Taking Things Literally

In my previous post 'Getting things a bit Wrong' I mentioned the story of my small son thinking that 'wax' was the plural form of 'a whack' and complaining that he had one in his ear. All I can think is that those particular orifices must have been especially dirty (there were worse ones as I recall)  as this next tale involves the same part of his anatomy. When he was about 2 he was in the bath (I think the whole caravan/shower trauma must have had a profound effect on my psyche as all these anecdotes seem to involve cleanliness) when I said "Ooh, look at those dirty ears. Are you growing potatoes in there?" The reaction was instant and loud. Hysterical screams, telling me to get the potatoes out. Poor little boy. I explained that I was joking and that he did not, in fact, have root vegetables sprouting in his ears and he calmed down.
A more recent case of 'taking things literally' happened a couple of years ago and involved a situation at my son's school. The Head Teacher had left very quickly and unexpectedly and with no explanation, at least not to anyone who mattered like the parents. As you can imagine there was much whispering, gossip and speculation. We don't have much else to do in Norfolk. Eventually one little boy went home and said to his mum, "Hey, I've found out what happened to Mrs Roberts. Apparently she shot herself in the foot!"

Getting Things a Bit Wrong

In the interests of accuracy I really should have named this post 'Getting Things Very Wrong' but it would have been a very different article altogether, so I shall stick to the more light-hearted and hopefully less legally compromising 'Getting Things a Bit Wrong'.
We shall start with those masters of the trade, small children. As they begin on that wonderful adventure which is learning to communicate, they often get things slightly skewed. When Bryn was very small, probably about 2, he was getting quite agitated in the bath asking me to get a flannel as he had 'a whack' in his ear. A whack, I thought, immediately concerned (see post on Worrying). Had he been hit at nursery or fallen over and injured himself? He didn't appear to be in any discomfort though so I continued my investigations and eventually realised that in his toddler logic 'A whack' was the singular form of 'wax'.
More recently I was looking after (and I use that term very loosely) my 5year old nephew. He was out in the garden with my son playing with the football. When I dragged myself away from Jeremy Kyle and went to check on them he came running up to me and said  "Auntie Sian. we've been playing sleepy puppies". For those of you not familiar with the world of young boys he meant 'keepy uppies'.
Getting things wrong, however, is not the sole preserve of the young, and modern technology is often to blame for glaring errors. On-line translation tools are the worst offenders, but I have enough material there for a separate post, so you'll have to wait. One of my own favourite auto-correct errors appeared on a worksheet I had produced for my pupils. I am sure year 10 will never forget the day they learnt how to ask directions in French to the 'pubic gardens'.

Hard of Hearing

I appear to be following in some well-worn, pre-destined genetic paths by beginning to lose my hearing quite significantly in my 30s. Not wanting to be too predictable though, I have decided to lose only my middle frequency tones, i.e. the most useful ones, as they include speech. I have also made sure that I have one of the most ridiculous jobs for the hard of hearing, namely teaching, and languages teaching at that! My other career choice would have been Speech Therapy. Oh, the irony. Perhaps I should just give up and become a mime artist?
When I spoke to my boss about my affliction he was very sympathetic and understanding, saying that the school would pay for any 'reasonable adjustment' to help me and going on to suggest that I should have all the noisy classes so I would be able to hear them. Thanks, but I felt that the department's money would be better spent on a regular supply of 'Sancerre' to help me come to terms with my disability. I'm still waiting for that one!
My pupils have their own unique way of 'helping' me too. Their logic dictates that as I can't hear middle tones, then if they speak in a high pitched squeak or a bass-baritone growl then I should be able to understand them. Doesn't work but does make me laugh.
So, no doubt I shall be spending many more happy hours waiting in the audiology department at my local hospital. It's hilarious. They can't pronounce my name properly (being a bit Welsh and all that) and I can't hear it anyway! I am one of the few people in the country actually looking forward to growing old and losing their high frequency tones. At least then I'll be eligible for hearing aids!