What does American English sound like to someone who doesn't speak English? 

Prisencolinensinainciusol, a song by Italian Adriano Celentano, answers that question. Take a look at the video. What do you hear?

Inspired by the theme of "incomprehension," Celentano composed this song using the sounds of American English--and some actual English words--in a jumbled, nonsensical way. The result is a glimpse at what we sound like to someone who can't understand us.

When it came out in the early 1970s, the song was a big hit in Europe.  For more background, listen to this NPR Interview with Celentano (November, 2012). 

It's been a while since I was surrounded by people I could not communicate with. Does the song make you recall a time when you struggled to make yourself understood?

Many thanks to Maria Checchia-Ciazza for this Guest Post: 

You want to stop conversation at a party? Tell someone you’re a stay-at-home mom (SAHM). Unless the person you’re speaking to is a SAHM herself, you’ll get one, maybe two weak questions back, such as, “How old are your kids?” Then, the person politely excuses him/herself to go grab another drink.

Why? Because a SAHM just sounds so darn boring!

First, there were "housewives," then "homemakers." And it was only in the early 1990s, when women rightly objected to both of those because they made raising children more about the home than the kids, did we start using the term “stay-at-home mom.”  To me, all these terms feel like a kick in the pants.

Is there a way to describe mothers and their relationship with the paid workforce without insulting them?

Stay-at-home mother? “Most of them are never home. Spend hours as unpaid taxi drivers!”

Working mother? “Of course, we are working every minute of every day!”

Non-working mother? “Seriously? No sick days allowed!”

Full-time mother? “How can you clock your hours?  Whether I am at home or work, I am always a mother!”

Here’s another thought.  How about the fact that society never feels the need to “label” fathers with “working” terms?

I would suggest that a replacement term has to meet two criteria. First, that it apply to men as well as women. Second, that it include those who are parents and those who are not. Our social ideal should be a work/life model where everyone shapes a career that includes times where we work full-force and times when we kick back, and our words should be consistent with that. They should embrace the sense of ebb and flow, more and less that are the truth of most of our lives, rather than the stop and start, one or the other, that are unrealistically divisive.

Aren’t we, as a culture, free to come up with a new word to refer to stay-at-home parents?  Here are some I've heard:   “domestic goddess,”  “primary caregiver,”  and “domestic engineer.”

Maybe, we should simply change the term SAHM and make it the French, “C’est une mere chez soi.”

Whatever the term, it’s past time we find one.  Any suggestions? 

I was headed to Italy with a dear friend who had never been to Europe. "I've heard a lot about gelato," she said. "What flavors do they have? Just chocolate and vanilla, or other flavors?"

Her questions reminded me that chocolate and vanilla are the standard, "basic" flavors you find in the U.S. A small ice cream shop might only have those two options, and you'd expect a larger shop to offer chocolate and vanilla (by default) plus other options.

More deeply, my friend's questions made me reflect on what's "standard" or "plain"--and how that's culturally-bounded. 

In the U.S., we refer to something as "plain vanilla" to indicate the option that has little embellishment or elaboration. For example, a "plain vanilla" outfit, car, or house is the simplest version offered. As an expression, "plain vanilla" holds a lot of cultural meaning. 

Incidentally, in Italy, you're just as likely to encounter a small gelato shop that offers sour cherry, hazelnut, or nougat as you are to see "plain" chocolate. Vanilla, on the other hand, is pretty exotic. The standard, "unmarked" base flavor is "gelato alla crema," made with milk, sugar, and egg. Vanilla, as an aroma, is as noteworthy in Italy as rosewater or orange blossom would be in the U.S. 

(Needless to say, my friend and I both enjoyed all the flavors we tried!)

What expressions do you use that reveal your cultural frame or bias? How might these expressions translate across cultures? What do they reveal about your expectations of "how things should always be?"

We’ve been using the phrase “in this economy” to refer to state of the economy.

A couple examples that might sound plausible to you:

• “In this economy, new college grads are at a disadvantage.” 
  
• “In this economy, retirement is not possible.” 
  

Built into the expression, “in this economy,” is the understanding that we are facing an economic situation where there’s little to no growth, unemployment is high, and poverty is on the rise. In sum, times are tough.

We can agree on what “in this economy” means, but why do we say, “in this economy?” It’s always interesting to think about what we’re choosing to say—and all the alternatives. What are we not saying? Why not say, “the current economic situation?” Why not say, “recession” or “depression,” or “crisis?”

Linguists look at a phrase like “in this economy” and notice the word “this.” It’s a term that reflects “deixis,” or situates the phrase in space and time. Depending on the speaker and the context, terms like “this” and “that” attach themselves to different meanings.

In the expression, “in this economy,” the word “this” does two things:

1. It keeps the economy “physically” close to the speaker. It’s very personal. It’s nearby.
2. It talks about the present and maybe even the near future. It’s now. It’s tomorrow. It’s probably not going to change in the short-term.

Saying “in this economy” is different from saying “current economy,” which speaks to a time in place (now) and presumes that, with time, the economic situation might change.

To what extent is how we think about the economy shaped by the currency of the phrase “in this economy?”

(I am not crazy enough to think that an economic crisis can pass with a slight mindset/language change, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.)

Years ago, we invited my uncle and family to dinner. The meal was delicious. My mom is an excellent cook.

My uncle commented that the meal was “restaurant style,” and my mom took offense. Was it a compliment? What did he mean by “restaurant style?”

At the time, no one asked him to clarify, and, years later, the family debate on the topic (still) sounds like this:

·      My mom is certain that her brother was not impressed. To my mom, a home cook takes care to prepare a meal with respect for quality and tradition; whereas, restaurants “throw things on a plate” to turn a profit.

·      I (and others) suspect he was complimenting the meal (at best) or inferring that the dishes were new or different (at worst). In Italy, restaurants are places where you’re introduced to a new flavor or a fresh spin on a traditional dish. You eat out to enjoy something you cannot (or would not) make yourself.

We’ll never know for sure if this was a cross-cultural misunderstanding or the case of an ungrateful guest.

How could a brother and sister have such a misunderstanding?

My mom grew up in Italy, but has lived in the U.S. for over fifty years. Her brother has lived in Italy his whole life.  They see each other infrequently, when my family visits Italy.

It’s possible that the cultural lens through which each of them is filtering the term “restaurant style” is different. I suspect that my mom’s cooking skills don’t factor into the discussion at all. It’s all about the cultural value you attribute to restaurants and eating out.

Clearly, there’s mixed opinion on the topic.

In the U.S., marketers play to both camps—those of us who wish we could prepare a meal as well as our favorite restaurants do, and those of us who long for home-cooked meals. A quick walk down any grocery store aisle will display some products boasting “home style” and others promising “restaurant style.”  

Which is your bias? How might it influence your shopping choices? Or your comments to a gracious host?

I didn't catch the guy's name at first, but the voice mail said, "I need to take a look at a no cool." 

For a second, I was puzzled. (Who or what is "no cool?") Then, I remembered that we'd put in a service request to get the air conditioner (AC) checked. I contextualized a little..."no cool" must be industry jargon for "broken AC unit." Got it!

The voice message made me smile for a second, because, after I translated it, I realized help was on the way...during a very hot summer. Then I began thinking about the feedback I wanted to provide the technician:

• Empathize with your customers; broken AC units cause a households a lot of stress
• We're concerned about how quickly you'll fit us into your schedule; it's July and very hot
• We're fearful about the cost of repairs--yikes!
• We fear that you may charge us an unreasonable amount (because we no nothing about AC!)
  
• We generally have no idea what you're talking about, and you're talking about our house (a thing we feel we should know and understand)

The first bullets can be assuaged by some good customer service, professionalism, and empathy.

Just as important is the last bullet: We aren't speaking the same language. And that's adding to our stress and overall experience with your service guys. It also makes it hard to trust that we're making a good decision in authorizing repairs. (Read: in how we're spending money and taking care of our house.) Please, explain it in plain English.

In your business, what jargon terms or phrases do you say to customers or clients? What's the impact to the customer experience? (If you aren't sure, have you ever asked them?) How could you be more clear?

It's 2003, and I'm working for a university study abroad program in Madrid. I'm talking to Paco, our art history professor. He looks at one of our students, a Bulgarian woman. "She really sounds like a Spaniard," Paco comments. 

"I know! Her Spanish is excellent," I agree.

"Yes, she has a great command of the language," Paco said. "But it's her voice that's really authentic. She has a deep, raspy voice. That's what Spanish women her age sound like."

I filed this away in my mental "cross-cultural reflections" folder...

*****

Years later, I worked in corporate training and focused on women's professional development programs. Of all the topics I designed trainings for, communication was by far the most popular. (I'd average 30% higher attendance for any topic related to "how to sound like a leader" as compared to other topics like "mentoring" or "networking.") Clearly, communications skill building was in demand. 

What do you talk about in a training session on effective communication at work? 

When you focus on women in the workplace, it's a complex and nuanced topic (that's much more broad than this blog post), but the notion of pitch/tone is essential. In the U.S., in a professional setting, women are taken more seriously when they speak from the belly, vs. the throat. High-pitched voices are either filtered out, dismissed, or lose credibility. They may read "too emotional."

As I hear the occasional international news interview with women from around the world, I think about how, culture by culture, women are socialized to speak with a certain pitch. High-pitched voices may be considered sweet and feminine in some cultures, whereas raspy, deep voices may be feminine in others. We are socialized to learn what's right. Perhaps by our mothers and sisters. Perhaps at a training session at work. 

In a news interview, what's the impact of a soundbite of a woman who sounds shrill? 

How does this shape the viewer's opinion of the woman's point of view? To what extent does it detract from her credibility? 

How does the sound of the women's comment impact our opinion on the particular issue the news story is covering? (Or...extrapolating a little...on how we view politics? On how we vote?) 

I have a couple early childhood memories of judging others based on language:

• An older cousin married a guy from the South, and he called a supermarket "cart" a "buggy"
• My Canadian cousins use the terms "washroom" for "bathroom," and "variety store" for "convenience store"

These people were all speaking English, and overall we didn't have trouble understanding one another. The differences were subtle; however, as a child, I quickly picked up on them. It was just enough "data" for young me to make the assessment: WEIROs! 

As an adult whose work has focused on fostering intercultural communication, it's embarrassing to admit to the fact that these small language differences caused me to feel some distance from these otherwise lovely people. I knew that I spoke correctly. I thought they used some kind of low-fidelity copy of my language. And I thought they were missing something. I asked myself, What's wrong with them? How is it that they don't know the *right* words? 

(Clearly, I was missing a big piece of the story as it relates to the many regional varieties of English, and all the glorious diversity of accents, words, and grammar. I was also missing perspective on diversity dynamics...fortunately, that would come later in life!)

These examples are personal to me, but perhaps you have a similar example? 

The most striking examples of prejudice can show up when we interact with "others" who are, on the surface, not that different from ourselves. (My cousins share my DNA. They speak English. We have the same last name.) Based on my expectations and assumptions, (e.g., I thought we'd "speak the same language"), I felt discomfort with the differences that showed up in our everyday interactions. 

What similar experiences can you share?

The past few "greeters" I've encountered as I've walked into big stores have not greeted me. I've initiated the greeting. Just seems odd!