sheila. In reporting his problem without officially requesting Iiclp, Ronny enabled Sheila to volunteer to help him. In naming an inoffensive basis for her not helping him, he may have made it easier for her to decline to help. Thus, he attempted to actualize his primary concern in a way that was sensitive to his concern of not imposing on her.
Our account of what motivates Ronny here is based in details intrinsic to the talk, as is usual in conversation-analytic inquiry. ltis also possible to posit a more social psychological explanation for the phenomenon. As the following social psychological explanation indicates, though, it may be difficult to ground this explanation in the details of the talk.
Rawlins (1983a, 1983b) proposed a “dialectic” of friendship, in which friends a r e torn between the contradictory impulses of the freedom to be independent and the freedom to be dependent. Rawlins says. “While each person is free to pursue individual goals and interests separate from the other and without the friend’s interference o r help, each retains the liberty to call on the other for assistance, should it be necessary” (1983a, pp. 259-260).
In friendships, tensions often arise between wanting to help a friend, on the one hand, and wanting to pursue one’s own concerns, on the other. In asking a favor of a friend, interactants often a r e sensitive to this dilemma and attempt to minimize the expected inconvenience, avoid having the friend sacrifice per- sonal priorities, and/or insure that the friend perceives that h e o r she can say no. Ronny’s concern for getting help (his primary concern) carries with it a contin- gent concern of not overly imposing on Sheila.
Ronny again displayed this contingent concern in dealing with Sheila’s
‘See Drew. 1984. for a similar method used wilh respect lo making and lurning down ir~vilations. Drew noted that. when a speaker offers n report and leaves Ihe recipient lo draw the upsl~ot of tlic report. this is a device a spenker may use lo avoid making “rejecting” the talk’s ofliclal business.
declination to help. In lines 17-19, Sheila “anticipated” what Ronny was calling for and offered a reasoll for not helping him:
17 Sheila: =Yeah:- ell I know you want- (.)en 1 whoa-
18 (.) en I would, but- except I’ve golta leave
1 $1 in about five tnin(11)utes. =
In response to her giving a reason, lionny right away accepted her refusal. He did not question or challenge her reason. He did not plead, cajole, threaten, promise, or make any appeals designed to make her change her mind. Rather, he immediately accepted the reason and announced his intention to solve the problem another way:
2 0 ~ o n n y : [=Okay Ihen 1 gotta call somebody else.right away.
Ronny’s abandoning his attempt to get help from Sheila may have been related to his not wanting to put pressure on her to do something that she did not want to do. This concern might have emerged in that he was attempting to solicit Sheila’s help, where Sheila’s giving help may involve some degree of sacrifice on her part.
To reiterate, Ronny’s alertness to the possibility of imposing was suggested in the ways in which he made the request in the firs1 place and dealt with her response to it. He presented the matter in a way that allowed her to volunteer, and, once she indicated a problenl with giving the help that she inferred he wanted, he was very quick to accept her position.
Deriving our observations from this conversation we have argued that a favor asker may orient to the presumed imposition or cost of the recipient’s compli- ance by providing a choice and giving a legitimate out for the recipient. In addition, a favor asker may orient to the presumed imposition in deciding whom to ask. If one imposes to some degree on the selected target when soliciting help, then one selecls a target where that imposition is more or lessappropriate to the relationship. Ronny selected Sheila as a target for his request. When Sheila indicated unwillingness to help, Ronny quickly moved to report that he would select another target. ‘The multiple concerns of getting help while not “overly” imposing would seem to affect both the selection of the target and the manner in which help is sought.
Similarly, we infer that Sheila had contingent concerns in turning down Ronny’s request for help. Although Sheila clearly was concerned with pursuing her own activities, she turned him down in a way that showed friendliness toward him and a sympathetic attitude toward his problem. In lines 18-19, she turned dowri liis inexplicit request i l l a way that claimed a willingness to have done tlle favor but for circumstances:
158 MANDELBAUM AND POMERANT? 9. WHAT DRIVES SOCIAL ACTION7 159
18 Sheila: . . . en I would, but- except I’ve gotta leave 19 In about five rnin(h)utes. =
Sheila cojoined a claim of willingness (“en 1 would”) with a claim of uncontrol- lable circumstances (“I’ve golta leave in about live min(h)utes0 [emphasis a d d ed]). With this format, she treated his request as legitimate, that is, as one that was appropriate for him to askof her. In other words, in her refusal sl~e.in~plicitly claims that she was an appropriate target for the request, despite the refusal. Additionally, she may have displayed a sympathetic attitude toward his request by producing the refusal with disfluency, that is, behaving in a way that was interpretable as a show of discomfort a t turning him down.
Both Ronny’s and Sheila’s enactments show that contingent concerns accom- panied their primary concerns. Faced with the prospect of “needing to get help” or “turning down a request.” interactants may experience additional concerns, such as not imposing or offending the cointeractant. These additional concerns shape the way the actions are carried out.
A qualification is necessary here: We have called “not imposing” and “main- taining a friendship” contingent concerns because they manifested themselves in the enactments of Ronny’s getting help and Sheila’s declining to help, respec- tively. Presumably, a contingent concern in one circumstance may be a primary concern in another.
SEE THE ATTACHED PAGE FOR MY RESPONSES TO THE QUESTIONS. so you can guide the essay properly.
This is an opportunity for you to reflect on your language learning experience(s) and the insights you have gain through this (these) experience(s) about yourself and your notions regarding language acquisition.
Some questions that might guide your narrative:
Applied Linguistics 2014: 35/4: 418–440 � Oxford University Press 2014 doi:10.1093/applin/amu012 Advance Access published on 4 June 2014
Exceptional Outcomes in L2 Phonology: The Critical Factors of Learner Engagement and Self-Regulation
1 ALENE MOYER
1 School of Languages, Literatures and Cultures, College of Arts and Humanities,
University of Maryland
E-mail: moyera@umd.edu
A number of studies attest to the late language learner’s ability to attain native-
like outcomes in morphology and syntax, with accent often the only linguistic
hint of their non-native status. Nevertheless, some do end up sounding native-
like despite a late start. This article explores possible explanations for ’excep-
tional’ outcomes in L2 phonology, specifically, whether such learners’ abilities
are due to innate talent, a metacognitive learning approach, a certain social-
psychological orientation, or specific kinds of experience. Various learners
profiles are compared, an argument is made for learner engagement and
self-regulation, and areas for future research are outlined.
INTRODUCTION
It is no exaggeration to say that those beyond early childhood who aim to
master a new language begin at a vastly different starting point than those who
begin at birth. The second language acquisition (SLA) literature is replete with
theories and hypotheses about why this is so, ranging from neuro-cognitive to
social to psychological explanations including first language (L1) interference,
affective ‘filters’ of one sort or another, the decreasing accessibility of an innate
language acquisition device, social and cultural barriers to assimilation, etc.
(see Bley-Vroman 1989). What is certain is that at least one language is already
in place as a knowledge base, which can imply greater metalinguistic aware-
ness, yet may also be detrimental insofar as L1 cues and patterns are already
salient (see Hansen 2004 for second language, or L2; Kuhl et al. 2008 and
Strange and Shafer 2008 for L1). The first language(s) may limit what the
learner notices in L2, and what she or he is therefore able to emulate at the
level of performance.
According to Selinker (1972), just 5–10 percent of adult language learners
can expect to reach a native-like level, but even this low threshold may be
somewhat ambitious for phonological fluency. Nevertheless, some late lear-
ners do attain a level that can be described as native, or native-like, for some
series of perception-based and/or production-based tasks (e.g. Ioup et al. 1994;
Bongaerts et al. 1995; Moyer 1999). This fact begs two questions that have long
fascinated SLA scholars: (i) What makes a successful language learner? 1
(ii) Why
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does phonology uniquely challenge so-called ‘late’ language learners in comparison
with other aspects of language? This article merges both questions by examining
several reasons why some late learners are particularly successful in the realm
of accent.
Scovel (1988) famously asserted that age effects in L2 phonological acquisi-
tion are directly related to neuro-muscular or perceptual skill development,
rather than affective factors. His argument was based on two important prem-
ises: (i) phonology uniquely relies on neuro-muscular faculties for both per-
ception and production; (ii) affective factors could not reasonably restrict
phonology, yet have no effect on other aspects of language ability. Indeed,
shifts in neuro-muscular flexibility and or cognitive mechanisms have long
been assumed responsible for the relative difficulty of learning a new sound
system given that phonology relies on both speech-motor control and audi-
tory-perceptual neural networks. On the other hand, phonology also holds a
unique connection to one’s sense of self, or identity, and therefore speaks to
more than just neuro-cognitive and neuro-muscular constraints. Moreover, it
is undeniable that target language experience shapes one’s approach to acqui-
sition over the long term, and thus the likelihood of native-like attainment.
Evidence confirms correlations between accent ratings and a host of individual
factors, among them: length of residence (LOR) in the target language country,
age of onset/first exposure, and both quantity and quality of experience in the
target language, not to mention motivation and attitudes (e.g. Purcell and
Suter 1980; Thompson 1991; Bongaerts et al. 1995; Elliott 1995; Flege and
Liu 2001; Diaz-Campos 2004; see also Moyer 2013).
In sum, numerous cognitive, social, and psychological factors, both intrinsic
and extrinsic in nature, point towards a possible understanding of exceptional
outcomes. In a sense then, the phenomenon of exceptionality signifies a nexus
for the two dominant paradigms of SLA: a decidedly cognitive or psycholin-
guistic approach on the one hand, and on the other hand, a largely sociolin-
guistic perspective focused on the ‘whole person’. This article argues that
the mysteries of exceptional learning, so rare in L2 phonology, cannot be
explained by either one or the other, but resides at the intersection of both
realms. What can explain the fact that some L2 learners, despite a
late start, end up sounding native-like? Are we to understand them as ‘phono-
logical geniuses’ with extraordinary, innate talents? Alternatively,
do they have special ways of utilizing input, or can they somehow access
linguistic resources in unusual ways? What accounts for their extraordinary
success?
With these questions in mind, I first describe what is generally implied by
‘exceptionality’ in L2 phonology, then present case studies which suggest a
number of common characteristics of their approach to language learning. In
so doing, the relevance of both self-regulation and engagement with the target
language become clear. I conclude by suggesting that the fascination with
some as-yet-determined special talent obscures the need for an integrated
examination of the cognitive, social, and experiential factors that co-vary
A. MOYER 419
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with age. The research on exceptionality calls for a dynamic view of learner
engagement with the target language over time in order to understand the
ways that exceptional learners make the most of the available input, and take a
flexible approach, responding to the circumstances at hand.
EXCEPTIONALITY IN L2 PHONOLOGY
To clarify, ‘exceptional’ refers to those who defy the Critical Period Hypothesis
(Lenneberg 1967); they sound native-like even though their exposure to the
target language comes after age 9–10 years (the critical period for phonology is
arguably even earlier, but 9–10 years is a relatively common yardstick in the
research, in keeping with Lenneberg’s original hypothesis). So, which specific
skills or skill sets are implied when we talk about exceptionality, or native-like-
ness, in phonology? By and large, we mean the ability to perceive and/or
produce new sounds like a native speaker would, verified through relevant
tasks which are often isolated or decontextualized (see Levis and Moyer 2014).
Kuhl’s 2007 study on American and Japanese adults confirmed that this is
challenging owing to L1 category salience. Her American listeners could ac-
curately pinpoint the acoustic differences between /r/ and /l/ while her
Japanese listeners could not owing to this contrast’s absence in Japanese.
Further distinctions based on subtle features like vowel quality, aspiration,
and voice onset time (e.g. the difference between /I/ and /E/ or /d/ and /t/) can also be difficult to detect if they are irrelevant in L1. This is likely more
difficult when L1 and L2 features overlap, but are not quite the same, as Flege
and Hillenbrand (1987) have shown for the English vs. French versions of the
phoneme /u/. Instruction and experience can bridge this gap for both produc-
tion and perception (e.g. Flege and Hillenbrand 1987; Rojczyk 2011), even
long-term (e.g. Sereno and Wang 2007), but mastery eludes most L2 learners,
it seems, and even the untrained ear can detect the difference between native
and non-native speech. As shown in Major (2007), listeners completely un-
familiar with the language in question can accurately separate native controls
from non-native speakers, which suggests that there is something unique, and
highly salient, about a non-native accent.
Accent is not just a matter of phonetic or segmental precision. To sound
‘native-like’ the learner must control a number of different features that op-
erate in conjunction with one another, including tempo, rhythm, pause, junc-
ture, pitch patterns, and intonation. Pickering and Baker (2014) confirm that
judgments of accentedness rely on sentence stress (prominence), pause place-
ment patterns, speech rate, and tone choice. (They also point out, however,
that such judgments are prone to listener background variables such as native/
non-native status and attitudes towards the speakers’ presumed backgrounds.)
While tests of such ability are limited to isolated words or phrases, as noted,
some do include a complex range of tasks including spontaneous speech,
which allows for greater confidence in deeming a given learner as ‘exceptional’
(see Moyer 2013). Few such cases have been examined in depth, however.
420 EXCEPTIONAL OUTCOMES IN L2 PHONOLOGY
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Applied Linguistics 2014: 35/2: 184–207 � Oxford University Press 2013 doi:10.1093/applin/amt013 Advance Access published on 13 July 2013
Dynamics of Complexity and Accuracy: A Longitudinal Case Study of Advanced Untutored Development
*BRITTANY POLAT and YOUJIN KIM
Georgia State University
*E-mail: bpolat@student.gsu.edu or brittanypolat@gmail.com
This longitudinal case study follows a dynamic systems approach to investigate
an under-studied research area in second language acquisition, the development
of complexity and accuracy for an advanced untutored learner of English. Using
the analytical tools of dynamic systems theory (Verspoor et al. 2011) within the
framework of complexity, accuracy, and fluency (Skehan 1998; Norris and
Ortega 2009), the study tracks accuracy, syntactic complexity, and lexical
diversity in the speech of a Turkish immigrant over one year. Results from
these oral interviews show that most development occurred in the participant’s
lexical diversity, syntactic complexity showed potential but unverifiable gains,
and accuracy showed no development. These findings suggest that an untutored
language learner may develop advanced lexical and syntactic skills, but achiev-
ing grammatical accuracy without instruction may be more difficult. Overall,
dynamic systems theory seems to provide a suitable framework for examining
the linguistic development of advanced naturalistic learners, with important
implications for future research involving untutored immigrant and refugee
populations of English language learners.
INTRODUCTION
In recent decades, second language acquisition (SLA) research has
predominantly focused on issues in instructed language learning rather than
naturalistic language learning. Despite promising early research and several
seminal studies of untutored adult learners—Schmidt’s (1984) Wes study,
Schumann’s (1978) Alberto study, Huebner’s (1983) Ge study—which have
made significant contributions to the field, the vast majority of publications
today concentrate on instructed language learning. Although many of these
have certainly increased our understanding of how language learning works in
the classroom, there are compelling reasons to pay more attention to language
acquisition outside the classroom.
Whereas many of the students who participate in SLA studies have the
luxury of formal language instruction, the majority of the world’s language
learners acquire second and additional languages in naturalistic contexts
(Klein and Perdue 1993). Without knowing how this type of learning takes
place, SLA researchers are missing a crucial part of the language acquisition
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process: the basic mechanisms that have allowed humans to create and pass
on languages for millennia (Klein and Dimroth 2009). As Klein and Dimroth
put it:
Untutored second language acquisition is not something exotic, it is the normal case, and if we want to understand the very principles according to which the human mind constructs, copies, and uses linguistic systems, then we must study how human beings cope with this task when not under the influence of teaching. (p. 519)
As the field discovers how important social and situational factors are in lan-
guage learning, it becomes increasingly apparent that tutored and untutored
acquisition may have very different driving factors. So far, however, only a few
studies in the past two decades have explored naturalistic language learning
(Klein and Perdue 1993; Ioup et al. 1994; Dimroth and Starren 2003), and of
these, only Ioup et al. (1994) have specifically investigated advanced natural-
istic learning, with an English-speaking learner of Arabic.
Perhaps the most extensive study of untutored language learning to date is
that conducted by the European Science Foundation from 1981 to 1988
(Perdue 1993). This study tracked the development of 40 language learners
from a variety of first language backgrounds in five host countries (Britain,
France, Sweden, Germany, and The Netherlands) over 30 months and found
that immigrants at first developed a basic variety (BV) of the target language.
The BVs were all very similar, lacking morphological inflection and consisting
of a rudimentary lexicon, and they mainly seemed independent of the lear-
ner’s first language and target language. Whereas about one-third of the im-
migrants remained at this basic level throughout the study, the others
continued to develop beyond the BV (Klein and Perdue 1993). The study
has yielded important insights into universals of basic language varieties, as
well as developmental stages that most naturalistic learners appear to pass
through. However, because the study did not report on learners beyond
basic development, we know neither how proficient these learners ultimately
became nor what their most advanced forms of learner language looked like.
The present study addresses the research lacuna of advanced naturalistic
learning by examining the language development of an untutored adult lan-
guage learner beginning two and a half years after his arrival in the target
language environment. The methodological approach taken is that of dynamic
systems theory (DST) (Verspoor et al. 2011), and the variables investigated are
two widely used constructs of language performance, complexity and accuracy
(Ellis and Barkhuizen 2005). In the following text, we will address the theor-
etical considerations behind researching complexity and accuracy from a
dynamic systems perspective, and then we will present the 12-month case
study. We conclude with a discussion of implications for untutored language
acquisition and the importance of integrating research on untutored learning
over time into mainstream SLA research.
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CAF AND DST
Theoretical platforms
Researchers of second language (L2) development are increasingly relying on
measures of complexity, accuracy, and fluency (known together as CAF) to
assess learners’ written and oral proficiency and to probe more deeply into
the cognitive processes of language learning (Ellis and Barkhuizen 2005).
Originally conceived as a way to distinguish aspects of task performance,
these three components are oriented toward either form (complexity and
accuracy) or meaning (fluency; Skehan1998). One of the major advantages of
CAF-based research is that it provides a sophisticated framework for investigat-
ing the multicomponential nature of language use and development. As form
has consistently been shown to be challenging for naturalistic learners (Schmidt
1984; Dimroth and Starren 2003), the present study focuses on the two form-
oriented components of L2 oral performance, complexity and accuracy.
The CAF constructs have frequently been examined by task-based SLA
researchers who are interested in the role of task design and implementation
in L2 performance (Ellis 2003; Samuda and Bygate 2008). Some researchers
assert that the CAF measures have been inconsistently defined and operatio-
nalized (Housen and Kuiken 2009), leading to calls for consistent, specific, and
validated CAF measures to be used across studies (Norris and Ortega 2009;
Pallotti 2009). Norris and Ortega (2009), for example, argue that different
operationalizations of complexity capture different facets of language develop-
ment, and that researchers should use multiple construct measurements to
provide a more complete picture. They also call for ‘more organic practice’
(p. 574) and a deeper consideration of context as an influence on CAF. In
other words, according to Norris and Ortega (2009), ‘our measurements
must provide multivariate, longitudinal, and descriptive accounts of constructs
in L2 performance in order to capture the complex, dynamic, and develop-
mental nature of CAF phenomena’ (p. 574).
At the same time, many SLA researchers are embracing the perspective that
SLA is an individualized nonlinear endeavor, and that research should con-
sider the variability and interaction of its components (Larsen-Freeman and
Cameron 2008a, 2008b). Although the idea of nonlinearity in language devel-
opment is not new, investigations undertaken within this dynamic systems
framework have applied new conceptual tools and analyses to the study of
developmental variability, showing the complex interrelations of CAF vari-
ables within language acquisition (Verspoor et al. 2011). DST researchers
advocate longitudinal, fine-grained, and microgenetic studies to discover indi-
vidual learning trajectories and the interrelationships of parts within the whole
(van Geert and van Dijk 2002; de Bot 2008; Larsen-Freeman and Cameron
2008a). Because DST is centered around time and variability, Ortega and
Byrnes (2008) propose that this theoretical approach is very well-suited to
the longitudinal study of advanced language capacities.
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Empirical research on CAF through DST
Because of the relative newness of the dynamic systems paradigm—and the
shift in perspective and analytical tools that it requires—only a few studies
have as yet connected this framework with CAF. Larsen-Freeman (2006)
was the first applied linguist to examine CAF through a DST lens, with a
focus on the variability between learners. Her investigation of five instructed
Chinese learners of English measured their written development of grammat-
ical complexity (clauses per t-unit), lexical complexity (a kind of type-token
ratio), accuracy (ratio of correct t-units to all t-units), and fluency (words per t-
unit) over four months, in addition to analyzing oral narrative idea units for
qualitative differences. The study revealed that although averaged group data
showed steady improvement in all three CAF components for the learners,
patterns of development for each individual were far removed from the aver-
aged trajectory. Learners exhibited unique trajectories, with different rates of
improvement and even decreases in some areas, an important fact that had
been obscured by the group averages.
Given this important individual variability in language acquisition, other
CAF studies have examined single language learners over a period of several
years. Verspoor et al. (2008) analyzed an advanced English learner’s academic
writing for development of vocabulary (measured by average word length,
type-token ratio, use of words from the Academic Word List) and complexity
(measured by length of noun phrase and number of words per finite verb).
They found that although the learner showed development in almost all the
aspects investigated, progress was nonlinear and was different for each vari-
able. Several interesting patterns emerged, including a possible competitive
relationship between development of type-token ratio and sentence length,
and a supportive relationship between finite verb ratio and noun phrase
length. The authors conclude that in the dynamic system of language learning,
‘there can be no development without variability, and the amount and type of
variability can reveal the actual developmental process’ (p. 229).
In another DST/CAF study, Spoelman and Verspoor (2010) tracked a Dutch
learner’s acquisition of written Finnish over three years. They examined
accuracy (case usage) and several measures of complexity (morphemes per
word, words per noun phrase, and ‘difference between the average sentence
length in morphemes and the average sentence length in words’, p. 539). The
results once again showed the interaction of variables over time, with the
learner’s complexity variables sometimes competing and sometimes support-
ing each other. Interestingly, although accuracy and complexity seemed to be
in competition early in the study period, they later changed to a noncompe-
titive relationship as the learner became more proficient, suggesting that
proficiency level may have an impact on the interaction of variables. Similar
to Verspoor et al. (2008), Spoelman and Verspoor (2010) maintain that these
language learner systems demonstrate the ‘classic’ jumps, transitions, and
nonlinear development of dynamic systems.
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The findings of these DST-based CAF studies show the importance of seeking
emergent dynamic patterns within the components of language systems
(Larsen-Freeman 2009; de Bot and Larsen-Freeman 2011). So far, however,
research in this area has concentrated on instructed, mainly written language
learning in academic settings, and researchers have not applied the DST the-
oretical framework or CAF constructs to studying untutored language devel-
opment. In addition, although several of these studies involve high-
intermediate (Larsen-Freeman 2006) or advanced learners (Verspoor et al.
2008), by and large the CAF/DST paradigm has not explicitly engaged with
the special concerns of advanced language capacities. One of the main goals of
the current study, therefore, is to specifically tease out the important issues
related to L2 advancedness, particularly as they apply to nonacademic
contexts.
ADVANCED LANGUAGE CAPACITIES
Although studies of advanced language learners have often figured in import-
ant SLA research, a wake-up call was sounded by Ortega and Byrnes’ (2008)
collection of longitudinal research on advanced language capacities. There is
an acute need, they argue, to closely examine the question of how ‘learning
over time evolve[s] toward sophisticated second language capacities, indeed to
high-level multiple-language capacities’ (p. 282). Researchers may often call
for longitudinal studies of language development, but the field has yet to come
to a consensus on what advancedness means in terms of L2 capabilities, or on
how it should be measured. Researchers such as Harklau (2008), Myles (2008),
and Angelelli (2008) offer different definitions and methodological techniques
for capturing advanced L2 use, including various qualitative and quantitative
approaches that examine linguistic, sociolinguistic, and pragmatic aspects of
language acquisition.
By claiming to investigate an advanced language learner, therefore, the pre-
sent study grapples with the unresolved theoretical issue of what advancedness
actually is. Research set in any kind of instructional context can easily rely on
test scores, institutional status, or classroom performance to define advanced
language capacities (Ortega and Byrnes 2008), and laboratory-based research
can elicit advanced or late-acquired linguistic features to claim advancedness.
In the present type of research conducted with an untutored learner, none of
these options are available. We therefore prefer the criterion of ‘advanced
language use in context’ (Ortega and Byrnes 2008: 282), based on what the
focal participant uses language to do in everyday life.
This more naturalistic approach to advancedness allows us to take the study
of advanced language capacities outside of academically defined parameters
and into the context of untutored learning. Just as there have been few studies
of untutored language acquisition from a CAF or DST framework, so, too, are
studies of advanced naturalistic learners few and far between. Ortega and
Byrnes’ (2008) collection does not include any studies on untutored learners,
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mainly because most research on advanced language learning has overwhelm-
ingly privileged written and academic language. The authors conclude that
‘longitudinal research on advancedness would benefit from sampling across
a variety of social settings that afford opportunities for diverse language rep-
ertoires, as this will enrich the developmental insights we obtain’ (Ortega and
Byrnes 2008: 284). It seems clear that not only are more longitudinal studies of
advanced language learning needed, but more are needed in a variety of con-
texts, such as untutored learners in a target-language setting.
A point of contention in the debate on advancedness seems to be whether
learner language should be compared with native speaker norms (Ortega and
Byrnes 2008). In this article, we take the position that L2 systems should never
be seen merely as deficient versions of native speaker language systems (Cook
2002; Harklau 2008), but it would be difficult to establish any learner’s level of
advancedness without considering target-like language use. For this reason,
the present study uses a native speaker comparison with the intention not of
showing deficiencies, but rather of showing the advanced language capacity of
an untutored learner. This is similar to Verspoor et al.’s (2008) inclusion of a
native speaker comparison, which is a helpful touchstone for interpreting the
performance of non-native speakers. In addition to the native speaker data
collected in this study, we offer comparisons of our participant’s language
with that of non-native English speakers in several previous studies that
have measured naturalistic oral data.
In summary, the study presented in later text seeks to join several strands of
research that have not yet been united but which have the potential to en-
hance our understanding of language learning: DST, CAF, naturalistic learn-
ing, and advanced language capacities. The complexity theory perspective
allows us to analyze various developmental patterns of an untutored but
nevertheless advanced L2 user, and the CAF platform provides a systematic
and conceptually clear set of tools for our investigation.
METHODS
Participants
Focal participant
The focal participant in this study, Alex (a pseudonym), is a native speaker of
Turkish who had lived in the USA for two and a half years at the beginning of
the interview period. Although Alex completed a bachelor’s degree in televi-
sion production at a prestigious university in Istanbul, he describes his English
at the time of his arrival in the USA as very basic. In fact, his experience with
English had been overwhelmingly negative before his interactions with
Americans. According to Alex, he had taken English for four years in high
school—delivered strictly through grammar-translation instruction—but never
managed to pass the class (he was allowed to graduate on the strength of his
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grades in other subjects). At university, he was required to take a year-long
English preparatory program before beginning his degree studies. Alex esti-
mates that he attended only about 30 percent of the English classes during that
year, and he failed to pass the English examination that would allow him to
proceed with his major studies. To help him move on with the degree, his
department allowed him to complete a ‘project’ in lieu of passing the difficult
examination; the project entailed writing 100 words on a sheet of notebook
paper, which Alex accomplished, thus ending his English learning
requirements.
Alex attributes his repeated failures and complete lack of interest in English
to poor teaching methods and to his belief (at the time) that the language was
completely irrelevant to his life. This belief necessarily changed, however,
when Alex moved to the USA at the age of 25. Once in the USA, he used
only English outside the home, although he reports reading newspapers,
watching movies and television shows, and talking weekly with his family
in Turkish. His interview comments reveal a positive orientation toward the
target language community and an openness to the new language and culture:
For me I’m don’t believe I’m belongs to one culture. Basically I am making my own culture . . . You know anytime I learn something, if it’s better than what I have, I get it. That’s my culture now. I found it something like that in English, in United State, and I took it some of them. Now they are my culture. But, something is ridiculous, it will never be my culture . . . I believe everybody have to do that, like this. (February 14)
Although Alex did have some formal language instruction in his home coun-
try, in this study, he is considered an untutored learner because his English
skills were rudimentary at the time of his arrival in the target language con-
text, because he has not taken any language classes in the USA, and because
he has learned English primarily through quotidian interaction (Lightbown
and Spada 2006). At the same time, Alex can be considered an advanced
English user based on what he is able to accomplish through everyday use
of the language (Harklau 2008; Ortega and Byrnes 2008). During this year-
long study, he worked in an English-only context as an assistant department
manager in a supermarket, supervising 25 employees (mainly native English
speakers), complying with strict federal food safety regulations, and managing
high volumes of perishable food inventory. Alex began working part-time in
the supermarket six months after he arrived in the USA and in three years was
promoted three times, in competition with native English speakers. Shortly
after the study ended, he was promoted again, to department manager.
Native speakers
Three native speakers were selected for comparison (two females and one
male), and they were each interviewed under similar circumstances as Alex
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(see Procedures for details). These speakers were all undergraduate
students at a university in the same city where Alex lives, with majors of
religious studies, applied linguistics, and education/drama. We believe that
these participants provide an appropriate comparison group because they
are at a similar education level as Alex (obtaining bachelor’s degrees) and
were discussing topics conceptually similar to topics in several of Alex’s
interviews.
Procedures
For exactly one year, Alex was interviewed once every two weeks for approxi-
mately 30 minutes. Several factors contributed to providing an authentic con-
text for language production: (1) Alex is a friend of the first author and has
experience discussing a wide variety of topics with her, (2) the interviews took
place in a familiar and nonthreatening environment, and (3) Alex was encour-
aged to choose topics that he enjoyed and felt comfortable discussing through-
out the unstructured interview. The interviews were carried out by the first
author, whose primary role was simply to be a conversational participant to
elicit speech production from Alex. Because the goal of data collection was to
gather authentic speech, topics varied and the conversation was unstructured
and unplanned (Duff 2008). Alex selected the topics for discussion (such as
politics, childhood memories, or his experience learning English) and could
decide when to move on to a new subject. The interviews therefore provided
realistic and meaning-oriented communicative situations (Hesse-Biber and
Leavy 2011).
Interviews were held every two weeks to capture any microgenetic
changes in Alex’s language. Microdevelopment is important in DST, as it can
provide details on how processes actually develop, particularly during key
moments of transition (Larsen-Freeman and Cameron 2008b). In addition,
the study was designed along the longitudinal timescale of one year, which
was long enough to represent development but still a manageable commit-
ment for the participant (see Ortega and Iberri-Shea 2005 for a discussion of
choosing timescales).
In addition to Alex’s data, three interviews were held with the native speak-
ers to obtain comparison data. These interviews were conducted in much the
same way as the interviews with Alex, with the main difference being that
they were slightly longer, at 45–60 minutes. The three native speakers were
familiar with the first author, who also carried out these interviews. Interviews
were recorded in a familiar environment on a laptop computer, and the topic
discussed was language learning, which was also a topic in Alex’s interviews.
Although native speaker conversation can vary in its complexity, because vari-
ables such as interlocutor, topic, and passage length were controlled for (see
Data Analysis), these data provide an appropriate starting point for target-like
use comparison.
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Data analysis and intercoder reliability
To investigate Alex’s longitudinal development of complexity and accuracy,
100-word passages were taken from each interview transcript (following
Spoelman and Verspoor 2010). The passage selected from each transcript
was the end of the last turn in which Alex spoke more than 100 words. This
was done to eliminate very short interactional utterances and dialogic re-
sponses that may have different levels of complexity and accuracy than
longer utterances. Passages were taken from the end of each interview because
it was assumed that Alex would be speaking more naturally at the end rather
than the beginning of the recording. Due to the organic nature of the interview
setting, discussion topics varied by session. 1
False starts, repetitions, inserts,
and other hesitation phenomena were excluded from the passages, so that the
100-word segments represented Alex’s speech without hesitation phenomena.
As in Spoelman and Verspoor (2010) and other studies, the oral data were
converted to CHAT format to be compatible with CHILDES program software
(MacWhinney 2000). The data were then analyzed for syntactic complexity
(mean length of AS-units, clauses per AS-unit, mean length of clauses), lexical
diversity (D), and accuracy (errors per 100 words, present simple tense).
AS-units
The 100-word passages were divided into analysis of speech units (AS-units),
which are defined as ‘an independent clause, or sub-clausal unit, together with
any subordinate clauses associated with either’ (Foster et al. 2000: 365).
AS-units have been widely used with oral data in SLA studies in the past
decade (Norris and Ortega 2009), and this was deemed the most appropriate
unit of measurement for the present study. To maintain consistent AS-unit
analysis, we followed Foster et al. (2000) as far as possible. Some examples of
the AS-unit in the data include You are not government and Because they knew
ninety percent people say ‘yes’.
In cases where the 100-word passages did not coincide with the boundaries
of AS-units, the entire AS-unit was retained for purposes of counting mean
length of AS-units and clauses per AS-unit. This was done to avoid including
incomplete AS-units in these complexity measures, which would have dis-
torted them.
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