On The Creations of Children
This past week I read an article on the origins of Nicaraguan Sign Language, a fascinating account of linguistic evolution and emergence in the 1980s. What I found most striking about the story is not how or where this new language emerged, but rather who it emerged from. It was not through the efforts of world renowned linguists that novel syntax and lexicon came about, but rather a few dozen third graders attempting to chat on the playground. Up until 1979, no formal education was provided for deaf children in Nicaragua, essentially isolating them from anyone who might share similar experiences - or languages. Following the launch of a significant literacy campaign in 1980, these children were surrounded by others like them for the first time. The school took an oralist approach, teaching the students to lip read, as well as reading and writing in Spanish. Outside of the classroom, however, the children gestured to each other, eventually developing their own style of communication with shared signs and grammar. What is even more fascinating, notes MIT linguist Judy Shepard-Kegl, is that younger students were more proficient at this new language than the older ones because they retained the language while in the developmental critical period for language acquisition (4-6 years old).
My favorite part of the article was a remark made by Professor Molly Flaherty at the very end: “To think about the fact that this integral product [language] that we all use every day, all day, may really be shaped by the youngest minds, and by the youngest people in our world,” Flaherty said. “I like that idea, that we're all using this creation of children all the time, and we don't necessarily realize it.”
We are all using this creation of children, all of the time. That’s a beautiful thing. What else might be the product of child-like wonder, taken for granted by busy adults with more care for the end than the means? What other creations of children do we overlook, dismissing with a smile that says “you’re so ignorant of this big, bad world”?
Language learning, as you likely know, is much more difficult as an adult. It doesn’t come naturally. We must toil over difficult classes, flip through endless flashcards and routinely visit the Duolingo owl. In the same vein - pure, unadulterated grace and forgiveness; hope in the future; unconvoluted intentions; absolute faith in the ones who claim to love us - these all come much more naturally to children than ourselves. When you make a promise to a child, they remember it. But more than that - they believe it.
You might be wondering, where do we draw the line between innocence and ignorance? Surely we don’t want to end up at the latter as we strive for the former. When we look at children, they seem to have a natural proclivity towards justice (you took my toy, I’m telling mom) and a desire to learn (where do babies come from?) So maybe when we toil over the question, “How do I maintain innocence while avoiding ignorance?” we put too much weight on the pursuit of these characteristics, losing sight of why we wanted them in the first place. Instead, when we earnestly pursue justice and knowledge like children, innocence seems to follow and ignorance falls away.
What does this all teach us? Perhaps that beautiful things are borne out of a sense of wonder and innocence - beauty for the sake of beauty. Or perhaps that part of adulthood is learning to become more like children - training ourselves to remember pure grace, faith, and intentions. Or maybe it teaches us to cease our incessant guessing at the academic significance behind everything, and instead wonder at the childhood creations in front of us.
Here’s to being six, now and forever and ever :)
Zall, C. (2020, September 29). The origin of Nicaraguan sign language tells us a lot about language creation. Retrieved April 12, 2021, from https://www.pri.org/stories/2020-09-29/origin-nicaraguan-sign-language-tells-us-lot-about-language-creation