Monthly Archives: April 2013

Behave Yourself!

This short phrase is one that I suspect nearly every reader who was raised in a English speaking household heard with some regularity. So common is its usage, that I was somewhat startled when I began to think about the questions this phrase could raise for a non-native speaker, especially one whose mother tongue happened to be German.

1. Should the initial “be-” be treated as a prefix? That is, is “behave” a modification of “have?”  Should it be treated as a compound formed from “be” and “have?” Or, is it a base form that cannot be broken down further?

2. How is it pronounced? Like the “ave” in “have” or the “ave” in “save?” And what about using “leave” as a pronunciation guide? Or the “ave” in “suave” or “Ave Maria?”

3. Knowing that one translation is benehmen and that there is also the noun das Benehmen which means “manners” does it have something to do with being polite? Or does it take more from another possible translation verhalten and its related noun das Verhalten, meaning “behavior” or “conduct,” and related adjective verhalten which means “restrained?” To add to the fun, note that one of the other meanings of verhalten is “to pause” or “to stop.”

4. In German, when you want to say someone “behaved well” or “badly” or “childishly,” you use the reflexive forms sich benehmen and sich verhalten. Is the “yourself” or “yourselves” obligatory? That is, is there a difference between “Behave!” and “Behave Yourself!” in terms of their meanings or the contexts in which they are used?

Perhaps the best advice when faced with “behave” is to simply “be yourself.”


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Sich [sic] as a dog

It is somewhat scary as an English speaker when you learn that a verb you want to use is a reflexive verb because we have so few examples in English. Even trickier are the verbs which have BOTH a reflexive and a non-reflexive form and in particular those verbs where the meaning change is not exactly transparent. Note that the convention for marking verbs as reflexive is to use the 3rd person singular reflexive pronoun sich. I think that there are two reasons for this. The first is that when learning verbs, one is typically given the 3rd person singular past tense form since this signals the sound/spelling form in irregular verbs. The second, specific to reflexive verbs, is that sich is unique in being the one pronoun that does not change between accusative and dative case (direct and indirect object, roughly) and also the only one that is not used in other situations that require an accusative or dative pronoun. That is, you use sich for both the accusative and dative cases with a reflexive verb and for both 3rd person singular and plural and, in addition, there is no distinction among the different grammatical genders. Finally something that is a bit easier – normally the 3rd person singular in the accusative case is ihn/sie/es – for er/sie/es – and in the dative it is ihm/ihr/ihm and the 3rd person plural is sie in the accusative and ihnen in the dative – even if remembering which verbs are reflexive is not.

I want to start by sharing some verbs that a novice German speaker wants or needs to use that are reflexive and thus require not just one but two pronouns (in some cases, it may help to think about the extra pronoun indicating that the subject of the sentence is doing something to her/himself).

sich beeilen – “to hurry up” (more on this verb in a future post because it is a great example of how one must be aware of syllable boundaries to ensure correct pronunciation)
sich duschen – “to take a shower”
sich erinnern – “to remember”

You basically need to be saying “I take a shower myself,” “I hurry myself up” and “I remember to myself” (in the sense of “I bring back into my mind”). These three differ in terms of their related forms. Sich beeilen (goodness, that looks odd with the sich capitalized, I wonder if there is a rule that disallows this?) is the simplest as it has no non-reflexive form. Sich duschen is a bit more complex as there is a duschen and it can mean either “to shower” or “to give somebody a shower.” Sich erinnern has a non-reflexive form ups the ante a bit:

erinnern – “to remind someone of somebody” or “to remind someone to do something” or “to be reminiscent of someone/thing”

Compare Du erinnerst mich an meinen Vater – “You remind me of my father” – and Ich erinnere mich an meinen Vater – “I remember my father” (note as well that in English “remind” and “of” go together like erinnern and an but that unlike English, where you can’t say “I remember *of…,” an also goes with sich erinnern).

While this is challenging to remember, the connection between the meanings is pretty direct The best example of a common word where relationship between the non-reflexive and reflexive forms is more convoluted is:

fragen – “to ask” – and sich fragen – “to wonder”

One could think of “wondering” as “asking yourself” but it would be very peculiar to say “I ask myself if it will rain today” even if you were a meteorologist!

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Little Teapots and Donkey Bridges

So what do “little teapots” and “donkey bridges” have to do with language learning?! The first make learning a foreign language harder, the second should make is easier.

Das Teekesselchen means a “homonym” or a “game in which you ask people to find homonyms” that is, two words with different meanings but the same spellings (in German there is also the possibility that they have different grammatical genders). Literally, der Teekessel is a “teapot” and the suffix –chen is a diminuitive so Das Teekesselchen would be a “small teapot.” There are several stories about the origin of the term – a British game where things were hidden in teapots, the word Kessel or a variant meaning someone a bit stupid – but it seems a bit of a mystery.

Die Eselsbrücke means a “mnemonic” and eine Eselsbrücke bauen means “to give someone a hint/clue or to use mnemonic device.” Literally, der Esel is a “donkey” and die Brücke is a “bridge.”  The verb bauen can mean “to build.” As I understand the history of this expression, donkeys aren’t keen to cross fast moving streams but their owners still want to get them and the goods they are carrying to the other side. They build a bridge as a means to reach their goal and thus the trip involves a short detour. In a similar fashion, with a mnemonic, you are not trying to learning a new word or set of words directly but instead by making a small detour through something else, the bridge, that you already know or is easier to remember.

Here is an example of a Teekesselchen from a page with ideas for how to keep yourself entertained when the weather outside is frightful:

die Blume – “flower” (this is the meaning that those of us new to German know, and a cognate to boot “bloom”-Blume)
die Blume – “head of a glass of beer”
die Blume – “bouquet” in the sense of the scent of a glass of wine
die Blume – “top round” in the sense of a cut of meat
die Blume – “the white tip of a tail” on a fox

Here is an example of a Teekesselchen where all three grammatical genders are different taken from another lovely book from Duden, Unnützes Sprachwissen: Erstaunliches Über Unsere Sprache (my rough effort at translation – Useless Language Knowledge: [Be] Astonished by Our Language):

das Band – “ribbon” or “measuring tape” or “conveyor belt” or “wavelength” or “ligament”
der Band – “volume” as in one of a series of books
die Band – “music group”

And here is an example that is a not strictly a Teekesselchen as the two words are not spelled alike: „Heute gibt es Wahlessen.“ „Tatsächlich? Blauwal oder Pottwal?“ or “Today we have top quality (Wahl) food. Really, blue whale or sperm whale (Wal)?

Having faced these very dangerous words with multiple meanings, let’s turn our attention to our helpful friends the donkey bridges or mnemonics. (Sadly, I have not yet been able to get my hands on the Duden volume  that covers these – yes, there is one, namely, Eselsbrücken: Die schönsten Merksätze und ihre Bedeutung (Mnemonics: The Best Mnemonic [Sentence]s and Their Meanings) – but if I do, I will share my impression.) There are Eselsbrücke for all sorts of things, I’ve selected a few related to language learning to illustrate the concept.

First one that is supposed to help German speakers with English:

Kurz, betont und einfach – macht Konsonanten zweifach! (Beispiele: sit – sitting, run – running, swim – swimming, jog – jogging) – “When short, stressed (as in syllabic stress) and simple, you | take the final consonant and make it two”

Now one to help German speakers with German:

Wenn „wider“ nur “dagegen” meint – dann ist das “e” dem “i” stets Feind! Wenn „wieder“ nur “noch einmal” meint – dann sind dort ‘i’ und ‘e’ vereint! – “When wider means against, then the e is the i’s enemy. When wieder means one more time, then the i and the e get along just fine.”

And finally, one where it appears that both German and English speakers learn to help them with English:

‘I’ before ‘E’ except after ‘C’ or when it spells ‘AY’ as in ‘neighbor’ and ‘weigh’ – which the site from these Eselsbrücke examples come from translates as „I“ before „e“ (except after „c“) if the pronunciation is „ee,“ which was very hard to parse as a helpful mnemonic for English until I realized that the ‘ee’ was the German pronunciation of the double ‘e’ as in the word der Tee and not in the word “tee” (as in the item used in golf or American football to hold a ball aloft)!

Clearly, to help you learn the Teekesselchen, you need a good set of Eselsbrücken. And I wonder whether anyone ever plays with the “volume” meaning of der Band in concert with the “music group” meaning of die Band?

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Third Week Anniversary

This week the volcano will replace earthquakes as the metaphor for language learning. In my German children’s book on earthquakes and volcanos, there is a section with the heading Aktive, schlafende und tote Vulkane  “active, sleeping and dead volcanos.” (Later on they introduce the term “extinct,” erloschene, which as a noun das Erlöschen refers to the “expiration” of patents and the like. (Interestingly, the –chen doesn’t appear to mean “small” here but the noun still fits the pattern and takes das.) As a verb, erlöschen refers to something that “stops burning” or “goes out” or “fizzles out” or “expires.” They also introduce ruhende which means “dormant.”)

The book goes on to say that in interior of dormant volcanos, there is lava seething and boiling and no one can say when the volcano will erupt again. All this sounds quite a bit like active and passive vocabulary or grammatical knowledge. The British Council gives this definition of passive vocabulary (which a grammar maven would disparage for the use of “a learner” and “they” especially here when a plural subject would not have been at all odd):

A learner’s passive vocabulary is the words that they understand but don’t use yet. This can be compared with active vocabulary, which are words that learners understand and use in speaking or writing. The active and passive vocabulary of a learner changes constantly. They start using words, try new meanings, forget words, abandon words that have no use, revise words, etc.

An active volcano is spewing a lot of stuff, a passive or dormant one is not. The words in your active vocabulary and the structures in your active grammatical knowledge-base get used a lot. And just like geological systems, our vocabularies and grammatical knowledge are constantly in flux: the words and structures that are held passively may not yet have reached the “boiling” point where they ready to spew out of our mouths or fingers/pens/pencils.

The following expression, like the swinging chandelier of last week, gives me a nice picture to focus on when I get a bit frustrated with my progress: wie auf einem Vulkan leben – “like sitting on a powder keg/time bomb” or literally “like living on a volcano.” It seems that there is hope that at some point the passive will become active and I will experience an explosive growth of expressive ability.

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The little word that could

I’ve been finding myself struggling with how many words seemed to be formed from the stem Zug. As a word on its own der Zug is most commonly used by new speakers like myself to mean “train” and this is also far and away the winner on dict.cc (1182 give this as the translation, the second most common translation, with 84 votes, is “tug” as in “he straightened the tablecloth with a little tug”).

The two examples giving me the most grief, because they seem so completely unrelated, both to each other and to der Zug, are der Anzug – “the suit” as in clothing – and der Aufzug – “the elevator/lift.”  It turns out that they are related, if you stretch that notion a bit, but not directly via der Zug.

Zug is very productive – canoo.net lists 241 forms – but neither der Anzug nor der Aufzug is among them. The –zug portion of all three forms comes from the verb ziehen – “to pull” (and also “to tug” making that connection back to der Zug). For those of you scratching your heads trying to see a connection between zieh and zug, it is via zog, one of the craziest past tense forms around (see my description of it and some of its buddies here in the post First Anniversary). Yup, you say ich ziehe and ich zog and all that changes is when the action happened!

Der Anzug was born when the prefix an was added to make anziehen whose meanings “to put on” or “to dress” best fit this context (apologies, unconscious punning in action). Likewise for der Aufzug, the prefix auf has been added to make aufziehen whose meanings “to raise” or “to bring up” are most relevant here. The nouns forms are created by converting the forms derived from these prefix + zog combinations by subjecting them to ablaut. Ablaut exists in both English and German and involves the signaling of a grammatical change by a change in vowel. For example, ablaut gets us from “sing” to “sang” to “sung” (and from singen to sang to gesungen) and also to the derived noun “song” (unfortunately, while der Song is a word and means “song,” what you will hear people say is das Lied).

Given how funny it must be for German speakers when I confuse der Anzug and der Aufzug, not to mention forgetting that gezogen is the past tense of ziehen, it is interesting to note that one meaning given for aufziehen is “to tease somebody” and another is “to hoist” – perhaps I should just laugh rather than allowing these forms to “wind me up?!”

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Both a borrower and a lender be

Imagine waking up and finding it’s okay to say “Hey, will you borrow me some money?” Well, you might just be in Germany!  On dict.cc, leihen is the translation most commonly given for “to lend” and ausleihen for “to borrow.” Keep looking, though, and “to borrow” shows up under leihen and “to lend” shows up under ausleihen. Moreover, if you look up leihen or ausleihen in ein Wörterbuch you will find both translations given as possible meanings . When I saw a translation of Shakespeare’s line as Kein Borger sei und auch Verleiher nicht, I began to hope that borgen, which looks and sounds quite a bit like “borrow,” might mean this and only this. In turns out, however, that it can also mean “to lend.” (Interestingly, the Online Etymology Dictionary shares this gem in the entry for “borrow” – Old High German boragen “to beware of” – perhaps Shakespeare had this meaning in mind when he put those words in Polonius’ mouth?!).

A Practical Dictionary of German Usage, while confirming the substitutability, did offer a bit of help. When “lend” is the intention, there is often a dative pronoun indicating the recipient – Kannst du mir bitte Hamlet leihen? When the sense is “borrow,” there is often a dative pronoun but in this case it is reflexive, referring back to the subject who is doing the borrowing, and the sentence can include a von or a bei – Ich habe mir Hamlet von dir geliehen.

Two other family members intrigued me. The first is verleihen which is used when it is the figurative sense of “lend” that is intended.  DWDS.de gives as an example die dicken Wände liehen dem Raum angenehme Kühle – “the think walls lent the room a pleasant coolness” – and from the Practical Dictionary comes Der Hopfen verleiht dem Bier den bitteren Geschmack – “The hops lent the beer its bitter taste.” The other, pumpen, which is the familiar version of leihen (and like it can be either “lend” or “borrow”), makes me giggle because I see someone “pumping” someone else for a loan: könnte ich mir bei dir etwas Geld pumpen?

Speaking of loans, to add to the fun, there is der Lohn which means “wage” or “pay” as opposed to “loan,”  which makes your “income tax” die Lohnsteuer. I imagine some of you reading in the US have the feeling that the taxman is “pumping” you for money today!

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A crackin’ good evening

Today I was at a Stammtisch whose reason for being is speaking English. You may remember Stamm  (in the form of der Stammbaum) from the post Are We Related? Noticing the similarity between these two words, der Stammbaum and der Stammtisch, led me to poke around on dict.cc because “trunk table” didn’t really feel like a good match for der Stammtisch. And indeed, Stamm not only has the meaning “stem” or “trunk” but also is a prefix with the meaning “regular.”  This made me rather curious about the root of der Stammbaum, could it be a combination of “regular” and “tree?” To check on this, I thought I’d look at another volume in the Duden series, namely Duden 7 Das Herkunftswörterbuch which is subtitled Etymologie der deutschen Sprache.

Let’s unpack that title a bit before checking up on der Stammbaum. As I dissected die Herkunft, it appeared that •Kunft is not a word on its own, however it does appear in a number of words that gave me another set of insights into the way compounding can work in German:

Ankunft – “arrival”
Zukunft – “future”
Abkunft – “descent” or “parentage”
Auskunft – “information”
Heimkunft – “homecoming”
Unterkunft – “accommodation” in the sense of shelter
Herabkunft– “descent of the Holy Spirit”

It seems that there are quite a few meanings for die Herkunft: “origin” or “source” or “provenance” or “descent” or “ancestry” and “background” (as in “ethic background,” for instance).  Her gets translated by dict.cc as “fro,” which tends only to appear in English in the phrase “to and fro” – hin und her.  (In the lovely synchronicity that is writing and research, I came across the verb herstammen whose meaning is given as “to originate” or with von “to hail from” or “to spring from.”)

It would seem that der Stammbaum springs from Isaiah (Jesaja), 11:1 as a translation of a word from Middle Latin (mittellateinisch): arbor consanguinitatis, Wurzel Jesse. 

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. – New International Version

This left me unsatisfied but fairly certain that the “stem” or “trunk” were more likely than “regular” to be the basis for the der Stammbaum compound . Duden 7 didn’t offer an entry for Stammtisch, however. Ever persistent, I kept looking and learned that there is an English word that supposedly means Stammtisch and that word is…”cracker-barrel.” Yes, dict.cc tells me that “cracker-barrel” is a translation of (der) Stammtisch!  The other meaning given is the “regulars’ table” which fits with the meaning of Stamm as a prefix described above and the regular meetings that any self-respecting Stammtisch will have. Having a bit of trouble seeing what was in common between your average Crackerbarrel restaurant and your average German Stammtisch, I did a search for the origins of “cracker-barrel.” The online Merriam-Webster entry me helped to see why the restaurant name might have been chosen: “Origin of the word cracker-barrel – from the cracker barrel in country stores around which customers lounged for informal conversation.”

Perhaps a box of saltines is in order to honor this connection at my next Stammtisch outing?

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The Keys to The Kingdom

Just recently, I was listening to a German language CD and heard the word die Schüssel – “the bowl.” That’s the word that was said anyway, what I heard was der Schlüssel – “the key.” Keen observers will notice right away that like Dorothy and her ruby slippers, I had the key to unlocking this misunderstanding with me all along: “bowl” is a die word and “key” is a der word. But as David Bergmann so elegantly and succinctly captures in the title of his book about wrestling with the German tongue – Der, Die, Was? (or in his own English translation “Take Me to Your Umlauts”) – we don’t have grammatical genders in English (although see my thoughts on at least one occasion where we do have intuitions about gender) and thus this useful key to correct word recognition is one we fail to take advantage of all too often!

Those of you who know about some of my past experiences will know that the main impact I had on the world of experimental psychology was to show that the earlier you learn something, the easier that something is to retrieve from memory and in many cases the more likely you are to continue to be able to retrieve it following a stroke or other event that compromises your cognitive abilities. This suggests that the later you learn about grammatical gender, the slower you will be retrieve it. Thus, the downside of not having learned about grammatical gender early in life is that even when I do know a word’s gender (as I feel do with der Schlüssel), it is relatively hard to retrieve and thus it can be hard to make use of this information to help me understand what I am reading or hearing. The upside is that unlike a speaker of French, or many other languages, I don’t need to displace the le from chat when I learn die Katze – “the cat” – as I don’t have any competing gender designations to distract me. An additional implication of the earliest things being easiest to retrieve is that early learned words within a language can compete with each other. As I learned der Schlüssel quite a long time ago (when I was first learning German in 1989), it competes very effectively with die Schüssel which I only learned the other day. In the struggle to make any meaning from what I read and hear, the early learned words simply come into mind unbidden with a minimum amount of evidence to support their presence.

And don’t get me started on the competition that arises in my head between different meanings for the same word, for example das Schloss (“the palace” and “the lock”), or I may have to be locked away!

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Having a past

The majority of German verbs use haben “to have” to form the compound past tense (das Perfekt), the remainder use sein “to be.” To help the learner keep track of which words take sein, these words are often characterized as describing a change of state or indicating motion. And indeed a lot of the sein verbs do fit this characterization. For example,

To fall asleep – einschlafen, ist eingeschlafen
To wake up – aufwachen, ist aufgewacht
To get up – aufstehen, ist aufgestanden

Makes sense. “Falling asleep” and “waking up” involve a change of consciousness and “getting up” involves motion. The more you examine the SLEEP family, though, the trickier it gets. For example, there is a closely related word that takes haben:

To sleep – schlafen, hat geschlafen

Now sleep could be considered a steady state like leben – “living” – another verb that surprises me by taking haben. Confusing, but still somewhat logical. Enter aufbleiben, ist aufgeblieben – “to stay up” – which as far as I’m concerned need not involve any motion and is a steady state much like sleeping or living. Moreover, it is a prefixed word which happens to inherit the sein status of its verb stem bleiben, unlike our friend einschlafen which has gone over to sein. And I am almost afraid to discuss stehen, the root of aufstehen, which pons.eu informs me takes haben here in Germany but sein Austria and Switxerland.

Perhaps sleeping on it will bring a bit of clarity!?

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Does that ring a bell?

Meet das Handy – the German word for “mobile phone” or “cell phone.” It’s a false friend. One that makes me shake my head. First of all, in English “handy” is an adjective and that das and the capital “H” indicate that the German Handy is a noun. This means it behaves like “candy” or “party,” neither of which make sense when broken down into “stem + y” the way an adjective with this form would (even if, as in the case of “hand + y,” the derivation feels a bit forced). The fact that it is a noun in German also means it has a plural form, in this case it is one on the ones that was affected by spelling reform (more on this in future posts) – previously, you could write die Handies but now you have to write die Handys.

Next, although we do have the word “handset” in the world of communication devices, the word  “handy” doesn’t bring to mind “handset” or even “hand held,” it brings to mind “useful” or “nice to have” or “convenient.” Yes, a phone that you can take with you is certainly “handy” but then so are so many things, for instance, the pocket tissues called “Handy-Andies.”

Finally, there is the issue of pronunciation. I want to say Handy the way I would say “handy” but that could get me looks almost as odd as if I asked for someone’s “*Handy number” in the US.  Das Handy is [ˈhɛndi] and “handy” is [ˈhændi]. Thank goodness that the stress is on the same syllable at least, which cannot be said for Psychologie and “psychology” or Autorin and “author,” both of which I regularly stumble over when I try to talk about my professional life in German.

Perhaps I should simply relax and take Handy as a back-handed compliment about the versatility of English?!

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