Language Learning and Forced Migration 9781800412262

Table of contents :
Contents
Contributors
Acknowledgements
Foreword
1 Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration
Part 1 Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts
2 Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men: Constructions of Norway and Investment in Norwegian Language Learning
3 ‘In Uganda, We Collected Them in the Streets’: On (the Absence of) the Street as a Language Learning Space
4 Scripts and Texts as Technologies of Refugee Governmentality in the Norwegian Introduction Programme
5 ‘Because I Was the Only One Who Dared’: Approaches to Multilingual Repertoires in Adult Language Training
6 Resettling Literacies: The Case of Sarah and Simon
Part 2 Language Practices, Knowledge and Learning
7 Syllable Structures in English Speech Produced by Multilingual Speakers with Histories of Mobility
8 Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals
9 ‘The Sound of Asking a Question’: Metalanguage and Crosslinguistic Awareness in Adults Learning Norwegian as an Additional Language
10 Syntactic Complexity in Early Adult Additional Language Norwegian
11 A Year Goes By: A Longitudinal Study of Verb–Locative Constructions in Additional Language Norwegian
12 Pragmatic Development in Four Congolese Refugees’ Norwegian: Response to Topic Initial Elicitors and Topic Proffers
13 Conclusion: Towards a Research Agenda on Language Learning and Forced Migration
Index

Citation preview

Language Learning and Forced Migration

SECOND LANGUAGE ACQUISITION Series Editors: Professor David Singleton, University of Pannonia, Hungary and Fellow Emeritus, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland and Associate Professor Simone E. Pfenninger, University of Salzburg, Austria This series brings together titles dealing with a variety of aspects of language acquisition and processing in situations where a language or languages other than the native language is involved. Second language is thus interpreted in its broadest possible sense. The volumes included in the series all offer in their different ways, on the one hand, exposition and discussion of empirical fi ndings and, on the other, some degree of theoretical reflection. In this latter connection, no particular theoretical stance is privileged in the series; nor is any relevant perspective – sociolinguistic, psycholinguistic, neurolinguistic, etc. – deemed out of place. The intended readership of the series includes fi nal-year undergraduates working on second language acquisition projects, postgraduate students involved in second language acquisition research, and researchers, teachers and policymakers in general whose interests include a second language acquisition component. All books in this series are externally peer-reviewed. Full details of all the books in this series and of all our other publications can be found on http://www.multilingual-matters.com, or by writing to Multilingual Matters, St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol, BS1 2AW, UK.

SECOND LANGUAGE ACQUISITION: 156

Language Learning and Forced Migration Edited by

Marte Monsen and Guri Bordal Steien

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Bristol • Jackson

DOI https://doi.org/10.21832/MONSEN2255 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Names: Monsen, Marte, editor. | Steien, Guri Bordal, editor. Title: Language Learning and Forced Migration/Edited by Marte Monsen and Guri Bordal Steien. Description: Bristol; Jackson: Multilingual Matters, [2022] | Series: Second Language Acquisition: 156 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: "This study of language issues in the context of migration provides interdisciplinary insights into language as learned, used and lived by refugees in Norway. It offers an innovative contribution to the field of SLA by bringing together structural, cognitive, social and critical approaches to data collected among the same individuals"— Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2022018581 (print) | LCCN 2022018582 (ebook) | ISBN 9781800412255 (hardback) | ISBN 9781800412262 (pdf) | ISBN 9781800412279 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Norwegian language—Acquisition—Case studies. | Norwegian language—Study and teaching—Foreign speakers—Case studies. | Second language acquisition—Case studies. | Refugees—Norway—Language—Case studies. | Congolese (Democratic Republic)—Norway—Social conditions—Case studies. | Forced migration—Case studies. | Sociolinguistics—Norway—Case studies. Classification: LCC PD2614.85 .L36 2022 (print) | LCC PD2614.85 (ebook) | DDC 439.8/28—dc23/eng/20220615 LC record available at https://lccn.loc. gov/2022018581 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022018582 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13: 978-1-80041-225-5 (hbk) Multilingual Matters UK: St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol, BS1 2AW, UK. USA: Ingram, Jackson, TN, USA. Website: www.multilingual-matters.com Twitter: Multi_Ling_Mat Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/multilingualmatters Blog: www.channelviewpublications.wordpress.com Copyright © 2022 Marte Monsen, Guri Bordal Steien and the authors of individual chapters. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. The policy of Multilingual Matters/Channel View Publications is to use papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products, made from wood grown in sustainable forests. In the manufacturing process of our books, and to further support our policy, preference is given to printers that have FSC and PEFC Chain of Custody certification. The FSC and/or PEFC logos will appear on those books where full certification has been granted to the printer concerned. Typeset by Nova Techset Private Limited, Bengaluru and Chennai, India. Printed and bound in the UK by the CPI Books Group Ltd.

Contents

1

Contributors Acknowledgements

vii ix

Foreword Ana Deumert

xi

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration Guri Bordal Steien and Marte Monsen

1

Part 1: Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts 2

3

4

5

6

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men: Constructions of Norway and Investment in Norwegian Language Learning Marte Monsen and Guri Bordal Steien

19

‘In Uganda, We Collected Them in the Streets’: On (the Absence of) the Street as a Language Learning Space Guri Bordal Steien

34

Scripts and Texts as Technologies of Refugee Governmentality in the Norwegian Introduction Programme Verónica Pájaro

49

‘Because I Was the Only One Who Dared’: Approaches to Multilingual Repertoires in Adult Language Training Marte Monsen and Marianne Eek

70

Resettling Literacies: The Case of Sarah and Simon Marte Monsen

86

Part 2: Language Practices, Knowledge and Learning 7

8

Syllable Structures in English Speech Produced by Multilingual Speakers with Histories of Mobility Ida Syvertsen

101

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals Sylvi Rørvik

122

v

vi

9

Language Learning and Forced Migration

‘The Sound of Asking a Question’: Metalanguage and Crosslinguistic Awareness in Adults Learning Norwegian as an Additional Language Gunhild Tveit Randen

139

10 Syntactic Complexity in Early Adult Additional Language Norwegian Bård Uri Jensen

157

11 A Year Goes By: A Longitudinal Study of Verb–Locative Constructions in Additional Language Norwegian Marte Nordanger

175

12 Pragmatic Development in Four Congolese Refugees’ Norwegian: Response to Topic Initial Elicitors and Topic Proffers Paulina Horbowicz 13 Conclusion: Towards a Research Agenda on Language Learning and Forced Migration Guri Bordal Steien and Marte Monsen Index

195

214 220

Contributors

Marianne Eek is an Associate Professor of Nordic Linguistics at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research interests include multilingualism, Second Language Acquisition (SLA), literacy and numeracy. Paulina Horbowicz is Associate Professor at the Department of Scandinavian Studies at Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań, Poland, and Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research interests include Norwegian second language development from a usagebased and dynamic systems perspective, cognitive models of fi rst and second language competence and conversation analysis. Bård Uri Jensen is Associate Professor of Norwegian Linguistics at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. His research interests include SLA, linguistic complexity, corpus linguistics and quantitative methods. Marte Monsen is Professor of Nordic Linguistics at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research interests include multilingualism, SLA, literacy, language testing, academic writing and ethnography. Marte Nordanger is currently Postdoctoral Fellow at Western Norway University of Applied Sciences, but she also holds a position as Associate Professor at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences. Her research interests include usage-based approaches to SLA, language testing, migration tests and motivation. Verónica Pájaro is Associate Professor of Nordic Linguistics at the Department of Nordic and Media studies, University of Agder, Norway. She is interested in issues of discourse, power and multilingualism in education and work. Gunhild Tveit Randen is Associate Professor of Nordic Linguistics at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research

vii

viii

Language Learning and Forced Migration

interests include multilingualism, SLA, metalinguistic awareness and language assessment. Sylvi Rørvik is Professor of English Language at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research interests include corpus-based studies of learner language, academic writing and contrastive linguistics. Guri Bordal Steien is Professor of Linguistics at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research interests include multilingualism, SLA, prosody and ethnography. Ida Syvertsen is a PhD candidate in Applied Linguistics at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, Norway. Her research interests include multilingualism, English as a global language, phonetics and sociolinguistics.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, we would like to thank the 12 participants in this research who have had the patience to tell us their stories and the openness to let us follow them in different situations of their everyday life. We are also grateful to the International Organization for Migration (IOM) in Norway who allowed us to join them during cultural orientation in Uganda, 2019. In particular, we would like to express our gratitude to Papy Kanda-Kanda, Janvier Nzigo and William Paintsil for their feedback on our work and for interesting conversations about the situation of refugees in Norway. We would also like to thank the administration and teachers at the various learning centres across Norway attended by the participants for letting us observe classes and participating in interviews and for sharing their experiences and knowledge with us, as well as the social workers who have given us insights into their daily work with refugee resettlement. The anonymous reviewer, Alexandre Duchêne and Tommaso Milani should also be thanked for their feedback on (parts of) the project. Finally, the book would not have been realised without funding from the Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences. We are thankful for all the institutional support of the project.

ix

Foreword Ana Deumert

In second language acquisition studies there has been a tradition of focusing on classroom-based acquisition. In the context of migration, these classrooms were for a long time of a particular kind: classes were offered (frequently by non-governmental organisations), but attendance was not compulsory. The edited volume Language Learning and Forced Migration looks at classrooms of a different kind: these are classrooms where attendance is compulsory for adult migrants; they are classrooms that are embedded in neoliberal forms of governmentality. To me, there are interesting parallels between the project presented here, and the project Second Language Acquisition by Adult Immigrants which was coordinated at the Max-Plank Institute in Nijmegen in the 1980s (see Klein & Perdue, 1997). Both are longitudinal in orientation, and both analyse the data collected from different perspectives, involving a diverse range of actors and scholars. However, there are also important differences: the Max-Plank project did not focus on forced migration and did not foreground sociolinguistic perspectives. It remained located within cognitive-structural linguistics and did not show the multidisciplinarity that informs this volume. At the same time, the two projects speak to each other in interesting ways: they allow us to historicise the longstanding binary between tutored and untutored acquisition in the context of changing European migration policies (and research). The 1980s were a different time: while entry to Europe was highly regulated, once someone arrived in Europe, there were no mandatory ‘introduction classes’ to attend, and as a result ‘untutored second language acquisition’ was common practice (what the current volume refers to as the space of ‘the street’). The situation is fundamentally different in 21st-century Norway (and much of Europe): the forced migrants whose lived experiences and language learning form the basis of the discussion in this volume, acquired – and continue to acquire – additional languages in Norway within a system of oppressive neoliberal governmentality. This system requires migrants to attend classes and to engage in various forms of tutored – and thus teacher/expert-driven – language acquisition. When reading through the chapters in this volume, I read them not so much as studies about language acquisition, but primarily as studies about 21st-century migration policies, and the impact of such policies on the xi

xii

Language Learning and Forced Migration

linguistic and semiotic practices of teachers and learners. As a non-Norwegian reader, I felt that the chapters told me much about Norwegian society; about Norwegian ideologies about language, culture and nation; about a world where to create ‘workers’ for a capitalist economy increasingly drives government policy. These themes are refracted in the narratives that are discussed in this volume. One of the most troubling moments for me was seeing the image of a poster that promotes ‘family planning’ and ‘birth control’ for migrant women. The poster was displayed in one of Norway’s ‘learning centres’ and is thus part of the linguistic landscape that migrants encounter. The poster echoes, under the guise of care, the violent histories of birth control that were forced on women in the global south (Vergès, 2015). There are other moments that speak to such historical-colonial continuities. These include textbooks that reflect highly stereotypical ideas of Norwegian life, and the lives of ‘Others’; the ways in which Black men are projected – through the interview practices of social workers – as potentially violent and abusive, thereby creating forms of humiliation that are grounded in anti-Black racism; as well as educational practices that the authors describe as ‘a little condescending’. Thus, we see – much clearer than in the work done in the 1980s, work that remained focused on cognition – a coming together of politics and ideology, of complex raciolinguistic practices that play themselves out in the pedagogical space (Nelson & Flores, 2019). To study language acquisition among migrants, whether those who arrive independently or those who are resettled by the United Nations, we always also need to study the host society. This, to me, is a major insight provided by this volume. And it is an insight that opens important avenues for future work (see also the editors’ conclusion to this volume). Another aspect of the volume that stayed with me after reading the chapters was that despite a rigid and uniform policy of ‘integration’ and standardised learning outcomes, teaching practices were highly diverse. These ranged from monolingual immersion classrooms to pedagogical translanguaging and approaches that were ad hoc and grounded in the pragmatics, and ethics, of the situation (rather than language/literacy acquisition theories). This diversity is also visible in the part of the volume that focuses on the acquisition of linguistic structures, metalinguistic awareness and multicompetence. Thus, just like teaching practices were diverse, so were the resulting linguistic performances. This suggests, I  believe, the importance of idiolects – rather than ‘languages’ – in linguistic theory (as emphasized, for example, by Mufwene, 2002). Striking in the approach taken by the authors is that the focus is not only on Norwegian (as the government ‘target’ of acquisition), but also on the various African languages that migrants speak, as well as on English, a language that most acquired during their stay in Uganda. This approach allows the editors and authors to break through the official policies which

Foreword

xiii

focus on ‘Norwegian language and culture’, and to acknowledge the complexities of social and linguistic changes; changes that created, and continue to create, new sociolinguistic ecologies, and that have the potential to challenge hegemonic racial narratives about migration. References Klein, W. and Perdue, C. (1997) The basic variety (or: Couldn’t natural languages be much simpler?). Second Language Research 13, 301-347. Mufwene, S.S. (2002) Competition and selection in language evolution. Selection 3, 45-56. Flores, N. and Rosa, J. (2019) Bringing race into second language acquisition. The Modern Language Journal 103, 145-151. Vergès, F. (2015) Like a riot: The politics of forgetfulness, relearning the South and the Island of Dr. Moreau. South As a State of Mind/ documenta14. See https://www. documenta14.de/en/south/25_like_a_riot_the_politics_of_forgetfulness_relearning_ the_south_and_the_island_of_dr_moreau

1 Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration Guri Bordal Steien and Marte Monsen

‘The SLA research agenda needs to recognise the multiple contexts in which L2 learning occurs and the multiple characteristics learners bring to the enterprise.’ (Bigelow & Tarone, 2004: 698)

1.1 Introduction

This book reports on research conducted within the project Language across time and space: Following UN refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to Norway (KongNor). The purpose of this project is to gain insight into the process of being resettled in a third host country as a United Nations (UN) resettlement refugee, with focus on language learning. The project has a longitudinal design, as the researchers in the project followed 12 refugees from the DRC and their families from the summer of 2019, when the participants attended cultural orientation about Norway in Uganda, their country of first asylum, and throughout their fi rst two years after being resettled in Norway. Moreover, it has a holistic scope as it combines emic perspectives and studies of learning contexts with analysis of language practices, knowledge and learning. Our overarching aim with this book is to initiate the development of a research agenda in the field of Second Language Acquisition (SLA) concerning forced migrants. We believe that a separate research agenda is needed for several reasons. Firstly, most studies of SLA are concerned with foreign language students or work migrants (May, 2019), and theories and methods in the field would benefit from insights from forced migrants so as to better reflect all learners (Bigelow & Tarone, 2004). Secondly, we believe that a separate research agenda is useful due to the specificities of the living conditions of these learners. Such an agenda must take a holistic approach that considers learners’ experiences, needs and strategies. Thirdly, we believe that more knowledge about language learning by forced migrants can potentially have an important social impact.

1

2

Language Learning and Forced Migration

According to the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR), there were 80 million forced migrants in the world in 2020 (UNHCR, 2021b). For many of them, learning the languages spoken in the host society is of primary importance to ensuring a steady income. Knowledge of their language learning trajectories can contribute to the development of didactic tools that better reflect their experiences and needs. In this introduction, we will fi rst provide a state of the art for research of language learning by forced migrants, and thereby identify gaps in the literature and point to some of the specificities of the learning contexts of this group. Then we will give an overview of transnational and national refugee policies, as a background to understanding the trajectories of the participants in the current research. In the fourth section, we will present the KongNor project, before turning to a summary of the different contributions of the current volume. 1.2 Language Learning in the Case of Forced Migration

The notion of forced migration usually refers to the situation of refugees, asylum seekers, internally displaced persons, development-induced displaced persons and people who are exploited in trafficking (Castles, 2003), as opposed to voluntary migrants who choose to move in order to study or work in another place. Forced migration has received surprisingly little attention in the field of SLA. In early works in the field, the conditions and status of the learners were seldom considered at all, as the focus tended to be on differences and similarities between languages (e.g. Lado, 1957) and/or linguistic and cognitive aspects of learning (e.g. Selinker, 1972). This has been widely criticised, and several scholars have called for a social turn in the field (Block, 2003; Firth & Wagner, 1997), to draw more attention to the social context of language learning and the learners’ own experiences (Douglas Fir Group, 2016). For instance, Pavlenko and Lantolf (2000: 155) remind us that language learners ‘have intentions, agency, affect, and above all histories and are frequently but not always known as people’. However, research in this line of investigation has mostly focused on voluntary migrants or foreign language students. For instance, Pavlenko and Lantolf (2000) claim in general terms that one of the differences between fi rst and additional language learning is that the former happens in the place where one is born, while the second takes place in a self-chosen world. This obviously does not fit the context in which forced migrants learn additional languages, as they have seldom chosen to migrate, nor have they necessarily chosen the host society. Moreover, some of the most influential theories in socially oriented SLA are based on data from voluntary migrants. The concept of investment, for instance, was developed on the basis of data from voluntary migrants to Canada (Norton, 2013), while Kramsch’s (2013) work on subjectivities is informed by the experiences of foreign

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration

3

language college students. As far as we know, little research has confronted such concepts with data from forced migrants. Although sparse, the existing literature concerned with language learning by forced migrants indeed agrees that attention is drawn to the particularities of the learning context. For instance, in a study of the learning of Dutch by 3500 refugees with different origins living in the Netherlands, Van Tubergen (2010) argues that this population requires separate analysis because such factors as age on arrival, previous schooling and length of stay appear to have a particular influence on learning outcome. Moreover, the impact of life outside the classroom on the learning of forced migrants has been problematised by several authors. The learning conditions of Syrian female refugees in Turkey is discussed by Rottmann and Nimer (2021). They report that their participants struggle to combine their roles as wife and mothers with classroom activities. Based on the classroom experiences of a Hmong refugee, having resided in refugee camps in Thailand before being resettled in the US, De Costa (2010) calls for integrating the outside world in language training for refugees. He argues that ‘studying the learning trajectories of refugees is particularly important if researchers are to better understand the immense pressures these refugees encounter in the language learning process created by social constraints’ (2010: 502). In a similar vein, Baynham draws attention to the ‘urgent issues and crises’ (2006: 25) faced by many forced migrants in the UK, such as sudden changes in official status, moving between accommodation, official procedures, having their skills recognised and finding work. Like De Costa, he argues in favour of dynamic classroom interactions, where teacher and student shape teaching agendas in collaboration. Other authors have drawn attention to how undesired positioning and marginalisation influence language learning by forced migrants. Examining the learning of Swedish by Kurdish refugees in Sweden, Elmeroth (2003) fi nds that the participants’ learning process is challenged by how they experience Swedish society, for instance that their skills are not recognised and that they have little contact with Swedes other than their teachers. According to Matthews (2008), refugees in Australia from Africa and the Middle East struggle to learn, because they are attributed undesired racialised identities, while Dooley and Thangaperumal (2011) find that refugees with African origin in Australian classrooms experience being mocked for their accent, and are hence linguistically marginalised and excluded. In more general terms, Run (2012) draws attention to his own experience as an African refugee in Australia to shed light on the threat to the sense of belonging, self-esteem and self-actualisation that characterises existence in a refugee camp. One way of overcoming the sense of marginalisation in the classroom, according to some authors, is to deploy translanguaging pedagogies. For example, Capstick and Aateek, concerned with displaced people in the

4

Language Learning and Forced Migration

Kurdistan region of Iraq learning English, claim that ‘displaced learners often feel a disconnected from their linguistic and cultural heritage’ (2021: 4). Translanguaging is proposed as a way of building a bridge from their prior experiences and into the classroom and hence diminishing the feeling of disconnection. Similar claims are made by Cox (2020), who argues in favour of translanguaging in the classroom for reunited refugee families in Scotland, as a way of recognising their identities and balancing power relations. Another recurrent topic is the role of trauma in language learning by forced migrants. For instance, Burns and Roberts fi nd that for refugee learners of English, ‘dislocation and trauma disrupt the capacity to connect and make meanings necessary for language learning’ (2010: 411). Drawing on the case of Bosnian refugees to Austria, Kartal et al. (2019) argue that mental health needs to be incorporated in language training programmes, while Gordon (2011) calls for more research on the impact of trauma on processing, on the basis of Laotian refugees in the US who have experienced the Vietnam war. In sum, the studies we have overviewed here all point to specificities of the learning context of this group of learners and show, in our view, the need for a separate research agenda concerned with forced migrants that takes account of the specificities of each refugee’s life situation and own experience. However, few studies triangulate learners’ experiences and observations of learning contexts with empirical evidence of learning trajectories. With this book, we contribute to fi lling this gap, as it includes studies of institutional measures put in place to prepare refugees for life in the host country, emic perspectives, investigations of speech in a previously acquired additional language, English, as well as longitudinal linguistic enquires into the process of learning Norwegian. 1.3 Transnational and National Refugee Policies

In this book, we are concerned with one category of forced migrants, which is resettlement refugees. People who are offered resettlement in a third host country, based on the following criteria, are referred to as resettlement refugees. First of all, they have fled from one country to another, where they have to be registered as UNHCR refugees and are in a situation where they ‘cannot return to their country of origin because of a well-founded fear of persecution, confl ict, violence, or other circumstances that have seriously disturbed public order, and who, as a result, require international protection’ (UNHCR, 2021a). Secondly, they ‘have specific needs that cannot be addressed in the country where they have sought protection’ (UNHCR, 2021a), and they can thus only receive the required protection in a third host country. In other words, they are ‘uniquely within the protective ambit of the international community’ (Hathaway, 2007: 350).

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration

5

Most of the resettlement refugees from the DRC resettled in Norway have fled from Kivu (South and North) in Eastern Congo, a region that has been war-torn for several decades, to neighbouring countries. A large proportion of them fled to Uganda, hosting 45.9% of Congolese refugees in Africa. The war in Kivu is one of the most violent in recent history (UCDP, 2021). The reasons behind the conflicts are multiple, for instance the genocide in Rwanda in 1994, persistent conflicts between the DRC and Rwanda, inter-community frictions (e.g. between farmers and pastoralists, and between people identifying as belonging to different ethnic groups), as well as land disputes between rural communities and large mining companies (Mathys, 2017; Mathys & Vlassenroot, 2016). Most refugees left the DRC due to an immediate threat of sexual violence, plundering, killings and forced recruitment to militias, etc. (Mathys, 2017; Meger, 2010). Since 2018, Congolese refugees have been one of the largest groups of resettlement refugees hosted in Norway. Each year, Norway hosts some thousand resettlement refugees (see Table 1.1 for number of Congolese refugees). The size of the quotas is determined every year by the Norwegian government, on the basis of such factors as the capacity of hosting municipalities in Norway to settle refugees, and UNHCR’s capacity to process transit cases (Ministry of Justice and Public Security, 2020a). The Norwegian Ministry of Justice and Public Security decides, in collaboration with other relevant ministries, from which countries of first asylum Norway will receive refugees each year, and which groups of refugees, i.e. country of origin, to host. This decision is informed by recommendations from the Norwegian Directorate of Integration and Diversity (IMDi), the Norwegian Directorate of Immigration (UDI), UNHCR and non-governmental organisations (NGOs), and depends on refugee groups’ need for protection, the situation of countries of first asylum, as well as experience from collaboration with the local UNHCR agency (Ministry of Justice and Public Security, 2020b). Table 1.1 Congolese quota refugees to Norway (for some years, the number of Congolese refugees is not specified, as there is a common quota for them and other groups) (Ministry of Justice and Public Security, 2018, 2019, 2020b, 2021)* Year

Total quota

Number of Congolese refugees

Country of first asylum

2018

2120

900

Uganda

2019

3000

1000

Uganda

2020

2400

750 (including South Sudanese)

Uganda

2021

3000

600 (including South Sudanese)

Uganda

300

Rwanda

150 (including other nationalities)

Kenya

*

This table displays the initial quotas. The number of resettlement refugees who actually arrived in Norway in 2020 and 2021 differs from the initial quotas, due to Covid-19 restrictions.

6

Language Learning and Forced Migration

The selection of individual refugees for resettlement is carried out by UNHCR in the country of fi rst asylum. However, Norway has some priority groups, which are women at risk, families with children under 18 years old and LHBTIQ+ people (Ministry of Justice and Public Security, 2020b). When the selection has taken place, refugees are informed by the local UNHCR staff that they are in the process of being resettled (Ministry of Justice and Public Security, 2020b). Subsequently, a selection mission from the Norwegian government travels to the country of first asylum, where they conduct interviews to assess whether the selected individuals are eligible for resettlement. Refugees who are accepted by the selection mission participate in a mandatory cultural orientation programme in the country of fi rst asylum. This programme is fi nanced by IMDi and carried out by the International Organization for Migration (IOM). It is inter alia developed with the aim of ‘minimising the cultural chock’ and ‘learning about common challenges they [refugees] may encoutner in the resettlement process’ (IOM, 2021). The programme lasts for four days and daily attendence is a requirement for resettlement. The refugees travel to Norway once IMDi has agreed with hosting municipalities in Norway to receive the applicants, in general within the six months following the cultural orientation programme. Refugees are then resettled directly in a host muncipality, where they meet a designated social worker responsible for their resettlement process. After being resettled, refugees coming to Norway have ‘the right and the obligation’ to participate in an Introduction Programme designed to provide them with the basic qualifications arguably required to participate in the Norwegian labour market (Introduksjonsloven, 2003). In 2021, a new Norwegian Integration Act was implemented (Integreringsloven, 2021), which made changes to the duration of the Introduction Programme. However, as the participants in our study arrived before 2021, they are still under the old programme, which lasts for two to three years. It should be noted that the right and obligation to participate in an Introduction Programme is maintained under the new Act. The Introduction Programme participants receive economic support of around NOK 18,000 (about EUR 1800) per month before taxes, subject to the condition of daily attendance and active participation in the programme. The programme always includes Norwegian language training and social studies, but since it is organised by the host municipalities, its content may vary from one municipality to another, and each participant gains an individual plan according to their need to qualify for the labour market. For instance, many municipalities offer primary education for adults with no formal schooling, or who lack official documentation of primary education from their country of origin or country of first asylum, and/or language practice at a workplace.

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration

7

1.4 The KongNor Project

In this book, we report on research among 12 of the 900 quota refugees from the DRC who were resettled from Uganda to Norway in 2019. The KongNor project is coordinated by the editors of this volume. The researchers in the project are all affiliated to the Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, where they work with teacher training. The project was initiated in summer 2019 when Guri Bordal Steien joined IOM during their cultural orientation for Congolese refugees to Norway in Kyangwali refugee resettlement and Kampala city in Uganda, where she recruited the participants who we followed from the moment they arrived in Norway.

1.4.1 Participants

The recruitment of participants took place through a self-enrolment method. IOM facilitators informed the participants about the project during the culture orientation classes and encouraged those who were interested in participating to contact Steien during breaks. In this book, data from 12 of the participants are featured. In Table 1.2, we give an overview of their trajectories and linguistic repertoires. The information is based on the participants’ accounts. As the participants were recruited through self-enrolment, we were not able to balance the gender distribution, and there are more male than female participants, which, in turn, obviously influenced the knowledge we were able to generate (see Monsen & Steien, this volume). However, the participants are of different ages, from 19 to 56; one lived in a city in the DRC, while the others lived in rural areas; their length of stay in Uganda varies from 7 to 23 years; some stayed in Kyangwali resettlement, while others were urban refugees living in Kampala. In Norway, they are resettled in Southern, Northern, Western and Eastern municipalities. In that sense, the sample permits us to reflect on some of the variation that can be found among individual refugees and host municipalities. We have not specified the participants’ levels of formal education in this table, as many of them have interrupted schooling from different places, and any indication would be highly imprecise. However, there is great variation – some have not received any formal schooling (see Monsen, this volume), while others had been to university prior to resettlement. The participants arrived in Norway during autumn 2019. With help from IMDi, we were able to make contact with them just after their arrival and have followed them ever since. At the time of writing this book, they have been in Norway for almost two years and are all still in the Introduction Programme.

8

Language Learning and Forced Migration

Table 1.2 Participants’ trajectories and linguistic repertoires Pseudonym

Birth year

Place of birth in the DRC

Christophe

1987

Bukavu city

Fidèle

1990

Rutshuru territory

Joseph

1985

Koïs

Years in Uganda

Place of stay in Uganda

Region in Norway

Self-reported linguistic repertoire

Kampala

East

Mashi, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Norwegian

23

Kyangwali

East

Swahili, Kinyabwisha, English, Runyoro, Luganda, Norwegian

Rutshuru territory

12

Kyangwali

North

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Runyoro, Norwegian

2002

Rutshuru territory

11

Kyangwali

West

Swahili, English, Norwegian

Lucas

1994

Rutshuru territory

11–12

Kyangwali

South

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Runyoro, Luganda, Norwegian

Max

1979

Rutshuru territory

11–12

Kyangwali

South

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Norwegian

Naomi

1965

Rutshuru territory

9

Kyangwali

East

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, English, Norwegian

Prudent

1983

Kalehe territory

13

Kampala

East

Kitembo, Swahili, French, English, Lingala, Kiganda, Norwegian

Pierre

1995

Rutshuru territory

7

Kyangwali

North

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Runyoro, Norwegian

Sarah

1989?

Rutshuru territory

10?

Kyangwali

West

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, Norwegian

Simon

1977

Rutshuru territory

10?

Kyangwali

West

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, Norwegian

Zépherin

1979

Rutshuru territory

11

Kyangwali

South

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Runyoro, Norwegian

7

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration

9

1.4.2 Data types and collection

The project is reported to the Norwegian Centre for Research Data (NSD) and complies with the national and international ethical standards, and the national legal regulation of research. In the following we present an overview of the material. Detailed discussion of methodological considerations is presented in each chapter. To understand the contexts in which the participants have learned and are learning additional languages, and to gain insights into their experiences, the editors of this book conducted ethnographic fieldwork. Steien observed the cultural orientation classes they attended in Uganda, where she also interviewed local UNHCR staff and IOM facilitators about their experience from working with refugees. After the participants’ arrival in Norway, both editors visited them as regularly as possible at the adult language learning centres where they attended the Introduction Programme, to conduct classroom observations and interviews with teachers about pedagogical choices and the participants’ learning trajectories. Moreover, we were in frequent contact with the participants. Due to the geographical distance between certain host municipalities and Eastern Norway (where we live), as well as the Covid-19 restrictions, the frequency varied – we visited some of them three times after they arrived, and others monthly – but we were in contact with all of them regularly through social media. During each visit, we talked about the participants’ experiences in/with Norway, in particular (but not only) related to language learning, sometimes in recorded ethnographic interviews. In addition, Veronica Pájaro observed the intake interviews of Max and Lucas (see Pájaro, this volume), and Florian Gorqaj conducted one of the interviews with Simon. In order to study language practices, knowledge and learning, we collected speech samples through structured interviews in Norwegian, as well as a Labovian protocol, including interviews and readings, in English. Data on language meta- and cross-linguistic awareness were gathered through structured interviews. The material also includes written language, i.e. essays written by the participants in Norwegian, and communication through social media. Interview guides are elaborated by the different authors in this book, while Guri Bordal Steien implemented them.

1.4.3 Limitations

One of the primary goals of this volume is to give rich descriptions of a group of language learners who are rarely the focus of SLA research. This naturally affects the sample size and influences how quantitative measures can be interpreted. The strength of keeping to individuals in one specific population, however, is that we are able to reduce the number of background variables, which are often a challenge in quantitative research.

10

Language Learning and Forced Migration

As is evident from Table 1.2, the participants in our study have varied linguistic repertoires. Only some elements of their repertoires are shared by the researchers. This entails that the researchers must sometimes rely on interpreters, and sometimes the conversations take place in a language that might not be the participants’ strongest. 1.5 Overview of the Chapters

The book is divided into two parts: Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts and Language Practices, Knowledge and Learning. 1.5.1 Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts

The six chapters in the fi rst part of the book are based on ethnographic data and examine the relationship between contexts of language learning and the participants’ own experience. The fi rst two chapters are concerned with how the participants’ experience of language learning evolves over time. In the chapter ‘Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men: Constructions of Norway and Investment in Norwegian’, Monsen and Steien examine how gender relations in Norwegian society are presented by different institutional actors whose mandate is to prepare refugees for life in Norway. Constructions of Norwegian society as an equal society coexist with constructions of hierarchies in which women sometimes seem to have greater status and less responsibility than men. Such constructions are reflected in the participants’ perceptions of Norwegian society and their investment in language learning. Christophe, for instance, experiences Norwegian society as hostile towards men and his investment in classroom practices decreases during his fi rst year in the Introduction Programme. In the chapter, ‘“In Uganda, We Collected Them in the Streets”: On (the absence of) the Street as a Language Learning Space’, Steien is concerned with the participants’ comparisons between language learning in Uganda and Norway. Many of them express how they fi nd learning Norwegian more challenging than they found learning English and other Ugandan languages in Uganda. According to Lucas, the reason for this is that in Uganda, they learned languages as a by-product of carrying out necessary everyday activities in crowded streets, while in Norway they learn mostly (exclusively) at school. There is thus a certain discrepancy between their habitus of language learning developed in Uganda and the Norwegian reality. Based on the narratives of Max and Lucas, Steien argues that this discrepancy is related to the absence in Norway of a certain kind of learning space, which she refers to as the street. Three chapters focus on practices under the Introduction Programme in Norway. In the chapter, ‘Scripts and Texts as Technologies of Refugee Governmentality in the Norwegian Introduction Programme’, Pájaro

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration

11

examines a situated instance of the implementation of the Introduction Programme by focusing on Max and Lucas’ intake interviews at their local adult learning centre. Such interviews take place just after arrival, are mandatory and constitute the basis for the development of individual learning plans. She fi nds that the interviews are characterised by a tension between technologies of government that regulate migrants’ conduct and integration into the labour market, and an ideal of empowerment of refugees to take control of their life trajectories in Norway. This tension is evidenced in both refugees’ and teachers’ reflections on the goals and ideals of the intake interview, as well as in the scripted interactions and textual production emerging from the intake interviews. The extent to which the participants’ multilingual repertoires are reflected in teaching under the Introduction Programme is examined in Monsen and Eek’s chapter: ‘“Because I Was the Only One Who Dared”: Approaches to Multilingual Repertoires in Adult Language Training’. With the examples of three learning centres, Østby (attended by Naomi and Zépherin), Fjorbotn (attended by Pierre) and Rørøy (attended by Sarah and Simon), the authors identify three different approaches to language teaching. In Østby, the teachers seem to adopt a deliberate translingual approach to teaching, as the teachers constantly draw on the language resources that are present in class. In Fjorbotn, immersion seems to be the strategy, as teachers urge the participants to speak Norwegian and only Norwegian inside and outside the classroom. While these two strategies are known in the literature, the authors identify a third strategy in Rørøy, i.e. a ‘pragmatic’ strategy whereby teachers and social workers do their best to solve problems, rather than taking one doxa as their starting point. Interestingly, Pierre is the one who is most anxious about his future in Norway. According to the authors, his anxiety might be related to the fact that his resources are not recognised in the classroom. In the last chapter of this part of the book, ‘Resettling Literacies: The Case of Sarah and Simon’, Monsen focuses on two learners who had no formal schooling prior to their resettlement in Norway. She fi nds that Sarah invests more in Norwegian language learning, even though the pedagogical methods at the Rørøy learning centre are not in accordance with what is perceived as good literacy teaching, because Sarah feels valued. Simon, on the other hand, experiences a loss of identity and struggles to exchange his literacies with valuable capital in Norwegian society. In sum, the chapters of this part give insights into the complexity of the interaction between migrant policies, pedagogies and individual experiences that characterise the learning situation of refugees. 1.5.2 Language Practices, Knowledge and Learning

The seven chapters in the second part of the book all shed light on aspects of the participants’ language deployment.

12  Language Learning and Forced Migration

The first two chapters are concerned with participants’ English, an additional language acquired first and foremost informally while transiting in Uganda. In the chapter, ‘Syllable Structures in English Speech Produced by Multilingual Speakers with Histories of Mobility’, Syvertsen examines syllable structure in English speech produced by the Englishspeaking participants, with focus on Fidèle. She finds that their syllable structures have much in common with the phonotactic constraints in Bantu languages, which is also the case for Ugandan English and African Frenches. There is a certain tendency to avoid complex consonant clusters, manifested by consonant elisions, such as pronounced [posibo], and epenthesis, such as realised as [denu formu]. In the chapter ‘Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals’, Rørvik examines syntactic properties of English produced by Christophe, Fidèle, Joseph, Koïs, Lucas, Pierre and Zépherin. She finds that the participants display higher frequencies of left-dislocation than is found in Standard English. Moreover, the material includes types of left-­dislocation which are not common in Standard English, nor in English spoken by people with Norwegian as their dominant language, for instance left-­ dislocated coordinated noun phrases (e.g. ‘the knowing and realisation the importance of English language most the most, it was when I came to Uganda’). One chapter is concerned with metalanguage and crosslinguistic awareness as tools for language learning. In the chapter, ‘“The Sound of Asking a Question”: Metalanguage and Crosslinguistic Awareness in Adults Learning Norwegian as an Additional Language’, Randen examines how Koïs, Prudent and Fidèle express their understanding of linguistic form and use crosslinguistic awareness to support language learning. She finds that metalanguage is mainly realised by the use of everyday language, for instance in examples contrasting Norwegian and other languages (‘alene means alone’). Moreover, the participants report that their knowledge of English and/or French is beneficial to them in the process of learning Norwegian. On the basis of her findings, Randen argues in favour of pedagogical practices which scaffold learners’ access to their multicompetence as resources in additional language learning. Three chapters examine the participants’ development of Norwegian throughout their first year in Norway. In the chapter ‘Syntactic Complexity in Early Adult Additional Language Norwegian’, Jensen investigates the development of syntactic complexity in oral speech and written essays produced by Christophe and Fidèle. He uses the following variables to study the development of complexity: number of words in an utterance, number of subordinated clauses in an utterance, number of syntactic constituents in a clause, occurrence of non-trivial verb phrases (coordinate verb phrases and infinitive phrases) and the structure of noun phrases (pre-modifications and post-modifications). The study shows great interindividual variation, as Christophe’s complexity variables increase

Introduction: Language Learning and Forced Migration

13

throughout the year, while Fidèle shows no clear development for any of the variables. In the chapter, ‘A Year Goes By: A Longitudinal Study of Verb–Locative Constructions in Additional Language Norwegian’, Nordanger takes a use-based approach to study syntactic development and investigates how formulas develop in the speech of Fidèle and Christophe. Focusing on pathbreaking verbs, she fi nds that verb argument constructions are headed by frequent words by both participants, i.e. å gå (‘to go’) and å komme (‘to come’). Like Jensen, Nordanger identifies individual differences between the two participants that are reminiscent of the individual character of language learning. In the last chapter, ‘Pragmatic Development in Four Congolese Refugees’ Norwegian: Response to Topic Initial Elicitors and Topic Proffers’, Horbowicz examines pragmatic development. Drawing on data from Christophe, Fidèle, Prudent and Zépherin, she uses conversation analysis to assess the development of topic proffers in conversation throughout their first year of learning Norwegian. At the beginning, clarifications are often initiated by the interviewer, Guri, and involve translation of questions into French or English. In later recordings, the participants deliver more fluent and adequate answers to topic initial elicitors. Horbowicz’s study draws attention to the importance of real-life conversations for additional language learning. In sum, the chapters of this section give insights into English as practised by the participants, and the role of metalanguage and crosslinguistic awareness in additional language learning, as well as the development of syntactic and pragmatic aspects of Norwegian.

References Baynham, M. (2006) Agency and contingency in the language learning of refugees and asylum seekers. Linguistics and Education 17 (1), 24–39. Bigelow, M. and Tarone, E. (2004) The role of literacy level in second language acquisition: Doesn’t who we study determine what we know? TESOL Quarterly 38 (4), 689–700. Block, D. (2003) The Social Turn in Second Language Acquisition. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. Burns, A. and Roberts, C. (2010) Migration and adult language learning: Global flows and local transpositions. TESOL Quarterly 44 (3), 409–419. Capstick, T. and Ateek, M. (2021) Translanguaging spaces as safe space for psycho-social support in refugee settings in the Kurdistan region of Iraq. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development ahead-of-print, 1–16. Castles, S. (2003) Towards a sociology of forced migration and social transformation. Sociology 37 (1), 13–34. Cox, S. (2020) Can an ecological, multilingual approach help us to better support reunited refugee familie in Scotland with language learning? Theory and Practice of Second Language Acquisition 2 (6), 11–34. De Costa, P.I. (2010) From refugee to transformer: A Bourdieusian take on a Hmong learner’s trajectory. TESOL Quarterly 44 (3), 517–541. Dooley, K.T. and Thangaperumal, P. (2011) Pedagogy and participation: Literacy education for low-literate refugee students of African origin in a western school system. Language and Education 25 (5), 385–397.

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Douglas Fir Group (2016) A transdisciplinary framework for SLA in a multilingual world. The Modern Language Journal 100 (1), 19–47. Elmeroth, E. (2003) From refugee camp to solitary confi nement: Illiterate adults learn Swedish as a second language. Scandinavian Journal of Educational Research 47 (4), 431–449. Firth, A. and Wagner, J. (1997) On discourse, communication, and (some) fundamental concepts in SLA research. The Modern Language Journal 81 (3), 285–300. Gordon, D. (2011) Trauma and second language learning among Laotian refugees. Journal of Southeast Asian American Education and Advancement 6 (1), 13. Hathaway, J.C. (2007) Forced migration studies: Could we agree just to ‘date’? Journal of Refugee Studies 20 (3), 349–369. Integreringsloven [Integration Act] (2021) Lov om integrering gjennom opplæring utdanning og arbeid (LOV-2020-11-06-127). See https://lovdata.no/dokument/NL/ lov/2020-11-06-127. IOM (2021) Migrant training and integration. See https://www.iom.no/migrant-training Introduksjonsloven [Introductory Act] (2003) Lov om introduksjonsordning og norskopplæring for nyankomne invandrere. LOV-2003-07-04-80. See https://lovdata.no/ dokument/NLO/lov/2003-07-04-80. Kartal, D., Alkemade, N. and Kiropoulos, L. (2019) Trauma and mental health in resettled refugees: Mediating effect of host language acquisition on posttraumatic stress disorder, depressive and anxiety symptoms. Transcultural Psychiatry 56 (1), 3–23. Kramsch, C. (2013) The Multilingual Subject. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lado, R. (1957) Language Across Cultures. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Mathys, G. (2017) Bringing history back in: Past, present, and confl ict in Rwanda and the Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. The Journal of African History 58 (3), 465–487. Mathys, G. and Vlassenroot, K. (2016) ‘It’s not all about the land’: Land disputes and confl ict in the eastern Congo. Rift Valley Institute PSRP Briefing Paper 14, 1–8. Matthews, J. (2008) Schooling and settlement: Refugee education in Australia. International Studies in Sociology of Education 18 (1), 31–45. May, S. (2019) Negotiating the multilingual turn in SLA. The Modern Language Journal 103, 122–129. Meger, S. (2010) Rape of the Congo: Understanding sexual violence in the confl ict in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Journal of Contemporary African Studies 28 (2), 119–135. Ministry of Justice and Public Security (2018) Kvoten for overføringsflyktninger i 2018. Ministry of Justice and Public Security (2019) Kvoten for overføringsflyktninger i 2019. Ministry of Justice and Public Security (2020a) Rundskriv G-15/2020: Retningslinjer for arbeidet med overføringsflyktninger jf. utlendingsloven §35. Ministry of Justice and Public Security (2020b) Kvoten for overføringsflyktninger i 2020. Ministry of Justice and Public Security (2021) Kvoten for overføringsflyktninger i 2021. Norton, B. (2013) Identity and Language Learning: Extending the Conversation (2nd edn). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Pavlenko, A. and Lantolf, J.P. (2000) Second language learning as participation and the (re)construction of selves. In J.P. Lantolf (ed.) Sociocultural Theory and Second Language Learning (pp. 155–178). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rottmann, S.B. and Nimer, M. (2021) Language learning through an intersectional lens: Gender, migrant status, and gain in symbolic capital for Syrian refugee women in Turkey. Multilingua 40 (1), 67–85. Run, P. (2012) ‘Out of place’? An auto-ethnography of refuge and postcolonial exile. African Identities 10 (4), 381–390. Selinker, L. (1972) Interlanguage. International Review of Applied Linguistics 10, 209–231.

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UCDP (2021) Recorded fatalities in UCDP organized violence 1989–2020. See https:// ucdp.uu.se/exploratory. UNHCR (2021a) Asylum and migration. See https://www.unhcr.org/asylum-and-migration.html. UNHCR (2021b) Forced displacement passes 80 millions by mid-2020 as COVID-19 tests refugees protection globally. See https://www.unhcr.org/news/press/2020/12/5fcf94a04/ forced-displacement-passes-80-million-mid-2020-covid-19-tests-refugee-protection. html. Van Tubergen, F. (2010) Determinants of second language proficiency among refugees in the Netherlands. Social Forces 89 (2), 515–534.

Part 1 Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts

2 Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men: Constructions of Norway and Investment in Norwegian Language Learning Marte Monsen and Guri Bordal Steien

2.1 Introduction

In popular and political discourse about Norwegian immigration policies, migrants’ need to adapt to Norwegian culture and values is often highlighted (Kristensen, 2009), and a series of institutional measures are put in place to prepare newly arrived migrants for life in Norwegian society (Integreringsloven, 2021; Introduksjonsloven, 2003). For instance, refugees selected to go to Norway are required to attend a Cultural Orientation Programme prior to resettlement (IOM, 2021), and during their fi rst two or three years in Norway, they ‘have the right and are obliged’ to participate in an Introduction Programme, including Norwegian language training and social studies (Integreringsloven, 2021; Introduksjonsloven, 2003). Through these programmes, they encounter constructions of what it entails to be a member of Norwegian society, which contribute to shaping their own constructions of the practices, culture, values and mentalities of the host society. Such constructions, in turn, might have an impact on investment in learning the Norwegian language (see Norton, 2013). As argued by Darvin and Norton (2021: 8), migrants are more likely to invest in language learning if this entails realising ‘the identities, relationships and communities they have imagined and desired for themselves’. In this chapter, we are concerned with the relationship between institutional constructions of Norwegian society and investment in language

19

20

Part 1: Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts

learning. The study is based on data generated by ethnographic fieldwork among 12 refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) during their first year and a half in Norway, including inter alia observations of cultural orientation and Introduction Programme classes. We fi nd that the participants tend to be preoccupied by constructions of gender relations in Norwegian society. For instance, after a year and a half in the host society, one of the participants, Christophe, concluded that Norway operates with the following hierarchy as regards the value of different ‘agents’ (see Latour, 2009) in society: ‘les femmes, les enfants, les chiens, les fleurs et en tout dernier, les hommes’ (‘women, children, dogs, flowers and, at the very last, men’). Such constructions have led us to examine how gender relations are presented by the institutions whose mandate is to prepare newly arrived migrants for life in Norway. Our data indicate that an emphasis on gender equality coexists with constructions of hierarchies, in which women tend to occupy the top position. Based on these data, we aim to shed light on the difficult (institutional) task of choosing how to present the host society to newly arrived migrants and the impact certain choices might have on individuals’ investment in language learning. 2.2 Constructions of National Culture, Values and Practices in Relation to Migration

In politics and public discourse, diversity is often met with the idea that a nation has a common culture and certain core values which people need to adopt in order to be valuable members of the society (Borevi et al., 2017; Mouritsen et  al., 2019). This idea is central to integration policies in Norway, and in many other societies in Europe. It is seldom disputed that migrants can benefit from knowledge about the country in which they are resettling. For example, they need to be familiar with laws in order to avoid legal prosecution; to be informed about infrastructures and economy so as to ensure the fulfilment of fundamental needs; and to have certain insights into cultural practices. However, it is not necessarily easy to establish what ‘a national culture’ is, or with which aspects of this culture it is essential for newly arrived migrants to be acquainted. The concept is obviously a social construct that builds on an imagined community (Anderson, 1991), which is a powerful socio-cognitive construct referring to ‘the image of communion’ (Anderson, 1991: 7) between people who have never met, but still identify as belonging to the same community, i.e. a nation. In a Norwegian context, we fi nd rather essentialist research on the topic of national culture and practices in adult language learning, describing quite explicitly what normal life in Norway is like. In a report on a language and culture immersion course (Halvorsen et  al., 2017), Norwegian researchers describe an action research project whereby the participants, adult learners of Norwegian, spend 33 days living in a

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men 21

‘typical Norwegian house’ which essentially means role play that involves living like a ‘typical Norwegian family’ to get insight into ‘[the] Norwegian way of life, way of behaviour, traditions and unspoken norms’ (Halvorsen et al., 2017: 225, our translation). For example, this entails explanation of how it is uncommon for a Norwegian man to give compliments to a woman. The participants engage in role play that involves men going to Rotary club meetings and women going to other (women’s?) clubs, as well as role play involving hosting children’s birthday parties and serving hot dogs. Obviously, many people who identify as being Norwegian would not agree with this selection of cultural aspects. For instance, none of the authors of this chapter have ever joined clubs based on their gender. This project might be a crude example, as it seems designed to assimilate migrants into Norwegian culture. Yet it does illustrate that institutional actors, i.e. creators of courses and textbooks designed to give migrants a sense of what it entails to live in the host society, have the difficult task of capturing and creating a narrative of how the society is, while also conveying that it is changeable and open to the inclusion of people from other cultures. The above example might illustrate failure in doing the latter. Fejes (2019) investigates the role of adult education in the shaping and fostering of asylum seekers into full citizenship in Sweden, through a critical investigation of the ‘Swedish from day one’ project. In Sweden, as in Norway, the idea is that learning the national language and gaining knowledge about the society will prepare migrants for participation in the labour market and in society, and as such they will have better opportunities to become ‘full’ citizens in the future (2019: 241). Fejes discusses whether it is of any value to learn about aspects such as Swedish norms, traditions and ‘the wider moral order of things’ (2019: 247) in a way that homogenises the Swedish cultural space, as might be the case for ‘Swedish from day one’. Other researchers have investigated how contemporary European states display what it entails to be a citizen of a given state. Joppke (2008), for instance, points to a paradox regarding how this is displayed by liberal European societies. Many states, such as the Netherlands, display progressive norms and values in the information they choose to present to migrants, for example by showing public nudity and homosexuals kissing, celebrating that ‘this is Holland’ (2008: 541). The message is that in order to live in the Netherlands, you need to adhere to the idea that public nudity and the display of homosexual affection are good. As such, many states convey that a liberal state is for liberal people, which can paradoxically be viewed as an illiberal statement, as it implies that certain outlooks on life are not welcomed (2008: 541–542). In a similar vein, Pautz (2005), points to the Leitkultur debate in Germany, maintaining the idea of central values in a nation replacing racial belonging with an equally essentialist cultural belonging. As we have seen here, several researchers point to macro-level consequences of the idea of conveying cultural values to migrants, expecting

22

Part 1: Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts

them to adhere to a set of values, or even demanding that they can document some kind of cultural knowledge in order to become citizens. In the current study, we bear the macro-level consequences in mind, but move to the micro level to discuss how some concrete institutional constructions of Norwegian society might influence individual migrants’ investment in Norwegian language learning. 2.3 Investment

The concept of investment was developed to capture how the relationship between individual language learners and the wider social world impacts commitment to language learning (Norton, 2013: 2). This relationship is understood as an interplay between ideologies, capital and identities (Darvin & Norton, 2016). Ideologies, i.e. ‘ways of thinking that dominate particular social groups or entities and that constitute their practices’ (Darvin & Norton, 2021: 8), impact language learning because they fashion how learners and their resources are positioned. In concrete terms, migrants might experience that they are marginalised in the classroom or in wider society, and hence become less invested in participating in linguistic practices that take place in these spaces. Capital (Bourdieu, 1977) designates the ‘resources that constitute our position in the social world’ (Darvin & Norton, 2021: 8). Adult language learners already exhibit different kinds of capital when they start learning an additional language, and are more likely to invest in language learning if they experience that their resources are valued. Investment in language learning also depends on whether learners believe that speaking the target language can help them to obtain desired economic capital, such as getting a (better) job, and/or symbolic capital, e.g. education. Finally, identities, selfascribed or ascribed by others, shape the extent to which learners engage in social practices where the target language is spoken. An experience of being positioned in an undesired way, i.e. ‘practices of a given classroom or community, which may, for example, be racist, sexist, elitist, antiimmigrant or homophobic’ (Toohey & Norton, 2011: 421), might lead to little investment in language learning. In contrast, an understanding of language learning as a way of realising imagined identities, i.e. ones that offer ‘an enhanced range of possibilities for the future’ (Pavlenko & Norton, 2007), might increase individual learners’ investment. Importantly, language learning investment is intrinsically dynamic, as individual learners’ comittment might vary across time and space. In this chapter, we are particularly concerned with identities, and more preceisely (imagined) gendered identities and positionings and their relation to investment. The role of gendered identities and positionings in language learning is, for instance, put forward by Norton and Pavlenko (2004a: 3), who argue that ‘professionals need to examine gender identity options offered to students through textbooks, classroom materials and classroom

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men 23

interactions, as well as to consider students’ investments – or lack of thereof – in the light of gendered employment opportunities in the local and global marketplaces’. As we will see, this resonates with our data. To investigate gendered identities and investment, we draw on Palvenko and Norton’s definition of gender ‘not as a dichotomy or an individual property, but as a complex system of social relations and discursive practices differentially constructed in local contexts’ (2004a: 2). Our focus is indeed on different constructions in local contexts, i.e. our aim is not to reveal larger ideologies, but to point to concrete examples of institutional practices and their impact on the investment of an individual, recognising that these shape and are shaped by ideologies and might be reminiscent of them. 2.4 An Ethnographic Approach: Context and Data

The data we examine in this chapter are generated by longitudinal and still ongoing ethnographic fieldwork (cf. Blommaert, 2018; Fabian, 2008; Hymes, 2001 [1977]) among 12 refugees from the DRC, having transited in Uganda. Our overarching aim of the fieldwork is to gain emic insights into the process of learning Norwegian as a refugee in Norway. Inspired by the work of Norton (2013), we seek inter alia to shed light on the dynamics of individual investment. We did not start the fieldwork with an a priori interest in gender relations. The topic caught our attention first and foremost because participants seemed preoccupied with it. In that respect, it should be mentioned that most of the participants are men (nine out of 12). This was not a deliberate choice, as the recruitment took place through a self-enrolment method (see Steien & Monsen [Introduction], this volume). However, the fact that we have heard more stories from men than women obviously impacts the type of constructions to which we are drawing attention. The data we present in this chapter were gathered from 2019 until the summer of 2021 and collected by the authors of this chapter.1 It includes (1) observations of cultural orientation programmes in Uganda prior to resettlement; (2) interviews with the International Organization for migration (IOM) and UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) staff working with refugees in Uganda; (3) frequent conversations (face-to-face and through social media) and recorded ethnographic interviews with the participants; (4) observations of classes under the Introduction Programme; (5) interviews with teachers, social workers and others working with refugees in Norway; and (6) teaching materials and pictures of wall decorations from the adult learning centres. 2 Observations are documented by field notes. All of these types of data inform the analyses presented in this chapter, although we focus on examples from cultural orientation and introduction programmes, and the story of one of the participants. As in any ethnographic study, we are concerned with reflexivity (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992), i.e. how our presence influenced the data

24

Part 1: Emic Perspectives and Learning Contexts

gathered and how our background played a role in our analysis. For this chapter, we fi nd two aspects of our reflection on reflectivity to be of particular importance to understanding how the analyses were achieved. First of all, we were both born and raised in Norway, and hence are representatives of the majority population. Our experience of Norwegian society obviously influenced how and what kinds of constructions of gender relations we noticed. Inevitably, there is an implicit comparison between these and our own experiences. For instance, as women, we do not always recognise the strong position attributed to women in institutional constructions of Norwegian society. Secondly, the focus on constructions of Norway during our fieldwork is to a certain extent related to Monsen’s past experience as a practitioner. She worked as a teacher under the Introduction Programme for six years, and hence, she has herself been confronted with the challenging task of presenting ‘Norwegian culture’ to students. 2.5 Institutional Constructions of Gender Relations in Norwegian Society: Equality or Hierarchies?

We now turn to some examples of how gender and gender relations are presented to newly arrived refugees in Norway. The examples are taken from observations of cultural orientation in Uganda and wall decorations at a learning centre that offers Introduction Programme classes, as well as textbooks used in the Introduction Programme. 2.5.1 Cultural orientation in Uganda

One of the measures undertaken by the Norwegian government to prepare refugees for life in Norway is to offer refugees cultural orientation prior to resettlement. The Norwegian Directory of Diversity (IMDi) fi nances a Cultural Orientation Programme that is held by IOM Norway. The programme is mandatory, takes place before resettlement and lasts for one week (25 hours in total). The content is developed by IOM’s staff and a certain number of topics are covered, such as history, politics and language, as well as practical issues, such as how to live in a house with electricity and running water, take the bus or pay with a credit card. In 2020, the programme was evaluated by an independent research centre, PROBA, resulting in a report 3 which concludes that it gives ‘a realistic picture of Norwegian society and a basic understanding of the expectations of the resettling municipalities’ and ‘contributes to giving basic knowledge about duties and rights, and to reducing the cultural shock and other challenges related to the process of resettlement and integration’ (PROBA, 2020: 87, our translation). During the cultural orientation classes attended by the participants in this study, all of the facilitators were former refugees from the DRC to

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men 25

Norway. At times, they constructed Norwegian society as an equal society in which men and women have the same rights and responsibilities. For instance, they explained that Norwegian society requires both men and women to cook, clean and take children to kindergarten, because life is busy – and doing all of this is too much for one person. Even though statistics show that women do more housework than men and they also earn less, even in Norway (Ellingsæter & Kitterød, 2021; Wagner et al., 2020), the image conveyed of Norwegian society is that all of these chores are shared equally. In other words, to give a basic understanding of Norwegian society, the facilitators sometimes chose to present Norway as a harmonious society, leaving out facts or nuances that might make Norway more difficult to grasp. At the same time, the men were addressed to a greater extent than the women when such issues were considered, for instance by insisting that doing domestic work does not threaten masculinity. As one of the facilitators said: ‘I have done grocery shopping so many times, but I still have everything that makes me a man’. Men were also addressed in relation to sexuality, as the facilitators underlined that it is forbidden by law in Norway to have sex with one’s wife without her consent. Finally, some of the constructions of Norwegian society could indicate that women have more rights than men. On the topic of divorce, one of the facilitators said: ‘it is easy to get a divorce in Norway, women can leave’. However, the option for men to ask for divorce was not mentioned, since it was presumably not deemed necessary to mention men’s rights. Also, explicit hierarchies were constructed. In ‘Africa’, according to one of the facilitators, the value and status of different agents in society are reflected by the following hierarchy: (1) men, (2) women, (3) children, (4) dogs. In Norway, in contrast, the ranking is different, mainly because women and children occupy the top positions: (1) women, (2) children, (3) dogs and (4) men.4 2.5.2 Wall decorations in a learning centre in Norway

The main focus of the Introduction Programme is to prepare the participants for life in Norway and to bring them into the Norwegian workforce. This goal influences the language instruction topics, but also to some extent the design or the decoration of the spaces where the courses take place. For example, several of the learning centres where the participants learn Norwegian are decorated with newspaper articles or information posters from external actors. These include topics that might be of interest for the learners or, in the case of the newspaper articles, might include some of the learners at the learning centre. At Østby Learning Centre, the two posters represented in Figure 2.1 hang on the wall in a part of the communal area. The fi rst poster is from an old newspaper article, showing how Introduction Programme participants are learning ‘Norwegian values’

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Figure 2.1 Representations of postings in the communal area at Østby learning centre

through practice in a kitchen. Here, we encounter a well-known concept in popular discourse in Norway: ‘Norwegian values’ or ‘western values’ (Brekke & Mohn, 2018), which is seldom defi ned. And indeed, the article does not explain precisely what ‘Norwegian values’ are. The second of these posters offers free healthcare, such as cervical cancer screening and information about birth control and family planning, for ‘non-western minority women’, and serves to construct a category that is not only a minority, but also a specific type of minority, namely non-western. ‘Non-western immigrant’ is also a well-known category in the media discourse and to some extent also in research (Bjartnes, 2018) in Norway, and is geographically highly imprecise, referring to people of African or Asian, or sometimes South American, descent. The poster also serves to highlight what the Norwegian healthcare system can offer non-western women, namely family planning and birth control. This might be part of a construction of Norway as a harmonious nuclear family-nation with emancipated women and children, of which we will also see other examples. At the same time, ‘non-western minority women’ are positioned as people who need help from the majority society to plan the size of their family. As we will see, we recognise some of these constructions in the textbooks used in the language courses. 2.5.3 The Godt sagt and God i norsk textbooks

All of the major publishers in Norway publish textbooks for adult learners of Norwegian. These books target groups according to their learning pace and Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR) levels. We have looked particularly at books at the introductory level (A1/A2) used in the classes we have observed. Here, we provide some examples from Godt sagt (‘Well said’) (Hanssen, 2004),

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men 27

aimed at learners with little formal schooling, and God i norsk (‘Good at Norwegian’), aimed at learners with more formal schooling (Berg & Hofset, 2017). The textbooks combine language teaching with teaching about Norwegian society. In the Godt sagt textbook, information about Norwegian society is conveyed through stories and dialogue from the everyday lives of different fictional people in a language class, as well as two fictional families: one originating from Pakistan and one from Norway. In addition to the textbook, there are also booklets in which students can read more about the people in the two families. Ivar, the father in the Norwegian family, works as an architect, and his wife, Mona, is a part-time student and part-time housewife. In many of the chapters, Godt sagt conveys a gender equality message, and in particular the sharing of household duties. One of the booklets is written in the voice of Mona, who describes her everyday life as a student and housewife. She likes to sit in the garden and read or listen to music. She previously spent a lot more time on domestic chores. However, since she found it unreasonable that she was doing all of the chores, she and her husband decided to share them. Now, while she is in charge of ironing and window cleaning, her husband is responsible for washing the floors and doing the laundry. One could argue that this sharing of chores is rather unreasonable, as her husband is presumably working full time to support the family. We are also told that they take turns to prepare dinner, which brings us to the topic of one of the chapters in the book. In this chapter, we are told a story about Nasir, the father in the Pakistani family. Nasir works as a taxi driver in Norway, while his wife, Bibi, is a nurse. In the chapter, Nasir has decided that he will seek to be better at sharing household chores with his wife, and he therefore asks Ivar to teach him to make fish balls, a Norwegian dish, which is cheap and popular among children, but is well known for its lack of taste and soft structure. The narrative that Godt sagt perhaps want to convey is that although Norwegian families have not had gender equality in the past, this has changed lately, and like the Pakistani family in the book, migrant families could be inspired by this. However, the stories might also pass on other narratives, such as a narrative about families in Norway as matriarchal. After all, the mother in the Norwegian family spends time studying, reading for pleasure and listening to music, while her husband is busy working to support his family, when he is not washing the floors and doing the laundry, or teaching his male friend how to cook soft, tasteless meals for his family. God i norsk is aimed at students with more formal schooling prior to their arrival in Norway, and just like other textbooks for these students, much of the book is written in the voice of migrants, or other people who observe Norwegian society from the position of an outsider. To investigate what defi nes Norway and Norwegians, according to God i norsk, we need to consider the dialogue between the recurring characters. One of

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these characters is Bjørnar, who is a divorced 31-year-old car mechanic. His children live with him every other week. Through the book, the readers meet Bjørnar in dialogue with friends, kindergarten teachers and others, and they learn that he takes the children to the dentist, goes on holiday with them, arranges a birthday party and does lots of other things with the children. In between these activities, he goes on dates with Ingrid, a single woman who he meets through his friend’s wife. Through many of the recurring characters we fi nd that life in Norway is constructed as modern in many different ways. For instance, men engage in a lot of activities that might be considered feminine, such as baking cakes and arranging children’s birthday parties, and people are single or divorced and dating, etc. In the case of Bjørnar, it seems that he has most of the responsibility for the children, as the mother is not mentioned at all. However, two topics regarding diversity in modern society are not touched upon: sexuality and disabilities. All the characters in the book are heterosexual, and none of them suffers from any form of disability. All in all, there seem to be commonalities, in that, in both books, Norway is constructed as a modern and in some respects diverse society, where women hold a strong position. 2.6 Investment in Learning Norwegian: Christophe’s Story

To give a glimpse into how such constructions might be reflected in how the refugees themselves experience Norwegian society, we will present the story of one of them, Christophe. We chose to focus on him as he has explicitly related his investment in the classroom to his constructions of gender relations in Norwegian society. Christophe is in his mid-thirties. He grew up in a wealthy family in Bukavu in Eastern Congo, where he went to a prestigious private school and had a driver who took him and his siblings to school. He describes himself as a popular guy who did not work much at school, but rather spent his time making music and flirting with girls. When he was a teenager, his home was plundered several times, and he was constantly hiding, as he feared being forcibly conscripted as a child soldier. He also says that he was persecuted because ‘j’ai l’air rwandais’ (‘I look Rwandese’). 5 After his father’s murder, he and two of his siblings fled to Goma, another city in Eastern Congo, where he stayed for a couple of years. He left Goma because both his siblings disappeared, and it was too dangerous to stay there all alone. At the age of around 25, he fled to Uganda, where he was an urban refugee, i.e. he lived in the city of Kampala and not in a refugee camp. In Uganda, he married a Congolese refugee, Aimée, and they had a son. Christophe, Aimée and their son arrived in Norway in August 2019. They were resettled in a semi-urban municipality in the outskirts of Oslo. When Steien interviewed Christophe in Kampala prior to resettlement, he said that he was eager to learn Norwegian. He saw himself as a

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men 29

good language learner, as he had learned English by himself in Kampala, and reached a level that permitted him to make some money as an interpreter from English to Swahili for non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and in churches. Moreover, he described himself as passionate about languages and hoped to be able to work as an interpreter in Norway too, once he had learned Norwegian. Christophe started the Introduction Programme in October 2019, two months after his arrival in Norway. He was placed in a class with medium progression, with around 30 students from all over the world, of whom some were refugees, and others were migrant workers. At the beginning, he enjoyed going to school and meeting other people. When Steien observed him in class a couple of weeks after he started, she noticed that he exhibited a certain school habitus. He took structured notes from the teaching, had beautiful handwriting and seemed to understand grammatical concepts. He also drew on his entire linguistic repertoire to learn. For instance, he tended to translate lexical items into Swahili and/or French, while he used French metalanguage to present grammatical rules. Aimée started in the programme later than Christophe because their son did not get a kindergarten place right away. When she entered the programme, about a month after Christophe, she was placed in the same class as him. From the very beginning, Christophe expressed that he found the situation difficult because he felt humiliated that she might see him committing errors. His investment in classroom practices declined accordingly. At the end of 2019, his teacher said during an interview with Steien that he was the weakest student in the class. She also said that he did not seem to make any effort to learn, as he constantly looked at his phone and frequently left the classroom. Aimée, in contrast, progressed rapidly, and soon became one of the strongest students in the class, according to their teacher. In her view, the case of Christophe and Aimée was not unique; she found that women did better in the Introduction Programme than men. In fact, many of the IOM staff, social workers and teachers we interviewed during our fieldwork made similar claims. Christophe himself explained the teachers’ views of their progression as related to gender: ‘j’ai compris une chose de la société norvégienne, ici on favorise les femmes’ (‘I have understood one thing about Norwegian society, here they favour women’). His perception of Norwegian society as one that favours women was not only related to his experiences at school. He also found that their social workers in the municipality, two women, only listened to his wife because ‘ici, on écoute les femmes que les hommes’6 (‘here women are listened to more than women’). At a certain point, he stopped going to meetings with them. According to Christophe, they had asked his wife several times whether he drank and beat her. He found such questions deeply unfair, as he grew up in a family where there was no violence and hence, ‘ô plus grand jamais je pourrais frapper une femme’ (‘in no way could I ever hit a woman’).

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In March 2020, Aimée and Christophe’s class worked on how to tell the time in Norwegian. In a test on the topic, Aimée had a score of 100%, while Christophe failed. Subsequently, the teacher decided that he did not fit into her class and moved him to a class with lower progression. When Steien asked him why he had to change classes, he referred to gender again, but used even stronger words: ‘ici discrimine les hommes’ (‘here men are discriminated against’). Nevertheless, Christophe soon concluded that changing classes was a good thing, as he could make a new start. His new strategy was to keep his mouth shut and do what he was asked. As a man, he thought that was the only way to stay out of trouble. In June 2021, Aimée and Christophe decided to divorce. They had several conversations with their contact persons at the municipality about the practicalities of the divorce, i.e. housing, and how to share taking care of their son, etc. Once again, Christophe felt that he was not being listened to. All they cared about, according to Christophe, was Aimée’s rights. He concluded his narrative about the divorce in the following way: ‘En Norvège, c’est comme ça: d’abord les femmes, ensuite les enfants, les chiens, même les fleurs et en tout dernier, les hommes’ (‘women, children, dogs, flowers and at the very last, men’), repeating the hierarchy presented inter alia at the cultural orientation in Uganda, with a modification: According to him, flowers also had greater value than men in Norwegian society. However, he never stated explicitly that he did not want to be part of Norwegian society, but rather that he considered himself lucky to be here, despite all these problems: ‘au moins, je mange tous les jours’ (‘at least I eat every day’). 2.7 Discussion and Conclusion

In this chapter, we have examined how gender relations are constructed by some of the institutions whose mandate is to prepare refugees for life in Norway, as well as the experiences of a refugee from the DRC to Norway during his first year and a half in the host society. One of our aims with this chapter has been to shed light on the difficult institutional tasks of conveying an image of the culture and values of a nation, i.e. an imagined community, in an understandable and realistic way for newcomers. To do this, we examined some of the construction of gender relations encountered by the 12 refugees from the DRC to Norway who we followed during their first year and a half in the host society. The picture that emerges is complex, where several (contradictory) constructions coexist. Norway is portrayed as an open and inclusive society that ensures equal rights for everyone. At the same time, gender relations are sometimes constructed as an explicit hierarchy in which women occupy the top position. Norwegians are positioned as open-minded and in Norwegian society, everyone is treated in the same way. Yet it seems clear that Norwegian values are rated higher than those of other societies, for example due to the putative privileged position of women. At the same time,

Women, Children, Dogs, Flowers and Men 31

certain minority groups are Othered, in particular woman who are not from ‘the West’. Women with this background are sometimes constructed as vulnerable and in need of help – one might wonder whether the privileged position of women in Norwegian society concerns all women. Families are constructed as heterogenous and flexible and may solely consist of one man or one woman, or mixed couples, but there are norms and rules when it comes to sharing chores. Sometimes men and women are said to share housework equally, as well as the education of children and responsibility for providing an income, and sometimes one might gain the impression that all such chores are taken care of by men. For a newcomer, it is obviously challenging to orient oneself in this complex landscape of competing constructions and to navigate between one’s prior experience and knowledge, and the experience and information in the host society. Our second aim was to examine how institutional constructions of Norwegian society might impact the investment of individual language learners. As noted by Norton and Pavlenko (2004a: 3), the ways that imagined communities are presented to language learners ‘shape [their] desires as well as their images of themselves, their futures, and their social, educational, and economic opportunities’. The question is to whom this imagined community seems attractive or not, based on constructions of how certain groups are positioned and on the identity options this seems to offer. As Norton (2013) and Darvin and Norton (2016, 2021) have argued on several occasions, learners who feel marginalised in the host society, and are positioned in undesired ways, are less likely to invest in language learning than those who experience that their self-ascribed identities correspond with how they are positioned in society. Christophe did not find the Norwegian imagined community, as conveyed by different institutional actors, to be attractive. He never understood the Norwegian imagined community as an equal community – in his understanding, it was just as unequal as the imagined communities of the DRC and Uganda – the different agents have just switched positions. He felt silenced, discriminated against and humiliated in the classroom and beyond, which he constantly attributed to his identity as a man. Moreover, he was presented with gender identity options that did not suit him, for instance being violent towards women. In turn, his understanding of how he was positioned and the possible gender identity options in Norway shaped his commitment to language learning, particularly in classroom contexts. Throughout his first year in the Introduction Programme, Christophe went from being an eager language learner to not engaging in, and even resisting, the classroom practices. His investment decreased progressively, and he ended up being placed in a class with lower progression. For obvious reasons, many works on investment and gender focus on the experiences of women (e.g. Norton & Pavlenko, 2004a, 2004b; Norton, 2013). For instance, Norton (2013), inspired by Weedon (1997), chose female participants because she was ‘concerned […] with the gendered access to the public world that immigrant women, in particular,

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experience’ (Norton, 2013: 52). At the same time, Norton and Pavlenko (2004b: 504) point to the importance of analysing and reflecting on the situations of all learners. During our fieldwork among Congolese refugees from the DRC to Norway, we heard from IOM cultural orientation facilitators, social workers working with refugees and teachers of the Introduction Programme that refugee women tend to learn Norwegian better and more rapidly than men. We might ask whether the kind of constructions we have examined here make the Norwegian imagined community more attractive for women than for men? Notes (1) Only Steien was presented during cultural orientation in Uganda. (2) The Norwegian term Læringssenter (‘learning centre’), rather than for instance school, is often used to designate the place where Introduction Programme classes are given, a term we adopt here. (3) The full report (in Norwegian) is available online at IMDi’s webpage: https://www. imdi.no/globalassets/dokumenter/andre-fi ler/evaluering-av-kulturorienteringsprogrammet-for-overforingsflyktninger.pdf (4) The participants report that this is well known in ‘Africa’. The authors of this article have also heard from Africans who have grown up in different places across the continent. Hence, this is most likely not an invention of the IOM Cultural Orientation Programme, but rather a generalised stereotype of differences between ‘Europe’ and ‘Africa’. (5) Christophe and Steien communicate mainly in French. The citations in quotation marks are direct quotes from Christophe, taken from interviews and/or noted during non-recorded conversations. (6) The absence of the ‘plus’ of the comparative adverb ‘plus que’ is common in Congolese varieties of French.

References Anderson, B. (1991) Imagined Communities: Refl ections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. New York: Verso Books. Berg, L. and Hofset, J. (2017) God i norsk 1. Oslo: Aschehoug. Bjartnes, K.S. (2018) Likestilling i integreringspolitikken–‘Ulikestilt’eller’norsk’? En studie av likestillingsbegrepet og forestillinger om ‘innvandrere’i norske partiprogrammers innvandrings-og integreringspolitikk fra 2013–2017 og 2017–2021. NTNU. Blommaert, J. (2018) Dialogues with Ethnography: Notes on Classics, and How I Read Them. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Borevi, K., Kriegbaum Jensen, K. and Mouritsen, P. (2017) The civic turn of immigrant integration policies in the Scandinavian welfare states. Comparative Migration Studies 5 (9), 1–14. Bourdieu, P. (1977) L’économie des échanges linguistiques. Langue française 34, 17–34. Bourdieu, P. and Wacquant, L.J.D. (1992) An Invitation to Refl exive Sociology. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Brekke, J.-P. and Mohn, F.A. (2018) Holdninger til innvandring og integrering i Norge: Integreringsbarometeret 2018. Rapport fra Institutt for samfunnsforskning. Darvin, R. and Norton, B. (2016) Investment and language learning in the 21st century. Langage et Société 3 (157), 19–38. Darvin, R. and Norton, B. (2021) Investment and motivation in language learning: What is the difference? Language Teaching 1–12.

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Ellingsæter, A.L. and Kitterød, R.H. (2021) Den «uferdige» revolusjonen: Hva betyr utdanning for fedres familiearbeid? Tidsskrift for Samfunnsforskning 62 (1), 27–50. Fabian, J. (2008) Ethnography as Commentary: Writing from the Virtual Archive. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Fejes, A. (2019) Adult education and the fostering of asylum seekers as ‘full’ citizens. International Review of Education 65 (2), 233–250. Halvorsen, L.J., Fondevik, B., Hareide, L. and Anderson, S. (2017) Fra Syria til det norske hus. Rapport, 81. Høgskulen i Volda. See https://bravo.hivolda.no/hivolda-xmlui/ handle/11250/2433334. Hanssen, E. (2004) Godt sagt 1. Les og skriv Tekstbok. Oslo: Forlaget Fag og kultur. Hymes, D. (2001 [1977]) Foundations of Sociolinguistics. Abingdon: Tavistock Press. Integreringsloven [Integration Act] (2021) Lov om integrering gjennom opplæring utdanning og arbeid (LOV-2020-11-06-127). See https://lovdata.no/dokument/NL/ lov/2020-11-06-127. Introduksjonsloven [Introductory Act] (2003) Lov om introduksjonsordning og norskopplæring for nyankomne invandrere. LOV-2003-07-04-80. See https://lovdata.no/ dokument/NLO/lov/2003-07-04-80. IOM (International Organization for Migration) (2021) Migrant Training and Integration. See https://www.iom.no/migrant-training Joppke, C. (2008) Immigration and the identity of citizenship: The paradox of universalism. Citizenship Studies 12 (6), 533–546. Kristensen, G.K. (2009) Tobarnskull møter stua full? Innvandreres fødselstall i norsk offentlig diskurs. Tidsskrift for kjønnsforskning 33 (4), 276–294. Latour, B. (2009) A collective of humans and nonhumans. Following Daedalus’ labyrinth. In D.M. Kaplan (ed.) Readings in the Philosophy of Technology (pp. 156–172). New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. Mouritsen, P., Faas, D., Meer, N. and de Witte, N. (2019) Leitkultur debates as civic integration in North-Western Europe: The nationalism of ‘values’ and ‘good citizenship’. Ethnicities 19 (4), 632–653. Norton, B. (2013) Identity and Language Learning: Extending the Conversation (2nd edn). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Norton, B. and Pavlenko, A. (2004a) Gender and English language learners: Challenges and possibilities. In B. Norton and A. Pavlenko (eds) Gender and English Language Learners (pp. 1–14). Alexandria, VA: TESOL. Norton, B. and Pavlenko, A. (2004b) Addressing gender in the ESL/EFL classroom. TESOL Quarterly 38 (3), 504–514. Pautz, H. (2005) The politics of identity in Germany: The Leitkultur debate. Race & Class 46 (4), 39–52. Pavlenko, A. and Norton, B. (2007) Imagined communities, identity, and English language learning. In J. Cummins and C. Davidson (eds) International Handbook of English Language Teaching (pp. 669–680). New York: Springer Publishing. PROBA (2020) Evaluering av kulturorienteringsprogrammet for overføringsflyktninger. See https://www.imdi.no/om-imdi/rapporter/2020/rapportomtale---evaluering-avkulturorienteringsprogrammet-for-overforingsflyktninger/ Toohey, K. and Norton, B. (2011) Identity, language learning, and social change. Language Teaching 44 (4), 412–446. Wagner, I., Fjell, L.K., Frisell, M.M. and Østbakken, K.M. (2020) Likelønn og det kjønnsdelte arbeidsmarkedet: Individuelle preferanser eller strukturelle begrensninger? Oslo: Institutt for samfunnsforskning. See https://samfunnsforskning. brage.unit.no/samfunnsforskning-xmlui/bitstream/handle/11250/2641600/Likel% 25C3%25B8nn%2bog%2bdet%2bkj%25C3%25B8nnsdelte%2barbeidsmarkedet. pdf?sequence=2&isAllowed=y. Weedon, C. (1997) Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

3 ‘In Uganda, We Collected Them in the Streets’: On (the Absence of) the Street as a Language Learning Space Guri Bordal Steien

3.1 Introduction

Newly arrived refugees to Norway have ‘the right’ and ‘the obligation’ to attend an Introduction Programme. The programme is designed to provide participants with the ‘basic qualifications’ required to participate in the labour market and includes mandatory Norwegian language training (Integreringsloven, 2021; Introduksjonsloven, 2003). From the autumn of 2019 until I started writing this chapter in the summer of 2021, Marte Monsen and I have conducted ethnographic fieldwork among 12 refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) during their fi rst 1.5 years on the programme (see also Steien & Monsen [Introduction], this volume). Our aim has been to provide emic perspectives (cf. Pike, 1967) on the process of learning Norwegian as a refugee to Norway, perspectives that tend to be lacking in both public discourse and research (Randen et al., 2018). Learning Norwegian is often described as an enormous challenge by the participants in this research. Common reactions when the Norwegian language is introduced in a conversation are expressions such as ‘le norsk hein’, ‘Norwegian hein’ and ‘that language hein’,1 often accompanied by head shaking, facial expressions and/or hand gestures signalling hopelessness, and sometimes by laughter. There is obviously a myriad of reasons why adults fi nd it challenging to learn additional languages, such as the typological differences between the target language and the other languages of their repertoires (Jarvis & Pavlenko, 2008), as well as difficult life situations outside the classroom (De Costa, 2010). Such reasons are evoked by the participants and their narrated experiences of learning 34

‘In Uganda, We Collected Them in the Streets’

35

Norwegian, like any experiences, are complex, changing and at times contradictory (Denzin, 1989; Rampton et al., 2015). In this chapter, I focus on an aspect of the learning context in Norway that is particularly salient in the participants’ narratives – it preoccupies all of them, is repeatedly mentioned and is captured by one of them, Lucas, in the following way: ‘In Uganda, we collected them [new linguistic resources] from the streets, here [in Norway] we learn at school.’ Taking Lucas’ formulation as a starting point, I draw on the notion of space as conceptualised in human geography and argue that the experienced challenge of learning Norwegian is related to the absence of a certain kind of social space, that I metaphorically refer to as the street. 3.2 Space and Language Learning

In a recent state-of-the-art study on the concept of social space in studies on language and mobility, Higgins calls for more research on spatial practices to ‘examine how highly mobile populations experience spaces, and how they use their language resources in their practiced places’ (2017: 103). Inspired by Higgins, I draw on Lefebvre (1974) and de Certeau’s (1990) conceptualisations of space as human products and creations. Both Lefebvre and de Certeau use the activities of ordinary people as a basis for demonstrating the need for a concept of social space, understood as human practices in constant flux, and more specifically as an instrument for thought and a site for power struggles (Lefebvre, 1974), as well as human experience shaped by narratives (de Certeau, 1990). More specifically, I draw on de Certeau’s defi nitions of ‘place’ (lieu) and ‘space’ (espace) (see e.g. Gieseking et al., 2014, for other defi nitions). De Certeau is concerned with people’s daily operations and usages, how these are linked and how they change (Giard, 1990: x), and distinguishes between place and space using the example of the activities of ‘walkers’ (marcheurs) in the city. Place is the dead material surrounding the walker, the être-là. It consists of dead elements (houses, stones, etc.) that coexist by being situated next to each other – each element having its own spot in the urban landscape. Space, in contrast, is ‘a practiced place’ (un lieu pratiqué) (1990: 173). Walkers create space by carrying out ordinary activities in the city, these being either legal or illegal according to the law and in line or not with the designs of urban planners, as well as by the references they make to place their narratives. Thereby, space becomes ‘an embodied experience’ (Higgins, 2017: 102). In linguistics, the concept of social space has primarily interested sociolinguists concerned with multilingualism and/or mobility (see Higgins, 2017, for an overview). Space is, for example, evoked to examine the process of indexicality (Canagarajah, 2018), contextualisations of language signs (Blommaert, 2015) and the organisation of language regimes

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(Blommaert et al., 2005). Moreover, Otsuji and Pennycook (2010) coin the concept of spatial repertoires to capture how space, linguistic resources and everyday tasks are intertwined. In research in the field of Second Language Acquisition (SLA), in contrast, social space is rarely evoked (see Baynham & Simpson, 2010; Benson, 2021, for notable execeptions). 2 However, there is a large body of research on the differences between formal and informal language learning, recently defi ned as ‘activities organized by a teacher that are systematic and regularly scheduled’ and ‘all activities undertaken by learners outside a formally organized program of language instruction’ (Dressman, 2020: 4), respectively. The concept of social space tends not to be explicitly evoked in his line of investigation, which has traditionally centred around learning outcomes (e.g. Krashen, 1976; Reinders & Benson, 2017) and tends to be based on the assumption that formal instruction is the default way of learning additional languages (Benson, 2017; Dressman, 2020). Nevertheless, the dichotomy between formal and informal language learning (see Benson, 2017, for a criticism of this dichotomy) can, in my view, be related to social space. That is, it can be seen as referring to two macro kinds of practiced places, the classroom versus the world outside the classroom which, in turn, encompass various and differentiable types of social spaces (Benson, 2021). In this chapter, I use the distinction between formal and informal language learning as a departure point for more a fi ne-grained analysis of the language learning spaces encountered by the participants across their lifespans. 3.3 An Ethnographic Approach: Fieldwork and Reflexivity

This chapter is based on the data generated during long-term and still ongoing ethnographic fieldwork on learning Norwegian, as experienced by Congolese UN refugees to Norway. It started in Uganda in summer 2019 when I joined the International Organization for Migration (IOM) during its cultural orientation programme for Norway-bound refugees (see IOM, 2021). In Uganda, I observed cultural orientation classes and recruited participants, whom I interviewed about their forthcoming resettlement to Norway. The participants arrived in Norway with their families during autumn 2019. Subsequently, Marte Monsen and I have visited them as often as possible to capture how their experiences have changed, evolved or consolidated over time. During each visit, we talked about their experiences in/ with Norway, in particular (but not only) related to language learning, sometimes in recorded ethnographic interviews (De Fina, 2019). We have also visited them as regularly as possible at the adult learning centres where they attend the Introduction Programme in order to conduct classroom observations and interview their teachers about their learning trajectories.

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One ‘moment of reflexivity’ (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992; Gingras, 2020) is of particular interest to understanding the context of ‘knowledge production’ (Fabian, 2008) of this research, that is, how I came to relate the participants’ narratives about learning Norwegian to the differences in spatial practices. I started the fieldwork with a rather open mind, trying to address the complexity of the participants’ narrated experiences, the accounts given by other actors (e.g. teachers on the Introduction Programme) and the observed institutional practices. One year after the participants’ arrival in Norway (autumn, 2020), I noted that a certain pattern emerged in how many of them seemed to experience the process of learning Norwegian: they were eager to start the Introduction Programme when they fi rst arrived and were proud to learn their fi rst words of Norwegian before reaching a point where despair seemed to be their main association with the Norwegian language. Given that most of the participants already had learned additional languages in the DRC and/or during their transit in Uganda, I became interested in why they felt that learning Norwegian was as such a challenge. Focusing on the role of space was, in turn, motivated by several observations, such as the participants’ specific references to it (e.g. the citation in the title of this chapter); their narratives about Norwegian society and Norwegian people, as well as my observations from my previous fieldwork. Regarding the latter, during fieldwork at Île de la Réunion and in the Central African Republic, I noted that people often made references to the street as a language learning space when narrating their language biographies (Nekvapil, 2003). Moreover, the absence of street as a language learning space in Norway was frequently evoked in a series of language biographical interviews I conducted with (former) refugees from the DRC to Norway in 2013–2014 (see Purkarthofer & Steien, 2019). As Louis, one of the participants of that research said: ‘systemet i Norge er at det er ikke mange folk på gata, hvis du kommer på norskopplæring, ingen på gata som du skal praktisere med’ (‘the system in Norway is such that there are not many people on the streets. If you have attended Norwegian language training, there is no one on the street that you can practice with’). In this chapter, I will focus on the stories of two of the participants, Max and Lucas (see also Pájaro, this volume), as they are in many ways emblematic examples of the narrated experiences of all the participants in this research. The examples are primarily drawn from recorded ethnographic interviews, but my representation of the stories is, to a large extent, informed by observations and non-recorded conversations. It should be mentioned that the main language of communication between the participants and myself is English, a language that we all speak less proficiently than the other languages in our repertoires. The fact that none of us have had the opportunity to draw on our entire linguistic repertoires might have played a role in the way in which our interactions developed.

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For instance, some nuances of the participants’ experiences might not be reflected in the following representations of them. 3.4 Max and Lucas’ Stories

Max and Lucas are brothers. They were born in 1979 and 1994, respectively, and grew up in a rural village in the Rutshuru district of North Kivu. Their family were farmers, cultivating ‘crops, maïs, walnuts’. 3 In 2007 or 2008,4 their parents and four of their siblings were killed by militia who attacked their village. Lucas, Max, Max’s wife and two children were the only members of the family who managed to escape. Like many of the UN resettlement refugees from the DRC via Uganda to Norway in the period 2018–2022, Max and Lucas identify as belonging to the Banyabwisha people (Nassenstein, 2018). Kinyabwisha, the language associated with the Banyabwisha, is mutually intelligible with Kinyarwanda, and according to Lucas, their village was attacked ‘due to our language, because people think we are from Rwanda.’ Once in Uganda, the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) brought them to the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, where they stayed until they were resettled in Norway. During his stay in Uganda, Max mainly worked as a farmer. Lucas continued to attend school in the refugee settlement and ‘proceeded up to senior 3 secondary school, that is where [he] stopped because of lack of money’. Lucas arrived in Norway in August 2019, while Max, his wife and five children arrived in September the same year. They have all been resettled in Sørby, which is a medium-sized town by Norwegian standards, located on the south coast of Norway. In November 2019, they started attending the Introduction Programme. When this chapter was written in the summer of 2021, Max was still in the programme and had not yet decided what kind of job he wants in Norway. Lucas had finished the Norwegian language training component of the Introduction Programme and attended grunnskole for voksne (‘primary school for adults’). As he has no official documentation of his education in the DRC and Uganda, he has to pass primary school exams in Norway in order to pursue his studies. His aim is to study law. In the following sections, I focus on Lucas and Max’ narrated experiences of language learning and spatial practices in Rutshuru, Kyangwali and Sørby. 3.4.1 Rutshuru (the DRC)

During their childhood in Rutshuru, Max and Lucas mainly spoke Kinyabwisha with their family members, a language they refer to as their ‘mother language’, and some Swahili. In Excerpt 1, Lucas explains how they learned Swahili.

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Excerpt 15

Swahili is a public […], you will communicate to different Congolese, Congolese that come from Central Congo or from the South part of Congo, those who come from Bukavu, Kisangani, euh from Bunia, we heard they speak Swahili and their languages that we do not communicate to, so the best we do, we speak Swahili to communicate each other.

Lucas refers to Swahili as a lingua franca for people from different locations in the DRC, before he turns to how ‘they’, i.e. people from his village, learned Swahili. To be able to communicate with people who did not speak Kinyabwisha, Lucas and others ‘heard’ Swahili when interacting with people speaking it and spoke it back ‘the best’ they could. Hence, learning Swahili is presented as the adaptation to other people’s repertoires for communicative purposes. Excerpt 2 is the continuation of Lucas’ turn presented in Excerpt 1. Excerpt 2

Lucas: Guri: Lucas:

Swahili, you know that Swahili from Congo, that anyone from Tanzania cannot understand for us from Congo, we just use it like that, we do not use dictionaries. But do you know how to read and write it, I mean Congo Swahili? I know how to read and write. That’s Congo, but a true writer can write pure Swahili […] but for us we just write, but for those who euh who took Swahili course make it perfect.

In Excerpt 2, Lucas focuses on the specificities of Congo Swahili (see Bose & Nassenstein, 2016) and constructs Tanzania as the centre of normativity (Blommaert, 2010: 96–97) of Swahili. If the Congolese way of speaking Swahili is not understood by ‘anyone from Tanzania’, it is because ‘they’, i.e. people from Rutshuru or from the DRC in general, speak it ‘like that’ and ‘do not use dictionaries’. In other words, it is them who do not conform to implicit norms, not the other way around. He also opposes grassroots literacies (Blommaert, 2008) and scholarly knowledge when stating that he knows how to write Swahili, but not like someone who took a course. Lucas and Max also experienced formal language learning in the DRC as they attended French medium primary education. Max quit school after six years because he got married and started working as a farmer, while Lucas was in the third year of primary school when they fled to Uganda. I have sometimes spoken French with Max and Lucas as I speak it better than English. According to my observations, both Max and Lucas understand and speak it fluently, but prefer to speak English. As Max said once when I switched to French in a conversation: ‘Laissez-moi parler anglais, le français, c’est beaucoup d’années sans parler’ (‘let me speak English, I have spent many years not speaking French’).

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In sum, when Max and Lucas left Rutshuru, they had varied linguistic repertoires. Kinyabwisha was their dominant language, but their repertoires also contained Swahili learned through interactions with nonKinyabwisha speakers, and French learned at school. 3.4.2 Kyangwali (Uganda)

During their stay at the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, Max and Lucas’ repertoires were further expanded by resources from various Ugandan languages. For instance, Lucas explains that he speaks Luganda and Runyoro, the former being widely spoken in Uganda, while the latter dominates in the region of Hoima, where the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement is located (Eberhard et al., 2021). Lucas’ answer to my question of ‘how he learned’ these languages is given in Excerpt 3. Excerpt 3

There are languages that you just capture from places when you are moving. Those I did not learn them, I just received from the radio. We have just been capturing some words because Bantus are like languages, like our languages. The community we are staying with, they are called Bunyore, Bunyore region. They speak Runyoro and once you have also been studying with Banyoro, the national, I mean the citizens of, Ugandans, we stay with them and we also communicate in their language. When we speak English to them, they also speak English to us. They have songs from their kingdom like Runyoro, so we got too from there, we can speak a little, yeah.

While I use the verb to learn as an umbrella term for the different kinds of ‘tactics, technologies and mechanisms by means of which specific language resources become part of someone’s repertoire’ (cf. Blommaert & Backus, 2013: 14), Lucas seems to understand the verb as solely referring to a scholarly endeavour: He states that he ‘did not learn’ Runyoro, and proposes a series of alternative verbs – ‘receive’, ‘capture’, ‘communicate in’ and ‘get’ – to account for how he and other people in his environment added Runyoro resources to their repertoire. Through his choice of verbs, Lucas clearly distinguishes between formal and informal language learning. Thus, he seems to understand language learning at school and outside of the school context as different activities. Moreover, Lucas’ account in Excerpt 3 gives further insight into why and how informal language learning took place before they arrived in Norway. Like Swahili, Ugandan languages were added to his repertoire and the repertoires of other Congolese refugees in Kyangwali because they socially interacted with their speakers. Thus, the addition of these resources to their repertoires is constructed as something that just happened as a natural and obvious consequence of interacting with the people.

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Max and Lucas also added English resources to their repertoires in Uganda. When I asked how they ‘learned’ English, Max says that he learned English from ‘courses some days for two years in the camp’, referring to adult language training courses given by different NGOs operating at the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, while Lucas first relates his knowledge of English to the fact that instruction in primary schools in Uganda is in English. Their focus on formal language learning might be influenced by the way in which I formulated the question, using the verb to learn. However, Lucas also accounts for other ways in which Congolese refugees, including himself, added English resources to their repertoires in Uganda (Excerpt 4). Excerpt 4

After school, I also communicating with people because you might fi nd people who did not go to, who did not study in Uganda, but some of them, they come from Congo and they know French but once they reach Uganda, they communicate to people, you know everything is like items like food and other stuff are in what? In English. And they communicate to people when they […] buy things, they buy in what? In English. You go to that shop, you mention the name of something in English and once you do not know it, ask your friend how can I get, how can I, how can I buy this? The person will tell you this is called such in English. You get used to [claps his hands]. A time when you spend almost one year, you start speaking little, as you yeah you get taught from people.

According to Lucas, Congolese who do not learn English formally also start to communicate with people in English once they ‘reach Uganda’. By a series of rhetorical questions, he demonstrates that essential everyday communication is in English. If they needed to ‘buy things like food’ and did not manage to do so with their available resources, they would ‘ask a friend how [they] can buy this’. The conclusion of Lucas’ account is reinforced by him clapping his hands, which I interpret as a way of illustrating the automated nature and rapidity of the process of learning English ‘from people’ in Uganda. When I interviewed Max and Lucas at the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, one of the questions I asked was what they thought about learning Norwegian. Max said that ‘it will be difficult accordingly because it will be the fi rst time even to listen, even to learn it […] so it becomes new, it becomes challenging in my head, but after one year it will be very easy.’ Although he recognises the potential challenge of learning something completely new, he reckons it will be easy after a year. Lucas, on the other hand, did not see any challenges (Excerpt 5). Excerpt 5

It is no difficult. In Norway schools are ok according to what I saw through these very orientations much benefits than being here in camp,

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here in Kyangwali. We are here but life here actually is not ok. I will continue to stay in Norway, I work for like other who came to Norway like that, according to they tell us the refugee right laws.

Lucas does not relate the learning of Norwegian with his experiences of informal language learning (e.g. Swahili, Runyoro or English). Rather, he focuses on formal learning, which again might be related to the wording of my question as I use the verb to learn. Referring to the information he received during cultural orientation, he states that learning Norwegian will not be difficult as ‘schools are ok’ in Norway in comparison with schools in Kyangwali. He also says that he plans to work to learn Norwegian like ‘others who came to Norway’, probably referring to the IOM facilitators, all former Congolese refugees to Norway (see Monsen & Steien [Introduction], this volume) who shared their experiences of learning Norwegian during their cultural orientation classes. The reference to work (‘I will work for’) indicates that Lucas not only sees language learning as an automatic process (cf. Excerpts 4 and 5), but also as something that can be achieved through his efforts in an educational setting. Even during the cultural orientation classes in Kyangwali prior to the resettlement, the participants were confronted by the characteristics of place/space in Norway that were unfamiliar to them. During one of the classes I observed that was attended by Max and Lucas, the facilitator showed pictures of different kinds of houses and neighbourhoods in Norway in order to prepare the participants for the kind of accommodation they might be offered in their host municipalities. A myriad of different houses was shown: city apartments, townhouses, housing estates and remote houses in rural areas. The facilitator asked the refugees where they wanted to live and all of them preferred houses in populated neighbourhoods. When the facilitator showed them a picture of a single house surrounded by a forest and no other houses and asked if anyone would like to live there, the reaction was spontaneous laughter – the question seemed too absurd to be taken seriously. In de Certeau’s terms, it could be said that the participants seem to prefer places that are practiced by a lot of people. In sum, Max and Lucas experienced both informal and formal language learning during their stay at the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement. Most Ugandan languages were added to their repertoires because they had to communicate with people in their environment who spoke these languages, while they learned English through both interactions with people and through formal instruction. 3.4.3 Sørby (Norway)

Max and Lucas started the Introduction Programme at the adult learning centre in Sørby (see Pájaro, this volume) in November 2019 and

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rapidly concluded that learning Norwegian was far more challenging than they had expected before their arrival. Six months after they started the programme, Max, Lucas and I had dinner together in a restaurant in Sørby. When the waiter brought the menu, Lucas looked at it and sighed: ‘I cannot read this, I will not even be able to work at a restaurant in Norway before five years in Norway.’ In June 2021, he directly criticised the IOM’s cultural orientation programme: ‘They told us that we will learn the language, but it is taking a lot of time’. I asked him directly why he found Norwegian so difficult, and he answered: ‘Norwegian is like to make people make mistakes.’ Yet, Lucas did well on the Introduction Programme and subsequently at primary school for adults. Two of his teachers, independently of each other, even referred to him as ‘den beste eleven i klassen’ (‘the best student in class’) in interviews that I conducted with them. Except for talking about Norwegian as being generally difficult, Max does not expand much on language learning, but he has shared several observations about how the Wazungu (‘Europeans’) live their lives, often narrated in a humorous way. In the example given in Excerpt 6, Max points to the diff erences in spatial practices between Norway and Kyangwali. Excerpt 6

In Kyangwali you have nothing to do, no money, you just walk around, but you Muzungu [singular of Wazungu], you are always busy, never have the time to talk to people, work is the most important, you have no children, no familie [the Norwegian word for ‘family’], in Kyangwali as there is nothing to do, they just produce [children]. Even the road, they are not the same, the rules are on the road here, the pedestrian control the driver, there the driver control the road because the road construction here is well […] but from us, you have seen, pass everything, even cows and pigs everything, pedestrian, vehicular tout [French for ‘everything’], all for them, they are moving the same road. We spend a lot of time there.

Max seems to feel that people in Norway as less preoccupied by social interactions than people in Kyangwali, which he believes is due to a lack of time and fewer children, hence, fewer people. People in Norway, according to Max, do not have the time to talk to people and are also not interested in creating a family. In Kyangwali, in contrast, there is nothing to do, which, in turn, makes people ‘walk around’ and ‘produce [children]’. Moreover, the roads are more crowded in Kyangwali than in Norway. Since ‘everything’ is on the roads, pedestrians spend a lot of time there. These observations are in line with the reactions of this class on the cultural orientation programme in Kyangwali when remote houses were shown – the fact that people might live far from their closest neighbour and the absence of people on the street are aspects of life in Norway that seem to surprise him the most. The relationship between such spatial

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practices and language learning was explicitly formulated by Lucas in June 2021 when I asked him if he thought language learning in Norway was different from Uganda. He replied: ‘Yes, in Uganda we collected them from the streets, here we learn at school.’ In sum, after almost two years in Norway, Max and Lucas concluded that Norwegian was harder to learn that they thought it would be. Moreover, they had noted diff erences in spatial practices between Kyangwali (and maybe also Rutshuru) and Norway, differences elaborated by Max and related to language learning by Lucas. 3.5 Discussion

From Lucas and Max’ narratives about language learning in different periods of their lives and in different places, we learn inter alia that (1) they have been adding new linguistic resources to their repertoires for their entire lives, in Rushuru (DRC), in Kyangwali (Uganda) and in Norway; (2) they have experienced both formal and informal language learning in all three locations; (3) they distinguish between scholarly and grassroots knowledge. In other words, what is new in Norway is not that they are learning a new language per se, nor is it that they are learning a new language formally. Yet, they feel that Norwegian as a particularly difficult language to learn. As stated in the introduction, there might be a myriad of reasons why learning a new language can be a challenge for adult refugees. For instance, the ways in which Norwegian is taught on the Introduction Programme might have contributed to the perception of it being a particularly demanding language. During my observations of classes attended by Lucas and Max at the adult learning centre in Sørby, I noted that there tends to be a strong focus on language form, presented as grammatical rules. Lucas’ evaluation of Norwegian as a language that makes you ‘make mistakes’ indicates that being presented with grammatical rules might contribute to the perception of a language as difficult. However, from Lucas’ accounts of language learning in Rutshuru and Kyangwali and Lucas and Max’s analysis of differences in spatial practices, I note another aspect of the learning context in Norway that might play an equal or even more important role in the perception of Norwegian as being a challenging language. As suggested in the introduction, I refer to this aspect as the absence of the street as a language learning space. To understand the relationship between language learning and spatial practices, let’s first turn to how Lucas describes informal language learning in Rutshuru and Kyangwali. According to Lucas, adding linguistic resources to one’s repertoire was something that happened automatically as a direct consequence of interacting with people with diverging repertoires. In Rutshuru, Lucas and other people from his village ‘heard’ Swahili and spoke it in order to communicate with people from other places in the DRC. In Kyangwali, they ‘stayed with’ speakers of Runyoro,

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Luganda and English and communicated with them in these languages. Thus, language learning and practices are constructed as parallel processes. Ultimately, from Lucas’ account, we might ask if this way of adding linguistic resources to one’s repertoire is understood as language learning at all – but instead is presented as a component of everyday communication in diverse linguistic ecologies. This kind of language learning is seldom problematised in the field of SLA in which formal language learning tends to be seen as the default way of adding new resources to one’s repertoire, while informal language learning is often constructed as a supplement to classroom instruction (see Benson, 2017; Dressman, 2020). However, in research on multilingualism in the Global South this way of adding resources to one’s repertoire is well known. For instance, in a criticism of the northern bias in applied linguistics, Pennycook and Makoni (2019: 55) remind us that in many southern contexts, ‘secondary [additional in our terminology] language learning takes place more or less simultaneously with language use’. Moreover, Han (2013) coins the term grassroots multilingualism (see also Ortega, 2019) to account for multilingualism resulting from ‘uninstructed expansion of multilingual repertoires for localized purposes’ (Han, 2013: 85). This kind of language learning presupposes spaces in which there is a constant need to interact with people speaking the target languages. From Lucas and Max’s account, we might infer that a privileged space for such interactions was the street in the places they knew before their arrival in Norway. The street is described as a space everyone needed to relate to in some way or another because once they left their houses, it was there, eternally crowded. It is presented as a place in which all kinds of activities take place, most of which necessarily include social interactions with the people who are there, whether they are friends or strangers. In other words, the street is constructed as an eternal practiced place that you cannot avoid. It is not a space constructed for language learning, nor is it necessarily a space that people seek with the aim of learning languages.6 Nevertheless, it is a space in which language learning takes place because it is practiced by people with diverging repertoires who need to communicate with each other (see Canagarajah, 2012: 39). Streets as places, i.e. ‘a public road in a city or town that has houses and buildings on one side or both sides’ (Oxford Learner’s Dictionary, 2021) obviously exist in Norway, although they might consist of other types of dead material than the streets in the locations that the participants previously knew. However, the street as a social space in which language learning might be a byproduct of conducting everyday activities is rare or absent in Norway. As stated by Max, there are fewer people outside in Norway which, in turn, could be attributable to multiple reasons, for instance, the climate, the fact that people often travel in cars or other kinds of transport rather than on foot, or that people tend to socialise by visiting friends at home or meeting in cafés and restaurants rather than talking to those they meet outside.

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3.6 Conclusion

In this chapter, I have investigated why refugees from the DRC via Uganda to Norway who participate in this research tend to express that learning of Norwegian is particularly challenging. It is important to note that I do not believe that this is reflected in their learning progress. On the contrary, as shown in the example of Lucas in this chapter, even people who learn Norwegian quickly feel that it is challenging. I have rather been interested in why learning Norwegian is regarded as being such a challenge. In particular, I have drawn attention to the role of social spaces, i.e. how spatial practices might differ from one location to the next and the consequences this has for the experience of language learning. On the basis of the accounts of Max and Lucas, I have argued that learning Norwegian is experienced as challenging, not only because of its structure or the fact that it is learned formally, but also because of the absence of a certain kind of social space, the street, in which language learning is a by-product of conducting other activities. There are limited opportunities to ‘collect [linguistic resources] in the street’ in Norway. Notes (1) Hein is a high-toned nasal sound, [ɛ́ ̃ ], that I interpret, in line with the participants’ explanations, as a discourse marker expressing despair. (2) For a critique of the concept of space in research on additional language learning, see Van Lier (2010). (3) Words, expressions and phrases in quotes are direct citations from the participants. Sometimes pronouns are adjusted to fit the syntax of the sentence. Such cases are marked by square brackets ([ ]). (4) Both years figure several times in the narratives of both Max and Lucas, hence, the exact year of their departure from the DRC to Uganda is unknown. (5) For the sake of readability, excerpts are presented in standard orthography and some hesitations are left out. Apart from that, they represent word by word the accounts of Lucas and Max. (6) As is the case for ‘learning spaces’, as defi ned by Murray et al. (2014), i.e. cafes where language students can go in order to practice the language they learn.

References Baynham, M. and Simpson, J. (2010) Onwards and upwards: space, placement, and liminality in adult ESOL classes. TESOL Quarterly 44 (3), 420–440. Benson, P. (2017) Language learning beyond the classroom: Access all areas. Studies in Self-Access Learning Journal 8 (2), 135–146. Benson, P. (2021) Language Learning Environments: Spatial Perspectives on SLA. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Blommaert, J. (2008) Grassroots Literacy: Writing, Identity and Voice in Central Africa. Abingdon: Routledge. Blommaert, J. (2010) The Sociolinguistics of Globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blommaert, J. (2015) Chronotopes, scales, and complexity in the study of language in society. Annual Review of Anthropology 44, 105–116.

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Blommaert, J. and Backus, A. (2013) Superdiverse repertoires and the individual. In I.  de Saint-Georges and J.J. Weber (eds) Multilingualism and Multimodality. Current Challenges for Educational Studies (pp. 11–32). Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Blommaert, J., Collins, J. and Slembrouck, S. (2005) Spaces of multilingualism. Language & Communication 25 (3), 197–216. Bose, P.B. and Nassenstein, N. (2016) Morphosyntactic core features of Kivu Swahili: A synopsis. Afrikanistik Online. See https://www.afrikanistik-aegyptologie-online.de/ archiv/2016/4479/fulltext/view?set_language=en. Bourdieu, P. and Wacquant, L.J. (1992) An Invitation to Refl exive Sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Canagarajah, S. (2012) Translingual Practice: Global Englishes and Cosmopolitan Relations. Abingdon: Routledge. Canagarajah, S. (2018) Translingual practices as spatial repertoires: Expanding the paradigm beyond structuralist orientations. Applied Linguistics 39 (1), 31–54. De Certeau, M. (1990) L’invention du quotidien. Paris: Gallimard. De Costa, P.I. (2010) From refugee to transformer: A Bourdieusian take on a Hmong learner’s trajectory. TESOL Quarterly 44 (3), 517–541. De Fina, A. (2019) The ethnographic interview. In K. Tusting (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of Linguistic Ethnography (pp. 154–167). Abingdon: Routledge. Denzin, N.K. (1989) Interpretive Biography. Newbury Park: Sage. Dressman, M. (2020) Introduction. In M. Dressman and R.W. Sadler (eds) The Handbook of Informal Language Learning (pp. 1–12). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell. Eberhard, D.M., Simons, G.F. and Fennig, C.D. (eds) (2021) Ethnologue: Languages of the World (24th edn). Dallas, Texas: SIL International. Online version available at http://www.ethnologue.com. Fabian, J. (2008) Ethnography as Commentary: Writing from the Virtual Archive. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Giard, L. (1990) Historie d’une recherche. In M. de Certeau (ed.) L’invention du Quotidien (pp. i–xxiix). Paris: Gallimard. Gieseking, J.J., Mangold, W., Katz, C., Low, S. and Saegert, S. (eds) (2014) The People, Place, and Space Reader. Abingdon: Routledge. Gingras, Y. (2020) Réflexivité. In G. Sapiro (ed.) Dictonnaire international Bourdieu (pp. 718–720). Paris: CNRS Éditions. Han, H. (2013) Individual grassroot multilingualism in Africa Town in Guangzhou: The role of states in globalization. International Multilingual Research Journal 7, 83–97. Higgins, C. (2017) Space, place, and language. In S. Canagarajah (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of Migration and Language (pp. 102–116). Abingdon: Routledge. Integreringsloven [Integration Act] (2021) Lov om integrering gjennom opplæring utdanning og arbeid (LOV-2020-11-06-127). See https://lovdata.no/dokument/NL/ lov/2020-11-06-127. Introduksjonsloven [Introductory Act] (2003) Lov om introduksjonsordning og norskopplæring for nyankomne invandrere. LOV-2003-07-04-80. See https://lovdata.no/ dokument/NLO/lov/2003-07-04-80. IOM (International Organization for Migration) (2021) Migrant training and integration. See https://www.iom.no/migrant-training. Jarvis, S. and Pavlenko, A. (2008) Crosslinguistic Influence in Language and Cognition. Abingdon: Routledge. Krashen, S.D. (1976) Formal and informal linguistic environments in language acquisition and language learning. TESOL Quarterly 157–168. Lefebvre, H. (1974) La Production de l’espace. Paris: Éditions Anthropos. Murray, G., Fujishima, N. and Uzuka, M. (2014) The semiotics of place: Autonomy and space. In G. Murray (ed.) Social Dimensions of Autonomy in Language Learning (pp. 81–99). Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillian.

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Nassenstein, N. (2018) Language movement and pragmatic change in a confl ict area. In E.A. Albaugh and K.M. de Luna (eds) Tracing Language Movement in Africa (pp. 295–318). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nekvapil, J. (2003) Language biographies and the analysis of language situations: On the life of the German community in the Czech Republic. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 162, 63–83. Ortega, L. (2019) SLA and the study of equitable multilingualism. The Modern Language Journal 103 (19), 23–38. Otsuji, E. and Pennycook, A. (2010) Metrolingualism: Fixity, fluidity and language in flux. International Journal of Multilingualism 7 (3), 240–254. Oxford Learner’s Dictonnaries (2021) Street. See https://www.oxfordlearnersdictionaries. com/defi nition/american_english/street_1 (accessed 27 April 2021). Pennycook, A. and Makoni, S. (2019) Innovations and Challenges in Applied Linguistics from the Global South. Abingdon: Routledge. Pike, K.L. (1967) Etic and emic standpoints for the description of behavior. In K.L. Pike (ed.) Language in Relation to a Unifi ed Theory of the Structure of Human Behavior (pp. 37–72). The Hague: Mouton & Co. Purkarthofer, J. and Steien, G.B. (2019) ‘Prétendre comme si on connaît pas une autre langue que le swahili’: Multilingual parents in Norway on change and continuity in their family language policies. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 255, 109–131. Rampton, B., Maybin, J. and Roberts, C. (2015) Theory and method in linguistic ethnography. In J. Snell, S. Shaw and F. Copland (eds) Linguistic Ethnography (pp. 14–50). London: Palgrave Macmillian. Randen, G., Monsen, M., Steien, G., Hagen, K. and Pajaro, V. (2018) Norskopplæring for voksne innvandrere–en kunnskapsoppsummering. Oslo: Kompetanse Norge. See https://www.kompetansenorge.no/statistikk-og-analyse/publikasjoner/norskopplar ing-for-voksne-innvandrere---en-kunnskapsoppsummering/ Reinders, H. and Benson, P. (2017) Research agenda: language learning beyond the classroom. Language Teaching 50 (4), 561–578. Van Lier, L. (2010) The ecology of language learning: Practice to theory, theory to practice. Procedia-Social and Behavioral Sciences 3, 2–6.

4 Scripts and Texts as Technologies of Refugee Governmentality in the Norwegian Introduction Programme Verónica Pájaro

4.1 Introduction

As Congolese refugees in Norway, Max and Lucas’ lives are organised and ruled in some fundamental aspects by the Introduction Programme; a skill- and competence-building government initiative that aims at securing the long-term integration of newly arrived refuges to Norway. Adult vocational education and language training are central to Norway’s strategy for securing refugees’ social and economic integration, and the Labor and Welfare Administration office (NAV) collaborates closely with adult learning centres to design, plan and implement individual activation plans for each refugee. This chapter looks closer into the implementation of the refugee Introduction Programme from a situated perspective, by following the experiences of two Congolese refugees living in Sørby and their fi rst encounter with the Norwegian Introduction Programme. The intake interview at the adult education centre serves multiple purposes at different levels of the refugee Introduction Programme; it both gathers and double-checks information on the educational and linguistic background of the participants and also formalises their enrolment as students in the adult learning centre. Moreover, the intake interview serves the purpose of informing refugees about the educational system they are about to enter, as well as their rights and obligations as participants of the Introduction Programme. As a lens into the procedures and technologies of government that regiment refugees’ lives, the intake interview provides the participants with an opportunity to analyse the situated forms of communication, webs of texts, scripts and procedures that create and sustain the Norwegian refugee Introduction Programme. 49

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In this chapter, I take a critical ethnographic sociolinguistic approach (Heller, 2011) to analyse how situated practices of interviewing and mapping refugees’ competences, background and experiences function as technologies of government that operationalise dominating discourses of integration and activation of refugees and migrants to Norway. As a key instance in the process of state-mediated integration, the intake interview is a privileged site to analyse the workings of the Introduction Programme from a situated perspective that evidences its nuances, contradictions and tensions. In this way, the chapter contributes to a growing body of sociolinguistic research that problematises the role of language and language training in the design and implementation of labour integration programmes for refugees and migrants in the Global North (e.g. Flubacher & Yeung, 2016; Lønsmann, 2020; Van Hoof et al., 2020). This article focuses on two intake interviews with two participants in the KongNor project living in the Southern region of Norway, Lucas and Max (see also Steien, this volume). The interviews at the local adult learning centre were video-recorded. I was present at these interviews and made fieldnotes, observations, took pictures of the documents used in the meeting and talked informally with the teacher and social workers present. In addition, I conducted a follow-up interview with the teacher conducting the interview and one feedback session with Lucas. In this feedback session that took place one and a half years after the interview, Lucas and I watched the videorecording of Lucas’ intake interview and discussed it. All these data-sources form part of the KongNor database and were gathered under the same premises and goals of the project (see Steien & Monsen [Introduction], this volume). 4.2 The Individual Plan: Tailoring Refugee Activation, Empowerment and Entrepreneurship

The overall goal of the Norwegian Introduction Programme for refugees is to ‘strengthen newly arrived migrants’ possibilities for participating in work and social life as well as their economic independence’1 (Introduksjonsloven, 2003: §1), and follows thus the principle of activation that has replaced welfare systems as forms of social policy in countries of the Global North (see for example Del Percio & Wong, 2020, for England; Flubacher et al., 2018, for Switzerland; or Lønsmann, 2020, for Denmark). Within an activation paradigm, ‘employment policies and programmes are main instruments to promote the transition from welfare to work and to (re)integrate people dependent on social insurance benefits or social assistance into the labour market’ (Djuve, 2011a: 114). Social protection is accessed through integration in the capitalist labour market (Djuve, 2011b: 34), and the goal of social policies is no longer to protect citizens from poverty or social exclusion, but rather to promote their labour market insertion as a means of securing their wellbeing through

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their own economic and social integration. Social protection and benefits from the state are thus no longer a right of every citizen, but a benefit dependent on citizens complying with a set of contractual obligations (Handler, 2003), such as actively searching for employment, participating in professional development and language training aimed at developing employability. The resettlement and integration of refugees in Norway is legislated by the Introductory Act (Introduksjonsloven, 2003)2 and organised and implemented through the Introduction Programme. All newly arrived refugees must participate in competence-building training that promotes their integration to Norwegian society and its labour market. Regional authorities receiving the refugees must provide a full-time competence building programme focusing on developing skills that can qualify refugees for employment or further education, alongside access to housing, health services, and the like. The programme must include Norwegian language and social science classes, and focus on intercultural communication and acquiring basic knowledge of Norwegian society, culture and values. This programme is mandatory to all newly arrived refugees, and local authorities must organise a weekly activity plan consisting of 37.5 hours – a standard Norwegian workweek – of individually tailored competence building activities designed to increase refugees’ employability. Participants in the Introduction Programme qualify to receive a basic ‘introduction salary’ (introduksjonsstønad) and are themselves responsible for administering their income, accessing their bank, paying rent and organising their economy (though initially with assistance from social workers). The Introduction Programme is thus designed to turn refugees into workers, and regards participation in language courses and education through the Introduction Programme as work. This form of organising social services and benefits in terms of activation or work, not only conceptualises state protection and benefits in terms of employment, but also individualises responsibility for the success of state employment and integration policies. Activation schemes intervene at the individual level by focusing on skilling the individual citizen/ worker to secure labour insertion, rather than by problematising the contingencies and fluctuations of the labour market. Activation requires individuals to display agency and actively engage in self-development and skilling in order to become employable. As Del Percio and Van Hoof (2017: 142) argue: activation schemes assume that professional inclusion is the workers’ choice, i.e. it is dependent on their willingness to continuously optimize and flexible their work capacities through the acquisition and internalization of the tokens of knowledge and attitudes demanded by a changing capitalism. […] Activation schemes have therefore often been identified as textbook cases of neoliberal governmentality; they address individuals as entrepreneurial selves, who should actively create and

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seize opportunities for their own self-care, and invest in the enhancement of their human capital, for their own benefit as well as that of society at large.

The concept of governmentality captures the non-hegemonic forms of exerting power that interpellate individuals into specific forms of personhood and behaviour without resorting to coercive forms of repressive power, such as repression and discipline (Foucault, 1988). Through self-government, individuals internalise values and attitudes that inform them of how they should behave and exert self-control in order to become ‘good citizens’ – or in this case refugees – capable of securing employment and providing for themselves and their families. What is particular to neoliberal governmentality is the entrepreneurial ideology that imports economic forms of effectivisation and flexibilisation into all facets of lives (Allan & McElhinny, 2017), governing individuals into seeking constant self-improvement and acquiring skills to become flexible and compete for employment in a changing labour-market (Harvey, 2005). When it comes to migrants and refugees, labour market integration is thus often conceived as successful integration (Lønsmann, 2020; Rosén & Bagga-Gupta, 2013) and language training plays a crucial role in how integration is imagined, planned and implemented. When applied to the government of newly arrived migrants and refugees to Norway, the activation discourse that regiments integration policy introduced a set of contractual obligations and rights, sanctioned by the Introductory Act of 2003 and organised through the Introduction Programme. 3 Refugees have the right and obligation to participate in language and social studies classes as well as other forms of training that seek to increase and accelerate their employability. This change in policy was designed to avoid what was argued to be a clientification of refugees as long-term receivers of social benefits, which hindered refugees and migrants from becoming autonomous citizens (Hagen, 1997). The solution proposed to secure the integration and economic independence of refugees was implementing individually tailored training in combination with economic incentives for participation (Djuve, 2011a: 118). Since the implementation of the Introductory Act, refugees receive economic support while and as long as they actively participate in the Introduction Programme. Because these rights are contractual, the economic support is dependent on participating in education and professional training and all newly arrived refugees between the ages 18 and 55 are obliged to participate. Failure to attend scheduled activities and classes without a legitimate reason – and corresponding documentation – can be punished by a reduction in their introduction salary or by being expelled from the Introduction Programme all together. Moreover, what the Introductory Act of 2003 did was to homogenise local practices of refugee reception at a national level, hence creating the need for standardising learning outcomes, the organisation of learning activities and the requirements for documenting competences.

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The tailoring of activation measures stipulated in the Introduction Programme is formalised through the ‘individual plan’ (individuell plan),4 a living document that establishes the duration, phases and goals for the introduction period. The plan must be elaborated and regularly revised by the local welfare office in collaboration with refugees, as participants in the Introduction Programme should actively participate in establishing the goals and activities for their introduction period. The introduction plan is thus imagined as a strategy of refugee empowerment, particularly for women, rather than a form of control (Djuve, 2011a). This individual plan is developed in accord with a parallel plan for education in Norwegian language and social sciences and the local welfare office and adult learning centre collaborate in designing and implementing skilling activities. 5 The individual plan is thus both a collaboratively elaborated document and a binding contract that governs the lives of refugees. It is the individual plan that establishes the type of weekly activities refugees must participate in, their duration and combination, and if refugees receive training aimed at gaining employment or rather qualify for further education after completing the Introduction Programme. There is thus an apparent tension between the discourse of empowerment of refugees by requiring them to voice their own goals and ambitions through the individual plan, and the use of this same document to exert control over refugees, sanctioning what type of activities are recognised as legitimately competence building and allowing for the potential economic punishment in case of failure to comply with the contract. This contradiction is apparent, as both reflect the logic of neoliberal governmentality. Refugees are guided into becoming entrepreneurial selves in charge of their own destiny in Norway, responsible for their self-improvement and skilling, not mere clients of the Norwegian welfare system. 4.3 Texts and Scripts as Technologies of Refugee Government

A myriad of documents, laws, reports and guidelines create and regulate the integration of refugees to Norwegian society, from the Introductory Act that dictates the frames and content of the Introduction Programme and the national curriculum for Norwegian and Social Sciences for adult immigrants (Forskrift om læreplan for voksne innvandrere, 2012), to the preformated schemas, scripts, texts designed to be used in communication with refugees. These plans and guidelines, however, become de facto policy only when implemented by teachers, social workers and bureaucrats in charge of organising and coordinating the Introduction Programme. One of the main arguments for passing the Introductory Act of 2003 was the need to standardise integration work at a national level and establish minimum requirements for the education and training that municipalities were obliged to offer all newly arrived immigrants (Djuve, 2011a). Prior to the law, the integration of migrants and refugees was decided and

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organised at a local municipality level, which created large discrepancies between the scope and content of activities refugees had access to across the territory of Norway. In this context, the guidelines of the integration plan became the standard to be implemented, and a complex network of documents, plans and schemas was put in place to secure this standardisation. Texts are essential to the constitution of organisations as they mediate the appearance of specific sets of words or numbers, forms of measurement or categorisation across sites, and make possible coordination of activities in large institutions (Smith, 2001). Institutions exist in and through their own reproduction, and the institution of refuge is created and exists as it is implemented through the iteration of procedures, guidelines and practices across instances and sites. Texts make this iteration possible, as they ‘provide for the standardized recognizability of people’s doings as organizational or institutional as well as for their co-ordination across multiple local settings and times’ (Smith, 2001: 160). In this sense, the individual plans created in meetings between refugees, social workers and teachers are central to the constitution of the refugee programme as a national institution. By analysing how these documents and texts emerge in concrete instances of use and how they are functional to implementing the Norwegian refugee programme, we can gain insight into the types of knowledge, experiences and goals that are recognisable and hence possible. Similar to documents and texts, scripts are templates for language practices that regulate specific practices and institutions. From call centres to job interviews, scripts are ‘a means of regulating and managing work and workers with the aim of increasing efficiency while also ensuring that practices embody a single corporate brand’ (Lorente, 2018: 7). Scripts became widespread in the service industry, as a means of regulating and standardising work to maximise efficiency in a communication culture (Cameron, 2000) while simultaneously securing the emotion work implied in service encounters where providers perform attention, care, respect, recognition and deference (Otis, 2012: 8, quoted in Lorente, 2018: 7). More recently scripts have expanded to other areas and arenas of worklife, such as health-care encounters and intake interviews for refugees. Scripts allow not only for the streamlining and standardising of communication or language work as a form of linguistic Taylorism (Heller & Duchêne, 2012), but are also forms of self-government by which workers/ speakers self-monitor their behaviour as they adapt their practices to match what is sanctioned as allowable and recognisable within specific institutional frameworks. Through the use of scripts and documents in situated practices, individuals not only standardise their work, but they also internalise the forms of selfhood implied in the script and thus embody recognisable forms of professionalism. The proliferation of scripts can thus be seen as a form of neoliberal governmentality, introducing economic logics of production and effectivisation into all aspects of life, as well as providing migrants with a possibility for agency (Lorente,

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2018). As I will discuss in the next section, scripts are pervasive to how we think and organise work and thus structure interactions such as the intake interview. 4.4 Informing Refugees and Performing the Script

I met Lucas and Max for the first time at an adult learning centre in Sørby on a sunny autumn morning in 2019. They had recently arrived at Norway from Uganda and were adjusting to their new lives in the northern hemisphere. The morning we met, they had been called in for their intake interview. This was the first meeting they attended in Norway where they would meet their teachers at the adult learning centre and social workers in charge of their cases. They would also receive information about the Introduction Programme, enrol as students in adult education, and learn about the school and classes they would soon begin attending. As I sat in Sørby’s adult learning centre and waited for the intake interview to begin, I asked the teacher in charge of the interview and enrolment process, Mari, about the goals and desired outcome of the meeting. From the perspective of the adult learning centre, the immediate goal of the intake interview was both to place the participants in a suitable class depending on their education background and provide them with some basic information about the school what they could expect to experiencethere. Ideally, the participants would also gain a basic understanding of the Norwegian educational system and the different trajectories available to refugees in the Norwegian system. However, Mari considered this to be an important but extremely difficult task due to the large amount of background information about the organisation and functioning of education and work in a highly bureaucratised society like Norway, such as the difference between lower and higher secondary school, qualification requirements to enter university, organisation of recruitment processes, the role of CVs, cover letters and job interviews in accessing employment, just to name a few. However, ensuring that participants understand the frames of the programme they are participating in, as well as their rights and obligations as refugees, are essential to the ideal of empowerment and the logic of activation underlying the Introduction Programme. How do teachers and social workers navigate these contrasting demands? Extract 1: Opening sequences in Lucas’ intake interview

01 Mari 02 03 04

jeg har en del informasjon til deg i dag? tolk oversetter til swahili og først og fremst så har jeg lyst til å si velkommen til Sørby voksenopplæring? tolk oversetter til swahili

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05

å: nå skal jeg komme med noe informasjon, og du kan stoppe meg når som helst og stille spørsmål, hvis du har behov for det. 06 tolk oversetter til swahili 07 først så skal jeg fortelle deg litt om dine rettigheter og plikter. 08 tolk oversetter til swahili og det er sånn at i løpet av tre år må du ta 350 timer med 09 norsk? og 50 timer med samfunnskunnskap på et språk du forstår. 10 tolk oversetter til swahili og da er det viktig at det blir gjort i løpet av tre: år 11 12 tolk oversetter til swahili 13 vi har opplevd at noen er på lange re:iser eller noen får mange barn? på de tre åra og får problemer med å rekke denne fristen og det kan få konsekvenser for oppholdstillatelsen. 14 tolk oversetter til swahili 15 og så em hvis du møter jevnt, har du tatt disse timene på ett år. 16 tolk oversetter til swahili 17 og hvis du trenger flere timer kan du få inntil 2400 timer i løpet av 5 år 18 tolk oversetter til swahili 19 M: okei. er det klart? 20 tolk oversetter til swahili 21 Lucas Ja. ((på swahili) 22 tolk oversetter til norsk 23 Mari mhm bra. 24 og så er det sånn at du skal være en deltaker på introduksjonsprogrammet. 25 tolk oversetter til swahili 26 og da: har du en vanlig norsk arbeidsuke på trettisyv og en halv time i uka 27 tolk oversetter til swahili 28 en stor del av de timene vil være knytta til skolen, 29 tolk oversetter til swahili 30 men du kan og legge inn andre aktiviteter i programmet som du avtaler med Linn 31 tolk oversetter til swahili 32 og du vil også få opplæring i hvordan du fører ti:melister, som du får underskrifter av lærer, ((gestikulerer)) som er utgangspunktet for din introlønn. 33 tolk oversetter til swahili 34 og så skal jeg fortelle litt praktisk om skolen 35 tolk oversetter til swahili 01 Mari I have information for you today? 02 the interpreter translates to Swahili 03 and fi rst I would like to welcome you to Sørby adult learning centre? 04 the interpreter translates to Swahili

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05

and now I will give you some information, and you can stop me at any time and ask me questions, if you need it 06 the interpreter translates to Swahili 07 first I will tell you about your rights and obligations. 08 the interpreter translates to Swahili and it is so that in the three years you have to take three 09 hundred and fifty hours of Norwegian? and fifty hours of social studies in a language you understand. 10 the interpreter translates to Swahili and then it is important that it is done within three: years 11 12 the interpreter translates to Swahili 13 we have experienced that some [participants] travel for long periods of ti:me or have many children? during these three years and have problems to meet this deadline and this can have consequences for their residence permit. 14 the interpreter translates to Swahili 15 and then e:m if you come regularly, you will have completed these hours within a year. 16 the interpreter translates to Swahili 17 and if you need more hours you can get up to two thousand four-hundred hours within a five year period 18 the interpreter translates to Swahili 19 okei. is it clear? 20 the interpreter translates to Swahili 21 Lucas yes. ((in swahili) 22 the interpreter translates to Norwegian 23 Mari mhm good. 24 and then it is so that you will be a participant in the Introduction Programme. 25 the interpreter translates to Swahili 26 and then you have a normal Norwegian work week of thirtyseven and a half hours a week 27 the interpreter translates to Swahili 28 a big part of those hours will you take at the school, 29 the interpreter translates to Swahili 30 but you can also put in other activities in the program that you agree on with Linn 31 the interpreter translates to Swahili 32 and you will also learn how you fill in timeshee:ts, that you get signed by the teacher, ((mimics)) that is the basis of your introduction salary. 33 the interpreter translates to Swahili 34 and then I will tell you a bit practical things about the school 35 the interpreter translates to Swahili

The opening and first part of the interview are dominated by long informing sequences like the one presented in Extract 1, where important information about participants’ rights and obligations is presented. Securing and formally documenting that refugees receive information about the

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requirements they are expected to meet as participants in the Introduction Programme is important due to the contractual nature of the programme (see Section 4.2). This is also one of the reasons for the interview being interpreted to Swahili over a telephone in speaker function. Both Lucas and Max have a functioning command of English and can communicate with teachers, social workers and researchers in this project in English effectively, though with some degree of misunderstanding and ‘noise.’ They use English to communicate through text messages with social workers, make appointments, navigate their new city, engage in small talk and communicate in all other instances of their lives in Norway. It is only when the official business of the intake interview is initiated, that communication is mediated through a Swahili interpreter. The interpreting of the interview causes several delays and complex communication dynamics that could be somewhat reduced if the interviews were held in English, though it is true that this would introduce its own set of challenges. However, since the elaboration of the individual plan constitutes a contract between the local municipality and the refugee, it is important that refugees are informed about their obligations in a language that is registered and recognised as a first or highly functional language of the refugee.6 Interestingly, Swahili is not Lucas or Max’s first language, and the interpreter’s mediation carries its own set of communicative challenges, as I will discuss in Section 4.5. Mari is an experienced teacher, and she is used to interviewing students with an interpreter, pacing herself and providing pauses for the interpreter to translate and parsing the information into shorter utterances. There is little interaction in this sequence, with Lucas speaking only when addressed directly by a prompt to confirm his understanding of the information Mari provided. Max’s interview was structured similarly, with Mari reading and paraphrasing from the same script and introducing approximately the same pauses for the interpreter. She was clearly reading and performing a text, and this was not the first time she used a script. The table at the meeting room was covered with papers and documents to be filled and filed for the Introduction Programme, many of them templates developed by the Directorate of Integration and Diversity (IMDi). These documents are organised as schemas to be filled with information about the refugee, but do not contain prewritten scripts with information to be shared with the participants. IMDi does develop a lot of textual material for the local municipalities to use in the management of refugees, from information letters translated to many migration languages, to official letters informing refugees about a reduction in their refugee salary due to unjustified absence from the Introduction Programme (see IMDi, n.d., for an overview), but does not share scripts for how to inform refugees about their rights and obligations. When I asked Mari about the script and its origin, she told me that she had developed it herself in collaboration with the social workers to facilitate the informing part of the interview. This was not a centralised script

Scripts and Texts as Technologies of Refugee Governmentality 59

developed by any organ or institution in charge of organising or operationalising the Introduction Programme, but a locally emergent text designed to fulfil the task of formally informing refugees of their rights and obligations in a contractually acceptable manner. The script presents complex information in a summarised form, making it possible to relay important information effectively. However, much of this information is presented in a decontextualised manner and requires complex knowledge about how education and work are organised in Norway to make sense to the reader/ listener. All information about compulsory classes in Norwegian and social studies, for example, is presented in total amounts of hours (lines 09 and 17), and the participation in the Introduction Programme is defined as a typical Norwegian work week of 37.5 hours (line 26). The standardisation of measuring education in terms of a total amount of hours of class attended and conditions of employment in terms of weekly worked hours, is a Western form of administrating and counting competence and labour. This form of quantification reproduces international trends of standardisation of competences into quantifiable skills and allows for comparison of workers within and across borders (Koyama, 2017). For Max and Lucas who had recently arrived at Europe at the moment of the interview, understanding the information provided by Mari would have demanded previous knowledge of the organisation of work and education in Western societies, as well as a lot of inferencing, reading between the lines of the information provided, and asking for clarifications when needed, something that Lucas did not do. If the script facilitates and secures the formal act of informing, it does so at the cost of refugees’ understanding. In our follow-up interview in 2021, I asked Lucas about his understanding of the interview, if he understood its meaning and what was happening, to which Lucas answered: Extract 2: Follow up interview with Lucas

Verónica: Lucas:

Did you think that you understood [what was happening]? well At fi rst I (.) you know when someone is in the country for the fi rst time (.) Whatever you: whatever you hear looks to be new everything is new. Completely. So you hear of three years, you hear of (what what) actually what is this? ehe? Let them decide. Me I hear, just I hear hear but you don’t take decision for them for what they are telling. That’s wha Many people tell you that. that you When you have the the (.) the meeting. Your mind looks like you are not you are not you are not aware of what they are telling you. Just ok I hear to say Ok I’m hearing. Now because of Social Sciences samfunns- I now understand the interview I did with the school first. Its importance now Ok? If I didn’t I did I didn’t have such a meeting I couldn’t understand that the things changing changing changing step by step

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Upon my question about his understanding of the interview when we watched the video of the fi rst intake interview in the feedback session, Lucas began an interesting reflection about the role of the refugee in the Introduction Programme and the expectation to actively engage in forming the individual plan. It is very difficult, indeed, for a newly arrived refugee to truly understand the implications of the rules of the Introduction Programme to their personal lives, and the requirements of completing competence goals within specific timeframes. His role, as he described it, was to listen and to show the teacher and social worker that he was listening, deferring responsibility for voicing his plans and goals over to them. In retrospect and after having taken the mandatory course in social sciences, he understood the role of meetings for elaborating plans, and the implications these plans had for his future. ‘Nothing can happen here without a plan’ he explained, and plans are elaborated through meetings like the ones analysed in this article. Plans are elaborated in steps and are always changing, adapting to the changes in refugee’s lives. However, if the goal of the Introduction Programme is to empower refugees and actively engage them in forming their individual plan and future in Norway, why does the teacher resort to a standardised script that provided complex information in a decontextualised manner? Would it not have been more effective to inform Lucas without a script and adapt the information provided to his responses (or lack of them)? The script does not allow for dialogue or questioning unless participants take the opportunity to ask for clarifications, performing agency over their own introduction plan and future, something Lucas did not do. In my informal talk with Mari after the interview, I asked about her role of being responsible for intake interviews and how she saw the process of mapping students’ competences and informing about the Introduction Programme and refugees’ possibilities in Norway. She was very committed to this work, asserting that her goal was seeing and caring for the whole individual, learning who participants were and which competences and life-experiences they had brought along with them. In the organisation of the intake interview, she had taken over the responsibility of informing about the rights and obligations in the Introduction Programme, as well as discussing refugees’ personal goals, two tasks shared with the local welfare office and social workers. She admitted that she wished the question about participants’ individual goals was not part of the script, as this was very difficult for participants to answer having only just arrived in Norway. In this sense, both Mari and Lucas voiced the same concerns about the goal of refugee involvement in designing the individual plan and the limitations to speak for oneself as a newly arrived refugee. As previously discussed, scripts are a technology that allows for the standardisation procedures across instances of use. In the case of Sørby’s intake interviews, the script was composed by Mari and social workers

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and was not a manuscript passed down by a centralised government agency, but rather a local artifact developed to perform ‘informing’ in a contractually acceptable manner that could later be used to enforce sanctions if needed. Informing about the rights and obligations of refugees in the Introduction Programme is a formal action that guarantees the validity of the contract between the refugee and local authorities and must therefore be performed properly and formally registered in the individual plan. Hence the script emerges as a means of fulfilling this important act of informing correctly and effectively; a locally emergent technology for implementing the national refugee Introduction Programme. The script secures proper procedural functioning, though it does not achieve the goal of genuinely informing the participants. As I discussed in Section 4.3, institutions exist through iteration of actions, discourses and scripts across instances of use, establishing what constitutes recognisable actions, speech and categories. Moreover, scripts do not only make standardisation possible, but they also allow individuals to become the specific professional selves required in situated interaction, both being an effective and good teacher that informs as well as a good and active refugee that listens attentively. The cost of scripting the interaction in this case, however, was limiting the possibilities for open, unscripted dialogue that might have provided Lucas with a better understanding of his own situation and Mari with a better understanding of Lucas’ state of mind and concerns when beginning the Introduction Programme. Such unscripted interaction, on the other hand, would have been very costly in terms of time for both teachers and social workers and resources allotted to interpreting services. Both Lucas and Mari appear to have a pragmatic understanding of the situation they are in, and that informing needs to be prioritised above understanding. The script makes this possible. 4.5 Mapping Skills and Competences and Producing Bureaucratically Processable Information

Even though the intake interview is organised by the adult learning centre with the immediate goal of enrolling participants in the school and determining what type of classes they should receive, the information produced and registered at the interview is simultaneously registered in the participants’ individual plans. The individual plan contains basic background information on the candidate and their academic and work experience prior to arriving at Norway, as well as the goals for each refugee and the steps necessary to reach them. Importantly, the individual plan must be elaborated on the basis of refugees’ educational and work experience, as well as the linguistic, literacy and digital competences in order to comply with the requirement of creating individually tailored introduction programmes.

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After the first informing sequences analysed in Section 4.4, the intake interview moves forward to mapping literacy and linguistic competences, education and work experience of the participants. A large part of this background information had already been gathered at the refugee camp in Uganda before Lucas and Max resettled in Norway and was available to Mari and the social workers through documents from national migration authorities. This information, however, needed to be corroborated and clarified to be registered in the individual plan. Extract 3: Mapping literacy skills in Lucas’ interview

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Mari Lucas Tolk Tolk

21 Mari 22 23 Lucas 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Tolk

og ditt morsmål er swahili. stemmer det? tolk oversetter til swahili svarer på swahili Ja snakker du en dialekt? tolk oversetter til swahili svarer på swahili engelsk, ja. du snakker engelsk. da kommer vi tilbake til det tolk oversetter til swahili svarer på swahili også kinyabwisha og så lurer jeg på hvordan du leser på swahili? tolk oversetter til swahili og da kan du svare du leser litt? du leser godt? eller du leser svært godt? tolk oversetter til swahili svarer på swahili ja han kan lese swah(ber om avklaring, lengre utveksling mellom tolk og Lucas) ja han kan snakke swahili, han kan skrive men ikke så skikkelig? fordi han snakker tre forskjellige språk? men han kan snakke ikke så skikkelig de andre men vil du si du leser godt? eller du leser svært godt tolk oversetter til swahili (svarer med en lengre fortelling eller forklaring, tolk stiller oppfølgingsspørsmål) Ja litt. han kan lese swahili vil du si det samme om å skrive tolk oversetter til swahili svarer på swahili ja han er bedre å skrive bedre engelsk å skrive enn swahili ja. hvordan vil du si at du leser på engelsk da? vil du si du leser litt? du leser godt? eller du leser svært godt tolk oversetter til swahili svarer på swahili han kan skrive fi nt, han kan lese fi:nt og alt vil han [si: ] [på engelsk]

Scripts and Texts as Technologies of Refugee Governmentality

35 36 37 38 -01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15

Mari Tolk Tolk Mari

ja vil han si at han leser [godt eller] svart godt [ja ja] godt godt. okei. greit.

Mari

and your mother language is Swahili. is this correct? the interpreter translates to Swahili answers in Swahili yes do you speak a dialect? the interpreter translates to Swahili answers in Swahili English, yes. you speak English. we will come back to that the interpreter translates to Swahili answers in Swahili also Kinyabwisha and so I wonder how you read in Swahili? the interpreter translates to Swahili and you can answer you read a little? you read well? or you read very well? the interpreter translates to Swahili answers in Swahili yes he can read Swa(the interpreter asks Lucas a clarifying question and the two discuss in Swahili over a few turns) yes he can speak Swahili, he can write but not so properly? because he speaks three different languages? but he cannot speak so well the others but would you say that you read well? or you read very well the interpreter translates to Swahili (answers with a longer narrative or account in Swahili, the interpreter asks clarifying questions) yes a bit. he can read Swahili would you say the same about writing the interpreter translates to Swahili answers in Swahili yes he is better at English writing than Swahili yes. how would you say that you read in English then? would you say that you read a little? you read well? or you read very well the interpreter translates to Swahili answers in Swahili he can write well, he can read well and everything would he [sa:y ] [in English] yes would he say that he reads [well or] very well [yes yes] well well. okei. fi ne.

Lucas Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari Mari

16 17 18 19

Lucas Tolk

20

Tolk

21 Mari 22 23 Lucas 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

63

Tolk Mari Lucas Tolk Mari

Lucas Tolk Mari Tolk Mari Tolk Tolk Mari

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Mari opens the competence mapping part of the interview by inquiring about literacy skills in what she assumes is Lucas’ fi rst language. She knows that Lucas speaks Swahili because she was asked to arrange for a Swahili interpreter to be available at the interview, so she begins there. After confi rming Lucas’ knowledge of Swahili, and not following up on his reporting of knowledge of English and Kinyabwisha (lines 8 and 12), she moves forward to targeting literacy skills (lines 13 and 15), inquiring about Lucas’ reading skills in Swahili and asking for a quantification: does we read a little, well or very well? Lucas’ answers are not coded in the proposed competence categories, providing instead explanations based on his multilingual repertoire as a whole, evaluating his linguistic competences in relative terms and using competence in one linguistic code as a reference point to evaluate his competence in another code (as in lines 20 and 28). Mari, however, continues with the systematic review of literacy skills per language, insisting on the use of the proficiency categories proposed, pursuing and reformulating answers in collaboration with the interpreter to produce competence evaluations that match the categories (lines 32 to 38). The pursuit of defi ning competence in terms of specific categories is central to the goal of mapping literacy skills and necessary for completing Lucas’ individual plan. The competence categories Mari introduces and pursuits in the interview were directly imported from the individual plan template elaborated by IMDi (see Figure 4.1). Under the rubric ‘language competences’, refugees’ literacy competences are reported through standardised categories for reading and writing skills in four proficiency levels: cannot read/write, reads/writes a little, well or very well. Mari’s pursuit of proficiency categorisations in the interview was evidently structured by the action of fi lling in Lucas’ individual plan rather than discussing and understanding how Lucas understands and defi nes his own literacy. In this manner, the individual plan defi nes the terms under which literacy is conceptualised and discussed as a

Figure 4.1 Excerpt from the individual plan template elaborated by the Directorate of Integration and Diversity (IMDi, n.d.)

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departure point for the Introduction Programme. This hinders the development of narrative answers that allow for more complex linguistic trajectories and experiences (Eek, 2017) in favour of interactionally achieving quantified measurements of competence that fit in the individual plan schema and are thus reportable. An open discussion about Lucas’ multilingualism would have disclosed that his mother language is Kinyabwisha, not Swahili that he learned later in life (see Steien, this volume), and that his Swahili has loan words and traces of French from his Congolese origin and is different from the Swahili spoken by the interpreter and many other Ugandans and Tanzanians. His first language, Kinyabwisha, is different from Kinyarwanda, the language registered in his refugee papers from Uganda, in very important political terms that can be traced back to the ethnic conflict that made him a refugee in Uganda in the first place. Hence, the type of competence, use patterns and experience we identify with the concepts mother, first and second language, fit poorly with the multilingual reality Lucas grew up with, and the linguistic repertoire is conceived as a set of mutually complementary communicative resources rather than an addition of different degrees of competence in single languages (Steien, 2021). The categories coded in the individual plan reproduce a monolingual bias that generalises monolingual experiences as the default applicable to all speakers (May, 2013) and conceptualises language as a measurable skill. According to Smith (2001: 183), texts do not prescribe actions, but rather affect what is recognisable as an instance of doing. In this case, the doing is the mapping of the literacy skills of a refugee to tailor an activation programme to his needs and competences so that he can qualify for employment in Norway as soon as possible. This action can be done in many ways, with or without an interpreter present, following a schematic categorisation of skills or opening for narrative formulations as valid answers in mapping interviews, etc. However, if the goal of mapping refugees’ competences is textually mediated through the individual plan, the intake interview must produce bureaucratically processable information (Iedema, 1999) that matches the quantified categorisations of the plan in order to become part of the record. Hence, the individual plan functions as a technology of government that mediates the standardisation of the Introduction Programme through replication across instances, as well as the standardisation of refugees’ competences in terms of Western models of competence. That which is not reportable in the individual plan, is not recognisable or knowable and hence considered a skill (see Vigouroux, 2017, for a thorough discussion of the skills discourse in migration). However, Mari’s expressed intentions and goals for the intake interview were rather different, emphasising the importance of seeing the whole individual and not merely focusing on constructing them as bundles

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of skills (Urciuoli, 2008), giving value to all forms of competence and lifeexperience refugees brought along with them. The competence frameworks implied in the individual plan, on the other hand, introduce a quantification paradigm that functions as a de facto deskilling technology, as they render competences that do not fit the prescribed categories unreportable and hence unrecognisable. There is thus a contrast between the goals and intentions of the teachers and social workers in charge of implementing the Introduction Programme, and the technologies of government they resort to in order to get this work done. 4.6 Discussion and Conclusion

We can conclude that what characterises the intake interview, from an institutional perspective, is the apparent tension between enacting technologies of government that regulate migrants’ conduct to socialise them in specific forms of personhood, and an empowerment ideal of giving voice to refugees in order to adapt the Introduction Programme to the individual needs of each participant. Scripts and texts make it possible for social workers and teachers to manage the contrasting demands of the interview, introducing professional standards that secure the replicability of the intake interview, and providing specific roles to perform for the participants: the good teacher and the good refugee. However, this form of organising interactions with refugees limits the possibilities for unscripted interaction, and hence the chances of refugees having a voice in forming their individual plan. Moreover, these technologies introduce Western categories of knowledge that invalidate refugees’ competences in favour of standardised labour-skills classifications. As a mode of example, both Lucas and Max had attended several years of primary school in Congo and Uganda. When mapping the educational background of Lucas and Max, Mari and the social workers concluded that with nine and six years of reported primary school education both participants would need to attend basic primary education in Norway as part of the Introduction Programme. Norwegian mandatory primary school education (grunnskole) consists of ten years, seven of primary school and three of lower secondary school. Without this degree, refugees do not qualify for vocational or academic training at high school level, and cannot participate in any other form of education. This is the ‘entrance ticket’ to the Norwegian education system, as Mari framed it several times in the intake interview. This reality was rather sobering for Lucas and Max, as they began to grasp that in Norway they were evaluated to be below the level of basic primary school education and would have to begin their Introduction Programme by attending primary school. This is the logic and necessary conclusion from the perspective of the competence requirements in Norway, but nonetheless implies a rather dramatic recalibrating of expectations for refugees who would like to attend

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university and achieve degrees in law and nursing, as Lucas and Max had expressed to be their desired goals for labour-market insertion. This road would imply completing grunnskole during the introduction period, to then take up study loans to complete the equivalent of three years of highschool education, only to then become qualified for higher education. As they left the intake interview, they were still struggling to understand how Norwegian education was structured and why their primary school education was not recognised as such. If the goal of the Introduction Programme is to activate immigrants and refugees and stimulate their insertion into the Norwegian labour market, it is necessary to provide them with the same possibilities for labour-market insertion as the majority-background Norwegian population. However, as Djuve argues, ‘[the] extent to which it is reasonable to expect quick labour-insertion from migrants from the third world [sic] in one of the most regulated labour markets in the world, is an entirely different question’ 7 (Djuve, 2011b: 30, my translation). With an almost nonexisting informal economy, standardised minimum wages and employment procedures, there is little to no chance of gaining employment in Norway for so-called unskilled migrants without documentable basic formal education and advanced literacy and numeracy skills. For many newly arrived refugees, particularly those arriving from confl ict areas in Africa like Lucas and Max, competence building through many years of formal education is the only option the Introduction Programme can offer, as their previous work and educational experiences are invisible or not recognisable by the skills discourses that regiment transnational migration (Vigouroux, 2017). Documents and scripts are the tools that make deskilling and disempowerment in the Introduction Programme possible, even when this is against the intentions and goals of the teachers and social workers implementing the programme.

Notes (1) «å styrke nyankomne innvandreres mulighet for deltakelse i yrkes- og samfunnslivet, og deres økonomiske selvstendighet.» (2) On January fi rst 2021 a new Integration Act (Integreringsloven Prop, L. 89) was implemented in Norway alongside changes in the citizenship law. The new integration law introduces changes to the organisation and implementation of the Introduction Programme, notably a stronger focus on labour market insertion. However, migrants that arrived prior to 1 January 2021, like Max and Lucas, still follow the Introductory Act of 2003. (3) Activation remains a guiding principle of integration in the Integration Act of 2021. (4) The individual plan has been replaced by an ‘integration plan’ (integreringsplan) in the Integration Act from 2021. (5) In the new Integration Act, the individual plan and the education plan in Norwegian and social sciences are combined into one integreringsplan. (6) In this chapter, I will not focus on the role of the interpreter, but I will mention that the interpreted services provided happen over a telephone service, used in

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speaker-mode, and the interpreter is a Swahili/Norwegian interpreter, as Kinyabwisha interpreting is not available. (7) «I hvilken grad det er rimelig å forvente rask arbeidsmarkedsintegrering av innvandrere fra den tredje verden i et av verdens mest regulerte arbeidsmarkeder, er strengt tatt et annet spørsmål.»

References Allan, K. and McElhinny, B. (2017) Neoliberalism, language, and migration. In S.  Canagarajah (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of Migration and Language (pp. 79–101). Abingdon: Routledge. Cameron, D. (2000) Good to Talk? Living and Working in a Communication Culture. London: Sage. Del Percio, A. and Van Hoof, S. (2017) Enterprising migrants: Language and the shifting politics of activation. In M.C. Flubacher and A. Del Percio (eds) Language, Education and Neoliberalism: Critical Studies in Sociolinguistics (pp. 140–162). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Del Percio, A. and Wong, S.W.V. (2020) Resetting minds and souls. Language, employability and the making of neoliberal subjects. In L. Martín Rojo and A. Del Percio (eds) Language and Neoliberal Governmentality (pp. 190–210). Abingdon: Routledge. Djuve, A. (2011a) Introductory programs for immigrants. Nordic Journal of Migration Research 1 (3), 113–125. Djuve, A. (2011b) Introduksjonsordningen for nyankomne innvandrere. Et integreringspolitisk paradigmeskifte? PhD thesis, University of Oslo. Eek, M. (2017) Numeracy og voksne minoritetsspråklige med liten skolebakgrunn. Master thesis, Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences. Forskrift om læreplan for voksne innvandrere (2012) (FOR-2012-04-19-358). See https:// lovdata.no/dokument/SF/forskrift/2012-04-19-358. Foucault, M. (1988) Technologies of the self: A seminar with Michel Foucault. In L.H. Martin, H. Gutman and P.H. Hutton (eds) Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault. London: Tavistock Publications. Flubacher, M.C. and Yeung, S. (2016) Discourses of integration: Language, skills, and the politics of difference. Multilingua 35 (6), 599–616. Flubacher, M.C., Duchêne, A. and Coray, R. (2018) Language Investment and Employability: The Uneven Distribution of Resources in the Public Employment Service. New York: Springer Publishing. Hagen, K. (1997) Innvandrere og sosialhjelp. Kunnskapsstatus og utfordringer for videre forskning (7). See https://www.fafo.no/en/publications/innvandrere-og-sosialhjelp. Handler, J.F. (2003) Social citizenship and workfare in the US and Western Europe: From status to contract. Journal of European Social Policy 13 (3), 229–243. Harvey, D. (2005) Neoliberalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Heller, M. (2011) Paths to Post-Nationalism: A Critical Ethnography of Language and Identity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Heller, M. and Duchêne, A. (2012) Pride and profit: Changing discourses of language, capital and nation-state. In A. Duchêne and M. Heller (eds) Language in Late Capitalism: Pride and Profit (pp. 1–21). Abingdon: Routledge. Iedema, R. (1999) Formalizing organizational meaning. Discourse & Society 10 (1), 49–65. IMDi (n.d.) Maler og info på fl ere språk. See https://www.imdi.no/om-imdi/maler-oginformasjon-pa-flere-sprak/ Introduksjonsloven [Introductory Act] (2003) Lov om introduksjonsordning for norskopplæring for innvandrere (LOV-2003-07-04-80). See https://lovdata.no/dokument/ NLO/lov/2003-07-04-80.

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Koyama, J. (2017) Assembling language policy: Challenging standardization and quantification in the education of refugee students in a US school. In M.C. Flubacher and A. Del Percio (eds) Language, Education and Neoliberalism: Critical Studies in Sociolinguistics (pp. 163–183). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Lorente, B.P. (2018) Scripts of Servitude: Language, Labor Migration and Transnational Domestic Work. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Lønsmann, D. (2020) Language, employability and positioning in a Danish integration programme. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 264, 49–71. May, S. (2013) Introducing the ‘multilingual turn’. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL, and Bilingual Education (pp. 11–16). Abingdon: Routledge. Rosén, J.K. and Bagga-Gupta, S. (2013) Shifting identity positions in the development of language education for immigrants: An analysis of discourses associated with ‘Swedish for immigrants’. Language, Culture and Curriculum 26 (1), 68–88. Smith, D.E. (2001) Texts and the ontology of organizations and institutions. Studies in Cultures, Organizations and Societies 7 (2), 159–198. Steien, G.B. (2021) Morsmål, navngitte språk, språklige repertoarer og transpråking: om språkbakgrunnene til voksne som lærer norsk. In M. Monsen and V. Pájaro (eds) Andrespråkslæring hos voksne. Vitenskapelige innsikter og didaktiske refl eksjoner (pp. 29–46). Oslo: Cappelen Damm Akademisk. Urciuoli, B. (2008) Skills and selves in the new workplace. American Ethnologist 35 (2), 221–228. Vigouroux, C.B. (2017) Rethinking (un)skilled migrants: Whose skills, what skills, for what, and for whom? In S. Canagarajah (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of Migration and Language (pp. 312–329). Abingdon: Routledge. Van Hoof, S., Nyssen, S. and Kanobana, S. (2020) ‘If they could, they would put them on a drip with Dutch’: Language learning and the professional integration of migrants in Flanders. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 264, 73–94.

Transcription key italics

Interpreting between Norwegian and Swahili, answers coded in Swahili

.

Falling intonation at a sentence level

,

Rising intonation at a sentence

hyphen-

Uncomplete word or pronunciation of word or sentence.

co:lon

Elongated vowel

underline

Emphasis

(parenthesis)

Commentary about physical movements of the speakers, disambiguating information required to understand the transcript, etc.

5 ‘Because I Was the Only One Who Dared’: Approaches to Multilingual Repertoires in Adult Language Training Marte Monsen and Marianne Eek

5.1 Introduction

In UNESCO’s Sustainability Goal 4 it is emphasised that refugees must have access to inclusive and equitable quality education. It is underlined that education systems must be relevant for and respond to migration, political instability and inequality (UNESCO, 2015: 25). Refugees participating in the KongNor project receive Norwegian language training at municipal learning centres where they live (see Steien & Monsen [Introduction], this volume). As forced migrants, they have not chosen their host country (cf. 1.2), nor the municipality or the learning centre where they receive language training. Their language learning trajectories will be influenced by the training at the learning centre, and the individual teacher’s teaching practices and language ideologies. In this chapter, we will focus on this training, and especially the language ideologies that emerge, through observation and interviews at the adult education centres in Fjordbotn et al., where five of the participants in the KongNor project attend the Introduction Programme. This chapter investigates how the participants’ varied linguistic repertoires are included in classroom practices. At the outset, we briefly consider ‘Norwegian language training for adult newcomers’. Then we discuss different views of teaching and learning, and perspectives on multilingualism, before we analyse and discuss how participants’ linguistic repertoire is negotiated in classroom practices. The analysis is based on data from ethnographic classroom observation and teacher interviews. 70

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5.2 Language Training for Adult Newcomers

Adult newcomers in Norway have the right and are obliged to take lessons in Norwegian language and civic studies, and most of them participate in the Introduction Programme. The curriculum is based on the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (Council of Europe, 2020), and the purpose of the teaching is to strengthen migrants’ opportunities for participation in professional and civic life (Direktoratet for høyere utdanning og kompetanse, 2021: 3). It is also emphasised that the teaching must be based on the participants’ background, needs, resources and future plans (2021: 4). The rationale for additional language teaching for adults can thus be said to relate to three different, but connected, domains of educational practice: qualifi cation, acquisition of knowledge and skills that enable participants to live in ‘complex modern societies’; socialisation, to be introduced to traditions and specific ways of being and doing; and subjectification, which concerns how people ‘come to exist as subjects of initiative and responsibility, rather than as objects of the actions of others’ (Biesta, 2015: 77). In Norway, however, until recently there has been no requirement of specific educational competence for teachers of adult newcomers (Integreringsloven, 2021). A report from 2015 shows that teachers in adult education are often experienced teachers, but almost 50% lack formal competence in teaching Norwegian as an additional language (Berg, 2015: 4). According to Dewey, teachers with a lack of competence in the field they teach may develop teaching habits that are mainly empirically and not theoretically based (2008 [1904]: 790). In addition to the language ideologies embedded in the curriculum, the individual teacher’s perspectives on teaching, as well as their language ideologies (Irvine & Gal, 2009), would play a role in shaping their language teaching practices. As a basis for discussing how additional language learners’ multilingual repertoire is included in the classrooms in Fjordbotn et al., we will discuss perspectives on multilingualism in research and approaches to multilingualism and to teaching and learning within the field of practice. 5.3 Perspectives on Multilingualism in Linguistic Research

Within the fields of applied linguistics and sociolinguistics, different language ideologies can be identified. A main distinction can be made between subtractive/separate and additive approaches, where multilingual resources are perceived as separate language systems used in different situations, either individually or in code-switching; and dynamic or flexible approaches, where multilingual resources are perceived as flexible, complex and a unified linguistic repertoire (García & Li, 2014: 13–14, 22; May, 2014: 7–25). It has been argued that separate or monolingual approaches to multilingualism are characterised by essentialist

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conceptions of culture and nation, where individual languages are closely associated with national identity (Auer, 2007: 320; Canagarajah, 2013: 3). Blackledge and Creese (2010) emphasise that ideologies of ‘one-nationone-language’ have contributed to shaping values that can give rise to dominance and the exercise of power over groups and people who do not speak ‘the right language in the right way’ (2010: 5 and 16). Perceptions of multilingualism have changed from an emphasis on subtractive/separate approaches towards a greater emphasis on flexible multilingualism (Blackledge & Creese, 2014: 192). An example of this development is the widespread notion of translanguaging, which denotes that linguistic resources are used in dynamic and functionally integrated ways (García & Li, 2014: 20). Translanguaging theory places the speaker at the centre of analyses of multilingual practice and not ‘simply describing language use or bilingual contact from the perspective of the language itself’ (García, 2009: 45), and can be said to represent poststructuralist approaches to multilingualism (García & Li, 2014: 9, 11) which see the subject as constituted in and through language and discourse (Busch, 2012: 507). García emphasises that the term translanguaging includes, but goes beyond, what is defi ned as code-switching (García, 2009: 45): Sometimes linguistic features are used in ways that correspond to social constructions of one particular language, and sometimes in other and more flexible ways (García & Li, 2014: 15). Notions such as linguistic repertoire also highlight that the concept of ‘the mother tongue’ often represents a narrow description of the language resources of second language learners and challenges a simple dichotomisation between ‘the mother tongue’ and ‘the second language’ (Blommaert & Backus, 2013). In addition to translanguaging denoting a theoretical approach to multilingualism in research, translanguaging is conceived as both as a multilingual practice and a multilingual pedagogy that promotes social justice (García & Leiva, 2014: 199). According to Garcia and Li (2014: 90) multilingual teaching based on translanguaging theory represents an inclusive pedagogy that has the potential to be transformative. We will revisit this topic, as we now turn to the field of practice. 5.4 Classroom Approaches to Multilingualism and Pedagogy 5.4.1 Different approaches to multilingualism in the field of practice

Research of multilingualism in the field of practice describes different approaches, but they usually have in common that they can be placed on a continuum from monolingual to multilingual. Teaching can be characterised by a monolingual bias whereby the target language is the one and only language to receive attention, and where language learners’ existing

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linguistic resources are to a limited extent used as a starting point for further language learning. ‘Immersion programmes’, where language learning and subject learning are substantially taught through the target language, are examples of such an approach (Cook, 2016: 164). The idea behind immersion programmes is that individual languages are best developed in isolation from other languages (García, 2009: 309). Such models are often used when one seeks to protect minority languages, or revitalise languages (2009: 309), and are well known from Canada, where Englishspeaking children (majority speakers) are taught parts of the curriculum in French (Cook, 2016: 165; Cummins, 2000: 170). García points out, however, that similar practices can characterise other types of language programmes, such as monolingual instructional programmes for immigrants and refugees, but she emphasises that such teaching still often uses language learners’ fi rst language to clarify concepts and tasks (2009: 309, 315). Despite the shift towards a more translingual understanding of multilingualism in linguistic research, May claims that monolingual, hegemonic norms and practices still influence the field of practice (2014: 7–25). In line with this, Randen and Vesteraas Danbolt (2018) emphasise that perspectives on language and language norms that form the basis for descriptions of language and assessment of language in school have mainly been based on the language use of native, monolingual language users, and that multilingual students are measured against these norms (2018: 312). Monolingual approaches to second language teaching can be related to the disciplines’ tendency to construct, preserve and exclude certain types of knowledge, which is a result of the disciplines’ history and academic hierarchies (May, 2014: 12–14). When it comes to the field of education that deals with additional language learning for newly arrived adults, it can also be questioned whether monolingual practices are reinforced by political pressure. Debates about language and competence are often part of wider debates about whether we should take a diversity approach or an assimilation approach to migration (Blackledge & Creese, 2010; Brochmann & Midtbøen, 2020). Attention to results and stricter requirements to pass language tests to gain citizenship may contribute to teaching approaches with a one-sided focus on the majority language, and where the participants’ linguistic repertoire is not seen as a resource (Carlsen & Moe, 2019; Milani, 2010). However, research shows that multilingual practices do take place in the classroom, regardless of the teacher’s perceptions of language teaching and learning (Blackledge & Creese, 2010: 3–4; Ellis, 2012: 130). This shows that when people are given opportunities, they will use their full linguistic repertoire to create meaning and understanding. García and Li emphasise that pedagogical translanguaging has the potential to expand and transform practices that are common in schools (García & Li, 2014: 67–70). An emphasis on translanguaging and

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language learners’ complex linguistic repertoire may have the potential to counteract simplified dichotomies related to linguistic repertoires and give language learners opportunities to use their varied language resources as tools for expanding and adjusting their language repertoire to new communication environments. Teachers can choose to give voice to their students (Canagarajah, 2013: 9), and facilitate pedagogical translanguaging, which De Korne (2012: 479) describes as a heteroglossic and inclusive approach to language learning. Pedagogical translanguaging can be characterised as the interplay between teachers’ language ideologies (stance), planned actions (design) and spontaneous moment-bymoment actions (shifts) (García et al., 2017; Tkachenko et al., 2021), and can be defi ned as: a process by which students and teachers engage in complex discursive practices that include all the language practices of students in order to develop new language practices and sustain old ones, communicate and appropriate knowledge, and give voice to new sociopolitical realities by interrogating linguistic inequality. (García & Kano, 2014: 261)

Pedagogical translanguaging thus has the potential to transform power and give language learners opportunities to use their entire linguistic repertoire, as new language practices are developed, while at the same time maintaining their previous language practices. Gee (2015: 179–180) emphasises that mastering certain discourses can provide social benefits. While ‘primary discourses’ (Gee, 2015: 173) or everyday discourses will be characterised by meaning-making through heteroglossia and translanguaging, ‘secondary discourses’ (Gee, 2015: 174) that characterise the public sphere of society will often be based on monolingual practices in the majority language, that is to say practices related to specific linguistic codes. In order to enjoy the social benefits this can provide, it is often necessary to acquire competence in the majority language in a society. Dewilde (2016: 29) highlights that the translingual paradigm does not reject that certain norms should be followed in certain situations, for example the use of standardised language in an assignment. However, she underscores the importance of such actions, seen as strategic negotiations, based on the language user’s translingual repertoire (2016: 29). García and Li (2014: 70) also emphasise that translanguaging in schools will often result in what can be described as a ‘monolingual’ product, ‘that is cast as being in one language or another’. However, pedagogical translanguaging will enable students to move simultaneously along continuums of different socially constructed languages according to standards in school, in the home or in society (García & Li, 2014: 69). Translanguaging helps language learners to switch between language actions that are socially and educationally constructed as separate languages, while the multilingual actions, according to García and Li, are integrated in ways that reflect ‘the unified constitution of the learner’ (2014: 80).

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5.4.2 Different approaches to teaching and learning

The two approaches to multilingualism described above might coincide with two opposing approaches to teaching and learning. Critical pedagogy defi nes two teaching approaches that constitute learners’ subject positions as either recipients or participants, the ‘banking’ and the ‘problem-posing’ concepts, which are also referred to as antidialogic and dialogic education (Freire, 1999 [1970]. Although teaching is seldom found in pure form, as Freire’s theory outlines, it will be characterised by these two approaches to a greater or lesser extent. Antidialogic education is characterised by a teacher–student relationship in which the teacher acts as the one who knows and in which the student is positioned as ignorant (Freire, 1999 [1970]: 46). The teacher is the active subject, who transmits the content of knowledge as if giving away a package for storage, and the student becomes a passive receiving object (Freire, 1999 [1970]: 54, 55). Antidialogic education thus prevents students from participating, engaging and asking questions, but also from ‘acting upon’ the curriculum (Darder, 2017: 102). The learning content is seen as already given through a predetermined curriculum or standardised and established learning units (Darder, 2017: 109; Freire, 1999 [1970]: 77). The teacher ‘expounds on a topic completely alien to the existential experience of the students’ with ‘contents that are detached from reality, disconnected from the totality that engendered them and could give them significance’ (Freire, 1972). In contrast to antidialogic education, dialogic education is characterised by a relationship between the student and the teacher where who knows and who is ignorant is not given in advance (Freire, 1999 [1970]: 63–64). Both have something to learn from each other, and they are both active, participating subjects (Freire, 1999 [1970]: 64 & 70). Dialogic education represents an encounter between persons (Freire, 1972: 76–77) ‘who are attempting, together, to learn more than they now know’ (Freire, 1972: 79). The grounds for the encounter and the dialogue are the recognition of the other, and the consequence of the dialogue is seen as mutual trust (Freire, 1972: 77–80). In contrast to the reactionary nature of antidialogic education, dialogic education exhibits a revolutionary pedagogy that has liberation and transformation of the classroom and students, and ultimately social transformation, as its goal (Darder, 2017: 91; Freire, 1972: 72–73). As we have mentioned earlier, translanguaging also represents potential for transformation of subjectivities and social structures, and García and Li (2014: 3) explicitly point to the relation between translanguaging and critical pedagogy. However, critical pedagogy highlights that teaching and learning must never be reduced to an isolated method, but must be defined by the context: the students’ experiences, available resources, the teacher–student interaction, teachers’ opportunities for action, and the prevailing theoretical and political discourses (Giroux, 1988: xvi).

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5.4.3 Teaching and learning in the multilingual classroom

The current investigation of the use of multilingual repertoires in three adult language learning centres in Norway draws attention to how five participants are invited to use their linguistic repertoires in their acquisition of oral and written Norwegian language. Freire and Macedo (1987: ix) emphasise the importance of students learning to master the majority language, so that they have opportunities to engage in society to a greater extent, ‘linguistically empowered to engage in dialogue with the wider society’. Critical pedagogy, however, emphasises the importance of taking language learners’ existing linguistic knowledge as a starting point, and of expanding their linguistic repertoire in meaningful and liberating ways: By utilizing the strength of students’ existing linguistic knowledge, teachers can support students in expanding their appropriation of the dominant language, in ways that are meaningful and ultimately emancipatory. (Darder, 2017: 116)

Critical pedagogy emphasises the teacher’s responsibility to recognise and respect the diversity of students’ ‘voices’ and knowledge, ‘respect the plurality of voices, the variety of discourses, and of course the different languages’ (Berthoff, 1987: xxii ), so that students are able to step out of a ‘culture of silence’ (Freire, referred to in Meek, 1987: x). Giving only the majority language space in the classroom can be described as a colonising practice that can render students ‘voiceless’ (Paraskeva, referenced in Darder, 2017: 113). However, having the opportunity to express oneself in one’s dominant language can be described as a decolonising practice (Darder, 2017: 112, 113), which represents ‘[a] democracy of expression’ or a democratisation of the classroom (Freire & Shor, 1987: 23). 5.5 Context and Data

The data for this chapter consist of field notes from observations in the classrooms at Fjordbotn, Østby and Rørøy learning centres, and interviews with teachers, principals and social workers in the three municipalities, as well as interviews with the participants Pierre, Naomi, Zépherin, Sarah and Simon and field notes from visits to the homes of these participants. The three learning centres Fjordbotn, Østby and Rørøy were chosen for the analysis in this chapter, as they are the only ones systematically visited by two researchers (see Steien & Monsen [Introduction], this volume). Hence the ethnographic data from these three centres are richest. As Østby learning centre is closest to the researchers and had fewer restrictions due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the researchers visited this learning centre more regularly than the other two. Due to the chapter’s focus on the formal qualifications of additional language teachers for adults, it

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might be appropriate to point out that both authors of this chapter have previously worked as additional language teachers for adult migrants, both with and without formal qualifications. 5.6 Multilingual Repertoire, Multilingual Practices and Approaches to Multilingualism in the Fjordbotn, Østby and Rørøy Classrooms

In the Fjordbotn classroom, the Rørøy classroom and the Østby classroom we see examples of different approaches to language teaching, characterised by monolingual immersion ideology and by pedagogical translanguaging, but also by a pragmatic approach that is perhaps less theoretically informed. 5.6.1 Fjordbotn: ‘You don’t need to speak English, your Norwegian is good enough’

The municipality of Fjordbotn is a small rural community in the northern part of Norway, with about 3000 inhabitants. The language learning centre in Fjordbotn taught between 10 and 20 adult migrants at the time of this study: 25-year-old Pierre from Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) is one of them. He has resettled in Fjordbotn with his wife and two young children. He has some formal schooling from DRC and has a varied linguistic repertoire reflecting his communicative needs in the DRC and Uganda, including Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French and English. However, at Fjordbotn learning centre the main strategy is that the Norwegian language learners speak Norwegian at all times during the course days at the learning centre. The monolingual immersion strategy seems to be quite strong, and the teachers have no strategies for including the learners’ linguistic repertoires. As a matter of fact, by their own account the teachers do not really know much about Pierre’s language background. When the researchers visit Fjordbotn learning centre, we notice that the teachers sometimes seem to talk a little condescendingly to the students. This is perhaps not intentional, but might be a result of the fact that the teachers raise their voices and talk slowly as a strategy for being comprehended. When the students try to speak in another language than Norwegian, the teachers encourage them to speak Norwegian, saying that they do not need to speak in other languages, as their Norwegian is good enough. As the participants are quite new to speaking Norwegian, the claim that their Norwegian is good enough does not ring true, and might sound condescending. In fact, when the researchers talk to Pierre in English outside the classroom during a break and a teacher stops our conversation, saying in a high-pitched voice that Pierre does not need to speak English to us, as his Norwegian is quite sufficient, even we

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are a bit insulted by this. The teacher perhaps believes that it will be motivating for Pierre to show us how good his Norwegian is, or she may believe that, as language teaching researchers, we consider it important that teachers make sure that the students speak Norwegian, and hence she wants to show us that she does ensure this. In some ways the monolingual approach at Fjordbotn learning centre coincides with what can be characterised by an antidialogic approach to learning, whether it be an ideology or a result of circumstances. The teachers do not seem to know the students very well. When talking about Pierre to us, the teachers cannot really agree on whether he is a good learner. This is in contrast to the researchers, who, after several interviews with Pierre in different languages, including an interview to thoroughly investigate his linguistic awareness, believe him to be a rapid language learner. The reason the teachers cannot agree might be that they do not agree on what constitutes a good learner, but it might also be that they do not pay attention or take it seriously when Pierre is conveying something about himself. When Pierre, for example, tells them about aspects of his life that are difficult, such as his current living situation and his future opportunities in Fjordbotn, he is dismissed both by his teachers and by the social worker responsible for refugees in the municipality. The result of this is also that he has a lot to say when the researchers arrive, so in addition to our observations, Pierre tells us a great deal about his frustrations, even though he constantly repeats that he is grateful to be in Norway. Pierre’s future dream is to attend a vocational upper secondary school, but his teachers tell him that this will not be an option, as the region in which Fjordbotn is located does not offer upper secondary education to adults. As Fjordbotn does not seem to offer many options for employment, Pierre is worried about how he can earn a living in Norway. Pierre also has problems with his housing and his landlady. The apartment he lives in is situated in the basement of the landlady’s house, and it is cold and damp. The landlady keeps complaining about things, such as the fact that his three-year-old daughter sometimes plays outside. At the learning centre they do not want to hear about this and believe it not to be so bad. As the landlady also complains about the researchers’ parking in quite an unreasonable manner, we are inclined to believe that she is a difficult landlady to deal with. We can see a lot of things that are not ideal in Pierre’s life in Fjordbotn. When he goes to the shop, he says that he tries to do this as quickly as possible, so as to not annoy anyone, and if he needs to bring his daughter, he is nervous that people will not think she behaves well. He feels uncertain about his future in Norway, and every time the researchers speak to him, he feels increasingly uncertain that the future will bring any opportunities for him and his family. The fact that he is often not allowed to convey his thoughts and experiences, due to the monolingual ideology of Fjordbotn learning centre, might play a role in this situation.

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5.6.2 Østby: Pedagogical translanguaging

Østby is a small town in the east of Norway with around 30,000 inhabitants. Both Naomi and Zépherin are enrolled at this learning centre. Naomi is aged around 50 and is settled in Norway with four of her eight children. Her linguistic repertoire consists of Kinyabwisha, Swahili and French. Zépherin is aged around 40, and is settled in Norway with his wife and four children. His linguistic repertoire is composed of Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French and English. Both Naomi and Zépherin completed secondary school in DRC. At the beginning of their settlement in Østby, they are placed in the same introduction group, but are later placed in different groups, as Zépherin is now learning Norwegian a bit faster than Naomi. Østby learning centre differs from the two other learning centres in many ways. Although Østby is a small town, even by Norwegian standards, it is located at the edge of Norway’s most densely populated area to the east. The learning centre has around 400 language learners from Østby, as well as the surrounding municipalities, and around 70 teachers. Østby learning centre is a popular workplace, and it attracts teachers with high formal competences. The main teacher of the introduction course, Eva, is highly educated, as she holds a master’s degree, and her linguistic repertoire includes Arabic, as well as English and Norwegian, and some basics from other European languages, such as French. In her teaching she makes use of much of her own linguistic repertoire, as well as that of the students. The introduction class is quite large, and sometimes Eva has other teachers assisting her in her teaching. Some of them also have varied linguistic repertoires, of which they make use in the classroom. A typical start to the day in Eva’s classroom is that she introduces a topic in Norwegian, making notes on the blackboard of all the new concepts that are introduced. She then returns to these concepts, explaining them by using all the relevant parts of her repertoire, and asking students to translate for each other. For example, she explains something in English for Zépherin, who in turn translates it into French for Naomi and some other French-speaking students. For other students, she explains the concepts in Arabic, and one of the supporting teachers explains them in Spanish for a Spanish-speaking student. Even though the focus all the way through is on learning Norwegian, the class plays on several linguistic resources. Eva explains to the researchers that she believes it is important to acknowledge both the students’ linguistic repertoires and their prior knowledge. She encourages them to take pride in their linguistic repertoires, often asking them how they would express themselves in other languages, and shows a great deal of interest in their answers. As Eva is, in fact, very interested in languages, often expressing that she wished she were proficient in more languages than she already is, it seems the students perceive that she appreciates their competences. This manifests itself

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through the fact that the students display their language competences in many situations, for example on the thank-you card given to Eva at the end of the spring term (Figure 5.1).

Figure 5.1 End-of-year thank-you card from students to the teacher Eva

Eva and many of the other teachers at Østby learning centre differ from the teachers at Fjordbotn and Rørøy in that they are engaged in multilingualism, and believe that students should be able to make use of their entire linguistic repertoire. They talk about the importance of recognising ‘the mother tongue’. Although Eva plays on the participants’ entire linguistic repertoire in her classroom, and we would describe her approach as pedagogical translanguaging, we observe that, also at Østby, the notion of ‘the mother tongue’ is strong in courses in the Norwegian language for adult migrants. The learning materials often ask the students to translate Norwegian words into their mother tongue in writing, which creates interesting results for Zépherin, for example, as he does not write in what he declares to be his mother tongue. He uses different parts of his linguistic repertoire when he translates, making use of both English, French and Swahili, but not Kinyabwisha, which he refers to as his mother tongue. 5.6.3 Rørøy: A pragmatic, dialogic approach

Like Fjordbotn, Rørøy is a small municipality, albeit with around 8000 inhabitants. It is situated on an island in the west of Norway. When Simon, his wife Sarah and their five children were resettled in Rørøy, they were assigned to a separate course from the other language learners, since they were the only learning centre participants without any prior formal schooling or literacy skills. Simon and Sarah’s linguistic repertoire consists of what their interpreter Odile characterises as a mix between

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Kinyabwisha and Swahili. Odile has migrated to Norway from a neighbouring country to DRC, and speaks the same languages as Simon and Sarah, in addition to Norwegian. The recruitment of the interpreter Odile says a lot about the language ideologies of the teachers and the social worker in Rørøy. When Simon and Sarah were settled in Rørøy, the teachers and the social worker, Marius, had difficulties in communicating important information to them and in understanding Simon and Sarah when they communicated their needs. For the fi rst conversations with Simon and Sarah, they used a phone-based interpreting service, but they soon discovered that the interpreters were only partly able to translate the language of Simon and Sarah. The language of the interpreters was Kinyarwanda. This is mutually intelligible with Kinyabwisha, but as they did not also speak Swahili, they were not familiar with the full linguistic repertoire of Simon and Sarah. Also, Marius believed Simon and Sarah would need language assistance for other purposes than in conversations with the municipality’s social services, such as in language classes and to communicate with the staff at the kindergarten and their children’s school. As Rørøy is a small community, fi nding people that can communicate in both Kinyabwisha and Swahili was not an easy task, and Marius made a lot of enquiries in the local community. He describes his efforts to the researchers in a long narrative, focusing on how they tried to make life better for this family, who had been placed in a windy and scarcely populated community at the edge of the world. It is evident that Marius himself believes Rørøy to be the best place on Earth, but he also believes that it might be difficult for newly arrived migrants to take advantage of the benefits of the community. He believes his job is to make this possible. Through his enquiries he hears of Odile, who migrated to Norway some years previously, spoke Kinyabwisha and Swahili, was quite proficient in Norwegian, and on top of this, was also looking for a job. She was offered a part-time position as interpreter and language assistant for the family. Had this been economically possible in a small municipality, Marius expresses that he would have employed her full-time, as she would then have been able to assist more in the language classes. She is currently assisting for a couple of lessons per week, in addition to assisting the family in their communication with local institutions. The teacher responsible for the Norwegian language classes, Kathrine, is a young woman who holds a bachelor’s degree in social sciences. She is not a trained teacher and has not studied languages or language learning. Due to the size of the community, there are not many teachers to choose from, and when we asked Kathrine why she is the one teaching Norwegian and basic literacy to Simon and Sarah, she says: ‘because I was the only one who dared’. The reason this task was so challenging was that they had never had refugees like Simon and Sarah, who, for example, did not have basic literacy skills upon their arrival in Rørøy. When the researchers

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observe Kathrine’s lessons, we make quite a lot of notes of strange pedagogical choices. For example, Kathrine chooses to go straight to teaching basic literacy, without trying to establish a basic vocabulary in Norwegian. As a result, after five months in Norway, Simon and Sarah are not able to say basic things in Norwegian, such as presenting themselves, telling the time or asking for basic items when shopping (see Monsen, this volume). Most Norwegian language courses for adults start off with a basic vocabulary (Palm, 2019). However, this does not mean that Simon and Sarah have not learnt anything in Norwegian. It turns out that they have learnt quite a lot, but this is either vocabulary that can be spelt from the letters they have learnt so far, or words that they have asked to learn. As one of Kathrine’s core pedagogical principles in her own accord is that the classroom should be a good place to be for the participants, she usually spends some time teaching Simon and Sarah about things they want to be taught. Even though Simon and Sarah face quite a lot of challenges in Rørøy, especially since life there is very different from what they experienced prior to their resettlement, Sarah in particular is far more optimistic than Pierre about their life in Norway. Just like Pierre, they faced difficult living conditions at the beginning of their stay, as they lived in a rather cold house far from the centre where the learning centre and kindergarten were located. However, through their language assistant they could discuss their situation with teachers and the social worker. In fact, it seems many people are engaged in hoping the family can gain better living conditions. When we joined the parents as they picked up their three youngest children from kindergarten, they discussed the situation with the kindergarten staff, who was very engaged in the family’s struggles. 5.7 Multilingual Repertoires in Adult Language Training in Norway

As we have seen, UNESCO puts great emphasis on language learning for migrants in order to reduce inequality. Norwegian policies connect language learning very strongly to integration, and even require migrants to pass language tests if they want to gain citizenship (Carlsen & Moe, 2019). In this light, it is worth noting that teaching practices vary between adult learning centres, and hence also the opportunities to acquire the language skills needed to pass these tests. As Steien and Monsen mention in the introductory chapter (cf. 1.1), more knowledge about forced migrants’ language learning could have a potential social impact. In this chapter, we have seen variation in how participants’ various linguistic repertoires are included in classroom practices. Within critical pedagogy and translanguaging theory, it is emphasised that taking the language learners’ existing linguistic knowledge as a starting point gives scope to expand their linguistic repertoire in meaningful and liberating ways. Furthermore, an experience of one’s own language as ‘that of the Other’ and perceiving oneself as

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‘the Other’ can be interpreted as a result of a construction of the subject in a field where one’s own language has low status (Derrida, referenced in Busch, 2012: 515). García and Li (2014: 3) emphasise that actions of translanguaging can help to counteract such discursive constructions and categorisations, and have the potential to give people a voice and change the balance of power. Only one of the learning centres in our data employs a multilingual practice. This learning centre has highly qualified teachers who make theoretically informed decisions. Their teaching practice can be described as translingual and dialogic. From what the researchers can gather, this empowers and gives voice to the course participants, manifesting itself in the fact that they are investing in their language training. Obviously, as refugees are resettled all over Norway, also in sparsely populated areas, and as many teachers of adult migrants lack formal competences (Berg, 2015), not all the refugees in our study meet highly qualified teachers. The teachers at Fjordbotn have the same hopes for the participants, but rather than being informed by research, it seems they are informed by the monolingual bias that we can also see manifested in policies (Blackledge & Creese, 2010; Brochmann & Midtbøen, 2020). In the case of Pierre, this seems to result in anxiety and diminishing hope for the future. However, a lack of formal competences does not necessarily manifest itself in a monolingual ideology. The pragmatic approach taken at Rørvik learning centre seems to be informed by their experiences along the way of what works. Their approach is also dialogic, and the reason they know what is working and what is not is often that they are able to communicate with Sarah and Simon and get their perspective. This does not mean that Sarah and Simon do not encounter obstacles in their learning (see Monsen, this volume), but they at least have opportunities to express themselves and use their linguistic repertoires as a resource for learning and communicating in society. Although there are several reasons to believe that teachers with formal qualifications are better equipped to ensure high-quality language teaching, we should also recognise the impact of communities such as Rørøy, which make pragmatic decisions to make this work for newly arrived inhabitants, and perhaps also unqualified teachers such as Kathrine – who dared. References Auer, P. (2007) The monolingual bias in bilingualism research, or: Why bilingual talk is (still) a challenge for linguistics. In M. Heller (ed.) Bilingualism: A Social Approach (pp. 319–345). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Berg, L. (2015) Voksenlæreres kompetanse og kompetansebehov. See https://www.kompetansenorge.no/contentassets/d52b7a3aa82843abae9145e63bafcad6/voksenlarernes_ kompetanse_og_kompetansebehov.pdf. Berthoff, A.E. (1987) Foreword. In P. Freire and D.P. Macedo (eds) Literacy: Reading the World and the World (pp. xv–xxvii). South Hadley, MA: Bergin & Garvey Publishers.

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García, O. and Li, W. (2014) Translanguaging: Language, Bilingualism and Education. New York: Palgrave Macmillian. García, O., Johnson, S.I. and Seltzer, K. (2017) The Translanguaging Classroom: Leveraging Student Bilingualism for Learning. Philadelphia, PA: Caslon. Gee, J.P. (2015) Social Linguistics and Literacies: Ideology in Discourses. Abingdon: Routledge. Giroux, H.A. (1988) Schooling and the Struggle for Public Life: Critical Pedagogy in the Modern Age. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Integreringsloven [Integration Act] (2021) Lov om integrering gjennom opplæring utdanning og arbeid (LOV-2020-11-06-127). See https://lovdata.no/dokument/NL/ lov/2020-11-06-127. Irvine, J.T. and Gal, S. (2009) Language ideology and linguistic diff erentiation. In A. Duranto (ed.) Linguistic Anthropology: A Reader (pp. 402–434). West Sussex: Wiley Blackwell. May, S. (2014) Disciplinary divides, knowledge construction, and the multilingual turn. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL, and Bilingual Education (pp. 7–31). Abingdon: Routledge. Meek, M. (1987) Foreword to this edition. In P. Freire and D.P. Macedo (eds) Literacy: Reading the Word and the World (pp. vii–x). South Hadley, MA: Bergin & Garvey Publishers. Milani, T. (2010) Den svenska mediedebatten om språkkrav för medborgarskap ur ett språkideologiskt perspektiv. Nordand: Nordisk tidsskrift for andrespråksforskning 1 (5), 7–26. Palm, K. (2019) Grunnleggende lese- og skriveoplæring når norsk er andrespråket. In E. Selj and E. Ryen (eds) Med språklige minoriteter i klassen: Språklige og faglige utfordringer (pp. 133–151). Oslo: Cappelen Damm Akademisk. Randen, G.T. and Vesteraas Danbolt, A.M. (2018) Metaspråklig bevissthet og andrespråkslæring i skolen. In A.K. Gujord and G.T. Randen (eds) Norsk som andrespråk perspektiver på læring og utvikling (pp. 311–335). Oslo: Cappelen Damm Akademisk. Tkachenko, E., Romøren, A.S.H. and Garmann, N.G. (2021) Translanguaging strategies in superdiverse mainstream Norwegian ECEC: Opportunities for home language support. Journal of Home Language Research 4 (1), 1–13. UNESCO (2015) Education 2013: Incheon Declaration and Framework for Action for the implementation of Sustainable Development Goal 4 - Ensure inclusive and equitable quality education and promote lifelong learning opportunities for all. See https:// unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000245656.

6 Resettling Literacies: The Case of Sarah and Simon Marte Monsen

The literacy of adult migrants with interrupted or no prior schooling, called LESLLA (Literacy Education and Second Language Learning for Adults), has been deemed a challenging topic within the fields of both research and practice (Alver & Dregelid, 2001; Crowther & Tett, 2011; Hvenekilde et al., 1996; Monsen, 2015; Randen et al., 2018). In this chapter, I explore the literacy regimes that exist within the lived experiences of Sarah and Simon, who are resettlement refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). Sarah and Simon live in Norway’s western municipality of Rørøy, with their five children, and are participants in the mandatory Introduction Programme. Many factors influence how Sarah and Simon manoeuvre with their literacy resources in society and, as we will see, the respective experience of the two spouses differs when it comes to the possibilities of using literacy resources that count in the society in which they are resettled. 6.1 Research into Basic Literacy and Adults

Research of basic literacy instruction for adults in Norway has shown many depressing results. Teaching is characterised by teachers and participants not always understanding each other. Participants’ previous skills and experience are not recognised, they are not given sufficient practice to become functional readers and writers before they are placed in a class with participants who can already read and, fi nally, the training seldom succeeds in contributing to the participants actually being able to read and write at the end of training (Alver & Dregelid, 2001; Franker & Skeppstedt, 2007; Monsen 2015). The research emphasises that we know too little about how literacy education works for those concerned. In this chapter, I will therefore take an emic perspective, i.e. examine reality as it is experienced and described by the learners themselves. Emic perspectives have already informed some studies in the European context. Franker (Franker, 2013; Franker & Skeppstedt, 2007) maintains that literacy instruction for adult migrants is often characterised by a 86

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discourse of deficit, where the learners are described in terms of what they are not able to do. She maintains that literacy instruction that does not recognise the experience and cultural identity of the learners can lead to marginalisation and identity crisis. Focusing specifically on identity, other researchers have found that discourses of deficit and positioning the adult learners as ‘the Other’ have led to frustration among the learners (Carlson, 2002; Zachrison, 2014). In a similar vein, Larrotta and Serrano (2011) highlight the need to acknowledge adult learners’ funds of knowledge, i.e. their personal histories, motivations, strategies, etc. that can help them move forward in their learning. Recently, researchers have also been preoccupied with adult learners’ emergent literacy outside the additional language classroom. In a study investigating ten additional language learners’ Facebook interactions, D’Agostino and Mocciaro (2021) demonstrate that these learners engage in practices which enhance their literacy competence, because they are able to adopt strategies that reflect the general process of acquisition in naturalistic contexts. However, these strategies do not pay off in the formal school context, and D’Agostino and Mocciaro suggest that both research and teaching should take account of the new contexts in which different forms of literacy are experienced and learned outside school. In the current study, I seek to investigate literacy both inside and outside the school context. 6.2 Literacy Across Time and Space

Basic reading and writing instruction is often called ‘alphabetisation’ (alfabetisering) in Norwegian legislation and education plans, as we can see from the curriculum1 (VOX, 2012). However, ‘alphabetisation’ is a controversial concept, as it might imply that learners have no prior literacy knowledge before they are ‘alphabetised’. Before that point, they are ‘analfabeter’, or illiterate, as is the common English term. The concept of illiteracy is also controversial. In a discussion of the concept of literacy, Barton (2007: 20–21) points out that, historically, it is the concept of illiteracy that is unmarked, in the sense that it is frequently used and also naturalised, which means that the use of the word is not problematised, but is considered an essential and natural description of people who cannot read and write themselves. Barton gives several examples of how there are problems associated with considering literacy solely as an individual skill. In many literate societies, people without their own reading and writing skills still live well. They have networks that help them where needed, and they have their role in society, through other skills that are valued. They are treated as equals. Even though they cannot read and write themselves, they orient themselves in a society where writing and other sign systems are central, so that illiterate may not be an adequate term. In cases where people without reading and writing skills are not treated as equals, other factors also come into play, such as poverty,

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maintains Barton (2007: 188–189). Unlike Sarah and Simon in the present study, the participants in Barton’s studies have all been part of written language communities throughout their lives. Sarah and Simon’s life in the DRC and in the refugee camp in Uganda was different. Neither they nor the people close to them related to written language on an everyday basis, so that, at least by their own account, it was only after they came to Norway that they experienced being persons without basic reading and writing skills in a written language-based society. This is not to say that the DRC is a society where literacy does not play a role. In fact, as Blommaert (2008) shows, with data from the DRC, that literacy and what counts as valuable literacy varies across time and space: ‘literacy products – texts and documents – move from one society into another in an ever-intensifying flow. What is correct in one society becomes an error in another society; what is perfectly appropriate writing in one place becomes a meaningless sign system in another’ (Blommaert, 2008: 6). Blommaert develops the concept of Grassroots literacy to grasp ‘a wide variety of “non-elite” forms of writing’ (2008: 8). This is the writing of people who are not fully part of the information, language and literacy of what Blommaert refers to as elite economies. Whether these grassroots literacies are recognised as valuable resources in the host communities might influence the extent to which learners invest in language learning, and in this context reading and writing. The construct of investment was coined to capture the complex interaction between the individual learner and the target social world and refers to ‘learners’ variable desires to engage in social interaction and community practices’ (Norton, 2013: 9). The dynamics of learners’ investment in the target language must be understood as an interplay between identities, language ideologies and symbolic and/or economic capital (Darvin & Norton, 2016). A major fundament of the investment construct is Bourdieu’s concept of capital (Bourdieu, 1982), and this might be particularly relevant in the context of this chapter. Norton argues that learners will invest in the target language if they believe that such investment will provide them with a wider range of symbolic and/or material resources. Adult learners already have capital when they start learning the new language, but might struggle to convert it into valuable resources in the target social world. This is perhaps especially true for adults without prior schooling who settle in the north. Language and literacy are forms of symbolic capital in the sense that possessing certain linguistic resources might give access to and legitimise positions in the target social world. 6.3 Context and Data

The data used in the analysis in this chapter were collected over several days by the author and Guri Bordal Steien, as well as master’s student Florian Gorqaj, 2 and consist of field notes from meetings with Sarah,

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Simon and their family, as well as the interpreter and assistant Odile at home and in connection with picking up the three youngest children from the kindergarten. The data also consist of field notes from conversations with Odile, the refugee consultant Marius and the teacher Kathrine, and fi eld notes from observations of language and reading instruction. Furthermore, the data consist of recordings from unstructured conversations with Sarah, Simon and Odile and of unstructured interviews with Kathrine. All of these data originate from physical meetings and interactions. In addition, the data consist of digital interactions between one of the researchers and Sarah, on the WhatsApp and Messenger platforms. At the time of this study, Sarah is around 30 years of age and Simon around 40. The present study is situated in and around Sarah and Simon’s reading, writing and language training during their fi rst 18 months in Norway, and the understandings that are formulated must be read in this light. Furthermore, as the author is not able to understand any of the language repertoires of Sarah and Simon, who speak Kinyabwisha and Swahili, I rely on the interpreter (Odile). As much as I want to represent the perspectives of Sarah and Simon, both the reader and I need to be aware that the representation is filtered through the translations, and as such has gone through several stages of interpretation. This interpretation will also be influenced by the fact that for several years I have worked as an additional language teacher for adult migrants. For example, the reader will see that I have certain expectations regarding what the focus of reading and writing training for adult migrants should be. 6.4 Investing in ‘R-U-M-P-E’: The Case of Sarah

When the author meets Sarah for the fi rst time, Sarah says that she thrives in Rørøy, but that there are some challenges when the family of seven have to get to and from school, kindergarten and adult education, since the house they live in during the first months is located far from these institutions. They have to take a bus that comes once an hour. At that time, Sarah has started learning to tell the time, but she can still only do full hours. The bus they catch to travel home from adult education and kindergarten runs at five to every full hour. Sometimes they arrive late and have to wait an hour for the next bus. Even though this is a challenge, Sarah describes the joy of going to school. Odile says that Sarah is a fast learner and that she is becoming good at writing. Sarah nods and confirms that this makes her a little proud. Teacher Kathrine later tells us that Sarah is making great progress with her writing. Sarah, Odile and Kathrine repeatedly state that Sarah therefore has bright prospects when it comes to achieving professional employment in Norway. As Odile puts it: ‘She is young and she is clever’. There were some challenges when Sarah and her family came to Rørøy, according to Marius. Since the family previously lived in a society

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where neither electricity, running water, clocks, reading and writing, nor frost, rain and wind were part of their everyday lives, there were challenges associated with moving to a windswept island community, where everyday life requires navigation of all these elements. Marius’ challenges were related particularly to communicating with the family, because he had to use an interpreter by telephone, and on top of that, an interpreter who does not master the combination of Kinyabwisha and Swahili spoken by the family. Marius describes the great relief he experienced when he found Odile. He says that he heard that there was a woman in the municipality who had come to Rørøy a few years earlier from one of the neighbouring countries to the DRC, who spoke the same languages as the family, and who was currently without work. Odile was therefore employed in a part-time position as an interpreter and assistant, who could help the municipality and the family to make their process of settling in at Rørøy easier. Odile expresses her great appreciation of this position and the tasks it entails. When the researchers talk to Sarah and Odile, we get the impression that we are talking to two friends. They joke a lot together, they ‘backbite’ people they think behave awkwardly, they talk a little about clothes and hair, and they discuss everyday challenges. They spend some time complaining about the teacher who is employed to follow up the two oldest children at the school. According to Odile and Sarah, this teacher seems to speak condescendingly to everyone, and the children do not like her. She sends long text messages describing what the parents must send with the children to school, and she complains about the quality of the clothes the children bring with them. As a researcher with a background in Norwegian language teaching for adults, I am fi rst surprised by some of the features of the reading and writing training Sarah and Simon receive. When the researchers visit Sarah and her husband’s home after they have lived in Norway for five months, we try to speak Norwegian with them in the same way as we would with others who had five months of residence. We expect that they can present themselves, and that they can use words for things that in the curriculum are referred to as belonging to the personal domain (VOX, 2012), such as foods and body parts. In the conversation with Sarah and her husband, however, only selected words from these domains seem familiar, or are mastered productively by Sarah. For example, Sarah points to her nose and pronounces ‘nase’ (‘nose’), but neither ‘kinn’ (‘cheek’), ‘øye’ (‘eye’), nor ‘øre/øyre’ (‘ear’) are familiar words. When I point to my mouth, Sarah smiles broadly and says ‘smil’ (‘smile’). She has words for ‘arm’ (‘arm’), but not for ‘bein’ (‘leg’), ‘hånd’ (‘hand’) or ‘mage’ (‘stomach’), for example. On the other hand, Sarah knows the word ‘rumpe’ (‘butt’), which she herself introduces in the conversation. Sarah also masters words that are probably central to the wet and windy reality the family currently live in, for instance words for outerwear, such as

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‘regntøy’ (‘rainwear’) and ‘støvler’ (‘boots’). Sarah also fi nds a writing book, where she, with a little help, writes different words, such as her name, ‘nase’, ‘arm’ and ‘rumpe’. When we take part in the next day’s teaching, we eventually get an explanation for the somewhat strange selection of Norwegian words that Sarah masters. The teacher Kathrine has neither teacher training nor Norwegian as a second language as her subject area. She has a bachelor’s degree in a social sciences subject, and the reason she is Sarah’s and Simon’s teacher is, as she herself puts it, that she is the only one among the teachers who dares (see also Monsen & Eek, this volume). We observe one day of Kathrine’s reading and writing training. She has planned to introduce a new letter: k. They have previously worked with the letters s, a, m, e, l, i, n, o, r and t. It gradually dawns on us that Kathrine, contrary to what is often recommended (Palm, 2019; VOX, 2012), has started directly on the basic reading and writing training, without fi rst building an oral base for literacy learning, such as converting phonemes to graphemes, and vice versa. The words Sarah and Simon learn orally are thus basically just words that can be built from the letters they have learned in the reading and writing instruction. In the classroom, we observe a kind of word dictation, where Sarah will put up letter pieces with the words Kathrine says. Kathrine reads ‘arm’ (‘arm’), ‘tre’ (‘tree’) and ‘sko’ (‘shoe’). Sarah spells ‘arm’, ‘ter’ and ‘sok’. Since Sarah has wrongly spelt two words that Kathrine considers to be easy, Kathrine believes the word ‘tomat’ (tomato) will be difficult, and she says: ‘Now you get a difficult word: tomat’, whereupon, to Kathrine’s surprise, Sarah pretty quickly writes ‘tomat’. This is one of several visible examples of Kathrine not being trained in such topics as basic reading and writing instruction, or Norwegian in a contrastive perspective. If she had, she would probably have been taught that syllables with a consonant (C) consonant vowel (V) structure are usually more difficult to acquire than syllables with a CVC structure (Monsen & Randen, 2017: 51; Syvertsen, this volume). However, following the literacy textbook from cover to cover is not the only principle Kathrine follows in her training. We notice that both the learning centre and the classroom are nicely decorated. Candles are lit at a coffee and tea table in the corridor outside the classroom, and in the classroom there is a light atmosphere. At other learning centres we have visited in this project, we noticed that the atmosphere could sometimes be heavy and that the relationship between teachers and participants is less symmetrical than in Kathrine’s classroom. When we talk to her after class, she emphasises that the atmosphere should be light, partly because she experiences that the lives of the refugees are otherwise characterised by difficulties and worries. She expresses that she wants the classroom to be a free space, and I take this to be another of Katherine’s pedagogical principles. A third principle is that she tends to break with the principle of following the textbook if there are words or phenomena the students

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would like to learn about. She talks about this when we wonder why Sarah knows many other words than those that can be spelled with the 11 letters they have learned, and in particular why she can write ‘rumpe’ (‘butt’). ‘Rumpe’ was one of several words Sarah really wanted to learn, says Kathrine. She says this in an apologetic way, as if she thinks she has done something wrong by breaking with the order in the textbook in this way. In sum, Kathrine’s training seems to follow at least three principles: follow the textbook in literacy, create a free space in the classroom, and let the participants influence what the training is about. During the coronavirus lockdown, in some periods the researchers were not able to visit Sarah and Simon. In these periods, however, Sarah communicates with one of them on digital platforms. On her cellphone, she uses the WhatsApp and Messenger apps. Sarah herself initiates the conversation, sending pictures and videos of the last visit by the researchers. One of the videos is of the researchers and Simon, carrying the kindergarten children, running to catch the bus. For several months Sarah spontaneously sends pictures of herself and the family, while the researcher replies with either pictures of her own family, or with emojis. Five months after she started the picture conversation on WhatsApp, Sarah writes: ‘Hei Dubra Familienbra’ (‘Hi Youwell Familywell’), to which the researcher answers ‘Hei! Veldig bra. Håper alt er bra der også!’ (‘Hi! Very well! Hope all is well there too!’). Sarah then writes: ‘Simonogsarah Barn Bradetbra!’ (‘Simonandsarah Children Wellitwell!’). After they have established that all is well with both families, Sarah goes on to write that ‘idageri *stedsnavn*’ (‘todayisin *name of place*’), and through the following conversation, the researcher is able to understand that the family has (finally!) moved to a home in the centre of Rørøy, making life easier for the family. The digital conversations between Sarah and the researcher continue on two platforms. This mainly focuses on polite conversations about the well-being of the families, but changes and is increasingly more complex and in line with Norwegian written norms. About one year after the initial WhatsApp conversation, Sarah writes ‘Hei Kordetgår med familien’ (‘Hi Howisit with the family’). The focus is the same: ‘How is it with the family’, but the difference is that she writes in the local vernacular of Rørøy (‘kor det går’ rather than ‘hvordan går det’), and she follows with more of the local vernacular, spelt as the locals would. At this point, Sarah is doing the same as many Norwegians do, which is using the local vernacular on digital platforms and social media (Røyneland & Vangsnes, 2020). 6.5 ‘Days of Routines and Rules’: The Case of Simon

Before he came to Norway, Simon, who lived as a farm worker, was highly aware that Norway is very different from what he was used to in Rutshuru, his home province in DRC. One thing of which he was certain

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is that he would not be working on a farm in Norway. In a conversation with the researcher in Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, he says: ‘I heard that it is a country where people they don’t dig using a hoe’. He is quite certain that his farming skills cannot be transferred to Norway, and he says he is willing to do whatever job he can get. He thinks that he will be able to learn the language, because he will be taught it in school. He is very much looking forward to being able to go to school, as this has not been possible for him before. However, it turns out that learning Norwegian in Rørøy is quite difficult. Even though Sarah and Simon generally have the same support system in Rørøy, they experience adjusting to the literacy regime in Norway very differently. Like his wife, Simon says that he thrives in Rørøy, mainly because it is a place where he feels safe, but he also refers to the challenges involved. When we interview him after five months in Norway, he fi nds daily life cumbersome, as they have to take the bus to travel to the learning centre, deliver and collect children, and buy groceries. However, he is proud that they are even able to make it work, as the first time they encountered a bus was when they were told about it at the cultural orientation in Kiangwali Refugee Settlement in Uganda. He says that he never would have thought he would be able to use a strictly scheduled bus service like that. He states, however, that he is not able to tell the time, so at this point it is his wife Sarah who tries to make sure they get the bus in time. For Simon, life in Norway seems very organised and scheduled, ‘nesten som om det er lovpålagt’ (‘almost as if it is required by law’). Everything here must be done in a specific order and at a particular time. This is quite different from his previous life, and he fi nds it difficult. When he is asked whether some of his previous knowledge will be of use to him in Norway, he is quite sure that it will not: ‘Jeg har kun drevet med jordbruk. Det blir vanskelig å gjøre noe av det her. Det er samtidig ikke noe jeg ønsker å drive med. Hvis jeg skulle drevet med det i Norge også blir det som å gjøre det samme jeg gjorde - noe jeg gikk vekk i fra’ (‘I have only farmed. It’s going to be difficult to do any of this here. At the same time, it is not something I want to do. If I were to do it in Norway as well, it would be like doing the same thing I did – something I walked away from’). After the cultural orientation, it seems Simon has been clear about the fact that life in Norway will differ so much from what he has experienced before that he will have to start from scratch. He seems hesitant to talk about his previous life, and he does not want to go back to doing what he did before. He is looking forward to learning Norwegian so that he might be able to fi nd work in Norway, although whether he believes he has any possibilities, and what these possibilities might be, changes over time. The last time he talks about this, he thinks his only opportunity might be working in the fishing industry. The language course does not seem to be as successful for Simon as it is for Sarah. When we meet him five months into the programme, he says

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that he fi nds it difficult to remember the words they have been taught at school, and he says that he is not able to write anything yet. Odile is trying to help him to use his phone, but at this point he is not able to make use of it without help. About a year into the programme, he describes difficulties in learning: ‘Vi lærer å lese og skrive samtidig. Det er enklere å skrive enn å snakke. Jeg kan skrive noe, men synes det er vanskelig å lese det jeg skriver selv. Jeg prøver å lese med en gang det jeg har skrevet for å se om jeg gjør det riktig’ (‘We learn to read and write at the same time. It is easier to write than to talk. I can write something, but I think it is difficult to read what I have written myself. I try to read it as soon as I have written something to see if I do it correctly’). It is obvious that the way they are trying to teach him Norwegian does not work well for Simon, as he is not able to talk much, or to read what he is writing. The way he talks about his reading and writing suggests to me that he has not really gained a firm grasp of the shape of the letters, and certainly not of the connection between sound and symbol. He would need to have more support in and opportunities to communicate verbally in Norwegian. At this point, Simon does not believe he will be able to learn enough Norwegian to get a job in two years’ time, according to the plan within the Introduction Programme. Simon has digital skills from before he moved to Norway. When he lived in Uganda, he had a ‘Chinese model’ smartphone. He used it to communicate with friends. In order for him to fi nd the right number to call, somebody in the camp would help him connect numbers to symbols, so that he, for example, would know that a bicycle was the symbol for a certain contact. Today, however, contrary to his wife and his oldest children, Simon only communicates digitally to a limited extent. He uses his mobile phone to call friends, but he depends on teachers or others to save new contacts on his phone. He trains on a computer at school once a week, but in his private life he does not use a screen. He tells us that only his children watch television and use an iPad. When communicating digitally, Simon depends on others. This seems to resonate well with his prior habitus, as he is used to a life where people are dependent on each other. Much in line with Blommaert’s (2008) grassroot literacies, and Barton’s (2007) depiction of literacy, Simon makes use of symbolic artefacts in everyday life, although he is not personally literate in the common sense. As he has noted himself, this form of literacy will probably not serve well in a society that demands great individual skills when it comes to both literacy in general and digital literacy in particular. 6.6 Discussion and Conclusion

Even though Sarah and Simon might be stereotypes of people who are referred to as illiterate, we have observed that they are and have been agents in societies that include some kind of literacy. Simon already used

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a cell phone in Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, where he got help with connecting the phone numbers to symbols he could associate with the people he needed to contact. However, Sarah and Simon’s grassroots literacies are resources that they might struggle to convert into capital in Norwegian society. That being said, after 18 months in Norway, it seems that Sarah encounters fewer barriers than Simon when it comes to using her literacy resources and investing in developing them. So: How come Sarah invests in literacy learning? It seems that resettling in Rørøy has provided Sarah with new opportunities that she has been able to seize. Sarah has not said much about her life prior to resettling in Norway, but as a mother of five children under the age of eight, we know that life in Kyangwali Refugee Settlement will have been a daily struggle of caring for children and providing enough food. While Simon struggles with the highly regulated life in Norway, this life has made it possible for Sarah to imagine a life beyond taking care of the family. A prominent feature of the situation surrounding Sarah’s reading and writing training is that she is offered and takes subject positions as an equal person, who has perceptions and opinions that are worth listening to, who has a sense of humour and who has agency. She is also positioned as someone who is clever. Through Odile, she has a friend with whom she can vent frustrations, joke and laugh, and an assistant who can facilitate communication with school, kindergarten and learning centre, so that she avoids misunderstandings, is understood and can communicate wishes and needs. Odile has been through some of the same experiences as a new refugee in Rørøy, and Sarah’s experiences encounter reverberation and recognition. When Sarah expresses how she fi nds it difficult to live so far from the centre, she is not rejected, but receives support and recognition from both Odile and Marius, and also from the staff in the kindergarten and at the learning centre. Teacher Kathrine and the others at the learning centre also help to position Sarah as equal. Sarah and her husband are important enough to make the learning space neat and cosy when they arrive. The candles are lit, and the tea is ready. Kathrine adds a light mood. She and Sarah have many humorous moments. Sarah is given both challenges and support. Kathrine follows a specific plan, but Sarah can influence the plan by expressing wishes for things she wants to learn and how she wants to work with them. The importance of humour in language learning has been explored by many researchers (e.g. by Bell, 2005), often by exploring how verbal humour can support language development, among other things by increasing the sociolinguistic competence of language users. In this context, I would argue that humour supports language learning in a more indirect way. The humour between Kathrine and Sarah is only verbal to a limited extent. Much of the humour is about laughing at written mistakes that are made (for example, when Kathrine reads ‘les’ [‘read’] but writes

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‘sel’ [‘seal’]), but it is sometimes also based solely on eye contact and body language. Sarah might have wanted to learn ‘rumpe’ because it was fun, or because it was useful to be able to say and write. Either way, there is something humorous and teasing when she says and writes ‘rumpe’ when we are present. One of the functions of humour in the teaching situation is to create a symmetrical relationship, where Sarah is positioned as a conversation partner you can joke with, someone who can be funny. Because they have a larger common linguistic repertoire to play on, the humour Sarah shares with Odile is naturally more advanced. I would assume that it serves as a kind of valve to release and process difficult experiences, as many of us experience humour, but also here it establishes Sarah and Odile as equal conversation partners. But while Sarah invests in literacy learning; how can it be that Simon does not? When Norton (2013) introduced the investment framework, she showed how the concept of motivation was not enough to explain why some people engaged more strongly in language learning than others. According to Norton, people can be highly motivated, but still struggle to invest in language learning. This seems to be true for Simon. When he is talking to the researcher in Kyangwali, prior to travelling to Norway, he is both happy to be able to go to school and convinced that the fact that he can do this will make language learning easy. He is also clearly motivated to fi nd work in Norway and is willing to do whatever Norwegian society will ask of him. It seems, however, that the capital he brings with him is not valued in Norway, and 18 months into the Introduction Programme, Simon struggles to relate to the systems of Norwegian society. Norton’s investment framework builds on Bourdieu (1982) and his work on capital. To understand why Simon’s capital does not count in Norwegian society, we can turn to an earlier work by Bourdieu (1963), where he describes the concept of precarity, built on Bourdieu’s research among work migrants from Algeria. Bourdieu points to lack of agency as a characteristic of precarity – the precarious workers’ lives are in the hands of chance – thus, their opportunities to influence their own destiny are limited. Bourdieu (1963: 353) points out that precarious conditions will influence a person’s capacity to make plans for the future, as the only constant in their lives might be discontinuity. Simon’s life as a refugee has been marked by discontinuity, and hence he is not at this point able to invest in a society where regularity and continuity are very much the norm, and where we have very little to offer people outside this paradigm. We do not yet know what the future will bring for Simon and Sarah. Resettling their grassroots literacies in the western part of Norway is a challenge for both, but due to different backgrounds and different experience in Norway their current situation with regard to investment in literacy differs.

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Notes (1) From 2021, there is a new curriculum in Norwegian language training for adult migrants, but the participants in our study are trained according to the old curriculum. (2) Florian’s master’s thesis is available through the library at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences.

References Alver, V. and Dregelid, K.M. (2001) Er vi på rett vei nå? Opplæring for analfabeter i Norge. In K. Nauclér (ed.) Symposium 2000: Ett andraspråksperspektiv på lärande (pp. 258–276). Stockholm: Sigma. Barton, D. (2007) Literacy: An Introduction to the Ecology of Written Language. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing. Bell, N.D. (2005) Exploring L2 language play as an aid to SLL: A case study of humour in NS–NNS interaction. Applied Linguistics 26 (2), 192–218. Blommaert, J. (2008) Grassroots Literacy: Writing, Identity and Voice in Central Africa. Abingdon: Routledge. Bourdieu, P. (1982) Ce que parler veut dire: l’économie des échanges linguistiques. Paris: Fayard. Bourdieu, P. (1963) Travail et travailleurs ein Algérie. Paris: Mouton. Carlson, M. (2002) Svenska för invandrare–brygga eller gräns?: Syn på kunskap och lärande inom SFI-undervisningen. Lund: Studentlitteratur. Crowther, J. and Tett, L. (2011) Critical and social literacy practices from the Scottish adult literacy experience: Resisting deficit approaches to learning. Literacy 45 (3), 134–140. D’Agostino, M. and Mocciaro, E. (2021) Literacy and literacy practices: Plurilingual connected migrants and emerging literacy. Journal of Second Language Writing 51, 100792. Darvin, R and Norton, B. (2016) Investment and language learning in the 21st century. Langage et Societe 157 (3) 19-38. Franker, Q. (2013) Att utveckla litteracitet i vuxen ålder–alfabetisering i en flerspråkig kontext. In K. Hyltenstam and I. Lindberg (eds) Svenska som andraspråk: i forskning, undervisning och samhälle (pp. 771–815). Lund: Studentlitteratur. Franker, Q. and Skeppstedt, I. (2007) Alfabetiserings-utbildning i Norden: Slutrapport från kan-projektet: kartläggning av alfabetisering i Norden. Nationellt centrum fôr sfi och svenska som andraspråk (NC), Institutet för svenska som andraspråk (ISA). Hvenekilde, A. et al. (1996) Alfa og omega: Om alfabetiseringsundervisning for voksne fra språklige minoriteter. Oslo: Novus. Larrotta, C. and Serrano, A. (2011) Adult learners’ funds of knowledge: The case of an English class for parents. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy 55 (4), 316–325. Monsen, M. (2015) Andrespråksdidaktisk forskning på voksenopplæring i Norge: En oversikt fra 1985 til i dag. NOA: Norsk som andrespråk 1 (2), 273–390. Monsen, M. and Randen, G. (2017) Andrespråksdidaktikk: En innføring. Oslo: Cappelen Damm. Norton, B. (2013) Identity and Language Learning: Extending the Conversation (2nd edn). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Palm, K. (2019) Grunnleggende lese- og skriveoplæring når norsk er andrespråket. In E. Selj and E. Ryen (eds) Med språklige minoriteter i klassen: Språklige og faglige utfordringer (pp. 133–151). Oslo: Cappelen Damm Akademisk. Randen, G., Monsen, M., Steien, G., Hagen, K. and Pajaro, V. (2018) Norskopplæring for voksne innvandrere – en kunnskapsoppsummering. Oslo: Kompetanse Norge. See

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https://www.kompetansenorge.no/statistikk-og-analyse/publikasjoner/norskopplaringfor-voksne-innvandrere---en-kunnskapsoppsummering/ Røyneland, U. and Vangsnes, Ø.A. (2020) «Joina du kino imårgå?» Ungdommars dialektskriving på sosiale medium. Oslo Studies in Language 11 (2), 357–392. VOX (2012) Læreplan i norsk og samfunnskunnskap for voksne innvandrere. Oslo: VOX. Zachrison, M. (2014) Invisible Voices: Understanding the Sociocultural Influences on Adult Migrants’ Second Language Learning and Communicative Interaction. PhD thesis, Malmö University/Linköpings University.

Part 2 Language Practices, Knowledge and Learning

7 Syllable Structures in English Speech Produced by Multilingual Speakers with Histories of Mobility Ida Syvertsen

7.1 Introduction

Several refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) via Uganda to Norway have English in their linguistic repertoire. Although some have had some formal English teaching from DRC or Uganda, their English is mainly learnt through daily usage in Uganda. As one refugee explains, ‘in Uganda, everything is in English’. The refugees mention speaking English inter alia when buying groceries, communicating with friends from other places in the refugee camps and with governmental and international workers. In other words, their English has mainly been learnt informally (see Steien, this volume, for a longer discussion) during their 10 to 30 years in Uganda, a linguistic ecology (Haugen, 1972; Mufwene, 2001; see also Section 7.2 below) where English is very visible in daily life. Multilingual speakers ‘flexibly combine linguistic features’ they have in their repertoire (Jaspers & Madsen, 2019: 2). Since the refugees have Bantu languages in their repertoire, their English practices are likely unfamiliar to most English-speaking interlocutors with Norwegian as their dominant language. Norwegians are quite proficient in English, raking as number five among countries in Europe (Education First, 2020). However, Norwegians mainly use English for social media, popular culture, gaming, international tourism, higher education and international business (see e.g. Hellekjær, 2017; Røyneland et  al., 2018). These contexts bring Norwegians into contact with interlocutors mainly from the Global North1 and, thus, generally, few Bantu-speaking interlocutors. Furthermore, in Norway, monolingual practices are explicitly favoured (Røyneland et  al., 2018) and deviations from Standard English often 101

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penalised (Bøhn, 2016). This leads to potential for misunderstandings, like when, during her ethnographic work, Steien once asked ‘Who is Andy?’ in response to one of the refugees pronouncing and as [andi]. Moreover, studies of English as a lingua franca show that mutual intelligibility often breaks down if speakers reduce consonant clusters, especially in word-initial and word-medial clusters (see e.g. Deterding, 2013; O’Neal, 2015). Communicative challenges might, therefore, influence both language ideologies and attitudes towards the refugees themselves. This study explores syllable structures in the situated English practices of seven multilingual Congolese refugees with histories of mobility, seeking to answer the following research questions (RQs): RQ1: How do the participants pronounce words potentially ending in closed syllables? RQ2: How do the participants pronounce words with complex consonant clusters in writing? RQ3: What can their linguistic practices tell us about their preferred syllable structures? In Section 7.2, the ecologies and participants are presented. Next, Section 7.3 presents syllable theory, principles for syllable division, and descriptions of syllable structures in the relevant linguistic varieties. Section 7.4 presents and justifies methodological decisions and analytical challenges. Then, Section 7.5 presents the fi ndings before Section 7.6 analyses and discusses them and answers the RQs. Finally, the conclusion looks ahead and provides some suggestions for future research. 7.2 Ecologies and Participants

Linguistic ecology here refers to ‘socioeconomic and ethnographic environment in which a language has evolved’ and ‘systemic interaction of the linguistic codes in contact’ (Ansaldo, 2009: 4; Mufwene, 2001). In a linguistic ecology, the most similar and frequently used linguistic features from different pedigrees tend to survive over time (Mufwene, 2001, 2002). The ecologies of Uganda and Eastern Congo are dominated by Bantu languages, including e.g. Kinyabwisha, Luganda, Swahili, Runyoro, Runyankore and Lusoga (see e.g. Gordon, 2005; Namyalo et al., 2016). Furthermore, the former colonial languages, French and English, are present in the ecologies. The linguistic repertoires of the participants in this study reflect the complexity of these ecologies: all the participants have at least one Bantu language, English and often French in their repertoires (see Table 7.1). Language contact studies have shown that, over time, source language (SL) suprasegmental features dominate in linguistic practices when contact varieties develop in SL-dominated ecologies and continue to co-exist with them (see e.g. Gussenhoven & Udofot, 2010; Klein, 2013; Steien &

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Table 7.1 Overview of participants and their linguistic repertoires Participant

Repertoires

Christophe

Mashi, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Norwegian

Fidèle

Swahili, Kinyabwisha, English, Runyoro, Luganda, Norwegian

Koïs

Swahili and English, Norwegian

Lucas

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Runyoro, Luganda, Norwegian

Joseph

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Runyoro, Norwegian

Zépherin

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Runyoro, Norwegian

Pierre

Kinyabwisha, Swahili, French, English, Luganda, Runyoro, Norwegian

Yakpo, 2020; Yakpo, 2021). The participants’ English pronunciations are, therefore, likely to display suprasegmental patterns influenced by the Congolese and Ugandan ecologies. However, see Section 7.6.1 for a critical discussion on the related concept of L1 transfer. 7.3 Syllable Structures 7.3.1 Syllable theory

In this study, prominence theory (Jones, 1960) is used, where syllables are identified and counted according to sonority peaks (Cruttenden, 2014: 51). Since vowels have the highest sonority, presence of a vowel equals existence of a syllable. In polysyllabic words, four principles are used in Received Pronunciation (RP) phonotactics to analyse syllabification (Cruttenden, 2014: 52). Firstly, the morphemic principle determines syllable boundaries in polymorphemic words corresponding to morpheme boundaries. Thus, in e.g. restart the word-medial cluster /st/ belongs to the second syllable since it belongs to the root. Secondly, the phonotactic principle states that if a monosyllabic word can begin or end in a certain consonant, that consonant can be analysed as onset or coda in syllables, respectively. For instance, in a word like angle, we analyse /ŋ/ as coda in the first syllable, since no words can start with /ŋ/ in RP. The allophonic principle concerns what typically happens to vowels in the presence of certain consonants, e.g. vowels are often shortened when preceding a fortis consonant. Thus, in e.g. better, the fortis consonant /t/ is analysed as coda in the first syllable. Finally, in doubtful cases, the maximal onset principle can be used, where syllabically ambiguous consonants are analysed as onset in the following syllable. 7.3.2 Syllable structures in relevant linguistic varieties2

In this section, descriptions of the syllable structures in the dominant linguistic varieties in the ecologies of Eastern Congo and Uganda are

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presented. Firstly, Bantu syllable structures are presented. Secondly, Ugandan English syllable structures follow (see also Rørvik, this volume, for more on English in Uganda). Finally, syllable structures in African Frenches are presented. 7.3.2.1 Syllable structures in Bantu languages

In Bantu languages, ‘[s]yllables are presumed to have the canonical shape (N)CV(V)’3 (Odden, 2015: 2; see also Diprose, 2007; Hyman & Katamba, 1999). The CV structure leads to adaptation of loanwords according to typical Bantu syllable structure, ‘e.g. -jibu “answer” < Arabic jib; -skwizi “hug romantically” < English squeeze, starehe “relax” < Arabic -starih.’ (Wald, 2009: 901). Regarding phonotactic restrictions on syllables, ‘[a]s a general rule, Bantu languages do not have obvious syllable codas’ (Odden, 2015: 24). As for onset, Bantu languages permit two complex onset clusters: either a consonant followed by a glide, [j, w], (CG) or a nasal consonant followed by any consonant (NC) (Hyman, 2003; Odden, 2015; Wald, 2009). According to Odden (2015: 27), ‘[t]he only phonological argument that N is in the onset is that no words end in a consonant, even a nasal, which leads to the conclusion that syllables cannot end with consonants’ (Odden, 2015: 27). Wald (2009: 888) takes this argument further, stating that ‘in view of their historical evolution in various Bantu languages, the prenasalised series of Common Bantu should probably be treated phonologically as an independent series rather than as [an NC] cluster’. 7.3.2.2 Syllable structures in Ugandan English

English was fi rst introduced to the linguistic ecology of Uganda by British colonisers in the late nineteenth century. Throughout the colonial period, ‘English was established only in élitist circles when the colonial powers tried to regulate communication within the administrative, legal and education system’ and not enforced in any other parts of the ecology (Schmied, 2008: 152). Bantu languages, therefore, continued to co-exist and flourish (Schmied, 2008: 152–153). Post-independence, English was ‘expan[ded] down the social hierarchy’ (Schmied, 2008: 153). Like elsewhere when English has been introduced into pre-existing ecologies, Ugandan English has ‘acquir[ed] local characteristics’ (Mufwene, 2010: 47). These can be found on several levels of the phonological system and ‘seem to be the most persistent in African varieties, i.e. they are retained even in the speech of the most educated speakers’ (Schmied, 2008: 158). Schmied’s (2008: 158) explanation of this is that ‘in many languages pronunciation seems to be the most flexible element, which can be used (subconsciously) to express subtle sociolinguistic messages of speaker identity and of distance from or solidarity with the listener’. This is in line with sociolinguistic theories of indexicality, emphasising that ‘phonology provides meaningless elements to combine

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to yield meaningful elements, leav[ing] phonological units free to register distinctions in the collective co-existence that is the social world’ (Eckert & Labov, 2017: 469). In East African Englishes, including Ugandan English, there is a tendency to make word-final closed syllables into open syllables, by inserting a vowel. Schmied (2008: 162) explains that ‘[t]he vowels inserted or added are normally [ɪ] or [ʊ], depending on the occurrence of palatal or velar consonants in the environment (e.g. [hosɪpɪtalɪ] for hospital or [spɪrɪnɪ] for spring) or on vowel harmony (e.g. in [bʊkʊ] for book)’. In complex onset clusters, Bobda (2007: 415–416) maintains that, in African Englishes, ‘the common pattern of cluster simplification in syllable onsets is vowel insertion’, and, more specifically, ‘anaptixis (insertion between two consonants), as opposed to prothesis (insertion of a vowel before an initial consonant)’. This is interesting when compared to patterns in south Asian Englishes, where there is a preference for prothesis, ‘as in [ɪskul] school, [ɪsteʃan] station, [ɪspɪʧ] speech, [ɪsloθ] sloth’ (Bobda, 2007: 415–416; see also Kachru, 1986). Finally, complex coda clusters are simplified in African Englishes, using one of two strategies: ‘either … consonant deletion or … vowel insertion’, a ‘phenomenon [that] transcends sociolinguistic parameters like education and social class’ (Bobda, 2007: 417; Schmied, 2008). 7.3.2.3 Syllable structures in African Frenches

African Frenches are contact varieties with a similar colonial history as English in Africa. French is part of the ecologies of Eastern Congo and Uganda and might, thus, influence the participants’ English pronunciations. Empirical research into French in Burkina Faso, the Central African Republic, Ivory Coast, Mali, Senegal and Togo, places that are far apart from each other geographically, demonstrate that African Frenches mainly use CV and CVC syllable structures, without complex clusters (Nimbona & Steien, 2019: 53). Thus, it seems likely that the same phonotactic patterns are evident in French in Congo. In order to avoid closed syllables, word-fi nal consonants are regularly deleted, regardless of whether the consonant is an obstruent or a sonorant (Nimbona & Steien, 2019: 53). Moreover, epenthesis is normal to use in order to simplify complex clusters (Nimbona & Steien, 2019: 53). The vowel inserted is not random or mainly dominated by schwa. Instead, it is often the same vowel as found elsewhere in the word (Nimbona & Steien, 2019: 53).

7.4 Method and Data 7.4.1 Research design

The data collection in this study is designed as a Labovian-inspired sociolinguistic interview, eliciting pronunciations from different speaking

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styles (Drager, 2018; Labov, 2006). The interview took place within their fi rst two years of residence in Norway and included the following: (a) (b) (c) (d)

description of linguistic biographies; reading a word list; reading two short narratives; questions about everyday life and the Norwegian weather.

Observations of the whole material have influenced the foci and analyses, but the main data analysed here are the recordings of the word list (b) from all the participants. The word list contains 60 words, including 41 focus words. The focus words were chosen because they often are pronounced with consonant clusters and closed syllables in English accents worldwide. To complement the word list fi ndings from the whole group, one participant, Fidèle, was chosen as a special case to analyse linguistic behaviour across speaking styles (see points [c] and [d] above), because his syllable structures are often noted in Steien’s ethnographic field notes, e.g. his pronunciation of technology, [tekonoloʤi], with epenthesis in the word-medial consonant cluster [kn] (Steien, this volume). 7.4.2 Data analyses

The recordings were transcribed orthographically and analysed phonetically using Praat (Boersma, 2001). During the phonetic analysis, both perceptual and acoustic analyses were conducted. In some cases, the two analyses diverged. Theories and empirical research of additional language (AL) acquisition of the phonology of the target language establish that AL learners categorise perceptual input according to phonology, not phonetics (Flege, 1995; So & Best, 2010; Steien & Yakpo, 2020). Thus, since the perceptual analyses were carried out by the researcher, i.e. me, and my native language is Norwegian while English is an AL in my repertoire, what I perceive when the participants speak English is affected by my phonology. Additionally, my orthographic knowledge and my language ideologies are likely to influence what I hear. Acoustic analyses minimise the risk of biased perceptions, which improves the reliability of the fi ndings, and can more easily be replicated by others. Consequently, the acoustic analysis was preferred over the perceptual analysis whenever they diverged. The pronunciations were further analysed to explore potential patterns of which cluster types might be simplified and, if so, how. During this phase of the analysis, an abductive approach was taken, allowing the researcher to go back and forth between inductive, data-driven analyses and deductive, theory-driven analyses. For this reason, the pronunciations in the word list were analysed in a more exploratory way and, together with insights from previous studies, this fi rst exploratory descriptive

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analysis formed categories with which to approach the recordings from Fidèle’s narrative and interview. 7.5 Findings

This section presents the findings from the study: Section 7.5.1 presents the findings for words ending in closed syllables and Sections 7.5.2, 7.5.3 and 7.5.4 present the fi ndings from words with two-consonant, threeconsonant and four-consonant clusters, respectively. In each section, pronunciations of monosyllabic words are presented fi rst and polysyllabic words second. In monosyllabic words, syllable position is specified, while in polysyllabic words, only position within the words is specified, as it is unclear whether RP or Bantu (like) phonotactics should be used with the present material. Furthermore, the findings from the word list are presented first, before the findings from Fidèle’s reading and spontaneous speech. 7.5.1 Closed and open syllables in word-final position 7.5.1.1 Findings from the word list

In monosyllabic words, the participants mainly pronounce the words with closed syllables (see examples in Table 7.2). The square, ending in the letter , is pronounced by all the participants without a coda. This word thus has an open syllable. In polysyllabic words, almost all the participants consistently pronounce the words with open syllables word-fi nally (see examples in Table 7.3). All the words in this category have the letter in word-fi nal position. In other positions within words, a written is pronounced as a sonorant, [l], as in clan [klan]. However, in word-fi nal position, [l] is not pronounced, which makes the word-fi nal syllables in these words open. Tables 7.2 and 7.3 show that when words are read in isolation, the participants seem to pronounce the monosyllabic words with closed syllables, unless the word has a word-final . Then the participants pronounce the word with an open syllable. In polysyllabic words, the pattern seems to be a preference for open syllables, e.g. [kɾisto] instead of [kɾistol]. The pronunciations of square and the polysyllabic words without sonorant can be analysed as consonant deletions,4 a strategy for avoiding closed syllables in word-fi nal position. Table 7.2 Monosyllabic words with word-final open/closed syllable Written form

Pronunciation

Syllable

dress

[dɾes]

closed

clan

[klan]

closed

square

[skwea]

open

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Table 7.3 Polysyllabic words with word-final open/closed syllable Written form

Pronunciation

Word-final syllable

crystal

[kɾisto]

open

possible

[posibo]

open

bicycle

[baisko]

open

7.5.1.2 Fidèle’s linguistic practices

In Fidèle pronunciations, there are several examples of avoiding closed syllables. Interestingly, unlike in the word list task, both monosyllabic words and polysyllabic words are affected by these strategies. In monosyllabic words, Fidèle uses two different strategies to change closed syllables to open syllables, either deleting the coda consonant or inserting a vowel (see examples in Table 7.4): in some words, Fidèle’s pronunciation is without an obstruent as coda; in others, Fidèle inserts a vowel, [i]; there is also an example of both epenthesis and obstruent deletion in the same word. There are no instances of consonant deletion of word-fi nal coda in monosyllabic words in spontaneous speech. Instead, Fidèle uses epenthesis only (see examples in Table 7.5). The vowels he uses for epenthesis, [i], [u] and [ə], are more varied in spontaneous speech than when reading. Table 7.4 Monosyllabic words without codas Written form

Pronunciation

Strategy

creek

[kɾi]

obstruent deletion

with

[wiði]

epenthesis

and

[ani]

epenthesis + obstruent deletion

Table 7.5 Monosyllabic words without codas Written form

Pronunciation

Strategy

in

[ini]

epenthesis

then from

[denu fɾomu]

epenthesis

when

[winə]

epenthesis

In polysyllabic words, there is a mix of both consonant deletion and vowel insertion in both the narrative reading and in the interview. In the examples of consonant deletion, all but one of the deleted word-fi nal consonants is a sonorant (see examples in Table 7.6). Like in epenthesised monosyllabic words, in polysyllabic words with epenthesis, the inserted vowel is either [i], [u] or [ə] (see Table 7.7).

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Table 7.6 Polysyllabic words with consonant deletion Written form

Pronunciation

Strategy

possible

[posibo]

sonorant deletion

cousin

[kazi]

sonorant deletion

wanted

[wante]

obstruent deletion

normal

[nomo]

sonorant deletion

wearing

[weɾi]

sonorant deletion

winter

[winta]

sonorant deletion

Table 7.7 Polysyllabic words with epenthesis Written form

Pronunciation

Strategy

pretended

[pitendedi]

epenthesis

on

[onə]

epenthesis

I’m

[amu]

epenthesis

because

[bikozi]

epenthesis

can

[kanu]

epenthesis

in

[inə]

epenthesis

7.5.2 Two-consonant clusters 7.5.2.1 Findings from the word list

In words with two-consonant clusters, some patterns emerge depending on whether the cluster is found as onset or coda. In monosyllabic words containing a two-consonant cluster as onset, the participants uniformly have complex clusters (see examples in Table 7.8). The same is the case in polysyllabic words with two-consonant wordinitial onsets (see Table 7.9). Table 7.8 Monosyllabic words with complex onsets Written form

Pronunciation

Onset structure

dress

[dɾes]

CC

cross

[kɾos]

CC

blink

[bliŋk]

CC

Table 7.9 Polysyllabic words with complex onsets Written form

Pronunciation

Word-initial onset structure

crystal

[kɾisto]

CC

twinkle

[twiŋko]

CC

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In words with two-consonant codas, there seems to be a pattern depending on consonant type in the cluster. Firstly, in monosyllabic words with two obstruents as codas, all the participants have complex clusters in coda position (see examples in Table 7.10). Table 7.10 Monosyllabic words with two obstruents as coda Written form

Pronunciation

Coda structure

post

[post]

CC

tips

[tips]

CC

Secondly, words with two sonorants as codas have varying pronunciations (see Table 7.11). All the participants have a complex coda in kiln. In film, however, only four pronounce the word with a complex coda. Three participants reduce the coda cluster by deleting one of the sonorants. There is thus inter-speaker variation as to whether a complex or simple coda is used. Table 7.11 Monosyllabic words with two sonorants as coda Written form

Pronunciation

Coda structure

kiln

[kiln]

CC

film

[film], [fil] or [fim]

CC or C

Thirdly, words with codas containing a sonorant and an obstruent are mainly pronounced with complex codas (see examples in Table 7.12). However, in dark and park, both containing a written as part of their coda clusters, all the participants have a simple coda with obstruent only. Table 7.12 Monosyllabic words with sonorant + obstruent coda Written form

Pronunciation

Coda structure

cold

[kold]

CC

milk

[milk]

CC

rinse

[ɾins]

CC

dark

[dak]

C

park

[pak]

C

The word list contains one polysyllabic word with a two-consonant word-fi nal coda, convince. Most participants pronounce the word with a complex coda, [ns]. Similarly, in the three polysyllabic words with twoconsonant clusters word-medially, the participants mainly pronounce the words with complex clusters (see Table 7.13).

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Table 7.13 Polysyllabic words with word-medial and word-final clusters Written form

Pronunciation

Word-medial cluster

crystal

[kɾisto]

CC

convince

[komvis]

CC

twinkle

[twiŋko]

CC

7.5.2.2 Fidèle’s linguistic practices

In Fidèle’s reading and interview, there are a couple of examples of strategies to avoid word-initial onset: one with epenthesis and one with consonant deletion (see Table 7.14). In his pronunciation of snow, he inserts the close front rounded monophthong [y] between the [sn] cluster, thus making the word polysyllabic. This vowel is present in French and in Norwegian phonology, two languages that Fidèle reports not having in his repertoire, but which he has been and is exposed to due to their presence in the relevant African and Norwegian ecologies. The other example with cluster reduction is pretended. Fidèle pronounces this word with an obstruent only, making the complex word-initial onset cluster into a simple onset. Table 7.14 Word-initial onset cluster simplification Written form

Pronunciation

Word-initial onset structure

Strategy

snow

[syno]

C

epenthesis

pretended

[pitendedi]

C

sonorant deletion

In word-fi nal coda clusters with two consonants, there are several examples of cluster simplification through consonant deletion both in reading and in spontaneous speech (see examples in Table 7.15). In some cases, a sonorant is deleted, e.g. hurt, [hat], while in others an obstruent is deleted, e.g. kind, [kain]. Table 7.15 Word-final coda cluster simplification Written form

Pronunciation

Word-final coda structure

Strategy

sold

[sod]

C

Sonorant deletion

film

[fim]

C

Sonorant deletion

hurt

[hat]

C

Sonorant deletion

most

[mos]

C

Obstruent deletion

kind

[kain]

C

Obstruent deletion

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Word-medially in polysyllabic words, there are some examples of cluster reductions during Fidèle’s interview (see Table 7.16). In all these instances, a sonorant has been deleted. Table 7.16 Word-medial cluster simplifications Written form

Pronunciation

Strategy

learning

[laniŋ]

Sonorant deletion, [ɾn] → [n]

Norwegian

[noɾiʤian]

Sonorant deletion, [ɾw] → [ɾ]

also

[asu]

Sonorant deletion, [ls] → [s]

7.5.3 Three-consonant clusters

Like words with two-consonant clusters word-initially, the participants do not reduce word-initial clusters with three consonants in the word list task, neither in monosyllabic nor polysyllabic words (see examples in Table 7.17). Similarly, the word-medial cluster in inkling is pronounced with a complex cluster consisting of three consonants, [ŋkl]. In coda clusters, on the other hand, there is variation in the complexities of the participants’ clusters (see Table 7.18). For the word pants most of the participants have a three-consonant cluster as coda. In lands, on the other hand, three of the participants pronounce the word with a threeconsonant coda cluster, while three others reduce the cluster by omitting [d]. One participant reduces the cluster even further, changing the complex coda into a simple coda with only one consonant. Table 7.17 Word-initial onset clusters Written form

Pronunciation

Word-initial onset structure

splash

[splaʃ]

CCC

squint

[skwint]

CCC

sprinkle

[spɾiŋko]

CCC

Table 7.18 Three-consonant coda clusters Written form

Pronunciation

Word-final coda structure

pants

[pants]

CCC

lands

[lands], [lans] or [lan]

CCC, CC or C

7.5.3.1 Fidèle’s linguistic practices

In the narrative, Fidèle pronounces blinked as [blikt]. The coda cluster is thus reduced from a three-consonant cluster to a two-consonant cluster.

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Word-medially in polysyllabic words, there are two examples of consonant cluster simplification through deleting one or two consonants (see Table 7.19). In word-initial onsets there are no examples of cluster reductions. Table 7.19 Word-medial cluster simplifications Written form

Pronunciation

Strategy

children

[ʧidɾen]

Sonorant deletion, CCC, [ldɾ] → CC, [dɾ]

appointment

[apoiment]

Obstruent + sonorant deletion, CCC, [ntm] → C, [m]

7.5.4 Four-consonant clusters

The word list has two words containing consonant clusters with potentially four consonants, angst and extra (see Tables 7.20 and 7.21). In angst, two participants have a four-consonant cluster coda. The other five use different strategies to simplify the consonant cluster. Some omit a consonant and pronounce the word a three-consonant cluster coda, while others use epenthesis, making the word disyllabic. The word extra is pronounced with a four-consonant cluster by three participants. Two pronounce the word with a three-consonant cluster, omitting one of the obstruents. Finally, one participant omits two obstruents, reducing the cluster to a two-consonant cluster. Table 7.20 Pronunciations of angst Written form

Pronunciation

Word-final coda structure

Strategy

angst

[aŋgst]

CCCC

[aŋst] or [agst]

CCC

Consonant deletion

[aŋgəst]

CC

Epenthesis

[aŋəst]

CC

Epenthesis + consonant deletion

Table 7.21 Pronunciations of extra Written form

Pronunciation

Word-medial cluster

Strategy

extra

[ekstɾa]

CCCC

[estɾa] or [ekʃɾa]

CCC

Obstruent deletion

[esɾa]

CC

Obstruent deletion

7.5.4.1 Fidèle’s linguistic practices

Extra is the only word with a four-consonant cluster used by Fidèle in the other activities. When he reads the word in narrative, he omits two obstruents. His pronunciation, [esɾa], has a two-consonant word-medial cluster.

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7.6 Analysis and Discussion 7.6.1 Strategies to avoid closed syllables

Although there are examples of closed syllables in word-final position, the participants sometimes use strategies to avoid closed syllables, similar to descriptions of African Frenches. In the word list task, mainly polysyllabic words are affected by such strategies. In Fidèle’s reading and interview, on the other hand, both monosyllabic and polysyllabic words are affected. It thus appears that open syllables are preferred in speaking styles where the participants might pay less attention to pronunciation, like reading a narrative or conveying a message in spontaneous speech. Among the explanations that can be used for English pronunciations in different geographical places, first language (L1) influence is often preferred. For the present study, l-vocalisation (see e.g. Wells, 1982) and rhoticity can explain pronunciations with open syllables in written words with word-fi nal [l] or rhotic consonant [ɾ, ɹ]. However, there are limitations to using these explanations on the present material. Bobda (2007: 419) points out that ‘syllabic /l/, from which [l-vocalisation] derives, is unlikely in an African English variety’; thus ‘the rule applies only in [monolingual, fi rst language] varieties like Cockney’. Furthermore, in the present study, the sonorant [l] is only affected in word-fi nal coda position, not pre-consonantally, as in Cockney pronunciations like [fɪʊm], fi lm, and [toʊd], told (Wells, 1982: 313–317). Consequently, l-vocalisation might not be the best explanation for pronunciations in the present study, as a phoneme is omitted rather than replaced, e.g. [sod], sold. It is, however, possible to use rhoticity to explain the participants’ practices regarding word-fi nal [ɾ, ɹ] and classify their English practices as non-rhotic, like descriptions of other East African Englishes (see Section 7.3.2.2), since the participants only use a rhotic consonant prevocalically, possibly due to Founder Principle 5 (Mufwene, 2001: 28). Unlike most non-rhotic accents (Cruttenden, 2014: 315–316; Wells, 1982: 219), however, they do not use linking /r/, as in Fidèle’s pronunciation [we a] where I. This has been observed in a few other non-rhotic accents, like Multicultural London English, South African English and Singapore English (see Trudgill & Hannah, 2017: 23, 36, 48, 141), along with Southern American English (Kurath, 1964 referred to in Gick, 1999: 31). As such, rhoticity can explain some of their pronunciations. However, rhoticity cannot explain deletion of obstruents or other sonorants, like the lateral [l] and nasals [m, n, ŋ], or epenthesis word-fi nally. Looking to the participants’ L1 is also problematic, as this is a Northern concept that does not reflect Southern multilingual realities (see e.g. Golden & Steien, 2021). Instead, we might use Mufwene’s (2001, 2002) ecological approach. Open syllables are dominant in Bantu

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languages, Ugandan English and African Frenches and word-fi nal consonants are often affected by either consonant deletion or epenthesis in order to make the word-fi nal syllables open (see Section 7.3.2 above). Open syllable preference is thus a similarity across the linguistic varieties and the syllable structure that is used the most in the ecologies. As such, it is not surprising that a preference for open syllables should be prevalent in the English practices of the participants in the present study. 7.6.1.1 A closer look at word-final epenthesis

In the narrative and spontaneous speech, Fidèle uses three vowels for word-final epenthesis: [i], [u] and [ə], schwa. To some extent, vowel similarity within or near the epenthesised word can explain choice of vowel. Some words containing [i]-insertion, also have [i] in the word itself and some words with [u]-insertion also contain a back vowel (see examples in Table 7.22). There are also some examples of vowel similarity in a nearby word, progressively or regressively (see examples in Table 7.23). There are some cases which cannot be explained by vowel similarity (see examples in Table 7.24). These words do not contain nor are in proximity to a similar vowel. Furthermore, all three different vowel insertions, [i], [u] or schwa are present in these exceptions. Table 7.22 [i]- and [u]-insertion in words with the same vowel Written form

Pronunciation

with

[wiði]

then from school

[denu fɾomu skul]

Table 7.23 Vowel similarity in close proximity to the word Written form

Pronunciation

pretended to be

[pitendedi tu bi]

Norwegian with them when

[noɾiʤən wið ðem winə]

Table 7.24 Epentheses with dissimilar vowels Written form

Pronunciation

brother had just

[bɾada hadi jast]

and I’m glad

[and amu glad]

kitchen. On my way

[kitʃe onə mai wei]

Vowel similarity might thus explain some of Fidèle’s inserted vowel choices. However, when the word-final consonant is analysed too, an interesting pattern emerges. Firstly, in all cases with schwa insertion, the wordfi nal consonant is [n], e.g. [winə], when. Secondly, all but one of the

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[i]-insertions take place in words ending in an alveolar consonant, e.g. [bikozi], because. Thirdly, all but one of the five [u]-insertions take place in a word ending in a nasal, e.g. [fɹomu], from. This means that words ending in word-final [n] might be particularly sensitive to variation in syllable-opening strategies, as Fidèle’s pronunciations show that these words might, in addition to sometimes being left unchanged, e.g. [sin], seen; either have consonant deletion, e.g. [kazi], cousin; schwa-insertion, e.g. [onə], on; [u]-insertion, e.g. [kanu], can; or [i]-insertion, e.g. [bini], been. Fidèle’s choice of inserted vowel is different from previous descriptions of Ugandan English (see Section 7.3.2.2 above). His vowel insertion patterns are more like African Frenches (see Section 7.3.2.3 above), where vowel similarity influences choice of inserted vowel. Finally, influence by the preceding [n] is a further interesting finding different from the other linguistic varieties in the ecologies and is something that should be explored more in future. 7.6.2 Strategies to avoid complex clusters

The fi ndings of the present study indicate that word-initial onset clusters are rarely reduced through epenthesis or consonant deletion. This is different from previous accounts of both Ugandan English and African Frenches, where onset clusters are avoided (see Section 7.3.2.2– 7.3.2.3 above), and Bantu languages, where only NC and CG onset clusters are allowed (see Section 7.3.2.1 above). Thus, the participants seem to allow more consonants in onsets than Ugandan English, African Frenches and Bantu languages. This could have to do with the speaking style in the word list, i.e. reading written words in isolation. Fidèle uses consonant deletion once in pretended and epenthesis once in snow when reading and in spontaneous speech, respectively. The vowel insertion in snow is anaptyctic, i.e. inserted between the consonants. His epenthesis practice, then, is similar to what Bobda (2007) has reported for other African Englishes. Previous accounts of Ugandan English maintain that the main strategy for cluster simplification in onsets is through epenthesis (see Section 7.3.2.2 above). This is less clear from the present study as there is only one example of epenthesis, in addition to one of consonant deletion. Thus, in less careful speech, there might be potential for both simplification strategies in onset clusters. However, more research is needed to confirm this. In the present study, word-medial clusters and word-fi nal coda clusters with more than two consonants seem the be the main clusters to be reduced, either through consonant deletion or epenthesis. This is like Bantu languages, African Frenches and Ugandan English, linguistic varieties that all disfavour complex clusters. However, while African Frenches mainly use epenthesis to simplify consonant clusters, the participants’ pronunciations in the present study are more like Ugandan English and Bantu languages, where both consonant deletion and epenthesis are strategies used to simplify clusters. As such, it appears, again,

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like several languages in the ecology contribute to influencing the participants’ English practices. 7.6.3 The participants’ syllable structures

RQ1: How do the participants pronounce written words ending in closed syllables? In careful speech, deletion seems to be the preferred strategy in polysyllabic words word-fi nal simple codas, e.g. chronicle [kɾoniko], while monosyllabic words are pronounced with closed syllables. In less careful speech, there is variation in open and closed syllables. Epenthesis appears to be the main strategy, also in monosyllabic words, e.g. been [bini]. Vowel similarity and preceding consonant seem to influence which vowel is inserted. [n]-codas stand out, as they can be subject to deletion, [i]-, [u]or schwa insertion. RQ2: How do the participants pronounce words with complex consonant clusters in writing? In word-initial onsets, there are few examples of cluster reductions, regardless of cluster complexity. In word-fi nal codas, consonant clusters only seem to be simplified in clusters with three or more consonants in careful speech, e.g. angst [agst]. There are more examples of consonant deletion in word-fi nal codas in less careful speaking styles, e.g. film [fim]. Similarly, word-medial clusters are not reduced in careful speech, but occasionally in spontaneous speech, e.g. also [asu]. Although there are some examples of epenthesis in consonant clusters, e.g. angst [aŋgəst] and snow [syno], the main strategy when encountering complex clusters seem to be consonant deletion. RQ3: What can their linguistic practices tell us about their preferred syllable structures? The participants in this study appear to favour open syllables; complex clusters in onset position mainly; and few consonants word-medially, (CC)CV(CC). Using Mufwene’s (2001, 2002) ecological approach, it appears that the syllable structures of Bantu languages, African Frenches and Ugandan English have strengthened each other over time, through similarity and frequent usage. Thus, although French and English are historically European languages, for the participants in the current study, their (CC)CV(CC) syllable structures in their English speech are shaped by the dominant structures in their ecologies, rather than British English syllable structure. The language introduced to the local ecology has thus taken on the local syllable structure. This is similar to what is observed with other suprasegmental features, where European languages are introduced in SL dominated ecologies (Steien & Yakpo, 2020; Yakpo, 2021). Thus, within the linguistic ecology of Uganda, it is unlikely that the English syllable structure of multilingual Congolese refugees will become more like British English syllable structures.

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7.7 Conclusion

This study has contributed with empirical, sociolinguistic research of suprasegmental variation among an under-researched group, i.e. newlyarrived Congolese refugees in Norway. The main findings include the participants’ use of deletion and epenthesis strategies to avoid closed syllables and complex consonant clusters. The syllable structures of their situated English practices seem to have been shaped by the similar and frequently used syllable structures in the Ugandan ecology. Something that should be explored more in future is syllable divisions in polysyllabic words to fi nd out whether their syllable division in their English practices should be analysed according to RP or Bantu phonotactics. Furthermore, future studies might explore more naturally occurring data, exploring whether similar tendencies are present in these contexts. Interaction studies might also reveal if and where misunderstandings arise and how they are repaired and/or prevented in interactions between Congolese refugees and Norwegian interlocutors. Theoretically, this study has demonstrated how employing an ecological approach, mainly used in contact studies, might provide fruitful interpretations of the participants’ English pronunciations. This approach involves a rethinking of Northern concepts like L1, additional language, and societal and individual multilingualism, and being more open to Southern experiences and understandings. The present study has thus opened a new avenue for researching English spoken by individuals with varied linguistic repertoires and shown an alternative to traditional Kachruvian approaches, which continue to label multilinguals speakers as non-native speakers or learners and compare their competence with monolingual native-speakers’ competence. Instead, it is possible to understand people’s linguistic practices through considering the ecologies in which they reside. Had the Congolese refugees stayed in Uganda, their English syllable structure might probably not change much in future. However, as Blommaert (2010: xiv) says ‘language [is] something intrinsically and perpetually mobile, through space as well as time, and made for mobility’ (original emphasis). Today, they and their English practices are in Norway, an ecology dominated by more closed syllables and complex clusters than the Congolese and Ugandan ecologies. Future studies might reveal whether the suprasegmental features the Congolese refugees contribute to the ecology will endure over time, as well as how Norwegians react, linguistically and ideologically, to the presence of these repertoires in Norway’s ecology. Notes (1) See Pennycook and Makoni (2019) and Pennycook (2020) for a longer discussion of the Global North and Global South. (2) Following Pennycook and Makoni (2019), the term ‘varieties’ is used to denote abstracted generalisations of language practices among a group of speakers. Thus,

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the participants in this study do not necessarily use the described structures of the varieties, or linguistic systems, in situated interactions. However, the previous accounts of syllable structures in these group-level varieties are used as a starting point for understanding the current participants' situated linguistic practices. (3) Some accounts include CVC structures as well for Bantu languages. However, in these cases, the start of a geminate consonant makes up the coda consonant (see e.g. Hyman & Katamba, 1999: 351). (4) The terms consonant deletion and epenthesis are problematic as they have normative connotations. However, in this chapter the terms are used heuristically. They do not refer to the participants’ individual phonology, but rather to their pronunciations compared to other English varieties world-wide. (5) The term Founder Principle is used in the same way as Mufwene (2001: 28–29), i.e. ‘to explain how structural features of [contact varieties] have been predetermined to a large extent (though not exclusively!) by characteristics of the vernaculars spoken by the populations that founded the colonies in which they developed’.

References Ansaldo, U. (2009) Contact Languages: Ecology and Evolution in Asia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blommaert, J. (2010) The Sociolinguistics of Globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bobda, A.S. (2007) Patterns of segment sequence simplification in some African Englishes. World Englishes 26 (4), 411–423. Boersma, P. (2001) Praat, a system for doing phonetics by computer. Glot International 5 (9/10), 341–345. Bøhn, H. (2016) What is to be assessed? Teachers’ understanding of constructs in an oral English examination in Norway. Master thesis, University of Oslo. See https://www. duo.uio.no/handle/10852/53229. Cruttenden, A. (2014) Gimson’s Pronunciation of English (8th edn). Abingdon: Routledge. Deterding, D. (2013) Misunderstandings in English as a Lingua Franca: An Analysis of ELF Interactions in South-East Asia. Boston: De Gruyter. Diprose, M. (2007) Lugungu Phonology Statement. See https://lugungu.webonary.org/ fi les/Lugungu-Phonology-Statement.pdf. Drager, K. (2018) Experimental Research Methods in Sociolinguistics. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Eckert, P. and Labov, W. (2017) Phonetics, phonology and social meaning. Journal of Sociolinguistics 21 (4), 467–496. Education First (2020) EF English Profi ciency Index. See https://www.ef.no/epi/ Flege, J.E. (1995) Second language speech learning: Theory, fi ndings and problems. In W.  Strange (ed.) Speech Perception and Linguistic Experience: Issues in CrossLanguage Research (pp. 233–277). Baltimore: York Press. Gick, B. (1999) A gesture-based account of intrusive consonants in English. Phonology 16 (1), 29–54. Golden, A. and Steien, G.B. (2021) Mashi – this language was in my ears: Metaphors of ‘language’ in language autobiographies narrated by Congolese migrants in Norway. Metaphor and the Social World 11 (2), 329–351. Gordon, R.G. (ed.) (2005) Ethnologue: Languages of the World (15th edn). Dallas, TX: SIL International. Gussenhoven, C. and Udofot, I. (2010) Word melodies vs. pitch accents: A perceptual evaluation of terracing contours in British and Nigerian English. Speech Prosody 2010, Chicago, paper 015. See https://www.isca-speech.org/archive/sp2010/sp10_015.html. Hammond, M. (1999) The Phonology of English: A Prosodic Optimality-Theoretic Approach. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Haugen, E. (1972) The Ecology of Language: Essays. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Hellekjær, G.O. (2017) A survey of English use and needs in Norwegian export fi rms. Hermes – Journal of Language and Communication in Business 25 (48), 7–18. Hyman, L.M. (2003) Segmental phonology. In D. Nurse and G. Philippson (eds) The Bantu Languages (pp. 42–58). Abingdon: Routledge. Hyman, L.M. and Katamba, F.X. (1999) The syllable in Luganda phonology and morphology. In H. Hulst and N. Ritter (eds) The Syllable: Views and Facts (pp. 349–416). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Jaspers, J. and Madsen, L.M. (2019) Fixity and fluidity in sociolinguistic theory and practice. In J. Jaspers and L.M. Madsen (eds) Critical Perspectives on Linguistic Fixity and Fluidity (pp. 1–26). Abingdon: Routledge. Jones, D. (1960) An Outline of English Phonetics (9th edn). Cambridge: Heffer. Kachru, B.B. (1986) The Alchemy of English: The Spread, Functions and Models of NonNative Englishes. Oxford: Pergamon Press. Klein, T.B. (2013) Typology of Creole phonology: Phoneme inventories and syllable templates. In P. Bhatt and T. Veenstra (eds) Creole Languages and Linguistic Typology (pp. 207–244). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Kurath, H. (1964) A Phonology and Prosody of Modern English. Heidelberg: Carl Winter. Labov, W. (2006) The Social Stratifi cation of English in New York City (2nd edn). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mufwene, S.S. (2001) The Ecology of Language Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mufwene, S.S. (2002) Competition and selection in language evolution. Selection 3 (1), 45–56. Mufwene, S.S. (2010) Globalization, Global English, and World English(es): Myths and facts. In N. Coupland (ed.) The Handbook of Language and Globalization (pp. 29–55). Chicester: John Wiley & Sons. Namyalo, S., Isingoma, B. and Meierkord, C. (2016) Towards assessing the space of English in Uganda’s linguistic Ecology: Facts and figures. In C. Meierkord, B. Isingoma and S. Namyalo (eds) Ugandan English: Its Sociolinguistics, Structure and Uses in a Globalising Post-Protectorate (pp. 19–50). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Nimbona, G. and Steien, G.B. (2019) Modes monolingues dans des écologies multilingues: Les études phonologiques des français africains. Langue Française 202 (2), 43–59. Odden, D. (2015) Bantu Phonology. Oxford Handbooks Online, 1–49. O’Neal, G. (2015) Segmental repair and interactional intelligibility: The relationship between consonant deletion, consonant insertion, and pronunciation intelligibility in English as a lingua franca in Japan. Journal of Pragmatics 85, 122–134. Pennycook, A. (2020) Translingual entanglements of English. World Englishes 39 (2), 222–235. Pennycook, A. and Makoni, S. (2019) Innovations and Challenges in Applied Linguistics from the Global South. Abingdon: Routledge. Røyneland, U. (ed.) (2018) Språk i Norge —Kultur og infrastruktur. See https:// sprakinorge.no/ Schmied, J. (2008) East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): Phonology. In R. Mesthrie (ed.) Africa, South and Southeast Asia (pp. 150–163). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. So, C.K. and Best, C.T. (2010) Cross-language perception of non-native tonal contrasts: Effects of native phonological and phonetic influences. Language and Speech 53 (2), 273–293. Steien, G.B. and Yakpo, K. (2020) Romancing with tone: On the outcomes of prosodic contact. Language 96 (1), 1–41.

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Trudgill, P. and Hannah, J. (2017) International English: A Guide to Varieties of English Around the World (6th edn). Abingdon: Routledge. Wald, B. (2009) Swahili and the Bantu languages. In B. Comrie (ed.) The World’s Major Languages (2nd edn, pp. 893–912). Abingdon: Routledge. Wells, J.C. (1982) Accents of English (Vol. 1). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yakpo, K. (2021) Creole prosodic systems are areal, not simple. Frontiers in Psychology 12, https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2021.690593.

8 Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals Sylvi Rørvik

8.1 Introduction

This chapter reports on a study of word order in the spoken English of seven Congolese refugees who have recently arrived in Norway, on the basis of interview data (see further Section 8.2). Given that English is likely to be these speakers’ primary language of communication in Norway before they acquire a working command of Norwegian, a description of their word order preferences in English is a useful starting point for future studies of potential cross-linguistic influence from their English production to their Norwegian production. The seven participants share language backgrounds to the extent that they speak one or more Bantu languages, e.g. Swahili and/or Kinyabwisha, and they all speak English. Furthermore, they acquired all or most of their knowledge of English while living in Uganda (cf. subsection 8.2.2). It seems likely, on the basis of their language background, that their English production will comply with the syntax of Standard English1 to a great degree, but will also display features that can be explained with reference to characteristics of Ugandan English and Bantu languages (cf. Syvertsen, this volume). Specifically, as regards word order, previous research indicates that one may expect to fi nd a greater frequency of left-dislocation than in Standard English (cf. Section 8.3), and this forms the starting point for the present study. The research question is thus: In the spoken English of Congolese refugees, is there evidence of left-dislocation which complies with what one might expect from English learned in Uganda? The defi nition of left-dislocation employed here is discussed in detail in subsection 8.3.2, but roughly follows that given by Biber et al. (1999: 138), and comprises an element (often a noun phrase) placed at the left periphery of a clause, with a co-referent pronoun in the core of the clause. In order to provide a backdrop for the description of the English produced by these Congolese speakers, an overview of the evolution of English in Uganda is included, as well as an outline of canonical word 122

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 123

order and variation of the same in the form of left-dislocation in British English, Ugandan English and Bantu languages. The remainder of this chapter is structured as follows: Section 8.2 provides an overview of the participants and their language backgrounds, as well as where and how they acquired their command of English. This section also includes a brief overview of the linguistic landscape in Uganda, particularly as regards the status and use of English and Swahili. The overview of word order in Standard English, as well as in Ugandan English and in Bantu languages, is provided in Section 8.3. Section 8.4 describes classification framework on which the study is based, while the results are presented and discussed in Section 8.5. Finally, Section 8.6 contains some concluding remarks. 8.2 The Interview Data and the Participants’ Language Background

This section fi rst provides an overview of the interview data (8.2.1) before moving on to a description of the participants’ language background with particular focus on where and how they learned English (8.2.2). The third subsection contextualises the refugees’ description of the English they learned by means of references to the Ugandan language situation, the Ugandan educational system and the country’s language policy, as described in previous research. 8.2.1 The interview data

The material for this study comprises interviews with seven refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) who have now been resettled in Norway following stays of varying length in a refugee camp run by the UN in Uganda. The interviewees were asked to describe how they learned English, and the resulting conversations vary in length, as can be seen from Table 8.1. Table 8.1 Overview of speakers and length of interviews in minutes/seconds and words in transcription (including interviewer turns) Speaker

Length of interview

Number of words in transcription

Number of words produced by informant

Christophe

6 minutes and 42 seconds

1310

797

Fidèle

12 minutes and 59 seconds

1949

1316

Joseph

15 minutes and 39 seconds

2180

1704

Koïs

7 minutes and 30 seconds

1028

545

Lucas

7 minutes and 7 seconds

1125

596

Pierre

9 minutes and 35 seconds

1289

1117

Zépherin

7 minutes and 33 seconds

1190

646

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Table 8.1 further shows the number of words in the transcription of each interview, as well as the number of words produced by each informant. It is clear from this overview that although there is a general correlation between length in time and number of words, there is no absolute linear relationship between these two variables: the transcription of the shortest interview, with Christophe, contains more words produced by the informant than three longer interviews (those with Koïs, Lucas and Zépherin), due to Christophe’s rate of speech.

8.2.2 The participants’ language background, with particular focus on English

As mentioned in Section 8.1, the seven participants all speak English and Swahili, in addition to a varying number of other languages. None report English as their first language, however, so in order to give a complete picture of their language potential, it is necessary to include some information about where and how they acquired English. Five of the seven speakers learned English in formal educational settings, but in very different ways and for different lengths of time. •

• • •

•

Pierre first heard of English in Congo, but did not learn it himself until he went to school in Uganda between the ages of 17 and 19. Subsequently, he attended English classes for adults in the refugee camp and conducted some self-guided study. Lucas went to school in the refugee camp from the age of 11. Koïs completed all her schooling in the refugee camp in Uganda. Joseph’s first two years of primary school were spent in Uganda, while living with relatives. Subsequently, he moved back to live with his family in Congo, and went to school there, where the language of instruction was French. He then moved back and forth between relatives in Uganda, with education in English, and Congo, before fi nally fleeing Congo as war broke out. At that time, he already spoke English. He completed the fi nal two years of primary school and four years of secondary school in Uganda. Fidèle completed all her schooling in the refugee camp in Uganda.

Of the remaining two participants, Christophe reports that he learned some English in school in Congo, but not enough to talk to people. His command of English was acquired in Uganda, but not through organised classes. Zépherin also learned a little bit of English at school in Congo, but like Christophe this was not sufficient to allow him to communicate with people. However, during his stay in the refugee camp Zépherin taught primary school classes where the language of instruction was English, and through this his English improved. In five of the seven interviews there is also some discussion relating to the variety of English spoken in Uganda. One informant is not confident

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 125

about the answer, while the other four state that British English is what is spoken and taught in Uganda. None of the participants seem to feel it necessary to distinguish between standard British English and Ugandan English as a variety in its own right, however, but as will be shown later in this chapter (cf. Section 8.3) numerous researchers now consider Ugandan English worthy of such a status. 8.2.3 The language situation in Uganda

Uganda is a multilingual country, with approximately 35 indigenous languages (Namyalo et al., 2016: 21–22; Nassenstein, 2016: 396). Of the indigenous languages spoken in Uganda, the majority are Bantu languages (around 70%, cf. de Galbert, 2020: 2). The existence of this range of languages and their associated dialects gives rise to the need for a lingua franca that can be used between speakers of indigenous languages that are not mutually intelligible, as well as a language that can be used as the medium of instruction in schools. Currently, English holds this position in Uganda, with the other major languages being Luganda, an indigenous language used by the Baganda people, and Swahili, which has been described as ‘the East African lingua franca’ (Sprenger-Tasch, 2003: 350). English was fi rst introduced to Uganda in the second half of the 19th century, by Christian missionaries (Nojea, 2018: 220), although these missionaries primarily performed their evangelisation through local indigenous languages or Swahili (Schmied, 2006: 190). Britain, as a colonial power, did not have as a goal to teach the indigenous population English, and in fact the British were reluctant to do so (Wolf, 2010: 198). In the early days of the British Protectorate, Swahili was widely used in administration and education, and it was the official language in Uganda between 1900 and 1912 (Namyalo et al., 2016: 30). English gradually took over, however, since Swahili was increasingly disliked, because the Baganda feared that the position of Luganda would be threatened by Swahili, and because many missionaries claimed that Swahili was associated with Islam (Sprenger-Tasch, 2003: 350). English became the medium of instruction in schools, and its position as such was strengthened from the 1930s onwards, not least because parents saw education and learning English as a means by which their children could acquire a high-status job (2003: 350–351). Since Uganda’s independence in 1962, English has been an official language (cf. e.g. Nassenstein, 2016: 397), and indeed SprengerTasch claims that the ‘role of English as Uganda’s official language has never been challenged’ (Sprenger-Tasch, 2003: 350). While this may be true in practice, there was an attempt to make Swahili the national language during the regime of Idi Amin (Mazrui & Mazrui, 1993: 281; Nakayiza, 2016: 78; Namyalo et  al., 2016: 30). This did not succeed (Nassenstein, 2016: 398; Nojea, 2018: 223). In 2005 the Constitution of Uganda was amended to make Swahili a second offi cial language

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(Nojea, 2018: 221–222; Nakayiza, 2016: 78; Namyalo et al., 2016: 22–23), but with the proviso that it was to be used in contexts described in a law enacted by Parliament. As no such law has been enacted, Swahili is currently an official language in principle but not in practice in Uganda, and English is used in all official contexts (judiciary, administration, legislature, etc.) (Nakayiza, 2016: 75, 76, 78; Namyalo et al., 2016: 22–23, 29, 43; Nojea, 2018: 221). Thus, English is commonly acquired in formal educational settings, and is therefore mostly spoken as an L2 (Namyalo et al., 2016: 23). English is also a prestigious language, command of which is seen as a status symbol indicative of being educated and prosperous economically, socially and politically (Nakayiza, 2016: 83; Namyalo et al., 2016: 23; Nassenstein, 2016: 399; Nojea, 2018: 222). It should be clear from the preceding description of Uganda’s linguistic landscape that those of the participants who went to school in Uganda had no choice but to learn English, and given the advantages associated with speaking English, it is perhaps not surprising that Christophe and Zépherin found it opportune to learn English as well. 8.3 Characteristics of Word Order in Standard English, Ugandan English and Bantu Languages

As is apparent from the overview provided in subsection 8.2.3, ‘English in Uganda’ was at the outset synonymous with British English. However, over time English in East Africa, encompassing Kenya and Tanzania together with Uganda, developed into its own variety, which has been discussed in the literature under the heading of ‘sub-Saharan English’ (Mesthrie, 2010) or ‘East African English’ (Bobda, 2001; Schmied, 2006, 2008; Wolf, 2010). More recently, however, descriptions of a distinct Ugandan variety have emerged (all chapters in Meierkord et  al., 2016; Meierkord, 2020; Nassenstein, 2016; Nojea, 2018; Ssempuuma, 2017). As one might expect that formal contexts like education would embrace the distinct varietal features at a slower rate than informal speech, the overview of word order presented in this section needs to include both that of Standard English as well as any distinct features particular to East African English and Ugandan English. This is because the participants learned English both in formal educational settings in Uganda and in informal settings (cf. subsection 8.2.2), and because the material for this study comprises relatively informal speech, albeit collected in an interview setting. Furthermore, it is necessary to include some information about the word order in Bantu languages, since all participants speak Swahili in addition to one or more indigenous Bantu languages, and this might influence their English production. This comparison is carried out in subsection 8.3.1. In subsection 8.3.2, a more detailed overview of the concept of ‘left-dislocation’ is presented, as this is the feature of primary interest to this investigation.

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 127

8.3.1 Similarities and differences in the syntax of Standard English, Ugandan English and Bantu languages

In Standard English, the canonical word order in declarative clauses is SVX, i.e. the subject comes before the verb, and any other clause elements after the verb (Biber et al., 1999: 899). This is also the case for Ugandan English, as well as for Bantu languages (Downing, 2010: 772; Nicolle, 2016: 377; van der Wal, 2015; van der Wal & Namyalo, 2016: 355). Despite this general similarity, however, there are some differences to do with the scope for variation from this pattern: according to Schmied (2006: 199; 2008: 459), ‘word order in [East African Englishes] is much more flexible and can be used to express emphasis and focus more readily than in [Standard English]’. This greater flexibility has also been claimed to be a feature of Bantu languages, for instance by van der Wal (2015): ‘permutations are allowed when necessitated by information structure’, and typically this involves placing items pre-verbally, i.e. ‘outside of the clause nucleus’ (Nicolle, 2016: 381), in what is often referred to as left-dislocation. This is the reasoning behind the hypothesis that forms the starting point for the present investigation: if the participants depart from canonical syntax in their English production, they do so by employing left-dislocation with a greater frequency than is found in Standard English. This could be due to cross-linguistic influence from Bantu languages (cf. Ssempuuma, 2017: 37, 50), or it could be because it is a feature of East African Englishes in general. It could also be the result of a combination of these factors. Additionally, we must of course consider the discourse functions of left-dislocation, as they may serve a perceived need in the conversation instead of or in addition to being just a general feature of Ugandan English due to the influences described above.

8.3.2 Left-dislocation: Definition, frequency and functions

Biber et al. (1999: 138) use the term ‘preface’ to refer to what is commonly called ‘left-dislocation’, and state that it consists of ‘a defi nite noun phrase occurring in a peripheral position, with a co-referent pronoun in the core of the clause’ (1999: 956). Example (1), from informant Fidèle, illustrates this: (1) some of us refugees from Congo we don’t speak [local languages]2

Biber et al.’s defi nition is broadly in line with other defi nitions presented in the literature (cf. e.g. Kim, 1995: 276; Lange, 2012: 154; Leuckert & Rüdiger, 2020: 37; Manetta, 2007: 1029; Mestrie, 2010: 530; Prince ,1997: 119; Ssempuuma, 2017: 37). However, some empirical studies have attested instances of left-dislocation where both the dislocated element and the

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co-referent element are pronouns (cf. e.g. Winkle, 2015: 111), as illustrated in example (2), from informant Joseph: (2) me I like English

A further variation is that the left-dislocated element can be a clause (cf. e.g. Leuckert & Rüdiger, 2020: 37, 48; Winkle, 2015: 52), as example (3) from informant Christophe illustrates: (3) knowing and realizing the importance of English language most the most it was when I came to Uganda

Finally, a variant exists where a prepositional phrase ‘is put in an initial position with a corresponding pronoun or adverb occupying its relevant position in a sentence’ (Ssempuuma, 2017: 37; see also Schmied, 2008: 455–456). The data collected from informant Lucas contain an instance of this, presented here as example (4): (4) for them they speak English

As the preceding overview shows, left-dislocation can involve a number of different elements being placed in initial position, but all combinations involve a co-referent element, usually a pronoun. In the classificatory framework employed in this study, one important parameter will be the form of the dislocated element, cf. Section 8.4. Left-dislocation is primarily considered to be a feature of conversation, although it may occur in other contexts as well (cf. Makalela, 2007: 139; Ssempuuma, 2017: 49–50). As mentioned in subsection 8.3.1, word order in East African Englishes and Bantu languages is more flexible than in Standard English, so one might expect left-dislocation to be more frequent in the material that forms the basis for the present study than in Standard English. In the literature, we fi nd claims that support this hypothesis in several studies, both regarding Ugandan English and regarding other varieties of English (e.g. Bamiro, 1995: 197; Makalela, 2007: 139; Meierkord, 2004: 128; Mestrie, 2010: 529; Nassenstein, 2016: 413). Even more interestingly, a number of corpus-based studies have shown that left-dislocation is more common in Standard English than in a number of varieties around the world. According to Biber et al. (1999: 957), left-dislocation occurs ‘over 200 times per million words in conversation and occasionally in fictional dialogue, but very rarely in written prose’ in Standard English. For the following varieties, the authors report higher frequencies: the English production of speakers with Luganda and other Bantu languages as their first language (Ssempuuma, 2017: 66, 83), in Indian English (7–9 times as frequent, see Lange [2012: 160] and Winkle [2015: 103–104]), in Korean English (Leuckert & Rüdiger, 2020: 47), and in the English spoken in Ireland, Singapore, Philippines, Jamaica and Hong Kong (but not in Canada and New Zealand) (Winkle, 2015:

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 129

103–104). Thus, it seems fair to conclude that left-dislocation is more frequent in World Englishes generally than it is in Standard English, and that although speakers of Ugandan English may be reinforced in their use of left-dislocation by cross-linguistic influences from Bantu languages, this cannot be the sole explanation behind a potentially higher frequency of left-dislocation than is commonly found in Standard English. A further note on frequency should be included here, namely one that relates to the clause elements that are most frequently left-dislocated. The studies that present relevant frequencies based on empirical data suggest that in all varieties under investigation, and regardless of which additional languages the speakers have in their repertoire, it is subjects that are most frequently dislocated, accounting for about 90% of instances (Lange, 2012; Ssempuuma, 2017; Winkle, 2015). This is not perhaps very surprising, since subjects typically occur clause-initially in English, and therefore must be separated out in some other way in order to distinguish them whenever this is considered appropriate (cf. Lange, 2012; Winkle, 2015). This is of course related to the somewhat thorny issue of the functions of left-dislocation, which we turn to next. The functions of left-dislocations have been a much-debated issue for decades, and what follows here is of necessity an attempt to briefly sum up the varying positions on the issue. The positions can be broadly grouped into three categories, with further specifications as follows. (1) Topic establishment: to ‘separate out crucial bits of information’ in order to ‘establish a topic’ (Biber et al., 1999: 957; see also Makalela, 2007; van der Wal, 2015; Winkle, 2015) or re-establish a topic (Kim, 1995); when the topic of a sentence is different from the topic of the preceding sentence (Kim, 1995; Manetta, 2007; Nicolle, 2016); to create topic continuity (Lange, 2012; Leuckert & Rüdiger, 2020; Winkle, 2015). (2) Cognitive demands faced by speakers and listeners: to ease the planning pressure of speakers, especially in the case of complex constituents (Biber et  al., 1999; Leuckert & Rüdiger, 2020; Winkle, 2015); to help the listener process the message, especially in the case of complex constituents (Leuckert & Rüdiger, 2020; Manetta, 2007; Mestrie, 2010; Prince, 1997; Schmied, 2008; Winkle, 2015). (3) Affective priorities: to create emphasis (Bamiro, 1995; Kim, 1995; Ssempuuma, 2017; Winkle, 2015). 3 ○

○

○

○

○

○

These functional categories have inspired the classificatory framework employed in the present study, cf. Section 8.4, and will also be referred to in the discussion of the results in Section 8.5.

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8.4 Classification Framework

All clauses in the interview material were classified as either conforming to canonical word order in Standard English, or deviating from it. Those clauses that deviate from canonical word order were further classified according to the type of deviation, which resulted in a dichotomy: canonical clauses vs. clauses containing left-dislocation. Left-dislocation is defi ned here, pace Biber et al., as an element occurring in the left-hand periphery of the clause, with a co-referent pronoun in the core of the clause. This defi nition excludes restarts/reformulations and repetitions where a pause occurs before the first and second mention of the repeated element, as illustrated in examples (5) and (6), respectively (potential leftdislocation in bold type; name of informant in square brackets). (5) we have in Congo at school we have some programme [Christophe] (6) yeah my first time (eh) my first time to learn English I first hear people speaking [Pierre]

Clauses containing left-dislocation were coded for central features to do with the form and function of the left-dislocation, employing a scheme based on the overview presented in subsections 8.3.1 and 8.3.2. This scheme comprised the following categories: • • •

form of left-dislocated element: noun phrase, pronoun, clause, prepositional phrase; syntactic function of left-dislocated element: subject, object, other; discourse function of left-dislocation: topic establishment: shift or continuity cognitive demands: planning pressure (speaker) or processing pressure (listener) affective priority: to create emphasis. ○ ○

○

Two of these categories, namely form and syntactic function, posed no problems in the classification. The categorisation of the discourse function in each instance proved to be a thornier issue, however, as it had to be based on clues from the surrounding co-text. As this differed from instance to instance, no full overview is presented here, but details of the classification process are instead included in the discussion of the results in Section 8.5. 8.5 Results and Discussion

As indicated by the preceding sections, the present investigation includes three aspects: frequency, form and function of left dislocations. In terms of frequency, the main point of comparison is Biber et  al.’s reported frequency for Standard English, as well as the insights from previous studies that indicate the likelihood of higher frequencies in the

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 131

present material. The investigation of frequency is reported on in subsection 8.5.1. In subsection 8.5.2, the focus is on the form of left-dislocations, and subsection 8.5.3 comprises the syntactic function of the co-referent pronoun and discourse functions of left-dislocation. 8.5.1 Frequency of left-dislocation

In total, the material contains 26 instances of left-dislocation. Table 8.2 shows how these are distributed among the speakers, and also the corresponding frequency per million words, calculated on the basis of the total number of words produced by each informant. Although that obviously inflates the numbers, it is necessary in order to enable comparison with the results from previous research, as outlined in subsection 8.3.2. If we take the frequency for Standard English as reported by Biber et al. (1999: 957) as the starting point, which was ‘over 200 per million words’, we can see that all the participants exhibit a considerably higher frequency than this, as they range from 1548 to 7598 instances per million words. It is not surprising that these frequencies are higher than they would be in Standard English, given the fi ndings from previous research that identify a higher frequency as a general feature of various varieties around the world (cf. subsection 8.3.2). What is perhaps surprising, however, is that the frequencies per million words are extremely high for some speakers in the current dataset. The lowest frequencies, i.e. those observed in the production of Zépherin, Joseph and Pierre, are in line with the results reported by Winkle (2015: 103) for Indian English, which correspond to 1648 per million words. However, the frequencies for the remaining four participants vastly outnumber this, and it should be noted that, as mentioned in subsection 8.3.2, all other varieties examined by Winkle had lower frequencies than Indian English. Thus, the current participants produce more left-dislocations than speakers of English from the UK, Ireland, New Zealand, Canada, Singapore, the Philippines, Jamaica and Hong Kong, in addition to India (cf. Winkle, 2015: 103–104). Table 8.2 Number of left-dislocations produced by each speaker, and the frequency of left-dislocations calculated per million words Speaker Christophe

Number of left-dislocations

Frequency per million words

4

5018.8

Fidèle

10

7598.8

Joseph

3

1760.6

Koïs

3

5504.8

Lucas

2

3355.7

Pierre

3

1790.5

Zépherin

1

1548

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8.5.2 Form of left-dislocation

When we turn to the form of the left-dislocations in the present material, it seems more useful to look at general trends rather than focus on frequencies which would become too inflated to be representative. A complete overview of the forms represented is given in Table 8.3. Table 8.3 Overview of the forms of the left–dislocated elements Speaker

Pronoun

Pronoun + reflexive pronoun

Noun phrase

NP

Pronoun– headed NP

Co– ordinated NPs

Non– finite clause

Prepositional phrase

Christophe

1

2

–

–

–

1

–

Fidèle

–

1

6

1

2

–

–

Joseph

1

–

1

1

–

–

–

Koïs

–

–

1

2

–

–

–

Lucas

–

–

–

1

–

–

1

Pierre

–

–

3

–

–

–

–

Zépherin

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

It is clear from Table 8.3 that noun phrases constitute the form that is most commonly found as a left-dislocated element. It should be noted, however, that many of these noun phrases have pronouns as their heads, and if we add these to the left-dislocated elements that comprise either one or two pronouns, i.e. the columns headed ‘Pronoun’ and ‘Pronoun + reflexive pronoun’, we can see that in the production of these speakers pronouns feature quite heavily in connection with left-dislocation. It may also be suggested, albeit tentatively, that some speakers seem to favour the use of certain forms for left-dislocation, for instance Fidèle, whose data are skewed in favour of left-dislocated noun phrases, and Pierre, who only uses noun phrases in left-dislocations. Examples (7) and (8) illustrate this use. (7) the people they were sitting on the floor [Fidèle] (8) Ugandan radio stations they do mix their language and English [Pierre]

The combination in examples (7) and (8) corresponds to the typical definition of left-dislocation found in the literature (cf. Section 8.3), and on that basis it may be suggested that it is the most commonly found type. We may also note the combination of pronoun and reflexive pronoun, as illustrated in example (9), from Christophe. (9) I myself I used to love this language [Christophe].

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 133

This is a rarer feature, and in fact has not been extensively discussed in previous research on African Englishes, to my knowledge (but see Schmied (2006, 2008), who mentions a similar structure). It is not, of course, a major feature in the present material either, with two occurrences produced by Christophe and one by Fidèle, but it would be interesting to investigate other varieties to see whether this may be something that is in the process of emerging as an alternative to the more frequent combination of left-dislocated pronoun with co-referent pronoun in the core of the clause, which we now turn to. Judging from previous research, the use of a pronoun as a left-dislocated element is not a frequently occurring phenomenon, but Winkle (2015: 129) reports it as being more frequent in English from the Philippines than in other varieties, while noting that other scholars have observed it in South African and Ghanaian English as well. This type occurs three times in the present material, and is illustrated here by example (10), produced by Zépherin (see also example (2) above). (10) me I I like languages [Zépherin]

The material further contains one example each of a left-dislocated non-fi nite clause and one of a prepositional phrase (cf. examples (3) and (4) above, respectively), but these are clearly minor variants. 8.5.3 Functions of left-dislocation

In terms of syntactic function of the co-referent pronoun, the present material is very much in line with the previous studies discussed in Section 8.3: the vast majority function as subjects (cf. Lange, 2012; Ssempuuma, 2017; Winkle, 2015). In fact, there is only one instance where the syntactic function is direct object, presented here as example (11), and it is somewhat debatable whether this instance should be included at all, although it has been included in the total count. (11) my description the English I learnt I can’t it’s hard to describe whether it is Britain or or America [Fidèle]

As is evident from example (11), there is in fact no co-referent pronoun in the core of the clause, and the remainder of the extract, highlighted in grey, shows that Fidèle actually restarts the sentence (after the leftdislocation + ‘I can’t’). However, had the clause been completed, there would probably have been a pronoun that would have been co-referent with the left-dislocated element, and this pronoun would be functioning as direct object. While it is perhaps dubious to include this as an instance of left-dislocation, the reason for doing so was that one might see this as an instance where the co-referent pronoun was fairly easy to reconstruct, in the same way that elided elements are. Crucially, the inclusion or exclusion of this instance does not materially alter the fact that Fidèle produced

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the highest number of occurrences, so presumably no harm has been done by including it in the overall count. We turn now to the discourse functions of the left-dislocations in the present material.4 The classification scheme that formed the starting point for this overview was presented in Section 8.4, and this proved to be a useful starting point, but it soon became clear that in many instances it was difficult to defi ne a single function for the left-dislocation. Instead, it seemed that the choice of a structure with a left-dislocation was made to serve several different purposes. The discussion of the results presented here will therefore not be organised according to a strict ‘list principle’, but will focus on groups of examples and their various functions, and mention additional functions where relevant, in addition to the one that has been considered the primary function in each case. The fi rst group is one where the function seems to be dual: to provide an explicit link to the interviewer’s question, and to signal that what is to come is a personal reflection or opinion. This group is represented here by example (12), taken from the interview with Christophe (marked ‘C’ in the example). The interviewer’s question (marked ‘I’ in the example) is included to provide the context for Christophe’s statement. (12) I:

C:

I saw today that you spoke English with the people from the municipality do you think it is difficult to communicate with them in English or do you do you do you think their English is is difficult to understand I myself I was really surprised when I came to Norway

The interviewer asks for Christophe’s opinion, and the repeated pronouns of various types which refer to Christophe may therefore be considered to be a politeness marker indicating that he is responding to the question, while at the same time underlining that it is his personal reflection that is being presented. While this second function may seem to be very closely related to the function termed ‘affective priority: to create emphasis’ (cf. Section 8.4), there seems to be a difference between the function(s) of this example and those of example (13) and (14), which represent the second group. The second group comprises more straightforward cases of emphasis. In example (13), Fidèle emphasises how little room there was in the classroom due to the number of pupils in the class. (13) yeah three hundred in one class so whereby we were squeezed the people they were sitting on the floor

In example (14), again from the interview with Christophe, we fi nd pronouns in both the left-dislocated element and in the core of the clause, so the structure is somewhat similar to that found in example (12). But the function in example (14) is clearly to set up a distinction between how an American would feel and how Christophe himself feels.

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 135

(14)

C: I: C:

yeah maybe an American can feel it yeah but me I I found this normal

A third group is also closely related to the scheme outlined in Section 8.4, in that the primary function seems to be related to cognitive demands. It is not necessarily straightforward to determine whether it is the speaker’s planning pressure or the presumed processing load faced by the listener which is the primary driving force, however, as examples (15) and (16) illustrate. (15) I:

and do you understand Norwegians or do you sometimes have problems understanding Norwegians when they speak English to you

F:

(eh) Norwegian when they speak to me in English I hear them

(16) we used to neglect English from school because we are like where are we gonna go with this language because we are French colony French system so we used to neglect but the (eh) knowing and realizing the importance of English language most the most it was when I came to Uganda [Christophe]

As regards example (15), produced by Fidèle, it seems clear that the function of providing a link to the interviewer’s question is also present, since the word ‘Norwegian’ is taken from there. However, the function related to alleviating cognitive demands, and in this case most probably planning pressure on the part of the speaker, has been deemed more important, due to the turn-initial fi lled pause. The reasoning behind this is that Fidèle is buying planning time by first employing a fi lled pause, and then a communicatively unnecessary repetition of a word from the interviewer’s question. We fi nd a pause also in example (16), but here the pause is followed by a rather long and complex non-fi nite clause, which then has a co-referent pronoun in the core of the subsequent fi nite clause. Due to the position of the pause and the long and complex element that follows it, one might here conclude that in this case it is equally likely that the repeated pronoun is there for the benefit of the listener, to ease the processing load associated with the complex element. Finally, we will look at two instances where the primary function seems to be one of topic establishment, and where a secondary function seems to be to create emphasis. Both instances occur in the same utterance from informant Koïs, presented here along with the interviewer’s question as example (17). (17) I:

okay so I have noticed that your many of the refugees they speak English very well how come

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K:

(eh) like those who can speak English when they are in Congo ‘cause if they went to they go to secondary they they can have the lesson of English and those who will follow the lesson of English they can speak it (eh) but those who study from Uganda or other countries like Tanzania Kenya they taught English starting from primary

The reason that topic establishment has been deemed to be the primary function here is that Koïs is setting up a distinction between people who learned English in Congo and people who learned it in Uganda, Tanzania and Kenya. Obviously, in setting up a distinction there is a certain element of emphasis present, but due to the parallel constructions (‘those who …’ being repeated), it seems that the function of topic establishment is more salient. Alternatively, one might perhaps consider the first instance to be more of the topic-establishment type, with the second one more strongly expressing contrast in comparison with the fi rst, but in any case both functions are present. 8.6 Concluding Remarks

The research question that formed the starting point for the present investigation asked whether the spoken English of Congolese refugees displayed evidence of left-dislocation along the lines of what has been suggested in previous research. As the results discussed in Section 8.5 show, there is support for the hypothesis that the participants would display higher frequencies of left-dislocation than that found for Standard English by Biber et  al. (1999). Indeed, the observed frequencies in the present material were higher than those reported for a number of varieties around the world by Winkle (2015). The fi ndings were largely similar to those reported in previous research regarding the form of the left-dislocated elements, with a possible exception for the combination of dislocated pronoun and reflexive pronoun. This is clearly an area where further research is necessary, to establish whether this really is unique to Ugandan English, or whether it is a construction that is in the process of emerging. The proportion of co-referent pronouns functioning as subject in their respective clauses was very much in line with that reported in previous research, whereas the discourse functions of left-dislocations were of similar types, but perhaps less easy to distinguish from one another than one may have expected based on the literature. In the present material, a large proportion seemed to exhibit at least two, more or less equally important, functions. As the present material is small, however, caution should be employed in interpreting the results, and the study should be replicated on a larger dataset before any fi rm conclusions can be drawn. Nonetheless, the present study offers an insight into the English spoken by Congolese refugees that may prove useful as it forms the starting point for their

Word Order in Additional Language English Spoken by Multilinguals 137

acquisition of Norwegian. Future studies are required to explore whether these speakers transfer their preference for left-dislocation into their Norwegian production and, if so, how this is interpreted by their new language community. Notes (1) The term Standard English is used here in accordance with the defi nition provided by Merriam-Webster (m-w.com): ‘the English that with respect to spelling, grammar, pronunciation and vocabulary is substantially uniform though not devoid of regional differences, that is well established by usage in the formal and informal speech and writing of the educated, and that is widely recognised as acceptable wherever English is spoken and understood’. (2) In example (1), the left-dislocated element has been underlined, and the co-referent pronoun is in italics. This convention will be followed throughout the chapter. (3) This is possibly due to substrate influence in the case of speakers of Bantu languages, as ‘focus marking can be done by means of prosody in English’, but is ‘generally marked only syntactically’ in Bantu languages (Zerbian 2015: 230–232; see also Makalela, 2007; Mestrie, 2010; van der Wal, 2015). (4) Due to the word limit, the reader is referred to subsection 8.3.2 for an overview of the functions of left-dislocations as they have been described in previous research.

References Bamiro, E.O. (1995) Syntactic variation in West African English. World Englishes 14 (2), 189–204. Biber, D., Johansson, S., Leech, G., Conrad, S. and Finegan, E (1999) Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English. Harlow: Pearson Education Limited. Bobda, A.S. (2001) East and Southern African English accents. World Englishes 20 (3), 269–284. de Galbert, P.G. (2020) Language transfer theory and its policy implications: Exploring interdependence between Luganda, Runyankole-Rukiga, and English in Uganda. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development, Ahead-of-print, 1–19. Downing, L.J. (2010) The prosody of ‘dislocation’ in selected Bantu languages. Lingua 121, 772–786. Kim, K-h. (1995) WH-clefts and left-dislocation in English conversation. Cases of topicalization. In P. Downing and M. Noonan (eds) Word Order in Discourse (pp. 247–296). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Lange, C. (2012) Syntax of Spoken Indian English. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Leuckert, S. and Rüdiger, S. (2020) Non-canonical syntax in an Expanding Circle variety. English World-Wide 41 (1), 33–58. Makalela, L. (2007) Nativization of English among Bantu language speakers in South Africa. Issues in Applied Linguistics 15 (2), 129–147. Manetta, E. (2007) Unexpected left dislocation: An English corpus study. Journal of Pragmatics 39, 1029–1035. Mazrui, A.M. and Mazrui, A.A. (1993) Dominant languages in a plural society: English and Kiswahili in post-colonial East Africa. International Political Science Review 14 (3), 275–292. Meierkord, C. (2004) Syntactic variation in interactions across international Englishes. English World-Wide 25 (1), 109–132.

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Meierkord, C. (2020) Attitudes towards exogenous and endogenous uses of English: Ugandan’s judgements of English structures in varieties of English. International Journal of English Linguistics 10 (1), 1–14. Meierkord, C., Isingoma, B. and Namyalo, S. (eds) (2016) Ugandan English. Its Sociolinguistics, Structure and Uses in a Globalising Post-Protectorate. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Mesthrie, R. (2010) Contact and African Englishes. In R. Hickey (ed.) The Handbook of Language Contact (pp. 518–537). Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Nakayiza, J. (2016) The sociolinguistic situation of English in Uganda. A case of language attitudes and beliefs. In C. Meierkord, B. Isingoma and S. Namyalo (eds) Ugandan English. Its Sociolinguistics, Structure and Uses in a Globalising Post-Protectorate (pp. 75–94). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Namyalo, S., Isingoma, B. and Meierkord, C. (2016) Towards assessing the space of English in Uganda’s linguistic ecology. Facts and issues. In C. Meierkord, B. Isingoma and S. Namyalo (eds) Ugandan English. Its Sociolinguistics, Structure and Uses in a Globalising Post-Protectorate (pp. 19–49). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Nassenstein, N. (2016) A preliminary description of Ugandan English. World Englishes 35 (3), 396–420. Nicolle, S. (2016) Variation in the expression of information structure in eastern Bantu languages. In D.L. Payne, S. Pacchiarotti and M. Bosire (eds) Diversity in African Languages (pp. 377–395). Berlin: Language Science Press. Nojea, T. (2018) Uglish: The unavoidable dialect. A passage from British English to Ugandan English from a sociolinguistic and historical perspective. Philologica Jassyensia 28 (2), 219–226. Prince, E.F. (1997) On the functions of left-dislocation in english discourse. In A. Kamio (ed.) Directions in Functional Linguistics (pp. 117–143). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Schmied, J. (2006) East African Englishes. In B.B. Kachru, Y. Kachru and C.L. Nelson (eds) The Handbook of World Englishes (pp. 188–202). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Schmied, J. (2008) East African Englishes (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): Morphology and syntax. In R. Mesthrie (ed.), Varieties of English. Africa, South and Southeast Asia (pp. 451–471). Berlin: De Gruyter. Sprenger-Tasch, M. (2003) Attitudes towards Luganda, Kiswahili, English, and mother tongue as media of instruction in Uganda. In H. Cuyckens, T. Berg, R. Dirven and K.  Panther (eds) Motivation in Language: Studies in Honor of Günter Radden (pp. 347–366). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Ssempuuma, J. (2017) Morphological and syntactic feature analysis of Ugandan English: Influence from Luganda, Runyankole-Rukiga, and Acholi-Lango. PhD thesis, RuhrUniversität Bochum. van der Wal, J. (2015) Bantu Syntax. Oxford Handbooks Online. DOI: 10.1093/ oxfordhb/9780199935345.013.50 van der Wal, J. and Namyalo, S. (2016) The interaction of two focus marking strategies in Luganda. In D.L. Payne, S. Pacchiarotti and M. Bosire (eds) Diversity in African Languages (pp. 355–377). Berlin: Language Science Press. Wolf, H-G. (2010) East and West African Englishes. Differences and commonalities. In A. Kirkpatrick (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of World Englishes (pp. 197–211). Abingdon: Routledge. Zerbian, S. (2015) Syntactic and prosodic focus marking in contact varieties of South African English. English World-Wide 36 (2), 228–258.

9 ‘The Sound of Asking a Question’: Metalanguage and Crosslinguistic Awareness in Adults Learning Norwegian as an Additional Language Gunhild Tveit Randen

9.1 Introduction

Metalinguistic awareness (MLA) and metalinguistics are terms that have appeared with increasing frequency in studies of literacy development and multilingualism since the 1980s. The positive correlations between MLA and reading outcome in children are documented in a large number of studies, and the benefits of multilingualism for MLA are well known. There is a general assumption that MLA benefits additional language acquisition, but the nature of this relationship still needs more investigation (Simard & Gutiérrez, 2018: 205). The purpose of this study is to explore the role of MLA in terms of metalanguage and crosslinguistic awareness expressed by adults learning Norwegian as an additional language. The study aims to answer the following Research Questions (RQ): RQ1: In what ways do adult language learners of Norwegian express their understanding of linguistic form? RQ2: In what ways do adult learners of Norwegian use crosslinguistic awareness to support additional language learning? Using data from individual interviews, this case study follows three adult learners of Norwegian during the first year of the Introduction Programme, aiming to understand how MLA and functions of crosslinguistic awareness are involved in additional language learning.

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The fi rst question is answered by studying the learners’ implicit and explicit metalanguage related to different languages just after arrival to Norway and one year later. The second question is answered by exploring the learners’ beliefs about the relationship between previously acquired language competence and learning Norwegian. The fi ndings lead to a discussion of the role of MLA and crosslinguistic awareness in language education for adults. 9.2 Conceptualising Metalinguistic Awareness

A diversity of perspectives is used to describe metalinguistic constructs. Researchers in different traditions use terms like awareness consciousness, competence and knowledge in ways that have little commonality to describe varying or overlapping constructs. Terms like understanding, activity, behaviour and development are also used to describe aspects of metalinguistics (Myhill et al., 2016: 25). In this study, MLA refers to ‘the ability to focus on linguistic form and switch focus between form and meaning’ (Jessner, 2008: 277) and being able to ‘treat language as an object of reflection’ (Tellier & Roehr-Brackin, 2013: 7). A large number of studies have been inspired by Bialystok’s framework (1991, 2001) describing analysis and control as the metalinguistic dimensions of awareness. According to her work, MLA implies ‘that attention is actively focused on the domains of knowledge that describes explicit properties of language’ (Bialystok, 2001: 127). She explains MLA as a result of two cognitive processes: (1) analysis of linguistic knowledge and (2) control of attention. While analysis makes unanalysed knowledge appear as more explicit cognitive representations, control represents the ability to selectively attend to specific aspects of representation (Bialystok, 2001: 131). The understanding of MLA in this study is based on Bialystok’s framework. The term crosslinguistic awareness has been defi ned by Cenoz and Jessner (2009: 127) as ‘the learner’s tacit and explicit awareness of the links between their language systems’ and by Angelovska and Hahn (2014: 187) as ‘a mental ability which develops through focusing attention on and reflecting upon languages in use and though establishing similarities and differences among the languages of one’s multilingual mind’. Applying a crosslinguistic approach to MLA, this study considers the learners’ prior linguistic resources in any language a potentially useful tool in additional language learning. Metalinguistic knowledge includes knowledge of general principles of language, but it becomes accessible to the learners through knowledge of a specific language. According to Bialystok researchers in language acquisition, education and cognitive development have developed their models from ‘the simplifying assumption that learners have one mind, one conceptual system, and one language’ (Bialystok, 2013: 624). She points at the limitations of this assumption arguing that

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limitations are quickly apparent when one considers the inevitable and prolific interactions between language and thought in almost every cognitive endeavour, particularly during development. Several other researchers have criticised this monolingual bias in language acquisition and argue for a more holistic view considering a more dynamic approach to multilingualism (Cenoz & Gorter, 2011, 2015; May, 2014; Ortega, 2014). The term multicompetence was introduced by Cook (1991, 2003) as ‘the knowledge of more than one language in the same mind’ (Cook, 2016: 3). He argues that the linguistic competence of multilinguals is somewhat different from the competence of monolinguals and that comparison between monolingual native speakers and L2 learners is consequently irrelevant. This represented a fairly new perspective on multilingualism, instead of traditional norms in linguistics (Jessner, 2018: 267). 9.3 Representation of Metalinguistic Awareness

Since the very beginning of the SLA-paradigm, there has been a debate about the role of consciousness in language learning, starting with Krashen’s (1982) distinction between (unconscious) acquisition and (conscious) learning, based on the idea that these two concepts are qualitatively different. Even though Krashen’s ideas are more or less rejected (Truscott, 2015: 132–136), the discussion of implicit and explicit knowledge or awareness in additional language learning remains relevant. According to Roehr-Brackin (2018: 2) linguistic research concerned with SLA tends to conceptualise metalinguistic awareness in terms of explicit in opposition to implicit knowledge about language, defi ning explicit knowledge as ‘conscious awareness of what a language or language in general consist of and/the role it plays in human life’. Implicit language knowledge, on the other hand, is ‘tacit, intuitive, and noneconscious, reflecting the sensitivity to the structure of learned material’. Ellis (2008: 418) describes explicit knowledge as conscious, declarative, anomalous, systematically, accessible through controlled processing and verbalisable, while implicit knowledge is characterised by being intuitive, procedural, variable but systematic, accessible through automatic processing, and non-verbalisable. As mentioned above, a key element in MLA is that learners in some way discover language for themselves. How linguistic form can be discovered and how the evidence of this awareness can be observed in learners, will depend on how you defi ne MLA and how this theoretic defi nition is operationalised through representation. Defi ning MLA as explicit metalanguage or using tasks requiring the student to identify, isolate, manipulate linguistic features (cf. Bialystok’s analysis and control) are much used approaches that help delimit the construct for specific purposes, but which also provides some limitations in grasping a broader scope of the construct, in particular in studies not focusing on formal educational settings.

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According to Ellis (2017: 121), the challenges in defi ning and operationalising awareness and knowledge has resulted in researchers using what he refers to as a ‘pragmatic approach’ to the topic, i.e. used easy administer tests like grammatically judgements, metalinguistic judgement, multiplechoice or other limited response formats to measure metalinguistic constructs. A core element of metalinguistic understanding is that it is verbalisable. Roehr (2008: 179) sees the distinction between non-verbalisable and verbalisable linguistic knowledge as the distinction between implicit linguistic knowledge and explicit metalinguistic knowledge. Thus, language itself becomes a key mechanism through which MLA is developed and articulated. (Myhill et  al., 2016: 25). This makes the role of learners’ metalanguage crucial for getting access to MLA but also underlines the importance of defi ning metalanguage in a sense that is appropriate to grasp the MLA of learners with diverse linguistic and educational backgrounds. According to Roehr and Gánem-Gutiérrez (2009: 80) research on metalinguistic knowledge has ‘more often than not […] described metalinguistic knowledge as knowledge of pedagogical grammar in the broadest sense, that is the knowledge that explicitly describes and explains selected L2 construction to promote and guide instructed language acquisition’. Defi ning metalanguage as explicit use of grammatical terminology would not be expedient for the objective of this study because this kind of terminology, usually related to formal schooling, cannot be expected to be found in the language of refugees. Wang and Wang (2013) suggest a more nuanced classification than the clear-cut distinction between implicit and explicit awareness, adding an extra dimension of high and low explicit MLA. Whereas low explicit MLA is characterised by lower degrees of explicit awareness, making learners able to draw attention to linguistic form using an everyday language, high explicit MLA is characterised by higher degrees of awareness and makes learners able to consider and discuss language using specific metalanguage terminology. The implicit type of MLA is unconscious, non-verbal and acquired through abundant exposure to the language (Wang & Wang, 2013: 48). Wang and Wang’s model was chosen as a tool for explaining data in this project to draw attention to, and include, aspects of metalanguage expressed by non-professionals having their language learning experience from diverse or informal settings. The nature and quality of metalanguage have been investigated by several researchers. Gutiérrez (2016) draws a distinction between analysed knowledge, defi ned as awareness of linguistic rules available to consciousness, and metalanguage, defi ned as analysed knowledge verbalised through technical language, as to different aspects of metalinguistic knowledge. A similar distinction is described by Berry (2005) and Preston (2004) referring to metalanguage as (1) technical metalanguage involving linguistic expressions and (2) metatalk involving ‘the discursive activity

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that has language as its topic even if the terms used do not refer to language’ (Berry, 2005: 8). Compared with Wang and Wang’s defi nition of low explicit MLA presented above one can see similarities between the concepts analysed knowledge (Gutiérrez, 2016) and metatalk (Berry, 2005), of which the latter often is considered a part of folk linguistics, in opposition to professional linguistics (Preston, 2018: 376). As stated by Bialystok (2001: 145), one pays attention to linguistic form for instance when engaging in conversations. In this study, MLA is examined by studying the learners’ use of metalanguage and by exploring their beliefs about the uses of acquired linguistic skills (including literacy) in conversations about language and language learning. Following Berry (2005) metalanguage refers to any linguistic expression used for talking about language. 9.4 Data Collection and Analysis

In this case study, data are collected in two ways: (1) verbalisation data collected in English are used to access metalanguage and crosslinguistic reflections; (2) verbalisation data in additional language Norwegian are used to assess the actual use of the features. Collection of data in the participants’ additional languages may have influenced their ability in expressing themselves in ways that are comprehensible to the researchers, regardless of their actual metalinguistic skills. The fi ndings must be interpreted in light of this limitation. The learners underwent two individual interview sessions which lasted for about 30 minutes. Data were first collected at the very beginning of the learners’ Norwegian training (1–3 months) and again after a year. Both data sets are semi-structured interviews based on a detailed interview guide, inviting the learners to name, explain and compare features of all the languages they know. The major topics of the fi rst interviews were (1) previous language knowledge, (2) discovering Norwegian, and (3) learning strategies, with follow-up questions for each topic related to phonology, morphology, syntax and literacy. The second interview focused on learning Norwegian, and learning strategies, with a supplementary short dialog in Norwegian. The interview guide did not introduce technical metalanguage, but it was sometimes used by the interviewer when considered suitable. Although the same interview guidelines were used in all the interviews, it was important for the study to focus on the individual experiences and beliefs of each learner, and the data are therefore not comparable in the sense that identical input has been provided by the interviewer. The spoken, interactional data were transcribed using the software Elan. Data were then analysed drawing on Wang and Wang’s (2013) framework of implicit and explicit MLA. Crosslinguistic awareness was examined by searching for examples focusing on similarities and

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differences between the languages within the learners’ linguistic repertoire. This chapter is principally based on data from the fi rst interview, while data from interview two are used to complement and point at some indication of development. 9.5 Findings

In this section, the fi ndings from each learner will be presented to address the research questions, followed by a general discussion comparing the three learners to answer the research questions. 9.5.1 Case 1: Koïs

Koïs is 18 years old and has been living in Norway for three months at the time of the fi rst interview. Her previously acquired languages are Swahili, which is spoken in her family home, and English, which she learnt at school in Uganda. She can also understand Kinyabwisha, but she is not speaking it herself. Koïs went to school for 10 years in Uganda and learnt to read and write in English there. As a child, her parents also taught her to read and write in Swahili. In the fi rst interview, Koïs’ metalanguage is characterised by few explicit expressions, where she uses everyday language to mention or explain characteristics of languages she knows. Her use of technical metalanguage is not very advanced, but she is using terms like vowels, consonants, alphabet, combine letters, form sentences, grammar, prepositions and past tense. Most of her representations of MLA are visible as explanations of linguistic features, through giving examples of how distinctions can be made in her previously acquired languages, and by pointing at characteristics of Norwegian, corresponding with Wang and Wang’s (2013) notion of low explicit MLA. The following example illustrates how Koïs is aware of the difference between singular and plural, and the definite articles of the three genders in Norwegian. She is also able to give examples of how to inflect the noun car and mention the appropriate articles. Guri: Koïs: Guri: Koïs:

What is the main difference between Norwegian and English and Swahili? in Norwegian is (indistinct). I don’t know how you can call it. if you want, a car, car, the car, the cars. and in Norwegian, you can use ei, et og en yes and how to use them, it can be difficult to me. I don’t know which one can be used; ei et og en

Koïs’ awareness of this very complex structures of Norwegian, and her understanding of this as a feature she doesn’t master yet, may be seen as

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evidence for her ability to switch focus between form and meaning (Jessner, 2008) and to use language as an object of reflection (Tellier & Roehr-Brackin, 2013). In the second interview, she still considers this feature difficult because she hasn’t identified the rules for its use. Despite Koïs’ limited use of technical metalanguage, she shows her knowledge of this by comprehending the interviewer’s metalanguage, which may be interpreted as an implicit representation of MLA (Roehr, 2008). Koïs also demonstrates an understanding of several quite advanced linguistic terms, for example singular, plural, verb, etc., and she also seems to respond adequately to most questions concerning linguistic form. The following example shows the dialogue between the interviewer and Koïs about singular and plural in Swahili. Guri: Koïs: Guri: Koïs: Guri: Koïs: Guri: Koïs:

another word then. banana. one banana ndizi and many bananas they are all ndizi it’s the same? so singular and plural is the same? yes So it’s not like in English where you have a -s if it’s plural yes

Although Koïs’ contribution to the dialogue principally limits to confirm the interviewer’s questions, it seems clear that she is aware of the topic in discussion, e.g. she can easily relate to Guri’s question about singular and plural and respond adequately. This clearly illustrates why analysed knowledge and technical metalanguage must be treated as different but still valid representations of MLA, as stated by Gutiérrez (2016). At the second interview, Koïs seems to have added some new linguistic terms to her vocabulary, like infinitive, present tense, perfect and possessive pronouns, which she uses to explain what she has learnt in Norwegian class. She also gives examples of linguistic categories she is struggling with, like tone and inverted word order using everyday language which can be seen as low explicit metalanguage. When speaking Norwegian with the interviewer, she speaks clearly and slowly and is obviously concentrating. In particular regarding word order, there are examples of selfcorrection and hesitation, which can indicate that she is turning her attention to form while speaking (De Houwer, 2017). In terms of crosslinguistic awareness, Koïs points at her literacy skills developed in Swahili and English as very beneficial in learning Norwegian. Guri: Koïs:

But for someone who does not know to read and write, how do you think it is to learn Norwegian? it can be difficult. because they can start by learning the alphabet because they don’t know the alphabet in any language. So they can start with the alphabet and the alphabet in norsk that is so confusing

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She emphasises that even if the ‘sounds’ of the letters are different from English, which again is different from Swahili, her knowledge of reading and writing helps her in learning Norwegian. She further draws attention to the similarities between Norwegian and English as an advantage in learning Norwegian words. Even though she doesn’t know French herself, she also supposes that French would be beneficial for her learning of Norwegian, because of its similarities to Norwegian. She also points out that it probably would be quite difficult for Guri to learn Swahili, because the words and sentences are combined differently and because ‘the letters are pronounced different’. This indicates that Koïs is aware of the formal differences between the linguistic systems and she beliefs that formal similarities between languages facilitate learning. 9.5.2 Case 2: Prudent

Prudent is 39 years old and has been living in Norway for three months when the first data were collected. On his way from Congo to Uganda and further to Norway, Prudent has developed a complex linguistic repertoire including proficiency in the languages Kitembo, Swahili, French, English, Lingala, Kiganda and Norwegian. He has attended school in Congo as a child and reports to have higher education from Uganda. His basic literacy skills were developed in French, and he also tells that he can read and write Kitembo, Swahili and English. In terms of explicit metalanguage Prudent needs some support from the interviewer to keep the focus on linguistic form as the topic of the conversation. As a response to Guri’s specific questions, he is using the terms like vowels, grammar, verb, past now (tense), present, article, noun and feminine word, and also more common terms associated with language use, like translate, interpret, read and write. He tends to use grammar as an overall term for all structures concerning aspects of morphology and syntax. The following example shows the dialogue between Prudent and Guri concerning past tense. Guri: Prudent: Guri: Prudent:

Guri: Prudent: Guri: Prudent:

In Kitembo, if you want to express that something happened before. How do you do that? In Kitembo if I want to express something that happened before…? Do you want me to express something in Kitembo? No, I just want to know how the grammar of Kitembo is. The grammar… ja… the grammar. Eh… It’s a dialectal language, which I not really (+indistinct) no grammar. when I want to express what happened before. How I can do it. I can say like. I can express it. I can say… I can express it … we have the way how to express it and how do you do that? in Kitembo? Yes In Kitembo I just say ‘biaba’. It was. ‘Biaba’. It was

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The quote may indicate that he is struggling to analyse this linguistic feature in Kitembo (c.f. Bialystok’s 2001 defi nition) or that he lacks the appropriate vocabulary to verbalise his knowledge (Ellis, 2008), but also that clearly understands that he is supposed to turn attention to linguistic form (Bialystok, 2001). Further on Prudent and Guri have a longer dialogue about parts of words representing tense. Prudent is using the terms like ‘now’ and ‘before’ illustrating that with Guri’s scaffolding, he can extract morphemes representing tens in Kitembo. He also turns attention to specific structures of language by giving examples of new structures he has discovered in Norwegian. Prudent:

And other thing, which is very weird, you find articles in the end of words instead of being in, the front of. It’s now in the end of the word! Now, how can you know that!? You have to learn it.

As exemplified here, Prudent is surprised having discovered that defi niteness in Norwegian is expressed by an inflectional suffix. This is an indication that he is able to compare new linguistic forms with forms in his previously acquired languages and that he is aware that these different forms can represent the same meaning (Jessner, 2008). At the second interview, Prudent prefers to speak Norwegian instead of English, as initiated by the interviewer. When asked to describe what they have been working with in class lately he answers by quite general topics like ‘grammatical things’ or giving examples (cf. Wang & Wang’s 2013 defi nition of low explicit awareness): ‘We have been working with words like ‘kona mi’ (‘my wife’) and ‘barnet mitt’ (‘my child’). But when Guri suggests that this might be the topic of possessive pronouns, using the Norwegian word for it, he confirms this and points at this as a difficult feature because it is different from both English and French, and because there is no simple way to know the gender of the Norwegian nouns. This underlines that even if he cannot verbalise the grammatic rules in question, he is aware of this challenging feature in Norwegian, and that he can compare it to corresponding forms in languages he knows, but also that he considers it difficult because it is different. In terms of crosslinguistic awareness, Prudent has strong beliefs about the benefits of knowing a similar language. Knowing English and French, Prudent has experienced that in particular learning of Norwegian words can be facilitated, as illustrated by the following dialog: Prudent: Norwegian, to learn it is easy when you know English. When you know English, it can be easy to learn Norwegian. and another thing: if you have been to school it is fast to learn Norwegian Guri: mhm Prudent: Norwegian is not so difficult to learn it because it is so many French and English words inside it. some words have some simi- simi- same sounds in it. For example, ‘journalist’. In English it is ‘journalist’

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At the second interview Prudent still holds on to this point of view, but he has also experienced that some words can look the same, but have a different use, e.g. that the word gå (‘go’, ‘walk’) cannot be used in all the same ways as go in English. This implies that he sees links between his languages (Cenoz & Jessner, 2009) and is using a comparison between languages as a strategy to develop his linguistic repertoire (Jessner, 2008). Prudent also emphasises his experience of former schooling as beneficial for learning Norwegian focusing on the transfer of skills across languages (Jessner, 2008). The following quotes illustrate his reflections on the question of potential difficulties in acquiring Norwegian. Prudent: Prudent:

To me it is good. I know how to read. The ones who have not been to school or dealing with intellectual things, it is not easy for him learning Norwegian Normally when you put someone who never learned, you never go to school, it will get you tired fast. to make that person to understand the thing.

These beliefs may indicate that the experience of being a learner and knowing how to acquire new skills by itself can represent a useful multicompetence (Cook, 2016) independent of specifi c language skills (Ortega, 2014). He additionally underlines that in particular literacy skills acquired in languages he learnt in his childhood have had a huge impact on his possibility to learn Norwegian. Even if the Latin alphabet is used differently in his languages by means of graphemes representing different phonemes, it still helps to know ‘the system’, and he can consequently draw upon these skills when learning Norwegian (Angelovska & Hahn, 2014). He accordingly seems to maintain a holistic view on his own linguistic skills and practices.

9.5.3 Case 3: Fidèle

Fidèle is 31 years old and has been living in Norway for about three months when the fi rst data are collected. He left Congo as a child and grew up in Uganda. In his childhood, he learnt to speak Swahili in the family, while he learnt Kinyabwisha by immersion in the society, and English in school. He also reports having some knowledge of Runyoru and Luganda. He has literacy skills in English and Swahili. In terms of metalanguage Fidèle easily comprehends the interviewer’s questions and he can keep his attention to formal features of language through the conversation (cf. Bialystok’s 2001 defi nition of MLA). His metalanguage is characterised by low implicit verbalisations and examples on how things can be said in his previously acquired languages (Wang &

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Wang, 2013), but there are also some examples of technical metalanguage (Berry, 2005), like past tense in the following example. Guri:

Fidèle: Guri: Fidèle:

so, in Swahili, if you want to express that something has happened before, how do you do that? If you want to make a distinction between something that happens now and something that happened before? past tense how do you make past tense in Swahili? for example, I can say ‘nililala’

Here he answers by making an example when the interviewer asks how to make past tense, but when asked, he can easily explain what the different parts of the expression represents, for example, that ‘nili’ means ‘I am’ but when adding ‘lala’ it means ‘I slept’. His use of high explicit metalanguage is limited to the verbs, using terms like infinitive, past, present and use of broad categories like grammar, pronunciation, sentences, letters and sounds. There are also examples that he is using technical metalanguage incorrectly, for instance when explaining the difficulties in inflecting nouns in different forms, he refers to the nouns ‘dame’ (‘woman’) and ‘kone’ (‘wife’) as verbs. Fidèle: Guri: Fidèle:

But we are using the infinitive and the past and the present tense, for example. If you have found like ‘e dam ei dame’ You change it to ‘ei dame’ and continue to ‘damer’ Mhm damenen, konenen. Yeah from ‘kone, kona’

Despite the wrong terminology use, the quote illustrates that he is aware of the different forms the noun can be inflected in, exploring forms of singular, plural and defi nite and indefi nite. He also points out that this represents a difficulty in Norwegian, which indicates that he has analysed linguistic knowledge, but that his attempt to use technical metalanguage for describing it may have some limitations (Gutiérrez, 2016). When Guri asks about sounds in his previously acquired languages, he mainly answers about letters and interprets the question as if it were about reading, which may indicate that his awareness of letters is more explicit than the awareness of phonemes (Ellis, 2008). He also draws attention to similarities in the way of reading by arguing that Norwegian is quite similar to what he fi nds in Swahili. Fidèle: Guri: Fidèle: Guri: Fidèle:

yes, because many of the words, like if you say ‘alene’. that means alone. alene. you are reading it just like someone who is reading Swahili …would have read the same thing Yes, but different meaning, but when you are reading… the sounds Yes, the sounds. you think that you are reading Swahili

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As I understand it, he has noticed that Norwegian orthography is in some way more orthophone than for instance in English. The example provides evidence that he can treat language as an object of reflection (Tellier & Roehr-Brackin, 2013) and that he uses his MLA to see links between different language systems (Cenoz & Jessner, 2009). At the second interview, Fidèle speaks partly Norwegian, partly English. When asked what he has been working on within Norwegian class lately, he points at both grammatical topics like word order in questions, and invented word order, as well as lexical topics like ‘the topic of “Hvor kommer fra” (“Where are you from”)’. When speaking Norwegian, he is obviously very focused on form in some parts. He monitors his language use by speaking slowly, hesitating, and correcting himself, which is often seen as a representation for MLA (De Houwer, 2017). In other parts of the conversation, he is getting more involved in the topic, speaks faster and cares less about grammar and pronunciation. In terms of crosslinguistic awareness, Fidèle points at literacy skills developed in English and Swahili as beneficial for learning Norwegian. Even though he is aware that the phoneme–grapheme correspondence is not identical between different languages, he mentions that if you can read English ‘you are able to read and write, you are able to try to write another language’. The following quote illustrates Fidèle’s reflections about the differences between Norwegian and English. Fidèle: eh like we have this letter /ᵾ/ or letter /jᵾ/ Guri: Mhm Fidèle: In English letter /jᵾ/, but the sound here is different

By focusing on transference between languages, that the grapheme represents different phonemes in Norwegian and English, Fidèle shows that he considers his whole linguistic repertoire as relevant for learning Norwegian (Cook, 2016). In particular, he emphasises the benefits of knowing English. When the interviewer asks if he thinks it would be different for him to learn Norwegian if he didn’t speak English, he confirms this and underlines the similarity between Norwegian and English as essential for his learning. Fidèle: It could be difficult for me Guri: Why? Fidèle: Because most of the Norwegian word are mixing up with the English Guri: Mhm Fidèle: yeah, a lot of things like for instance ‘fot’ (English: foot)

By reflecting over similarities between languages (De Houwer, 2017) and pointing at links between linguistic systems (Cenoz & Jessner, 2009) Fidèle illustrates that he can use his MLA as a tool for learning, even if his MLA mainly is realised by low implicit verbalisations and examples.

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9.6 Discussion 9.6.1 Metalanguage

The title of this chapter ‘The Sound of Asking a Question’ is a quote from Prudent. Guri is asking him to explain the difference between a question and a declarative sentence in Kitembo, and Prudent keeps repeating the sentence as a declarative and as a question in Kitembo several times. Finally, he understands that he is required to verbalise the difference, and he repeats the question and tells that ‘this is the sound of asking a question’. This example is quite illustrating for the kind of metalanguage found in this study. Metalanguage is mainly realised by the use of everyday (low explicit) language by means of (1) examples contrasting forms in Norwegian (the difference between kone and kona), (2) by contrasting Norwegian and other languages (‘alene’ means ‘alone’), (3) by paraphrasing the function of a linguistic feature or (4) by simply giving an example of how something can be said in a language they know. When technical language is used by the learners, it is mentioned by main categories like verbs, nouns, and articles, and terminology related to word classes or literacy. Metalanguage is in most cases not realised by the use of single words but is rather reflected in the dialogue between the learners and the interviewer. The interviewer’s follow-up-questions are helping the learners to keep focused on the questions. And she is also assisting them to express their knowledge about language by modelling what she thinks the learner want to say. The interviewer’s active role in encouraging the learners to use metalanguage could be seen as a limitation of the study, but it can also be seen as an example of how implicit MLA can be made more explicit by supporting the learners to verbalise features in languages they know. Guitérrez (2013) reports that the absence of metatalk could not be interpreted as an absence of reflections about language or an absence of knowledge of language. And Simard and Guitérrez (2018: 213) underline that most talk about language could be useful when solving linguistic problems. This fi nding turns attention to the possibilities in applying the learners’ previous linguistic knowledge as a tool for raising awareness about linguistic form. As pointed out by Schleppegrell (2013: 164) ‘recognition of the role of purposeful interaction and participation in meaningful activities to support language development has a long history in SLA research and has recently been connected with other theoretical perspectives grounded in social views of language’. This draws attention to the importance of arranging educational settings where all aspects of a learner’s linguistic repertoire could be the topic of the conversation. Such practices depend on teachers’ knowledge about the nature of multilingualism and their willingness to make use of and appreciate the learners’ previously acquired languages as a resource in additional language learning (May, 2014; Ortega, 2014).

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All three learners seem to have a higher degree of analysed knowledge and metalanguage about letters and their function in reading and writing, which probably relates to them having formal schooling. As phonologic awareness is a precondition to acquiring alphabetic print (Bialystok, 2001), one must assume that this awareness is present as analysed knowledge in the learner. The awareness of phonemes as distinct from letters, seems less analysed, as they all hesitate to answer or misunderstand questions about phonemes. This is particularly observed in their description of Norwegian vowels, where they point at the letters , and as difficult because they are new to them as letters, not mentioning that the pronunciation of is /o/ which is known from their previously acquired languages. Only Prudent mentions that the vowel /ᵾ/ represented by is hard to pronounce. Other typologically marked features of Norwegian, like the distinction between long and short vowels or the retroflexed consonants of which there are many in the eastern dialects, is not mentioned by any of the learners. This may indicate that while knowledge letters are realised as explicit and verbalisable, phonemes remain more implicit. Following Gutiérrez’s (2016) distinction between explicit knowledge as analysed knowledge and metalanguage, the learners’ knowledge in most cases represents analysed knowledge in the sense that it might be available to consciousness (visualised by giving examples in another language or mentioning a problematic distinction), but not available for proper verbal report. This is an indication that they can turn their attention (cf. Bialystok, 2001: 127) to towards language itself. All three learners point at the gender of nouns as a challenge in Norwegian. But by being aware that they have to choose one out of three genders, and knowing that they, as pointed out by Prudent, in the defi nite form are realised by an inflectional suffi x, they have limited the tasks and made it more accessible for learning. Inversed word order is also mentioned of Koïs and Fidèle as something they struggle with, even though they are aware of the rule: verb on second place. According to Bialystok (2001), ‘metalinguistic problems that require the highest level of control of processing are those in which the solution depends on paying attention to some aspects of the language input that is not salient, not usual, or not expected’ (2001: 146). The learners explain that they fi nd the grammar of nouns and word order challenging because it is different from the languages they know and because they represent new features, which requires different categorisation or realisation of features they already know. There is reason to believe that the learners’ ability to turn attention to these difficulties, even if the degree of awareness is low, could serve as a foundation for making it more explicit and more analysed. To do this there is a need of developing a broader understanding of what MLA looks like in adult language learners with a complex multilingual background.

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9.6.2 Crosslinguistic awareness

It seems very clear that the multilingual learners of this study have several linguistic experiences making them able to identify explicit properties of language, though not through the kind of (meta)language preferred in formal education, on which studies of MLA are often based. As reported by the learners themselves, the most important knowledge they are bringing with them is (1) literacy skills and (2) knowledge of English and French. They also point at the general experience of schooling as crucial for the possibility to learn Norwegian, even though they all report to have learnt languages in informal settings by ‘talking to people’ (see Steien, this volume) or by ‘reading things’. Concerning the benefits of literacy and the benefits of knowledge in English or French, they draw attention to similarities between previous knowledge and the topic to be learnt. In terms of English and French, the lexical similarities to Norwegian are emphasised, whereas the universal knowledge of decoding alphabetic print is mentioned regarding literacy. Based on the informant view that similarities represent facilitation in learning, they confirm Bialystok’s (2001) conclusions that aspects of language that are not salient, not usual, or not expected, would be more demanding to access than aspects that are already known. Another important aspect to explain this fi nding is that both literacy and knowledge of English and French represent skills the learners have acquired through formal education. As pointed out above (cf. Gutiérrez, 2013, 2016; Wang & Wang, 2013), such skills are often more analysed and explicit than skills learnt informally. This might explain why the learners seem to be more aware of these skills and also have a more explicit metalanguage to explain them. However, it is important to consider the extent to which this knowledge developed in previously acquired languages can assist the learners to access linguistic features in Norwegian. When asked about their knowledge in different languages, none of the learners point at their knowledge of African languages as beneficial, and upon a direct question, both Prudent and Fidèle tell that they don’t think their home languages will be of any use in learning Norwegian or in the Norwegian context in general. This finding may be explained by their experiences that that English and French actually can be used for communicative purposes in Norwegian classrooms while African languages to a lesser extent seem relevant in this setting. It may also account for a general experience that some languages of the world are more appreciated than others. By implementing multilingual pedagogical practices that value and scaffold all the linguistic resources present, this challenge could be met. Nevertheless, all three of them demonstrate that they can access the linguistic form employing low explicit metalanguage when helped by specific questions from the interviewer. It is also worth noticing that the learners seem very enthusiastic when telling about languages that the interviewer

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doesn’t know, which implies that they experience the situation as very suitable for talking about language. The benefits of multilingualism in additional language learning are disputed among researchers. Research has contributed to considerable knowledge about MLA in bilingual school children, in foreign language education, in higher education, and students abroad, but we still have little knowledge about the group of learners represented in this study. The number of adult refugees is increasing, and they are located in adult learning centres all over the western world. As the learners in this study, many of them have a linguistic background including knowledge of several languages, literacy in several languages and various educational experience. As opposed to the groups mentioned above, these learners have not chosen to engage with language learning, but the need is brought about by external circumstances. To meet the educational needs of this group we need to develop educational practices that are suitable to call attention to, recognise and take advantage of their linguistic repertoire as a potentially facilitative tool in additional language learning. Following Cook’s (1991, 2016) concept of multicompetence, I consider it crucial to account for the fact that the learners have multiple and unique experiences with language which could be activated and used to scaffold additional language learning. 9.7 Conclusion

The present study has explored the complex relationship between metalanguage and additional language learning, and the potential role of crosslinguistic awareness in the language learning process of three adult learners. The fi ndings give insights into how the learners’ MLA is verbalised through low explicit metalanguage by means of examples contrasting forms in Norwegian, by contrasting Norwegian and other languages, by paraphrasing the function of a linguistic feature, or by giving examples of how something can be said in a previously acquired language. It is argued that research on metalanguage in adult refugee learners needs to apply constructs of metalanguage that can grasp different aspects of explicit linguistic knowledge developed in informal settings. In terms of crosslinguistic awareness, the learners report that their previously acquired knowledge related to literacy and knowledge of languages similar to Norwegian is beneficial for their language learning. The study calls for new pedagogical practices that can scaffold learners’ access to their multicompetence as a resource in learning an additional language. References Angelovska, T. and Hahn, A. (2014) Raising language awareness for learning and teaching L3 grammar. In A. Benati, C. Laval and M.J. Arche (eds) The Grammar Dimension in Instructed Second Language Learning (pp. 185–207). London: Bloomsbury Publishing. Berry, R. (2005) Making the most of metalanguage. Language Awareness 14 (1), 3–20.

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Bialystok, E. (1991) Language Processing in Bilingual Children. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bialystok, E. (2001) Bilingualism in Development: Language, Literacy, and Cognition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bialystok, E. (2013) The Impact of bilingualism on language and literacy development. In T.K. Bhatia and W.C. Ritchie (eds) The Handbook of Bilingualism and Multilingualism (pp. 624–648). West Sussex: Blackwell publishing. Cenoz, J. and Gorter, D. (2011) A holistic approach to multilingual education: Introduction. Modern Language Journal 95, 339–343. Cenoz, J. and Gorter, D. (2015) Towards a holistic approach in the study of multilingual education. In J. Cenoz and D. Gorter (eds) Multilingual Education: Between Language Learning and Translanguaging (pp. 1–15). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cenoz, J. and Jessner, U. (2009) The study of multilingualism in educational contexts. In L. Aronin and B. Hufeisen (eds) The Exploration of Multilingualism (pp. 121–138). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Cook, V. (1991) The poverty-of-the-stimulus argument and multicompetence. Second Language Research 7 (2), 103–117. Cook, V. (2003) Introduction: The changing L1 in the L2 user’s mind. In V. Cook (ed.) Effects of the Second Language on the First (pp. 1–18). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Cook, V. (2016) Premises of multi-competence. In V. Cook and Li, W. (eds) The Cambridge Handbook of Linguistic Multi-competence (pp. 1–25). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Houwer, A. (2017) Early multilingualism and language awareness. In J. Cenoz, D. Gorter and S. May (eds) Language Awareness and Multilingualism (3rd edn, Vol. 6, pp. 83–97). New York: Springer Publishing. Ellis, N.C. (2017) Implicit and explicit knowledge about language. In J. Cenoz, D. Gorter and S. May (eds) Language Awareness and Multilingualism (3rd edn, Vol. 6, pp. 113–124). New York: Springer Publishing. Ellis, R. (2008) The Study of Second Language Acquisition. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gutiérrez, X. (2016) Analyzed knowledge, metalanguage, and second language profi ciency. System 60, 42–54. Gutiérrez, X. (2013) Metalinguistic knowledge, metalingual knowledge, and proficiency in L2 Spanish. Language Awareness 22 (2), 176–191. Jessner, U. (2008) A DST model of multilingualism and the role of metalinguistic awareness. The Modern Language Journal 92 (2), 270–283. Jessner, U. (2018) Language awareness in multilingual learning and teaching. In P. Garrett and J.M. Cots (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Language Awareness (pp. 257– 274). Abingdon: Routledge. Krashen, S.D. (1982) Principles and Practice in Second Language Acquisition. Oxford: Pergamon Press. May, S. (2014) Disciplinary divides, knowledge construction, and the multilingual turn. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL and Bilingual Education (pp. 7–31). Abingdon: Routledge. Myhill, D., Jones, S. and Wilson, A. (2016) Writing conversations: Fostering metalinguistic discussion about writing. Research Papers in Education 31 (1), 23–44. Ortega, L. (2014) Ways forward for a bi/multilingual turn in SLA. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL, and Bilingual Education (pp. 32–53). Abingdon: Routledge. Preston, D.R. (2004) Folk metalanguage. In A. Jarowski, D. Galasinski and N. Coupland (eds) Metalanguage: Social and Ideological Perspectives (pp. 75–102). Berlin: De Gruyter. Preston, D.R. (2018) Folk linguistics and language awareness. In P. Garrett and J.M. Cots (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Language Awareness (pp. 375–386). Abingdon: Routledge.

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Roehr, K. (2008) Metalinguistic knowledge and language ability in university-level L2 learners. Applied Linguistics 29 (2), 173–199. Roehr-Brackin, K. (2018) Metalinguistic Awareness and Second Language Acquisition. Abingdon: Routledge. Roehr, K. and Gánem-Gutiérrez, G.A. (2009) Metalinguistic knowledge: A stepping stone towards L2 proficiency. In A.G. Benati (ed.) Issues in Second Language Proficiency (pp. 79–94). London: Bloomsbury Publishing. Schleppegrell, M.J. (2013) The role of metalanguage in supporting academic language development. Language Learning 63, 153–170. Simard, D. and Gutiérrez, X. (2018) The study of metalinguistic constructs in second language acquisition research. In P. Garrett and J.M. Cots (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Language Awareness (pp. 205–221). Abingdon: Routledge. Tellier, A. and Roehr-Brackin, K. (2013) The development of language learning aptitude and metalinguistic awareness in primary-school children: A classroom study. Essex Research Reports in Linguistics 62 (1), 1–28. Truscott, J. (2015) Consciousness and Second Language Learning. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Wang, G.H. and Wang, S.-D. (2013) Roles of metalinguistic awareness and academic extensive reading in the development of EFL/ESL academic writing skills. Journal of Arts and Humanities 2 (9), 47–55.

10 Syntactic Complexity in Early Adult Additional Language Norwegian Bård Uri Jensen

10.1 Introduction

This chapter investigates the development of syntactic complexity in additional language (AL) Norwegian in the early stages of acquisition, by two adult Congolese learners. The object of study is oral data from conversations which took place over a period of one year plus two essays written a few months later. The focus of the investigation is on the development of a selection of syntactic complexity variables in the oral data, whereas the written data functions as a contrast and comparison. An overview of the analysed variables is shown in Section 10.4.3. The purpose of this study is contributing to knowledge about how syntactic complexity develops in an AL. The study investigates adult learners with complex language backgrounds, and it concentrates on early stages, from just a few months subsequent to onset of acquisition. Also, in contrast to many studies of complexity (e.g. Golden et al., 2017; Jarvis, 2013b; Paquot, 2019), this study is an in-depth analysis of traits of development, focusing on just two learners. The case is Norwegian, but whereas the properties of concrete linguistic variables naturally vary from language to language, most of the issues discussed are generalisable and relevant to AL development also in other languages. In a wider picture, the study also provides a view on what constitutes syntactic complexity in learner language. 10.2 Syntactic Complexity: Theoretical Background

One motivation for studying complexity in AL is its relationship to proficiency (Bulté & Housen, 2012; Carlsen, 2012; Larsen-Freeman, 1978). For several decades now, complexity has been studied as one dimension of the triad of complexity, accuracy and fluency (CAF) (e.g.

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Housen et  al., 2012). Proficiency comprises all three dimensions and increased AL proficiency typically entails increased levels in all of them. In concrete situations, however, the three dimensions may stand in competing relationships, as higher complexity may cause – or at least correlate with – lower accuracy or lower fluency, for instance. The current study focuses on the nature of the development of complexity narrowly and no attempt has been made to align complexity levels with proficiency levels. According to Bulté and Housen (2012), complexity is often poorly defi ned or operationalised in AL studies, and many studies of AL complexity calculate only one or two measures (Bulté & Housen, 2012: 34). Clearly, linguistic complexity is a construct which itself is complex or diverse (Jarvis, 2013a; Jensen, 2017) and made up of multiple dimensions or facets which are partly independent and partly interdependent. Although their focus was not on proficiency, early studies of oral and written L1 registers (Biber, 1988; Halliday, 1979) demonstrate the multidimensionality of features of language use, of which many easily may be related to complexity. These studies partly attribute the dimensions to various situational factors, of which available cognitive capacity is one. Halliday, in his 1979 study and in other studies, emphasises the difference between syntactic complexity – or ‘intricacy’ – and a specific lexical complexity dimension, namely lexical or informational density. Although Jensen (2017) demonstrates the interdependences of lexical and syntactic complexity dimensions, the current study focuses solely on the syntactic component, itself a multidimensional construct, see Section 10.4.3. So far, I have avoided the question of what entity’s complexity is actually measured or analysed. First, there is the question of systemic complexity (Sampson et al., 2009), i.e. the complexity of the inter-language system, versus utterance complexity. The current study analyses the complexity of utterances, i.e. what Sampson (2009) calls structural complexity. To a certain extent, the complexity of structures uttered by speakers indirectly reflects the complexity of their language systems, since clausal subordination, for example, cannot be part of performance unless it is present in the competence. But the connection is weak and asymmetrical and in general, language competence cannot be measured by analysing utterances alone. The current study focuses on the structural complexity of utterances, without making assumptions on systemic complexity. Secondly, there is the question of objective, theoretical complexity of form and subjective user-oriented complexity (Dahl, 2009), called ‘relative’ complexity by Miestamo (2008). The latter concerns what is cognitively demanding, which immediately begs the question of demandingness with respect to what activity – production, reception or acquisition. In addition, modality plays a role (Karlsson, 2009), as do other situational variables and a variety of individual variables, like L1 vs AL acquisition, age, age of onset of acquisition, typology of previously acquired languages, etc. The current study focuses on theoretical or ‘absolute’ formal

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complexity of the utterances, although the question of cognitive demandingness of production is touched upon. The underlying defi nition of complexity used in this study follows the tentative defi nition of Bulté and Housen (2012: 22): the number and the nature of the discrete components that the entity consists of, and the number and the nature of the relationships between the constituent components.

Hunt (1970: 4) uses as his basic measure of syntactic ‘maturity’ the length of the t-unit, defi ned as ‘one main clause plus any subordinate clause or nonclausal structure that is attached to or embedded in it’. The length of a t-unit is clearly a hybrid measure of complexity, as it is the result of a wide combination of different linguistic properties related to the sentence and clausal level (e.g. Moe, 2012), as well as the phrasal level (Paquot, 2019) and the lexical level (Jarvis, 2013b). At one level of abstraction, the length of the t-unit could be seen as the product of the number of constituents and the length of the constituents (Hunt, 1965). Clausal subordination may be the most effective way of expanding constituents, and many studies analyse the frequency or extent of clausal subordination in some way or other (Bulté & Housen, 2012). Expanding the verbal structure of a clause is an effective way of increasing the number of syntactic components, since complements and adjuncts are attached to the (main) verb. Finally, expanding a phrase extends the length of that constituent. The current study analyses syntactic variables based on these three types of syntactic processes: clausal subordination, expansion of the verbal structure and extension of the phrase. 10.3 Syntactic Complexity in AL Norwegian: Literature Review

Currently, knowledge of acquisition of Norwegian syntax is limited and few longitudinal or large-scale studies exist (Jensen, 2018). Furthermore, the focus of many of the existing studies is on accuracy rather than complexity. What is probably the most comprehensive study of syntactic complexity in AL Norwegian was carried out by Berggreen and Sørland (2016). They followed 19 pupils over three years from their fi fth or sixth year in primary school. The authors studied 221 written texts and found the mean length of t-units to increase by each year, from 5.4 to 6.6 and 7.5 words per t-unit. Further, they found the mean ratio of subclauses to main clauses to increase each year, from 0.13 to 0.22 and 0.33 subclauses per t-unit, and the mean maximum length of noun phrases to increase each year, from 2.7 to 3.5 and 4.1. For these three results, significant differences were found between year 1 and year 3 only, but the development was steady for each measure. It is worth noting, however, that the increase could partly be due to a development in maturity, like the one Hunt (1965, 1970) found.

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Moe (2012) studied three variables of syntactic complexity related to CEFR levels of proficiency A2, B1 and B2 in 1189 written texts by adults. She found the mean length of t-units to increase with proficiency level from 12.4 to 13.4 and 15.1. She found the mean ratio of subclauses to t-units to increase from 0.60 to 0.66 and 0.75, and she found the variation in subclause types, measured as the maximum number of different subordinating conjunctions in a text, to increase from 4.9 to 5.6 and 6.8. All effects were found to be significant. Hoftun (2017) investigated noun phrases in 110 written texts by adult learners between the B1 and C1 levels of proficiency. She found the number of noun phrases consisting of determinative + adjective + noun head to increase with proficiency level. Such phrases are generally infrequent in her data, however, and the increase is small, particularly between B1 and B2. She found no phrases with both possessives and attributive adjectives. Golden et al. (2017) studied 400 texts written by Spanish-speaking and Vietnamese-speaking adults. They found no difference between the A2 and B1 levels in terms of mean length of sentences or subclause frequency. The current study is original in its focus on oral language and on early stages of acquisition. Also its qualitative approach and its investigation of the verbal structure are original. The other variables investigated have all been investigated in earlier studies.

10.4 Method 10.4.1 Data

The participants of this study are two men in their early thirties, known by the pseudonyms Christophe (born 1987) and Fidèle (born 1990). They arrived in Norway in the autumn of 2019, August and October, respectively, and commenced Norwegian language courses shortly after – in December 2019 and January 2020. Both speak English in addition to several African languages; Christophe also speaks French (see Steien & Monsen [Introduction], and Rørvik, this volume). Both have been settled in the Eastern Norwegian dialect area. The data being analysed consist of both oral dialogue data and written essays. Each participant participated in 10 conversations with a Norwegian researcher (Guri Bordal Steien) they know well. Steien is also proficient in English and French, but the conversations are clearly defined as Norwegian spaces (cf. Steien & Monsen [Conclusion], this volume). In some instances, English words or short phrases are used by the participants, and Steien sometimes translates her contributions to English or French, if necessary. The main vehicle of the conversations is, however, clearly Norwegian. The fi rst conversations were recorded in January (Christophe) and February (Fidèle) of 2020, i.e. about a month after they started their language course. All conversations were recorded in 2020, at irregular intervals but spread

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out through the year. Overall, Fidèle’s conversations took place a bit later in the year than Christophe’s, on average about 50 days later. This delay roughly corresponds to Fidèle’s later arrival and the later commencement of his language course and is considered of no real importance in the discussion. Hence, the conversations are referred to as C01 (Christophe, first conversation) through C10 and F01 through F10 and concrete dates are not mentioned. The participants’ contributions to each conversation vary from approximately 100 seconds to 500 seconds, indicating that the samples are not directly comparable. In total number of seconds, Christophe has contributed about 25% more than Fidèle. In addition, each participant contributed two written essay-like texts, both written in the spring-term of 2021, i.e. after all the oral data were collected. The first text was written in February 2021 as a response to the prompt ‘Da jeg kom til Norge’ (‘When I came to Norway’), and the second in April 2021 to the prompt ‘Vinter i Norge’ (‘Winter in Norway’). In the following, the texts are referred to as CA, CB, FA and FB. Both texts were written in the participants’ own homes, with the researcher present. There were no explicit instructions with respect to text length, but all texts consist of between 140 and 200 words. In total, Fidèle has produced about 10% more written words than Christophe.

10.4.2 Transcription of oral data

All conversations were originally transcribed by researchers, either by the author of this chapter or by authors of other chapters in this book. These transcriptions were made for various purposes and hence subsequently transformed into a format suitable for this study specifically. In this process, pauses and hesitation sounds, repetition of single words or larger segments, and segments of self-correction were removed, as shown in (1). (1)

vi går-e på bå-båten på: eh og slapper av [C03] >vi går på båten og slapper av we board the-boat and relax

The oral data are dialogues and thus demonstrate dialogue properties (cf. Horbowicz, this volume), notably partial repetitions of the researcher’s turns, which sometimes have a scaffolding function. Attempts have been made to analyse only clearly independent contributions. The transcriptions use normalised spelling irrespective of phonemic or phonetic deviance from the target language norm. Inflectional or derivational affi xes are not added, however; neither are function words. Words in English are transcribed in English and rendered in italics (2), as are their translations. (2)

ja, jeg kjøpe alkohol i båten er veldig cheap [C03] yes, I buy alcohol in the-boat is very cheap

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The speech data are segmented into utterances based on syntactic structure, intonation and pauses. Utterances are defi ned as spanning a maximum of one t-unit; some utterances do not consist of t-units, however, but possibly of subclauses, of clause-like structures lacking either subject or verb or both, or of stand-alone phrases. The clause is defi ned as fi nite and hence clauses must contain the context for a fi nite verb; the actual verb may not be in a fi nite form, however, and may even be lacking altogether. Obviously, segmentation into utterances based on these rather vague definitions is open to subjective judgment. Many utterances are introduced with a ‘ja’ (‘yes’), sometimes as a partial response to the researcher or even to the participant’s own previous turn. This is transcribed but not included in complexity calculations. Many utterances are introduced with a conjunction, in particular ‘og’ (‘and’) or ‘så’ (‘so’), even if there is no logical coordination. Such conjunctions are counted as part of the utterance, but not as part of a clause. 10.4.3 Syntactic analysis

In the current study, syntactic complexity is operationalised as the space defi ned by the following variables: • • • • •

the number of words in an utterance; the number of subordinated clauses in an utterance; the number of words in a clause; the number of syntactic constituents in a clause; the occurrence of non-trivial verb phrases: coordinated verb phrases; infi nitive phrases; the structure of noun phrases: pre-modification: function word(s) and/or lexical word(s); post-modification: infi nitive phrase, preposition phrase, relative clause. ○ ○

•

○ ○

As many very simple structures are present in the oral data, mean values are not very informative. Therefore, the maximum complexity for each variable is noted for each dialogue and used as a measure of complexity for the entire dialogue. 10.5 Results

This section presents the results of each variable listed in Section 10.4.3, illustrated with examples. 10.5.1 Utterance or t-unit complexity 10.5.1.1 Overall utterance length

The maximum utterance in number of words for each dialogue are shown in Table 10.1 and in Figure 10.1.

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Table 10.1 Maximum number of words in an utterance in 10 dialogues and in the written essays 01

02

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07

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7

7

8

9

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6

9

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17

12

14

16

15

25

19

7

13

7

10

12

19

16

Figure 10.1 Development of maximum number of words in oral utterances through the year

As shown in Figure 10.1, the two participants start off at approximately the same maximum lengths of utterance, but Christophe’s maximum utterances are generally longer throughout the year. Examples of the longest utterances in the fi rst dialogue of each participant are shown in (3) and (4): (3)

jeg snakker på /malai/? med kona mi [C01: 7 words] I speak on [unknown] with the-wife mine

(4)

sammen kona jeg går på skolen [F01: 6 words] together the-wife I go to the-school

Both show little development from the beginning but rising figures towards the end of the year, and both have a peak value roughly in the middle. The peaks in C05 and F06 are shown in (5) and (6): (5)

hvis jeg er ikke avtale med noen og noe å gjøre jeg bor hjemme med sønnen min [C05: 17 words] if I am not arrange with somebody and something to do I live (i.e. stay) home with the-son mine

(6)

men mennesker kommer inne, stopper her, vasker dem, den gå for kjøpe inne [F06: 13 words] but people come inside, stop here, wash them (i.e. hands), then go to buy inside

Both these utterances display actual complexity in terms of length, although Fidèle’s contains a series of four simple verb phrases which is probably not that cognitively demanding (Dahl, 2009; Miestamo, 2008). They could have been analysed as four consecutive t-units with elided subjects.

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Both also have a high value at the very end – see (7) and (8); it is impossible to know if this represents a development or an arbitrary peak. (7) jeg vil blir det første fordi jeg ta det navnet fordi de dager covid nineteen er det første jeg sa og covid dreper mange folk [C10: 25 words] I will be the fi rst because I take that name because those days covid nineteen is the fi rst [that] I said and covid kills many people (8)

lærer om bruke Teams og? Facebook? fordi any tid ikke gå på skolen fordi korona begynne nå? i Norge [F10: 19 words] [we] learn about use Teams and? Facebook? because any time not go to the-school because corona begins now? in Norway

A possible interpretation of Christophe’s development is that it comes in stages: fi rst, a stable level from C01 to C04, followed by a relatively stable but higher level from C05 to C09, and then a considerably higher level at C10 and possibly onward. A similar pattern is discernible for Fidèle, but more speculatively so, as the difference between the averages of F01–F05 and F06–F09 is slim. The following analysis of what may constitute the increased complexity of the utterances sheds some light on this. As shown, there are some fluctuations. These should not be interpreted as fluctuations in the proficiency of the participant, but rather as arbitrary variability resulting from factors like the topic of the conversation or the participant’s mood, or simply from the limited length of the conversation. Comparing with the written essays, the maximum t-unit lengths are 19 and 16, respectively. This is longer than the typical maximum oral utterance, as expected, but not longer than the very longest ones. Mean t-unit length in the written essays is 8.45 (sd 4.4) for Christophe and 7.65 (sd 3.0) for Fidèle. 10.5.1.2 Clausal subordination

The maximum number of subclauses in an utterance for each dialogue are shown in Table 10.2. In the fi rst four dialogues, Christophe produces only two subclauses in total. From then on, he produces several subclauses in each dialogue, i.e. t-units which are complex in terms of clausal subordination. Fidèle, on the other hand, produces only two clausally complex t-units during the first nine dialogues, but Fidèle is capable of producing fairly long t-units Table 10.2 Maximum number of subclauses in an utterance for each dialogue and in the written essays 01

02

03

04

05

06

07

08

09

10

Text

C

0

1

1

0

1

1

1

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0

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1

0

0

0

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1

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2

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without subclauses, as shown in (6). Christophe, on the other hand, mostly relies on clausal subordination to produce his maximal utterances, like in (7) (C10, 25 words, four subclauses), although an exception is seen in (9). Thus, the increase in maximum utterance length in C05 coincides with the onset of regular clausal subordination in C05. (9) jeg og kona min og barna oss skal til barnehagen hver dag [C06: 12 words] I and the-wife mine and the-children us (i.e. ours) shall [go] to thekindergarten every day

The written essays all contain a fair number of subclauses, a total of 13 for Christophe and 14 for Fidèle. Even so, the maximum number in any t-unit is only two, as shown in (10) and (11): (10) men jeg liker snø uten regn fordi når er det regn det er glatt [CB: 2 subclauses] but I like snow without rain because when is it rain it is slippery (11)

tror jeg vinter er vanskelig måned fordi det er veldig kaldt og mye snø [FB: 2 subclauses] think I winter is difficult month because it is very cold and much snow

In the essays, Fidèle has several instances of t-units containing two fi nite subclauses, whereas Christophe has only this one instance. The ratio of subclauses to t-units is quite similar for the two: 0.33 for Christophe and 0.29 for Fidèle. 10.5.2 Clausal complexity

In this section, three perspectives on clausal complexity are analysed. 10.5.2.1 Length of clause

The maximum number of words in a clause for each dialogue are shown in Table 10.3. Table 10.3 shows a strikingly regular development in the maximum lengths of Christophe’s clauses up until and including C07. After that, there seems to be a temporary decline, but it is reasonable to assume that this is just arbitrary variability and that Christophe has reached a stable maximum value of 11 +/– 2. Fidèle, on the other hand, displays a totally different pattern of no typical increase in clause length over time; only one peak at F06, shown in (6). This clause demonstrates little syntactic Table 10.3 Maximum length of clause in each dialogue and in the written essays 01

02

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intricacy, as the main bulk is made up of a string of coordinated simple verb phrases. The shorter clause in (13), however, has one verb and a clear structure with three adverbials. Comparing the two participants, Christophe has systematically longer clauses than Fidèle from dialogue 04 and on, although with two slight exceptions. One of Christophe’s maximum length clauses, shown in (12), displays several types of clausal complexity, two of which will be discussed in more depth below: adverbial constituents and coordinated verb phrases. (12) etter skolen jeg må dra hjemme og hente barna til barnehagen tilbake hjemme [C10: 13 words] after the-school I must go home and fetch the-children to (i.e. from?) the-kindergarten back home (13) vi dro til Sted på tur og sammen familien min [F08: 10 words] we went to Place on trip and together the-family mine

Comparing with the written essays, Christophe’s maximum written clause is considerably longer than his longest oral clause. This is not surprising, as extending a clause in this way is likely to be more cognitively demanding and the support of the written medium may assist the cognitive process (e.g. Karlsson, 2009); also, the later date at which the essay was written may play a role. Worth noting, however, is the fact that the longest written clause contains two infi nite verb phrases, and hence with a different defi nition of the clause, the results would have been different. Fidèle, on the other hand, does not produce written clauses which are longer than his longest oral clause. His longest written clause is shown in (14) and like Christophe’s it demonstrates a fairly complex verb structure. (14)

derfor vi pleier å være ute og leke i snø her i Norge [FB: 13 words] therefore we use to be outside and play in snow here in Norway

All the longest clauses are main clauses. 10.5.2.2 Constituents

Unlike (14), the constituent structure of some of the utterances is not obvious, and a certain amount of subjective judgment must be applied when parsing them into constituents. The maximum number of constituents in a clause for each dialogue are shown in Table 10.4. There is no development in the maximum number of constituents in a clause throughout the data-collection period. Christophe has the same Table 10.4 Maximum number of constituents in a clause for each dialogue and in the written texts 01

02

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Text

C

5

5

5

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4

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5

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maximum in all dialogues but the last (12), which also has a dubious structure with two locative adverbials. Fidèle’s maximums vary between four and six. One utterance with six constituents is shown in (15) – subject, verb, direct object, temporal adverbial, locative adverbial and an accompaniment adverbial: (15) jeg spiser mat i dag på kantine sammen du [F02: 6 constituents] I eat food today on cafeteria together you

The results indicate that extending a clause beyond about five constituents is difficult, semantically if not cognitively; few situations require a large number of adverbial modifiers. And if they do, dividing the content entities into several clauses or t-units might feel more natural or be cognitively easier. Thus, it seems that the number of clause constituents is a poor measure of syntactic complexity, at least in early AL development. Incidentally, it might surprise us that Fidèle has more clauses exceeding five constituents than Christophe, given Fidèle’s generally lower scores in other variables. A possible explanation is that especially in the fi rst conversations, Fidèle’s strategy seems to be to utter chunks of 2–3 words in a series, stringing the chunks together into a semantically coherent sequence which, however, often lacks an obvious syntactic structure. (16) folk snakker – med min – det ser – på Finn – ikke koster mye [F03: 22 seconds] people speak – with my (i.e. me) – it sees – on [second-hand webshop] – not costs much (17) jeg assister min kone – also lage mat – salat – med preparasjoner – med pakke – gå på tur – vi løper [F03: 27 seconds] I assist my wife – also make food – salad – with preparations – with packing – go for walk – we run

As indicated in (16) and (17), Fidèle needs quite a lot of time to string these utterances together, and many are interspersed with hesitation sounds, word repetitions and self-corrections (not shown here). I think it is fair to assume that Fidèle does not always have a sentence structure in mind – consciously or subconsciously – when constructing these utterances, but that sometimes they do result in sequences which may be analysed into syntactic structures. Hence, some of these semantically complex utterances may turn up in the statistics as syntactically complex utterances with many constituents – accidentally, so to speak. The maximum number of constituents in the written essays does not deviate from the oral data for any of the participants.

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10.5.3 Verbal structure

In this section, infi nitive phrases and coordinated verb phrases are investigated. 10.5.3.1 Infinitive phrases

Infi nitive phrases may function as subject or as complement in preposition phrases, as well as postmodifiers in noun phrases. Some of these post-modifier constructions are formulaic (see Nordanger, this volume) and hence maybe not syntactically complex in a production perspective, like (18) and (19): (18) jeg har noe å fortelle deg [C07] I have something to tell you (19) vi er ferdig å spise [F10] we are fi nished to eat

Constructions like (18) contribute to noun phrase length, which is discussed in Section 10.5.4. In the dialogues, infi nitive phrases are not used as subjects by any of the participants; Christophe has one instance in the written essays, in addition to a few occurrences in preposition phrases: (20) å bli kjent med nordmenn er også vanskelig fordi nordmenn holder avstand mye [CA] to become acquainted with Norwegians is also difficult because Norwegians keep distance much

It seems reasonable to assume that the subject infi nitive is too demanding for oral production at this stage of acquisition. Also – and possibly for complexity reasons – subject infi nitives may be more prevalent in written registers. 10.5.3.2 Coordinated verb phrases

Coordinated verb phrases range from simple coordinated fi nite verbs without complements (21) or with common complements to fully expanded verb phrases with separate complements and adjuncts (12). The latter could be regarded as coordinated (main) clauses with elided subject, but when regarded as coordination of verb phrases within the same clause, it is maybe the most powerful way to increase the complexity of a (main) clause. (21) vi leser eller snakker [C02] we read or talk

Christophe uses coordinated verbs almost from the beginning, as shown in (21), but in fairly simple constructions. It is, however, used sparingly and is not present in every dialogue; as late as C10 (12), it does not contribute to much extra complexity.

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As with clause constituents, Fidèle’s constructions are not unambiguous in terms of verb phrases: (22)

jeg sammen studenter snakker sammen lese ‘god i norsk’ tekstboka [F02: 2 verbs?] I together students talk together read ‘Good in Norwegian’ the-textbook.

(23)

leser snakker skriver på kafé, ja, drikker kaffe [F02: 4 verbs?] read talk write in cafe, yes, drink coffee

But in four instances through the year, he produces undisputed coordinated verb phrases, like: (24)

sammen vi trene med barna her og spiller fotball [F03: 2 verbs] together we train with the-children here and play football

Summing up, coordinated verb phrases are not frequent in the oral dialogues at this stage. The construction is rare also in the essays, with a total of one instance in Christophe’s texts and two in Fidèle’s. 10.5.4 Phrasal complexity: The case of noun phrases

Table 10.5 shows the maximum length of noun phrases in each dialogue. The least demanding way to extend a noun phrase is probably by coordinating nouns, with or without conjoining conjunctions, like Christophe does in (9) (‘I and my wife and our children’) or Fidèle in (25): (25) det er vinter, høst, vår og sommer [FB] it is winter, autumn, spring and summer

These long noun phrases do not require great proficiency or cognitive capacity and therefore, coordinated noun phrases are disregarded in Table 10.5 and in the following discussion. Disregarding coordinated phrases, the typical noun phrase in the dialogues consists of either one or two words. Typical two-word phrases are either determiner + noun (e.g. ‘hver dag’ = ‘every day’, ‘tre barn’ = ‘three children’, ‘en bok’ = ‘a book’) or noun + determiner (e.g. ‘kona mi’ = ‘my wife’), and these occur from the first dialogue for both participants. Twoword phrases with two lexical words could be considered more complex; these typically consist of adjective + noun and are a lot less frequent in the conversations. Single instances of ‘ny test’ (‘new test’), ‘ny klasse’ (‘new class’) Table 10.5 Maximum noun phrase length in each dialogue and the written essays 01

02

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and ‘veldig bra gaver’ (‘very good gifts’, three words) occur in C03, C05 and C07, whereas by C08, Christophe seems to be confident in combining adjectives and nouns: e.g. ‘svart mannen’, ‘god helse’, ‘nye ting’, ‘hvit mennesker’ (‘black the-man’, ‘good health’, ‘new things’, ‘white people’). Fidèle also has sporadic adjective + noun constructions: e.g. ‘brukt sykkel’, ‘fi n plass’ (‘used (i.e. second-hand) bike’, ‘nice place’), but a total of only three instances, in F03 and F06. In the written essays, however, Christophe uses adjectives attributively to a very small extent, only one instance, whereas Fidèle produces a total of eight such phrases, e.g. ‘fantastisk landet’, ‘veldig spennende årstid’, ‘en stor stue’, ‘gammel dame’ (‘fantastic the-country’, ‘very exciting season’, ‘a big living-room’, ‘old woman’). Both use adjectives predicatively, but the difference in attributive use is noticeable. Noun phrases exceeding two words are rare, but fi rst appear in C03, with ‘very god vennen min’ (‘very good the-friend mine’), which contains an English word and besides is quite far from target-like. From C05 and on, Christophe produces noun phrases of length 3 or more in every dialogue, e.g.: (26) noe å gjøre [C05: 3 words, post-modification with infi nitive phrase] something to do (27) en aktivitet jeg gjør [C06: 4 words, post-modification with relative clause] an activity [that] I do (28) veldig bra gaver [C07: 3 words, pre-modification with adverb] very good gifts (29) mange ting å gjøre hjemme [C08: 5 words, pre- and post-modification] many things to do at-home (30) verb i preteritum [C09: 3 words, post-modification with preposition phrase] verb in past-tense

Christophe demonstrates a broad repertoire in both pre-modification and post-modification, as well as in combination. One could suspect ‘noe å gjøre’ to be learnt formulaically, or being calqued from English, but later, post-modifying infi nitive phrases turn up also in other contexts. Fidèle, on the other hand, remains at two words as his typical maximum phrase length. On average, fewer than half of the NPs in the written texts are complex in the sense that their heads are modified. Modification is generally simple in writing too; only a handful of NPs have more than one premodifying word. They typically consist of a premodifier to a determiner or adjective premodifier, e.g. ‘nesten hver dag’ (‘almost every day’). The three-word sequence of determiner + adjective + noun (e.g. ‘et nytt land’ = ‘a new country’) is rare, only three instances (Christophe 2, Fidèle 1).

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Phrases with more than three pre-modifying words are not present. Both participants use complex postmodifiers of both types and all texts contain at least one postmodifier. Postmodifying relative clauses are more frequent than postmodifying preposition phrases, a fi nding which could be considered surprising if one holds a view of clausal subordination as the prototypical syntactic complexity: (31)

for de har mange aktivitet som de gjøre [CB] for they have many activity that they do

(32) etter et måneder bor i Norge fi kk vi gammel dame hvem er vår venn til nå [FA] after one months live in Norway got we old woman who is our friend until now

In some instances, like in (32), the relative clause could just as easily be interpreted as an iterative mechanism introducing a new clausal sequence rather than post-modifying the noun phrase. Hence, all post-modification should not automatically be regarded as phrasal complexity. Instance (33), however, is a clear and unambiguous example of recursive post-modification by relative clause. (33) byen som ligger i Nord-Norge få mye snø [CB] the-town which lies in North-Norway get much snow 10.6 Discussion

The analysis above demonstrates that an in-depth study like this can give valuable insights in the field of syntactic complexity and knowledge about how it develops in additional language. The most obvious result is the difference between the two participants (see also Horbowicz, this volume). Whereas all their measures are similar at the beginning of the year, the maximum values of almost all Christophe’s complexity variables increase through the year: overall t-unit and clause length, clausal subordination, verb phrase complexities and noun phrase length. Combinations of factors add up to the increase in length of his t-units. Fidèle, on the other hand, shows no clear development in any of the individual complexity measures. Even so, the maximum lengths of his t-units show a slight increase towards the end of the year and there probably exists some accumulative effect which is not caught in the current analysis. Inter-individual variation in AL acquisition is known to be great and is the result of both well-known and less well-known factors. Another obvious result is the variability over time in the individual variables. The effect of arbitrary variation should never be forgotten, but in addition, non-linearity in AL development is well established (e.g. Housen et al., 2012). Also, one should bear in mind the lack of control of several situational factors in the data collection: The conversations take place at varying intervals and in highly different physical surroundings,

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although the interlocutor is always the same. The lengths of the conversations vary greatly; hence, if a certain feature or level of complexity does not turn up, the reason could simply be that the conversation was too short for it to happen. Topic also plays a role; some of the topics of the conversations are repeated and somewhat rehearsed by the participants (cf. Horbowicz, this volume), and some topics do not require semantic precision. In situations in which authentic, genuine needs for precise communication arise, however, the complexity of the semantic content often increases while the fluency decreases. The result is sometimes an increase in syntactic complexity, but the cognitive demand could also lead to series of shorter utterances or utterances with unclear syntactic structure. Of didactic relevance is the late arrival of any substantial phrasal complexity. Fidèle’s noun phrases remain predominantly simple throughout the year, whereas Christophe’s increase in phrasal complexity appears after his stepping up in clausal subordination and clausal length. Thus it might be sensible to focus on clause constituents in the early stages of instruction and leave phrasal expansion till later. In the current study, I have investigated a collection of formal complexity measures which are associated with different syntactic levels and which relate to the definition of complexity given in Section 10.2. Most of these measures show some positive development in at least one of the participants, indicating a link to proficiency if not necessarily to a construct of complexity, which remains undefi ned in this study. The number of constituents shows no such development, however, and although arguing for its relationship to formal complexity is easy, the maximum number of constituents does not seem to be a relevant measure at this level. Possibly, a more nuanced analysis of number and types of constituents would have given more enlightening results, but it is worth noting that none of the 40 studies surveyed by Bulté and Housen investigated this measure (2012: 31). I would also like to point out that the complexity features of oral and written registers differ, as suggested by Halliday (1979), shown by Biber (1988), indicated by Karlsson (2009) and used polemically by Biber et al. (2011). Hence, we should not assume that all complexity measures develop in parallel in oral and written production. What is not investigated systematically in the current study is the diversity aspect of complexity, suggested by e.g. Jarvis (2013a) and applied by Moe (2012) in her analysis of diversity in subclause types. In these conversations, the total number of subclauses is just too restricted for a diversity analysis to be very enlightening. In Section 10.5.4, the diversity of noun phrase modification in Christophe’s data is touched upon, but again the number of complex phrases is too low for a proper analysis. Also, diversity in number and types of clause constituents could prove to be a valuable approach at higher proficiency levels. To sum up, I believe diversity to be a fruitful perspective on complexity, but one that presupposes a certain level of proficiency. It will probably play a more dominating role in later analyses of the syntactic complexity of these two participants’ utterances.

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References Berggreen, H. and Sørland, K. (2016) Syntaktisk kompleksitet i et skriftlig innlærerspråkmateriale. NOA: Norsk som andrespråk 32 (1–2), 31–75. Biber, D. (1988) Variation Across Speech and Writing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Biber, D., Gray, B. and Poonpon, K. (2011) Should we use characteristics of conversation to measure grammatical complexity in L2 writing development? TESOL Quarterly 45 (1), 5–35. Bulté, B. and Housen, A. (2012) Defi ning and operationalising L2 complexity. In A.  Housen, F. Kuiken and I. Vedder (eds) Dimensions of L2 Performance and Profi ciency: Complexity, Accuracy and Fluency in SLA (pp. 21–46). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Carlsen, C. (2012) Profi ciency level – A fuzzy variable in computer learner corpora. Applied Linguistics 33 (2), 161–183. Dahl, Ö. (2009) Testing the assumption of complexity invariance: The case of Elfdalian and Swedish. In G. Sampson, D. Gil and P. Trudgill (eds) Language Complexity as an Evolving Variable (pp. 50–63). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Golden, A., Kulbrandstad, L.A. and Tenfjord, K. (2017) Evaluation of texts in tests, or: Where is the dog buried? In A. Golden, S. Jarvis and K. Tenfjord (eds) Crosslinguistic Influence and Distinctive Patterns of Language Learning: Findings and Insights from a Learner Corpus (pp. 231–271). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Halliday, M.A.K. (1979) Differences between spoken and written language: Some implications for literacy teaching. Paper presented at the 4th Australian Reading Conference, Adelaide. Hoftun, A.W. (2017) ‘Det hele norske samfunnet’: Ein korpusbasert studie av substantivfrasar i innlærartekstar frå vaksne med norsk som andrespråk sett i lys av Det felles europeiske rammeverket for språk. Master thesis, University of Stavanger. Housen, A., Kuiken, F. and Vedder, I. (2012) Complexity, accuracy and fluency: Defi nitions, measurement and research. In A. Housen, D. Kuiken and I. Vedder (eds) Dimensions of L2 Performance and Profi ciency: Complexity, Accuracy and Fluency in SLA. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Hunt, K.W. (1965) Grammatical Structures Written at Three Grade Levels. NCTE Research Report No. 3. Champaign: National Council of Teachers of English. Hunt, K.W. (1970) Syntactic Maturity in Schoolchildren and Adults. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Jarvis, S. (2013a) Capturing the diversity in lexical diversity. Language Learning 63 (1), 87–106. Jarvis, S. (2013b) Defi ning and measuring lexical diversity. In S. Jarvis and M. Daller (eds) Vocabulary Knowledge: Human Ratings and Automated Measures (pp. 13–44). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Jensen, B.U. (2017) Leksikosyntaktiske trekk og skriveverktøy: En kvantitativ undersøkelse av tekster skrevet for hånd og på tastatur av elever i VG1. PhD thesis, University of Bergen. See http://bora.uib.no/handle/1956/16998 Jensen, B.U. (2018) Syntaks i norsk innlærerspråk: Empiriske funn. In A.-K. H. Gujord and G.T. Randen (eds) Norsk som andrespråk – perspektiver på læring og utvikling (pp. 235–260). Oslo: Cappelen Damm Akademisk. Karlsson, F. (2009) Origin and maintenance of clausal embedding complexity. In G.  Sampson, D. Gil and P. Trudgill (eds) Language Complexity as an Evolving Variable (pp. 192–202). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Larsen-Freeman, D. (1978) An ESL index of development. TESOL Quarterly 12 (4), 439–448. Miestamo, M. (2008) Grammatical complexity in a cross-linguistic perspective. In M. Miestamo, K. Sinnemäki and F. Karlsson (eds) Language Complexity: Typology, Contact, Change (pp. 23–42). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company.

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Moe, E. (2012) Syntaktisk kompleksitet og rammeverksnivå. In C. Carlsen (ed.) Norsk profi l: Det felles europeiske rammeverket spesifi sert for norsk - et første steg (pp. 137–158). Oslo: Novus. Paquot, M. (2019) The phraseological dimension in interlanguage complexity research. Second Language Research 35 (1), 121–145. Sampson, G. (2009) A linguistic axiom challenged. In G. Sampson, D. Gil and P. Trudgill (eds) Language Complexity as an Evolving Variable (pp. 1–18). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sampson, G., Gil, D. and Trudgill, P. (eds) (2009) Language Complexity as an Evolving Variable. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

11 A Year Goes By: A Longitudinal Study of Verb–Locative Constructions in Additional Language Norwegian Marte Nordanger

11.1 Introduction

In usage-based theories, language is understood as an inventory of constructions with various levels of abstractness and complexity (Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009a, 2009b; Goldberg, 1995, 2006; Langacker, 1987), and language learning is viewed as a gradual process arising from actual usage events (Langacker, 1987). Additional language learning (AL), like fi rst language learning, is argued to start out from lexically specific sequences, formulas, that develop via semi-fi xed patterns into increasingly productive and schematic constructions (Eskildsen, 2009, 2012, 2014, 2015; Lesonen et al., 2018). The present study explores the development of verb–argument constructions expressing intransitive motion and location, namely verb–locative constructions (VL) in two adult refugee learners’ early Norwegian. VL-constructions include expressions such as Jeg går til skolen (‘I walk to school’) and Jeg bor i Norge (‘I live in Norway’). Previous research into both L1 and AL-acquisition have shown that verb–argument constructions develop from one or a few highly frequent, so-called pathbreaking verbs (Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009a, 2009b; Goldberg et al., 2004; Ninio, 1999; Römer & Berger, 2019), but that variation increases with proficiency (Römer & Berger, 2019; Römer & Garner, 2019). The present study draws on spoken conversational data from two learners, Christophe and Fidèle collected regularly throughout their first year of Norwegian classes. The study thus provides a unique window into two learners’ fi rst steps in a new language (see also Jensen, this volume, for a general analysis of syntactic complexity in Christophe and Fidèle’s 175

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AL Norwegian, and Horbowicz’, this volume, analysis of their emerging interactional competence). The analyses target the learners’ VL-production at two levels: (1) The overall development of the VL-construction repertoire over time, and (2) the development of productivity in four verbspecific VL-constructions in the data, i.e. constructions with gå (‘go’), komme (‘come’), bo (‘live’) and dra (‘go by vehicle’).1 Two main fi ndings are discussed: First, the study adds new evidence to the assumption that development may emerge from lexically specific formulas; more specifically, a construction’s productivity may arise based on several recurring fi xed sequences. Second, the analysis provides additional insight underscoring the relevance of Tomasello’s (2000) verb island hypothesis also for AL-learning, by showing that VL-construction development at this stage of acquisition to a large extent can be considered verb-specific. 11.2 Theoretical Background

Section 11.2 outlines the theoretical background for the study, including a brief description of Norwegian VL-constructions (Section 11.2.2). In Section 11.2.4, I propose three research questions guiding the analyses. 11.2.1 Verb–argument constructions

Following Ellis and Ferreira-Junior, constructions are ‘conventionalized form-meaning pairings used for communicative purposes’ (2009b: 188) learned from recurring meetings with different exemplars in usage events. Verb–argument constructions (VACs) refer to a group of constructions corresponding to basic sentence types, like the transitive verb– argument construction (VO): Janie (subj) crashed (V) the car (obj), and the ditransitive construction (VOO): The student (subj) gave (V) the teacher (obj) flowers (obj). Basic sentence types are argued to encode events and scenes that are primary to human experience (Goldberg, 1995: 39). For instance, the intransitive motion construction verb–locative (VL), which is the focus of the present study, encodes the event of something moving: Tom (subj) went (V) to the shop (obl. path/loc.), or something being in a location: I (subj) live (V) in Norway (obl. path/loc.) (cf. Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009a). As noted initially, a few early verbs in children’s grammars seem to play the role of pathbreakers leading the way for other verbs (Ninio, 1999). Pathbreaking verbs are typically frequent, prototypical and generic in meaning, as for instance go in VL-constructions and put in VOLconstructions. Moreover, children’s early VAC production appears to follow a Zipfian distribution, where some few verbs are produced with high frequency, while remaining verbs are applied with a relatively lower frequency (Goldberg, 1995, 2006; Goldberg et al., 2004). Related to the present study, Goldberg et al. (2004) documented that go was the lead

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verb in both children and caretakers’ VL-constructions, accounting for respectively 54% and 39% of all VL-tokens. The research on pathbreaking verbs is partly inspired by Tomasello’s (1992, 2000) suggestion that children’s early grammars are based on verbspecific constructions that develop independently of other verbs. Based on a longitudinal case study, Tomasello argues: ‘[…] each verb began to be used in new utterance-level schemas […] on its own developmental timetable irrespective of what other verbs were doing during that same time period’ (2000: 68). This fi nding, referred to as the verb island hypothesis, is germane to the present study as it implies that grammatical development is more specific than general in nature. The acquisition of verb–argument constructions as a gradual process building on a limited set of frequent main verbs, has also been documented for AL-learning. In a longitudinal study of seven learners’ VAC production by Ellis and Ferreira-Junior (2009a) previous fi ndings from L1 research is largely replicated: put outperformed other verbs in VOLconstructions (68%), whereas give was associated with VOO-constructions (64%), while go represented the lead VL-construction verb (53%). In a subsequent study targeting the whole construction frame, Ellis and Ferreira-Junior (2009b) revealed that the learners’ subject–verb–argument associations were also highly consistent across slots, for instance go to and to come in were the most frequent VL-collocations with go and come in both learner and L1-data, pointing out the relevance of fi xed sequences, not only single verbs, in early language development. In a series of recent studies, Römer and colleagues (Römer et  al., 2020; Römer & Berger, 2019; Römer & Garner, 2019) investigate the production of VACs in AL-English corpus data from learners with different L1 backgrounds and proficiency levels. These studies provide robust evidence for a strong association between one or a few verbs and a specific VAC. For instance, Römer and Garner (2019) found that talk was the most frequently applied verb for V about N across proficiency levels from B1 to C2, and be and live (the B2 level only) for the VL-construction V in N. However, as proficiency increases learners’ L2 VACs become more varied and more L1-like (Römer & Berger, 2019; Römer & Garner, 2019). Summarised, AL–VAC-development typically follows a path from the employment of a few frequent verb–argument associations towards an increased ability to use the construction with more variation. 11.2.2 VL-constructions in Norwegian

Norwegian VL-constructions may involve a variety of motion and stative verbs with a prepositional phrase or an adverb as obligatory argument, including motion verbs gå (‘go’), komme (‘come’), dra (‘go by vehicle’), løpe (‘run’) and stative verbs bo (‘live’) and være (‘be’). The distinction between gå and dra is specific for the Germanic languages, but similar

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distinctions are also found in for instance Slavic languages. Furthermore, Norwegian allows VL-constructions designating motion without explicit motion verbs. In such constructions, motion is implied by a modal verb combined with a locative argument: Carlos skal til Bergen (lit. ‘Carlos shall to Bergen’) (Hagen, 2000). skulle (‘shall’), ville (‘will’) and måtte (‘must’) are all acceptable main verbs in Norwegian VL-constructions. When used in VL-constructions, motion and stative verbs are followed by an obligatory argument realised as a prepositional phrase or an adverb. The prototypical preposition designating movement towards a location, is til (‘to’), whereas fra (‘from’) indicates movement away from a location (Faarlund et al., 1997). Other prepositions, primarily expressing stative location, may also secondarily indicate movement such as på (‘at’) and i (‘in’), as in: Jeg går på butikken (‘I go to the store’). There is thus no full transparency in these form-meaning mappings. Furthermore, VL-arguments can be realised as adverbs indicating direction or location, such as inn/inne (‘in/inside’), ut/ute (‘out/outside’), hit/her/dit/der (‘here/there’), tilbake (‘back’) and hjem/hjemme (‘home’). These deictic adverbs come in pairs; one designating movement (inn, ut, hit, dit, hjem), and the other location (inne, ute, her, der, hjemme). 11.2.3 The usage-based learning trajectory

As noted initially, usage-based approaches to language learning hold that linguistic knowledge develops from lexically specific patterns through semi-fi xed and semi-schematic patterns with one or more open slots (subj går på x ‘subj go to x’ or subj gå x ‘subj go x’) to fully abstract and productive schemas (subj + v + argument) (Langacker, 1987). There are two basic processes allowing language to be used with increasing ease and creativity: entrenchment and schematisation. Entrenchment refers to how recurring uses of a specific expression lead to the establishment of routines and traces that makes it ‘a well-rehearsed routine that is easily elicited and reliably executed…no longer requiring conscious attention to its parts or their arrangement’ (Langacker, 2000: 3). Automatisation is dependent on entrenchment. Schematisation, on the other hand, is the process of gradual abstraction of commonalities among specific instantiations of a construction. That is, based on recurring meetings with different instantiations of the same construction, the learner extracts similarities and by analogy forms an abstract representation. In mature grammars, both abstract schemas and lexically specific instantiations of a construction are stored (Langacker, 2000).2 This multi-layeredness, referred to as the co-habitation in grammar (Eskildsen, 2020), explains why formulas and productive patterns may occur side by side also in developed grammars. The learning path from formula towards increasingly schematic patterns is by now well-attested in L1 acquisition research (e.g. Dabrowska

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& Lieven, 2005; Lieven & Tomasello, 2008; Tomasello, 1992, 2000). For AL learning, there is also convincing evidence that learning departs from fi xed and semi-fi xed patterns (Eskildsen, 2009, 2012, 2014, 2015, 2017, 2018; Horbowicz et al., 2020; Horbowicz & Nordanger, 2021; Lesonen et  al., 2018). More specifically, Eskildsen have documented that early recurrent use of fi xed patterns may lead the way for more productive uses for a number of constructions in two Spanish-speaking learners of English; the development of can-construction from the formulaic I can write (2009), negation constructions from the recurring sequence I don’t know (2012), question constructions (2015) and subordination (2018). The prominent role of recycled and semi-fixed language in AL-development is further highlighted in studies applying the retrospective traceback method (e.g. Dabrowska & Lieven, 2005; Lieven et al., 2009). Based on this method, Eskildsen (2014) reported that 85% of a learner’s beginning production was explainable as expansions based on the substitution of linguistic elements in constructions with one or more fi xed and open slots, and the recycling of already learned sequences. Substitution and recycling also largely accounted for the learner’s development towards more advanced stages (Eskildsen, 2017). Particularly relevant to the present study, Li et al. (2014) found that a learner’s use of motion constructions with go and come, representing the most frequent motion verbs in the data, started out from a limited set of patterns, such as go + n, go + to and come + Ø and come + in. In line with Tomasello’s (1992, 2000) verb island hypothesis, the study showed that some v + path patterns, like go down and come back, did not generalise across verbs but were used on a ‘one-to-one’ basis remaining verb specific (Li et  al., 2014: 625). Other v + path associations, however, such as go + to, were generalised across verbs following a process described as ‘one-to-many-association.’ In line with Li et al.’s (2014) fi nding that some patterns easily generalise while others remain specific, several studies have shown that the usage-based learning trajectory is not always clear-cut as some constructions may also be used productively from start (Eskildsen, 2015; Lesonen et al., 2020; Roehr-Brackin, 2014). Based on a longitudinal study of the development of L2 Finnish evaluative constructions with haluta (‘want’) and tykätä (‘like’) in four learners, Lesonen et al. (2020) concluded that the learners to a large extent used the constructions productively from early on. Roehr-Brackin (2014) followed the development of gehen (‘go’) and fahren (‘go by vehicle’) in dense longitudinal data from one learner of German. Her results showed that whereas fahren followed a trajectory from fi xed formulaic sequences, gehen was used productively from start. Roehr-Brackin ascribed this difference to explicit knowledge available through instruction and cross-linguistic influence.

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11.2.4 The present study

The development of VACs in both L1 and AL learning has largely focused on the ability of the construction to include increasingly more verbs (Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009a; Goldberg et al., 2004; Ninio, 1999; Römer et al., 2020; Römer & Berger, 2019). Yet, in order to investigate whether development follows the usage-based learning trajectory, it is also critical to attend to the degree of variability in all the construction slots, and the extent to which the construction is used creatively in terms of verb inflection and word order, including negation. A construction’s productivity has been explained as the availability of a pattern to sanction novel expressions (Langacker, 2000: 26). Drawing on Langacker’s defi nition, Lesonen et al. (2020) operationalised productivity as ‘variability within the construction’ (2020: 530), including different forms of the main verb and complement variation. This study adopts Lesonen et al.’s (2020) concept of productivity. In the other end, formulas, or fi xed sequences, is operationalised following Eskildsen (2009), as recurring fi xed sequences of words used with similar communicative functions. As discussed above, previous research has emphasised the role of pathbreakers and the strong association between specific verbs and arguments in construction development (e.g. Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009b; Li et al., 2014; Römer & Berger, 2019; Römer & Garner, 2019). The specificity of grammatical development has perhaps been most clearly articulated for L1 acquisition in Tomasello’s verb island hypothesis, mentioned above (Tomasello, 1992, 2000). These perspectives are combined in a two-step analysis pursuing the following research questions: RQ1: To what extent is the learners VL-development headed by a few pathbreaking verbs? RQ2: To what extent does the learners’ VL-construction development follow a path from fixed sequences to productive and more schematic constructions? RQ3: To what extent is the learners VL-construction development verb-specific? 11.3 Methodological Approach

A total of 10–11 conversations between a researcher, Guri, and Fidèle (10) and Christophe (11) have been recorded. The conversations evolved around two questions: (1) ‘Can you tell me about yourself?’ and, inspired by Roehr-Brackin (2014); (2) ‘What have you been doing lately?’3 (see Horbowicz, this volume, for an CA-informed analysis of topical development based on this prompt).4 The conversations were recorded between January and December 2020 (see Table 11.1), at approximately monthly intervals. The length of each conversation, measured as number of finite verb contexts, varies between nine and 106, whereas the duration of the transcribed talk ranges from two to approximately eight minutes (see

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Table 11.1 Interview month for recordings R1-11 (10) Months 2020

Jan

Feb

March

April

May

June

July

Aug

Sept

Fidèle’s recordings (R) (number)

–

1

2

–

3

4, 5

6

7

8

Christophe’s recordings (R) (number)

1

2, 3

4

–

5, 6

7, 8

–

9

10

Oct

Nov

Dec

–

9

10

–

11

–

Appendix 11.1). The conversations have been transcribed orthographically using the transcription software tool ELAN (Sloetjes & Wittenburg, 2008).5 Christophe started his Norwegian course in October 2019, Fidèle in January 2020. Due to the national lockdown spring 2020, no recordings took place in April (Table 11.1). The linguistic material selected for analysis consists of all tokens of verbs occurring in VL-constructions and their arguments, i.e. argument slot and adverbials occurring within the construction frame. The material has been extracted and coded manually by the author. A comment is in order regarding the alternation between interview questions. Question 1, eliciting biographical information, was introduced by the interviewer because the pre-planned main question, question 2, turned out to pose a too great challenge in beginning stages. R1–R5 and R7 in Christophe’s data and R1–4 in Fidèle’s therefore include question 1 and 2 (see Appendix 11.1). Invited self-presentation typically elicits routinised VL-constructions not always directly designating motion such as komme fra Kongo (‘come from Congo’), gå på skolen (‘go to school’) and gå på norskkurs (‘take Norwegian classes’), the latter two being lexicalised phrases no longer directly referring either to motion or location. The inclusion of this topic may thus bias the data by eliciting frequent but perhaps debateable VL-constructions from a semantic point of view. However, since these data are likely to represent the learners’ first management of conversation and their fi rst constructions following the VL-pattern in Norwegian, they may unveil important stepping-stones for VL-construction development and are therefore included in the material. 11.4 Results

The results are presented in two steps. The fi rst part of the analysis responds to RQ1 and provides an overall description of the VL-construction repertoire as it is displayed in the recordings, with the aim of identifying typical frequency patterns and possible pathbreakers. The second part reports on an in-depth investigation of the development of verb-specific VL-constructions with gå, komme, bo, dra. This part responds to RQ2 and RQ3 by focusing on the associations between verb and argument over time and the degree of variability in the different construction slots. The

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analysis is performed verb-by-verb by extracting all tokens of the relevant verb-specific VLs and their arguments. 11.4.1 VL-construction repertoire

Table 11.2 displays the total VL-construction repertoire, as attested in the data, through the learners’ first year of Norwegian language learning. In total, nine different verbs occur in Christophe’s VL-constructions, whereas Fidèle’s include eight verbs. Six of the verbs are present in both repertoires, among them gå (‘go’), komme (‘come’), bo (‘live’) and dra (‘go by vehicle’). For both learners, gå occurs most frequently, closely followed by komme in Fidele’s data, whereas bo is ranked number two in Christophe’s uses and number four for Fidèle. dra ranges as the third most frequent verb in Fidèle’s VL-constructions but is number six in Christophe’s. From R1 to approximately R5, the learners predominantly rely on three verbs: gå, komme, bo. While both gå and komme maintain a central role in Fidèle’s VL-constructions throughout the whole year, only gå keeps a continued prominent place in Christophe’s data. komme is absent in Christophe’s data after R4. The abrupt decline in the use of komme and bo after R4 may be explained by the conversation topic, but it is Table 11.2 The total VL-construction repertoire WEEK

VERB

1

2

3

4

5

Fidèle

gå ‘go’* komme ‘come’ bo ‘live’ dra ‘go by’ veh sitte ‘sit’ flytte ‘move’ stoppe ‘stop’ reise ‘travel’

3

6

4

4

1

1 1

2 2

4 2

3

1

1

5

10

6

10

gå ‘go’ komme ‘come’ bo ‘live’ dra ‘go by‘ veh sitte ‘sit’ flytte ‘move’ være ‘be’ skulle ‘shall’ løpe ‘run’

5

6

8

2

9

4 2

1 2

1 3

1 1

1

SUM Christophe

SUM

6

7

8

2

3

5 1

3

1

5

1

2

9

10

11

2

25

3

22 7 9 1 1 2 1

1 1 2 1 5

14

7

6

3 2

2

68 3

1 1

1 1

2

3

1 2

5

3

1 13

11

13

5

2

11

4

4 1 2 7 8 2

7

77

1 3 1

*Note that GÅ in Norwegian includes go by foot, i.e., English ‘walk’.

35 7 11

2

1 1

SUM

7

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worth mentioning that when Christophe is asked to present himself in R5, his reply contain another verb, namely være (‘be’): Jeg er fra Kongo (‘I am from Congo’), possibly implying that the decline is not alone explainable by topic. From R5 and onwards the dominance of these verbs is less articulated, even though gå, mirroring previous research (Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009a, 2009b; Goldberg et al., 2004; Li et al., 2014), still outranks other verbs. Christophe’s VL-production after the initial recordings is characterised by variation between each recording and the sporadic use of specific verbs, gå excluded. Note, for instance, that Christophe has adopted the language-specific VL-pattern with a modal verb, skulle (‘shall’) + argument. Fidèle’s trajectory, on the other hand, can be described as continuous, reflected in the recurrence of the several verbs from conversation to conversation. The general increase in variation from R5 and onwards, is probably not only explainable by topic alone, as question 2, maintained through the whole period, seems to trigger a larger variety of VL-constructions from R5–6 than earlier.

11.4.2 Verb-specific VL-constructions

RQ2 addresses to what extent the learners’ VL-construction development follows the usage-based learning trajectory from fi xed to more schematic constructions, while RQ3 focuses on the extent to which productivity and increased schematicity is verb-specific. These questions are approached by a qualitative analysis of the four most frequent VL-constructions in the material when seen as one, namely VL-constructions with gå, komme, bo and dra. To pursue RQ3, a distinction is made between patterns that are generalised across verbs and patterns that may be productive but verbspecific (e.g. Li et al., 2014). 11.4.2.1 VL-constructions with GÅ

Aligning with previous research (Ellis & Ferreira-Junior, 2009a, 2009b; Goldberg et al., 2004; Li et al., 2014), gå is the most frequently used verb in VL-constructions for both learners over time. In total, constructions with gå represent 45.4% of Christophe’s VL-constructions and 36.7% of Fidele’s. If we inspect the production of VL-constructions with gå in Table 11.3, one sequence stands out: the pattern gå + på + NP accounts for 60% (15/25) of all gå VL-constructions in Fidèle’s data, and 40% (14/35) of Christophe’s. The preponderance of gå + på + NP is particularly striking in the first half of the recordings. In Fidèle’s production, except for three occasions (see Table 11.3), på is the only preposition occurring with gå. The target norm favours gå + til as an indicator of motion towards something (see Section 11.2.2), yet the learners’ gå + på sequences are not non-target like on a general basis, since a substantial share of the utterances represents

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Table 11.3 Fidèle and Christophe’s GÅ-patterns GÅ FIDELE Verb

Argument Prep.

Locative

CHRISTOPHE N

Verb

R1

går

på

NP (school, LOCATION)

3

går

R2

går

på

3

går

går går går

meg*

NP (Norw.class, kindergarten) ut (‘out’) NP (with me) Ø

1 1 1

går går

Argument Locative

på

NP (Norw.class, kindergarten) hjem (‘home’)

4

på

NP (kindergarten, workout, publ. office) bak hjemme (‘home’) NP (Oslo)

3

går

til R3

ikke går ikke går går

Ø** på ti*** på

Ø

1

NP (Oslo) NP (trip)

1 2

NP (Norw.class, kindergarten, boat)

5

ikke går ikke gå gå

på

NP (Norw.class) NP (Norw.class) der (‘there’)

1 1 1

NP (workout) Coordinated phrase ute (‘outside’) Ø ut (out) ut ute

2 2

ute ut

1 1

Ø NP (bed, room)

1 3

på

NP (Norw.class, kindergarten)

4

–

R5

gå

på

NP (trip)

1

–

R6

–

kan gå

Ø

på

går ikke gikk ikke gikk ikke går å gå R7

går gikk

Ø på

Ø NP (town)

1 1

–

R8

går går går

Ø

Ø hjem (sammen) Ø

1 1 1

–

R9

–

R10

gikk gikk

gå gå 1

coord.ph

1

R11 SUM

2 1

på

går

NP (woman) Ø

1

går

R4

med

N

Prep.

1 1 1 2 1

–

gå gå

i

25

*meg (‘me’) is probably confused with med (‘with’) in this context. ** Ø represents no present argument. *** ti probably represents an attempt to use til (‘to’)

35

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185

conventional uses not primarily designating motion requiring på, as illustrated in example (1): (1) Jeg går på skolen (Fidèle, R1) I go-PRS at school-DEF ‘I go to school’

For both learners, the gå + på pattern appears to be highly entrenched in utterances such as (1), possibly also providing a model for unconventional uses in both data sets, like example (2), illustrating a context conventionally requiring the preposition i (‘in’) or til (‘to’) if motion is intended: (2) Han går på barnehagen (Christophe, R2) He go-PRS at kindergarten-DEF ‘He goes to kindergarten’

In general, Table 11.3 shows that gå + på + NP used with complements such as skolen (‘school’), norskkurs (‘Norwegian course’) and barnehagen (‘kindergarten’) represent the grand share of gå-constructions in both learners’ early productions (R1–2): 6/9 instantiations for Fidèle and 6/10 for Christophe. The entrenchment of the phrase går på norskkurs is further underscored by Christophe who several times mistakenly reports that his one-year-old son attends Norwegian classes. These examples suggest that the learners’ gå VL-constructions may be based on several similar formulaic sequences following the pattern gå + på + NP, some target like and some non-target like. As shown in example (3) below, both learners display one occurrence each of gå + til + location, indicating motion towards a location. Note that gå here indicates go by vehicle, which is usually considered the domain of dra (see Section 11.2.2). (3) Jeg gå til Oslo (Christophe, R2) I go-Ø to Oslo ‘I go to Oslo’

Otherwise, gå + på seems to represent the preferred way of expressing motion towards something in gå-VLs (see examples 4 and 5 below, geographical location in (4) anonymised): (4) Jeg går eh på PLACE (Fidèle, 1) I go-PRS eh at PLACE ‘I went to PLACE’

From R6–7 and onwards, both learners’ production seems to go through a transition. In Fidèle’s case, this means that even though gå + på + x is still frequent, the pattern is now applied with more internal variation, such as past tense inflection, as illustrated in (5): (5) Vi gikk på byen (Fidèle, R7) We go-PRT at the town ‘We went to town’

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Example (5) further illustrate an idiomatic expression meaning ‘to go out’. However, the intended meaning in this context is motion, normally indicated by til (‘to’). It should also be noted that the example is ambiguous as to whether the intended event designate motion by foot or by vehicle. The latter option would, as examples (3) and (4), require the employment of dra. A new pattern stands out in Christophe’s production from R6, namely gå + ut/ute (out/outside), replacing gå + på as his most frequent gåpattern (7 out of 16 gå-VLs applied after R5). This pattern is not employed in any of the other VL-constructions investigated here, hence signalising a strong association between gå and location adverbs ut/ute in Christophe’s Norwegian (gå + ut occurs once in Fidèle’s production (R2)). Summarised, both show increasing variability in the verb slot in gå-VLs, implying a rise of general productivity and possibly an increase in schematicity: Modal verb modification with kan (‘can’) occurs in Christophe’s data from R6, while the past tense form, gikk (‘went’), is attested in both learners’ data in the second half of the year (first occurrence in R6 for Christophe and R7 for Fidèle). Finally, both employ coordinated structures, such as gå og trene (lit. go and train; ‘go to the gym’), within the year (Christophe, R6; Fidèle, R10). 11.4.2.2 VL-constructions with KOMME

komme is the second most frequent verb in VL-constructions in the data. Yet, Fidèle applies komme + locative more frequently and more productively than Christophe, who mainly uses two types: komme + på (‘at’) and komme + fra (‘from’) (Table 11.4). Komme is not attested in Christophe’s data after R4. komme + fra + NP accounts for about 50% of the entire inventory of Komme VLs in both learners; four out of seven in Christophe’s data and 11 out of 22 for Fidèle, also represented in example (6). (6) Jeg kommer fra Kongo (Fidèle, 1) I come-PRS from Kongo ‘I come from Congo’

As discussed in Section 11.3, the dominance of komme + fra is perhaps not very surprising considering the biographical topic of R1–5. In Christophe’s data, four out of seven komme VLs are recyclings of Jeg kommer fra Kongo (‘I come from Congo’). His komme-VL can thus be described as highly specific. Contrary to Christophe, however, Fidèle’s data attest expansions of komme + fra to new contexts, displayed in example (7) where he is recounting an incident (geographical location anonymised as location): (7) Vi komme fra location (Fidèle, R7) We come-Ø from location ‘We come from location’

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Table 11.4 Fidèle and Christophe’s KOMME-patterns KOMME FIDELE Verb

CHRISTOPHE Argument Prep.

Locative

N

Verb

Argument Prep.

Locative

N

R1

kommer

fra

NP (Kongo)

1

kommer kommer kommer

på Ø fra

NP (school) Ø NP (Kongo)

2 1 1

R2

kommer

fra

NP (class) (Kongo)

2

kommer

fra

NP (Kongo)

1

R3

–

kommer

fra

NP (Kongo)

1

R4

kommer

fra

2

kommer

fra

NP (Kongo)

1

kommer kommer

til Ø

NP (Kongo, LOCATION) NP (Norge) (together)

R5

komme komme

fra

Ø, NP der (‘there’)

2 1

R6

komme kommer kommer kommer

fra Ø

inne NP (LOCATION) Ø her (‘here’)

2 1 1 1

R7

komme kommer

fra Ø

NP Ø

2 1

R8

kommer

fra

NP (school)

1

R9

ikke komme komme komme

på i Ø

NP NP Ø

1 1 1

SUM

1 1

22

7

Even though komme + fra + NP remains central in Fidèle’s data throughout the year, komme appears with a variety of different arguments from R3 and onwards, including komme + til, komme + her, komme + inne, komme + der, komme + i, implying growing productivity. Li et al. (2014) suggest that some verb + path easily generalised across verbs, among them gå + to. In the present data, Christophe’s utterance kommer på skole (lit. come at school), may represent an expansion of the gå + på pattern across verbs (according to target norm semantics, ‘til’ is normally expected in this context). Conversely, Fidèle’s repeated use of komme + inne (‘in/inside’) in R6 represent a VL-pattern that is both learner and verb specific, i.e. it does not generalise to other verbs in the data. 11.4.2.3 VL-constructions with BO

Römer and Berger (2019) suggested that live might function as a pathbreaking verb for English V in n-constructions. In these data, the V i

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n-pattern also serves as an important frame for bo: 57% of Fidèle’s instantiations and 100% of Christophe’s bo + VL-constructions follow the V i n-pattern, as in example (8): (8) Jeg bodde i Uganda (Fidèle, R4) I live-PRT in Uganda ‘We lived in Uganda’

Whereas Christophe’s use of bo is highly uniform, bo + i represent one of several, not always target like, patterns in Fidèle’s data (Table 11.5). High non-target like initial variability, also observed by Römer and Berger (2019), indicate early exploration, possibly a precursor to development. According to the data, bo is the first among these four verbs to be inflected for past tense by Fidèle (R4). Table 11.5 Fidèle and Christophe’s BO-patterns BO FIDELE Verb

CHRISTOPHE Argument Prep.

Locative

N

Verb

Argument Prep.

Locative

N

R1

bor

i

NP (PLACE)

1

bor

i

NP (municipality, Norge)

2

R2

bor

Ø

NP hjem (‘home’)

1 1

bor

i

NP (street, Norge)

2

R3

bor

her (‘here’)

1

bor

i

NP (street, Norge)

3

R4

bor bodde

Ø i

Ø Uganda

1 1

bor

i

NP (Norge)

1

R5

–

R6

bodde sammen

i

NP (PLACE)

1 bor å bo

i i

NP (PLACE, street) NP (Norge)

2 1

R7 SUM

7

11

11.4.2.4 VL-constructions with DRA

dra + argument is not attested in the fi rst period covered by the recordings. In Fidèle’s data the fi rst occurrence of dra + argument happens approximately midways (R5), whereas no instantiations are attested for Christophe until the last recording (R11). The fact that dra + location appears late in the data, is not unexpected, since it may take some time to make the semantic distinction between gå and dra (e.g. Roehr-Brackin, 2014; Section 11.2.2). In both learners’ data, the preponderance of dra VLs follows the pattern dra + til (‘to’), as displayed in Table 11.6.

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Table 11.6 Fidèle and Christophe’s DRA-patterns DRA FIDELE Verb

CHRISTOPHE Argument Prep.

Locative

N

R5

dro

til

NP (LOCATION)

1

R6

dra dro dro dro dro

til Ø til med Ø

NP (LOCATION) Ø NP (LOCATION) NP (train) NP (train)

1 1 1 1 1

R7

dra sammen

NP (PERSON)

1

Ø NP (LOCATION)

1 1

Verb

Argument Prep.

Locative

til

NP adv. (back, home)

N

R8 R9

dra dro

Ø til

R10 R11

må dra må dra

SUM

9

2 2 4

The fi rst attested use in Fidèle’s data, is dra + til + NP, where dra is also inflected for past tense, as in (9) (geographical location anonymised): (9)

Vi dro til CITY (Fidèle, R6) We go-PRT by vehicle to CITY ‘We went to CITY’

There is some fluctuation between the uninflected form dra and the past tense dro in Fidèle’s data, but vi dro til NP (‘we went to NP’) accounts for 4/9 instantiations, and 6/9 constructions contain the preterit form. Compared to VLs with gå, the initial uses of dra + til do not appear formulaic in the same way as his early gå + på-sequences, which are lexically specific and functionally restricted. The developmental trajectory of dra thus seems to differ from that of gå. Semantically, dra may replace gå in some contexts (Section 11.2.2). Still, Fidèle’s first and most frequent drapattern, dro + til, can probably not be accounted for by substitution of his gå- or komme-patterns (e.g. Eskildsen, 2014, 2017), since til, with two exceptions, is not used with either gå (R3) nor komme (R4). Furthermore, dra + til does not immediately affect the use of gå-VLs, as gå + på still occasionally signalise movement by vehicle, exemplified in (10) (the locative på Oslo was uttered in the previous turn): (10)

jeg gikk med dame fra Uganda (Fidèle, R10) I go-PRT with lady from Uganda ‘I went with a lady from Uganda’

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For Christophe, dra is first attested in the last recording, and in a highly restricted lexical frame. All four instantiations consist of jeg (‘I’), the modal verb må + dra + til/hjemme/tilbake, where the pattern må dra + til, shown in (11) below, accounts for 50%: (11)

Jeg må dra til treningssenter (Christophe, R11) I must dra-INF to gym ‘I have to go to the gym’

Note that Fidèle and Christophe employ dra in complex, but still in seemingly routinised (Christophe) or semi-fixed (Fidèle) constructions. Contrary to Fidèle, there are no observed examples of past tense dra in Christophe’s data. In relation to the association between til and må dra in Christophe’s data, it is worth noting that Christophe’s VL-constructions with skal are consistently associated with til. This VL-pattern is applied from R2 (see Table 11.2), indicating that if there are any across-verb generalisations at play, they are probably related to skal more than gå. Given the relatively high frequency of Skulle and være in Christophe’s data, an inspection of his entire VL-repertoire could have provided more answers. 11.5 Discussion 11.5.1 The usage-based learning trajectory and initial formulaic sequences

The present study aimed to investigate the role of pathbreaking verbs and to what extent VL-constructions develop from fixed formulaic patterns into more schematic and productive constructions. Although the recordings cover only pieces of the learners’ total AL-use through this year, it seems clear that VAC development is headed by a handful of frequent verbs (gå in both data, gå and komme in Fidèle’s), and that recurring fixed sequences indeed do play a key role in the early stages of construction development. In the present data, a few fixed formulaic sequences, particularly in constructions with the typical lead verbs gå and komme, seem to break the way for more productive semi-fixed, and even non-target like patterns like gå + på in contexts such as example (4). Christophe’s bo-patterns also seems to be relying on a few entrenched and possibly formulaic phrases, such as Jeg bor i Norge (‘I live in Norway’). Furthermore, Fidèle’s dra-constructions are productive, yet semi-fixed patterns with one open argument slot. Christophe’s use of VL-s with dra is also clearly routinised, but here the evidence is scarce. Summarised, however, both learners’ early use of VL-constructions with gå, komme and bo is largely dependent on formulas and fi xed sequences, whereas the delayed introduction of dra can be accounted for as semi-fixed from start. In line with previous research (Eskildsen, 2009,  2012, 2015; Lesonen et  al., 2018), the learners’ initial formulaic VL-constructions with gå and komme (for Fidèle primarily) seem to function as pathbreakers for the next developmental step of productive uses.

A Year Goes By

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11.5.2 The verb island hypothesis and verb–argument associations

The present study adds additional support to previous research holding that there are strong associations between specific verbs and a particular construction or constructional pattern. In the present material, gå and komme represent early prototypical VL-constructions. Aligning with Li et  al. (2014), Ellis and Ferreira-Junior (2009a, 2009b) and Römer and associates (e.g. Römer & Berger, 2019; Römer & Garner, 2019), the study uncovers a strong tendency for specific verbs to be associated with specific prepositions or adverbs (even though the actual verb + argument pairings are not always target-like). In both learners’ production, gå occurs fi rst and foremost with på, komme with fra, bo with i, while dra is associated with til. This association is also largely bidirectional: not only do certain verbs tend to favour certain prepositions, prepositions also, although to a lesser extent, attach to specific verbs. Exceptions to this tendency is the use of komme + på from gå + på and the possible generalisation of til across gå, dra and skulle in Christophe’s case. Importantly, these verb + argument associations do not hinder productivity; rather, they represent semi-fi xed patterns in the learner’s repertoires with one or more open and variable slots. The strong association between specific verbs and arguments, and the tendency that prepositions are not generalised across verbs, point to the relevance of Tomasello’s (1992, 2000) verb island hypothesis. A verbspecific independency is also reflected in the untimed appearance of past tense forms: Fidèle inflects bo for past tense already in R4, whereas gikk (‘went’) is fi rst attested in R7; komme is never inflected for past tense in the data, while the fi rst occurrence of dra in R5 is past tense. In Christophe’s data, of these four verbs only gå occurs in past tense (R7). Although the complete material displays several other past tense forms, this asymmetry implies that past tense encoding is not acquired in a grand sweep as the establishment of one general rule. The idea that AL-construction development may be verb-specific, is thus indeed supported in these data.

11.6 Conclusion

Drawing on evidence from a less frequently studied AL, the present study argues that subsequent development of VL-constructions in the learners’ repertoires emerges from several formulaic sequences, and that development in certain stages of acquisition may be regarded as largely verb-specific. However, as also documented by previous research (Eskildsen, 2015; Horbowicz & Nordanger, 2021; Lesonen et al., 2020; Roehr-Brackin, 2014), there are substantial differences between both learners and constructions. In his chapter for the present volume, Jensen concludes that Christophe’s AL Norwegian surpasses Fidèle’s on all applied

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measures of syntactic complexity. Even though Christophe seems to employ slightly more complex phrases and his talk is denser, in terms of number of fi nite verb contexts relative to duration of talk, than Fidèle (see Section 11.4.2.4. and Appendix 11.1), such a difference is not equally articulated for the specific constructional development investigated here. Rather, the present analysis’ focus on developmental processes suggests that there are many similarities in the ways the learners expand their repertoires, and that some of Fidèle’s verb-specific constructions actually appear more productive than Christophe’s. The initial use of gå and komme is generally more formulaic than dra; VL-constructions with gå quickly develop productivity in both learners, whereas similar development for VLs with komme was only observed in Fidèle’s production. Whether these differences are due to the availability of explicit knowledge or crosslinguistic influence, as suggested by Roehr-Brackin (2014), to the situational context, or individual differences, is an intriguing question requiring more research. I close on a didactic note as the present results underscore the instrumental role of formulas – emerging from the learners’ interaction with the immediate social environment – and lexically specific patterns, in the development of more advanced structures. These patterns, both target and non-target like, facilitate communication and should be encouraged rather than treated as ‘fossilised’ – sometimes erroneous – patterns, as their entrenchment seems to represent a step towards subsequent reanalysis and expansion. Notes (1) Small caps indicate the uninflected abstract form, whereas italics are used when referring to the learners’ actual production. (2) Although recent research by Ambridge (2020) question if mature grammars operate on fully abstract schemas at all. (3) The questions were sometimes posed with minor modifications due to the situational context (cf. Horbowicz, this volume). (4) Guri asked a third question, namely ‘What have you been doing/learned in Norwegian classes lately?’ Interaction following this prompt is not examined in the present study. (5) The transcriptions are performed by Paulina Horbowicz and me.

References Ambridge, B. (2020) Against stored abstractions: A radical exemplar model of language acquisition. First Language 40 (5/6), 509–559. Dabrowska, E. and Lieven, E. (2005) Towards a lexically specific grammar of children’s question construction. Cognitive Linguistics 16 (3), 437–474. Ellis, N. and Ferreira-Junior, F. (2009a) Construction learning as a function of frequency, frequency distribution, and function. Modern Language Journal 93 (3), 370–385. Ellis, N. and Ferreira-Junior, F. (2009b) Constructions and their acquisition: Islands and the distinctiveness of their occupancy. Annual Review of Cognitive Linguistics 7, 187–220. Eskildsen, S. (2009) Constructing another language – usage-based linguistics in second language acquisition. Applied Linguistics 30 (3), 335–357.

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Eskildsen, S. (2012) L2 negation constructions at work. Language Learning 62 (2), 335–372. Eskildsen, S. (2014) What’s new? A usage-based classroom study of linguistic routines and creativity in L2 learning. International Review of Applied Linguistics 52 (1), 1–30. Eskildsen, S. (2015) What counts as a developmental sequence? Exemplar-based L2 learning of English questions. Language Learning 65 (1), 33–62. Eskildsen, S. (2017) The emergence of creativity in L2 English: A usage-based case-study. In N. Bell (ed.) Multiple Perspectives on Language Play (pp. 281–316). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Eskildsen, S. (2018) L2 constructions and interactional competence: Subordination and coordination in English L2 learning. In A. Tyler and L. Huang (eds) What is Applied Cognitive Linguistics? Answers from Current SLA Research (pp. 63–98). Berlin: De Gruyter Mounton. Eskildsen, S.W. (2020) Creativity and routinasation in L2 English: Two usage-based case studies. In W. Lowie, M. Michel, A. Rousse-Malpat, M. Keijzer and R. Steinkrauss (eds) Usage-Based Dynamics in Second Language Development (pp.107–129). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Faarlund, J.T., Lie, S. and Vannebo, K.I. (1997) Norsk referansegrammatikk. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget. Goldberg, A. (1995) Constructions: A Construction Grammar Approach to Argument Structure. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Goldberg, A. (2006) Constructions at Work. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Goldberg, A., Casenhiser, D. and Sethuraman, N. (2004) Learning argument structure generalizations. Cognitive Linguistics 15 (3), 289–316. Hagen, J.E. (2000) Norsk grammatikk for andrespråkslærere. Oslo: Gyldendal Akademisk. Horbowicz, P. and Nordanger, M. (2021) Epistemic constructions in L2 Norwegian: A longitudinal study of formulaic and productive patterns. Language and Cognition 13 (3), 438–466. Horbowicz, P., Nordanger, M. and Randen, G.T. (2020) Variabilitet og endring i utviklingen av epistemiske konstruksjoner i norsk som andrespråk: Et dynamisk bruksbasert perspektiv. NOA Norsk som andrespråk 36 (1), 5–38. Langacker, R. (1987) Foundations of Cognitive Grammar: Theoretical Prerequisites. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Langacker, R. (2000) A dynamic usage-based model. In M. Barlow and S. Kemmer (eds) Usage-Based Models of Language (pp. 1–64). Stanford: CLSI Publications Lesonen, S., Suni, M., Steinkrauss, R. and Verspoor, M. (2018) From conceptualization to construction in Finnish as an L2. Pragmatics and Cognition 24 (2), 212–262. Lesonen, S., Steinkrauss, R., Suni, M. and Verspoor, M. (2020) Lexically specific vs. productive constructions in L2 Finnish. Language and Cognition 12, 526–563. Li, P., Eskildsen, S. and Cadierno, T. (2014) Tracing an L2 learner’s motion constructions over time: A usage-based classroom investigation. Modern Language Journal 98 (2), 612–628. Lieven, E. and Tomasello, M. (2008) Children’s fi rst language acquisition from a usagebased perspective. In P. Robinson and N. Ellis (eds) Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics and Second Language Acquisition (pp. 168–198). Abingdon: Routledge. Lieven, E., Salamo, D. and Tomasello, M. (2009) Two-year-old children’s production of multiword utterances: A usage-based analysis. Cognitive Linguistics 20 (3), 481–508. Ninio, A. (1999) Pathbreaking verbs in syntactic development and the question of prototypical transitivity. Journal of Child Language 26, 619–653. Roehr-Brackin, K. (2014) Explicit knowledge and processes from a usage-based perspective: the developmental trajectory of an instructed L2 learner. Language Learning 64 (4), 771–808.

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Römer, U. and Berger, C. (2019) Observing the emergence of constructional knowledge. Verb patterns in German and Spanish learners of English at different proficiency levels. Studies in Second Language Acquisition 41, 1089–1110. Römer, U. and Garner, J. (2019) The development of verb constructions in spoken learner English. Tracing effects of usage and proficiency. International Journal of Learner Corpus Research 5 (2), 207–230. Römer, U., Skalicky, S.C. and Ellis, N. (2020) Verb-argument constructions in advanced L2 English learner production: Insights from corpora and verbal fluency tasks. Corpus Linguistics and Linguistic Theory 16 (2), 303–331. Sloetjes, H. and Wittenburg, P. (2008) Annotation by category-ELAN and ISO DCR. 6th International Conference on Language Resources and Evaluation (LREC 2008). Nijmegen, The Netherlands: Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics, The Language Archive. Tomasello, M. (1992) First Verbs: A Case Study of Early Grammatical Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tomasello, M. (2000) First steps toward a usage-based theory of language acquisition. Cognitive Linguistics 11 (1/2), 61–82.

Appendix 11.1

Topic and length of conversation (measured as finite verb contexts, FVC and duration of transcribed talk in minutes) RECORDING

FIDELE

CHRISTOPHE

Topic

FVC

Time (min.:sec.)

Topic

FVC

Time (min.:sec.)

1

1,2

20

2:47

1,2

29

3:13

2

1,2

32

7:28

1,2

49

3:50

3

1,2

29

6:05

1,2

77

5:48

4

1,2

32

7:50

1,2

63

4:20

5

2

30

6:54

1,2

32

2:26

6

2

38

6:44

2

60

4:45

7

2

12

2:05

1

26

3:06

8

2

16

2:38

2

78

7:10

9

2

35

6:25

2

106

7:38

10

2

11

2:18

2

9

1:35

11

–

–

–

2

89

6:10

12 Pragmatic Development in Four Congolese Refugees’ Norwegian: Response to Topic Initial Elicitors and Topic Proffers Paulina Horbowicz

12.1 Introduction

The aim of this study is to analyse the developing pragmatic ability in the additional language (AL) Norwegian of four Congolese refugees. In the field of learner language pragmatics, until recently the predominant focus has been on language use rather than language development (Bardovi-Harlig, 1999; Kasper & Rose, 2002). In other words, a large body of research addressed the issues of ‘nonnative speakers’ comprehension and production of L2 pragmatic meaning’ (Kasper & Rose, 2002: 1), often using questions and methods from cross-cultural pragmatics without adopting an explicit developmental focus. The main source of data came also from advanced learners of AL English. Bardovi-Harlig (1999) observed this bias and called for broadening the field of study to different learner populations (including beginning-level learners) and instituting longitudinal studies to address the question of pragmatic development. This study responds to this call by providing longitudinal data on beginning-level learners of AL Norwegian. One of the most promising perspectives in studying pragmatic development is the methodology of conversation analysis (CA). CA approaches learner language data from an emic perspective and makes it possible to trace the development holistically, within the sequential architecture of a conversation (Mori & Nguyen, 2019). For instance, Brouwer and Wagner (2004) showed in their pioneering paper that CA methodology applied to longitudinal conversational data sheds light on language learning conceptualised as a social process, rather than social practice. The CA perspective has also contributed to identifying new objects of study in AL 195

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pragmatics: rather than looking on forms of language, one investigates ‘the process through which these forms are occasioned and acted on in each context of L2 use’ (Lee & Hellermann, 2014: 766). This study is placed within such understanding of AL pragmatic development, which is discussed at length in Section 12.2. More specifically, the focus is on the learners’ participation in two types of topic-generating sequences: topic initial elicitors and topic proffers. The study seeks to answer the following questions: RQ1: RQ2:

What characterises the Congolese refugees’ response to topic initial elicitors and topic proffers in conversations with a Norwegian? How does the participants’ ability to partake in these conversational sequences change over time?

The study is based on 12 conversations collected from four participants, described in detail in Section 12.3. The analysis of the material is presented and discussed in Section 12.4, and followed by summary and conclusion in Section 12.5. 12.2 Background

Pragmatic development can be conceptualised in a variety of ways and approached from different theoretical perspectives (Kasper, 2001). Recently, an increasing number of studies have focused on different ways of measuring growing pragmatic ability (for a review, see Bardovi-Harlig, 2013: 77). One way of understanding pragmatic development is to analyse how form is used in context, and how the system gradually includes alternative forms to be used in the same context. Bardovi-Harlig defi nes this aspect of AL pragmatics as ‘a study of emergent contrasts, how they come about, and how learners manage them’ (2013: 78). This focus on language form is present in many AL pragmatics studies, yet as Markee pointedly observes, ‘developing interactional competence in a second language includes but goes beyond learning language as a formal system, however this concept is specified’ (2008: 406, emphasis added). Lee and Hellermann (2014: 766) subscribe to this view, suggesting that the target of learning is not only language form, but also the way language form is employed in different contexts of language use. The methodology of CA is well suited to trace the employment of language forms in turns-at-talk (Lee & Hellermann, 2014: 769). When used on conversational data collected from the same learner within a given time period, CA can shed light on language development conceptualised as ‘observable changes in competence over time’ (Nguyen, 2011: 39). One of the fi rst studies applying the CA methodology to AL development is Brouwer and Wagner (2004) who show that with growing interactional experience, AL users adjust interactional moves to achieve their conversational goals with less perturbations (such as repair initiations or

Pragmatic Development in Four Congolese Refugees’ Norwegian

197

delays). Brouwer and Wagner conclude that in order to understand AL development, one needs to focus on ‘how “learners” build systematically on experiences from interactions and become more experienced, versatile and competent in the new language’ (2004: 42). Since their influential paper, several studies have reported that with time, AL users show growing context-sensitive conduct (Pekarek Doehler & Berger, 2018), efficiency (Nguyen, 2020) and participation (Nguyen, 2011; Young & Miller, 2004). In their cross-sectional and longitudinal study of story-prefacing work and topic shifts, Lee and Hellermann (2014) have found that AL users build up their interactional competence to achieve step-wise topic shifts instead of abrupt ones. One of the linguistic means used for introducing step-wise shifts are time adverbials which function as prospective indexicals (Goodwin, 1996), signalling that a turn continuation is forthcoming and thus putting the sequential organisation of the conversation on hold. Similar fi ndings have been reported by Pekarek Doehler and Berger (2018) in a longitudinal study of story-openings delivered by a French AL learner, Julie. While in the initial conversations Julie delivers her stories in media res, without securing recipiency and grounds for the telling, her later storytelling sequences are performed with more prefatory work, displaying how the story is related to the ongoing talk. Pekarek Doehler and Berger conclude that the observed changes in the learner language do not concern ‘the availability of a given form, but the emergence of new interactional purposes that form is used to fulfi ll’ (2018: 574). In other words, while pragmatic development is linked and to some extent contingent on expanding one’s linguistic repertoire, it is not limited to it: pragmatic development also entails widening the spectre of social actions performed in conversation, and of the means to achieve them. In this chapter, the object of study is the response to topic initial elicitors (TIE) and topic proffers (TP). Both structures serve the purpose of generating topics, and share a sequential position in the conversation: they normally appear in the beginning of the conversation or after topic closing sequences (Button & Casey, 1984; Schegloff, 2007). Another common denominator for TIEs and TPs is that they function as a ‘fi rst pair part to project a relevant slot for the recipient to take a turn’ (Nguyen, 2011: 20). In other words, they shift the responsibility for maintaining the conversation to the recipient, requiring them to act. This feature makes them eligible to study how learners contribute to shaping the content of the talk. The TIE sequence is initiated by a non-specific question asking about a recent event, e.g. what’s up. The preferred response to TIE is a report of a newsworthy event, delivered in a format that downplays its newsworthiness (for instance with hesitation marks), thus framing the response as being searched for rather than premeditated (Wong & Waring, 2010: 107). In this way, the topic is presented to the co-participant only as a possible topic, not a necessary one. The third turn in a TIE sequence is often a topicaliser, such as really, showing acceptance of the topic, upon which

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the speaker continues with her story (Button & Casey, 1984; Wong & Waring, 2010: 107). If the co-participant does not provide the preferred answer to the TIE, the speaker may choose to pursue the topic, for instance by recycling the no-news event in order to attempt a second try of generating a topic, or to deliver a news announcement themselves, thus reclaiming the focus of the talk (Wong & Waring, 2010: 113). Another way to generate a topic is to proffer one. In a topic proffer, ‘a speaker proposes a particular topic (…) but does not actively launch or further develop the proposed topic’ (Schegloff, 2007: 169–170). Thus, the topic is only made available for the recipient, who can embrace or reject it. Topic proffers are typically ‘recipient-oriented’, that is regarding issues that the recipient has fi rst-hand access to (somewhat reminiscent of Labov’s B-events, cf. Heritage, 2013). Schegloff elaborates that topic proffers are usually implemented by yes/no questions, or by ‘utterances in an assertion format which can have the sequential force of a question’ (2007: 170). As such, topic proffers function as a fi rst pair part in an adjacency pair, requiring the recipient to take a turn in talk. As with TIE, the preferred alternative to TP is accepting the proposed topic, while declining it is generally dispreferred (Schegloff, 2007: 173). To my knowledge, TIE sequences have not been studied in AL development, while TPs have been addressed by Nguyen (2011) in a longitudinal microanalysis of the conversations between one English as AL user, Lien, and a native speaker of English, recorded in an academic setting. In the initial recordings, Lien’s response to TPs is either minimal, or expanded, but sequentially delayed (delivered over several turns). With time, the number of minimal responses declines, while Lien delivers more immediate expanded responses and even proffers the topic herself. Lien’s later turnconstructional units (TCUs) are also more grammatically and lexically elaborate, and she plays a more active role in shaping the content of the talk. Based on the reviewed literature, one can expect that the learners’ participation in the talk will increase over time, in line with their growing language competence. What this study aims at discovering, however, is the nature of changes (which linguistic resources they are contingent on), and their influence on the sequential structure of the talk. 12.3 Data

The data are 12 conversations between four Congolese refugees (referred to as (AL) participants and learners, interchangeably) and the researcher, Guri, recorded three times with each participant with 2–4 months in between (see Table 12.1). The conversations have been transcribed in ELAN (Sloetjes & Wittenburg, 2008).1 The conversations took place for the purpose for collecting samples of spoken Norwegian from the participants, and followed a protocol of three questions, asked in varying order so that to ensure the natural flow of

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199

Table 12.1 Overview of the data material Participant

Date1

Date2

Date3

Christophe

20.02.20

28.05.20

10.09.20

Fidèle

11.02.20

22.06.20

11.09.20

Prudent

16.02.20

22.06.20

09.08.20

Zépherin

30.12.19

09.03.20

24.07.20

conversation. While in studies of learner language pragmatics, there is a focus on the data being authentic and consequential (i.e. having real-world consequences for participants, cf. Bardovi-Harlig, 2013: 72), I would argue that the conversations collected in this project have ecological validity, and are treated as such by the participants. Guri is a natural conversational partner for the learners, being their primary Norwegian contact that is not part of the institutionalised system surrounding them. At the same time, they are aware she is a linguist, which undoubtedly has some bearing for the recorded conversations. Nonetheless, the participants meet Guri regularly in different settings, and conversations with her provide them with vital conversational experience included in their ‘biography of learning in social encounters’ (Brouwer & Wagner, 2004: 42). Spontaneous language samples are notably hard to control in terms of content of the talk, making generalising difficult (Bardovi-Harlig, 2013: 70). Mori and Nguyen (2019: 234) also stress that naturally occurring conversations are challenging data for studying language development due to their situatedness. In order to achieve comparability between participants and over time, the focus is on the sequences following the topic initial elicitor hva har du gjort i det siste ‘what have you been doing lately’. This question was part of the data-collection protocol, and was repeated, with some context-sensitive modifications, in each conversation. The context-sensitive modifications included adjusting the question to the time the conversation was recorded. For instance, the conversations recorded in May 2020 often start with a more specific question, hva gjorde du under corona ‘what did you do during corona’, referring to the national lockdown which greatly limited social interactions. Such modifications change the format of the question to a topic proffer, which does not call for a newsworthy event in the way topic initial elicitors do (see Section 12.2). 12.4 Analysis

In general, the participants in this study change their response to the topic-generating questions over time. The fi rst observable, and somewhat not surprising, change is the growing aural comprehension, resulting in fewer repair-sequences preceding the response in the later conversations (Section 12.4.1). In several extracts, participants actively

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attempt to deliver a report of a newsworthy event, which develops into topical talk in cooperation with the other participant (Section 12.4.2). In the later recordings, one can also observe the growing pragmatic sensitivity exhibited when two of the participants perform a rejection of the TIE (Section 12.4.3). 12.4.1 Growing aural comprehension and repeating the final word

The fi rst recordings all include a repair-sequence, often involving translating the whole question or the last part of it, to another language (French or English). (1) Christophe1

In line 3 in extract 1, Christophe repeats the last word of the preceding turn with a rising intonation, the meaning of which is interpreted by Guri as a request for clarification. In her response in line 5, she translates the fi nal phrase of her turn into French. Christophe’s response in line 7 exhibits recognition, but before he manages to deliver a response, Guri suggests a topic by means of a TP in line 8, which is accepted by Christophe and develops into topic talk. In the following extract, we can see a similar repair-sequence, while this time Guri explains more explicitly what the response to the TIE can be. (2) Fidèle1

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In extracts 1 and 2, repeating the final word of the question with a rising intonation is treated by Guri as a request for clarification. In extract 3, however, such clarification is not provided, thus leading to a misunderstanding. (3) Prudent1

In line 3 of extract 3, Prudent repeats the last word with a rising intonation, but his turn is treated by Guri as a request for confirmation rather than clarification. Hence, Prudent follows his own interpretation of Guri’s question, where the last word means ‘sister’, 2 and responds to it in line 5, upon which Guri embarks on a metalinguistic explanation of what the Norwegian word siste ‘last’ means and translates the whole sequence into French. In line 11, Prudent laughingly expresses his understanding, and continues to answer the question from line 1 in an appropriate way. It is interesting to note that Guri’s use of French or English in general does not lead to translanguaging (García & Li, 2014) on the side of the participants. In extract 3, notably, Prudent delivers his turn in line 11 in French, yet it can be considered a closing token of the other initiated repair-sequence from lines 6–10, and in the following turns (not rendered here), Prudent reverts to using Norwegian. In a way, translanguaging strategy appears in stretches of metatalk, including

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repairs, and otherwise the participants seem intent on using Norwegian, even when their conversational partner introduces other languages to the conversation (e.g. extract 4). The multilingual practices found in the data can therefore be seen as supporting understanding and regulating discourse, rather than performing identity as multilingual (De Fina, 2007). One should note, however, that in his first conversation which is not rendered here, Zépherin responds to Guri’s English TP in English. It is interesting to note that the participants’ responses to the TIE in the later recordings often include repeating the last word or the last phrase of the question, but that does not necessarily mean initiating a repair-sequence. (4) Zépherin2

In extract 4, Zépherin repeats the time adverbial in line 5, which is treated by Guri as a request for clarification. However, in line 7, Zépherin does not acknowledge that this was indeed the case. He does not deliver any recognition token of the repair sequence, and instead repeats his initial wording that turns out to be an expanded report of a newsworthy event, i.e. the preferred response to the TIE. Such repeating of the fi nal word or phrase of the TIE is common in the data (see also extract 8 and 9). This frequency suggests that repeating the time adverbial may have a different conversational function than requesting clarification. Lee and Hellermann (2014) have found that time adverbials can be used as ‘prospective indexicals’ (Goodwin, 1996), signalling an upcoming story-telling sequence. Extending this analysis to the data in this study, one possible conclusion is that repeating the time adverbial at the start of the turn functions as a prospective indexical, allowing the speaker to deliver an adequate answer (signalling an upcoming story), and at the same time giving them time to construct the following turn. 3 The analysed repair sequences appear only in the fi rst recording with all four participants.4 This fact can be interpreted as growing aural comprehension, but also growing familiarity of the participants with typical conversational sequences in Norwegian. Having delivered an explanation in the fi rst recording, Guri seems to assume that the TIE sequence is now part of the participants’ repertoire and does not deliver repair sequences,

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treating the repetitions rather as requests for confirmation. The following talk confi rms this assumption, as the learners do not initiate a repair in any of the later conversations, and react appropriately to the sequence, as will be shown in Section 12.4.2. 12.4.2 Accepting the TIE – accounting for a newsworthy event

In most cases, the participants in this study accept the presupposition inherent in the TIE (i.e. having some news to report) and attempt to deliver a report of a newsworthy event. Still, the second pair part of the sequence often involves trouble signs, such as prolonged pauses and hesitation markers, and the response is sequentially delayed, as attested in the following extract. (5) Fidèle1

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In line 3, Fidèle’s turn exhibits markedly long pauses and hesitation markers, yet his turn in line 5 is nonetheless an appropriate response to the TIE. However, Fidèle uses a wrong preposition5 to express going to a place called Ski (a city), and since the name of the place coincidentally is a homonym with the verb ‘to ski’, his utterance is ambiguous. While going skiing would be a perfectly eligible past-time activity for the locals (the recording takes place in February), it is rather unlikely for a newly arrived refugee from Congo to engage is such activities. Guri marks her surprise by a markedly high pitch on the final word of her TCU, ski ‘ski’ in line 6. Fidèle is probably not aware of the word play he has achieved and continues with his story in lines 8, 11 and 13–15. Actually, buying a computer is indeed a newsworthy event, but is not treated as such by Guri who responds only with minimal backchannel signals in line 12 and 16. Thus, the format of the TIE sequence in not fully realised, as there is no topicaliser showing the recipient’s interest in the story suggested by the speaker. Fidèle orients to this fact by re-telling his story in a more fluent way, in lines 17 and 19. Still, the topicaliser is not coming, and Guri wraps up the sequence by suggesting a new topic in lines 22–23. Fidèle’s response observed in this extract bears thus no sequential consequence, resembling what Jefferson (1978, after Pekarek Doehler & Berger, 2018: 563) has analysed as ‘sequential deletion’. What is interesting is that Fidèle returns to his story in English (not rendered here), thus ‘resisting’ the sequential deletion. Yet, in the following talk, Guri explains in English that she has understood her conversational partner, and reclaims the turn by repeating the question from lines 22–23. Extract 5 shows that the conversation is asymmetric in terms of topic control, and that learner participation is contingent on the cooperation of his conversational partner. In the second conversation with Fidèle, the pattern typical for TIE sequences is followed and includes a topicaliser. Extract 6 illustrates how the conversation evolves into topical talk where both participants contribute. (6) Fidèle2

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In line 1 Guri delivers a TP, using the circumstances for the talk (end of the school year) as a contextual cue. Fidèle’s response in line 2 is initially minimal (note the pause in line 3), and then expanded to introduce a newsworthy event, namely visiting the teacher at home. Fidèle’s account of the story starts with introducing the setting by naming the place (municipality, line 4). In line 6, Guri interprets this turn correctly, which is confi rmed in line 7 and expanded in line 9. Guri’s turn in lines 10–11 is a topicaliser, completing the topic-generating sequence and allowing for Fidèle’s story to continue. In line 12, however, Fidèle offers only a minimal backchannel signal, and continues his story only when Guri involves in a topic pursuit sequence in line 13. In the following stretch of talk (line 16, 18 and 20), Fidèle delivers an account of the activities, yet does so with several pauses, signalling trouble. In the end of line 20, Fidèle uses a word that does not exist in Norwegian. Guri’s lack of recognition is signalled by the long pause in line 21, and from line 22 onwards Guri embarks on a repair-sequence, with Fidèle’s minimal participation.

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(7) Zépherin2 – extract 4 previously, continues here

Extract 6 illustrates how the responsibility for the flow of the talk is more on the native speaking part than on the learner. Nonetheless, Fidèle’s response, although delayed, allows for the topical sequence to continue, with his conversational partner’s acceptance. Note for instance how the pause in line 17 functions as a transitional relevance place, where the talk can legitimately pass to Guri. Since she does not use this opportunity to deliver a turn, Fidèle continues with his story in line 18. The observed dependency on the native speaking conversational partner may be caused by linguistic limitations, but also by the wish to monitor what is happening in the conversation, whether understanding is maintained or not. In the following extract, we can observe a similar sequence when Zépherin visibly orients to the grammatical and lexical features of his language production. In extract 7, Zépherin’s turns in line 1 and 3 are legitimate responses to the TIE, providing an account of a newsworthy event. Guri’s turn in line 4 can be treated as a topicaliser, yet in line 6 Zépherin does not continue with his story, and instead repeats his previous turn, this time with the appropriate tense marking on the verb and a specific name of the course mentioned in line 3. Guri’s response in line 7 is a topicaliser and a topic pursuing question, yet Zépherin’s turns in line 8–9 suggest that the turn in line 6 was actually a self-initiated repair, as his continuation of the story overlaps with Guri’s question. What we can see here, is that both participants engage in performing different actions: while Zépherin is attempting to deliver a grammatically and lexically correct utterance, Guri is more focused on the content of the talk and on bringing the conversation forward by means of topic pursuit questions.

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12.4.3 Rejecting the TIE – no newsworthy events

In the data, there are three instances of the participants’ rejecting the presupposition inherent the TIE, namely having experienced something worth talking about. Two of the instances are delivered by Christophe (conversation 2 and 3), and one by Zépherin (conversation 3). In the following two extracts, Christophe responds to the TIE by single TCUs, signalling that he does not wish to suggest a topic for the conversation.

(8) Christophe2

In extract 8, Christophe’s initial response (line 3) to the TIE is accepting the sequence. In line 5, the turn starts with a time adverbial noen ganger ‘sometimes’ which could signal an upcoming story-telling sequence (cf. extract 4). After a brief pause, however, Christophe only repeats his wording from line 3, thus bringing the topic to a close. Guri’s turns in line 6 and 8 (repeated in line 11 as well), are topic pursuit sequences, typically found after a dispreffered response has been delivered (Wong & Waring, 2010). The talk continues to deal with Christophe’s recent activities, thus showing that the rejection of the TIE sequence was not fully successful. In his fi nal conversation, however, Christophe performs the rejection again, yet does so in a more appropriate way, and thus achieves his goal of abandoning the topic elicitation sequence.

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(9) Christophe3

Christophe’s initial response in line 6 is a conventional expression suggesting no newsworthy event to report. His turn is laughingly recycled by Guri in line 7, and as a response to that, Christophe delivers an expanded account of his activities lately, summarised in line 12, and repeats again his initial turn from line 6 in line 15. When we compare

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extracts 8 and 9, we can see that Christophe’s response to Guri’s recycling the no-news report changes. In extract 8, Christophe just repeats his previous TCU, while in extract 9 he delivers an expanded response, consisting of several TCUs, and produces diff erent turn completion tokens, such as the interim summaries in lines 12 and 15, and the completion signal in line 26. After the presented extract, the topic of Christophe’s activities is quickly abandoned in favour of the next question in the data-collection protocol. Another feature worth noting in extract 9 is Christophe’s attempt at delivering an answer in present perfect tense in line 12. His attempt is not fully successful, as neither gjorte nor gjort are correct present perfect forms of the verb gjøre ‘do’, though it shows that this tense form is emerging in his AL. Zépherin is the only participant whose second pair part of the TIE sequence includes a phrase in present perfect in his third recording. (10) Zépherin3

Zépherin’s response to the TIE sequence from line 1 come in line 3, and consists of a correct tempus form har gjort ‘have done’. (The sentence is still not fully grammatically correct, but this fact is of no consequence here.) The TCU in line 3 explicitly rejects the presupposition inherent in the TIE, and is followed by a continuity token men ‘but’, allowing Zépherin to keep the turn. In lines 5 and 7, he suggests a different topic, namely his work. Interestingly, after doing that and Guri confirming her understanding in lines 8 and 10, there is a long pause of 1.3 seconds (line 11), in which Zépherin could take a turn and continue with his story. Yet it is not until Guri delivers an explicit question pursuing the topic that Zépherin takes a turn.

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Extracts 8–10 provide examples of two of the learners’ changing response to the TIEs, achieved by means of more conventional and/or more grammatically elaborate structure. This change allows them to influence the topic of the conversation. Fidèle and Prudent also show growing participation in the topical talk, yet in a different way. The fi nal conversations with both of them include several contributions to the content of the talk, yet they do not come as a response to the TIE or TP, but rather after Guri’s topic pursuit. Both Fidèle and Prudent actively engage in vocabulary learning, providing the context for the desired vocabulary items, and repeating them several times. In addition, Fidèle repeatedly initiates meta-linguistic sequences, focusing on grammatical features of Norwegian. 12.5 Discussion and Conclusions

In the present study, I looked into four Congolese refugees’ response to topic initial elicitors and topic proffers in conversations with a Norwegian, and traced the changes in their conversational conduct over time. In response to RQ1, we can say that the initial recordings all include a clarification sequence which is not explicitly initiated by the learners. In a majority of cases, the sequence is delivered following either a longer pause, or a minimal uptake from the learner, repeating the last word in the phrase, siste ‘last’. The clarification sequences involve translating the question or parts of it, into other languages known by the participants (French or English, or both). In one case (Zépherin1, not rendered here), the following response is also delivered in English, but otherwise the participants use their multilingual resources only when initiating and/or responding to repair sequences. The translanguaging strategy is thus restricted to specific social actions regulating the discourse. In the later recordings, repeating the time adverbial appears also to function as a prospective indexical (Goodwin, 1996), which has been discussed in Lee and Hellermann (2014) as a competent method of signalling an upcoming turn. Once the meaning of the topic-generating structure is established, all learners deliver sequentially delayed responses, with frequent trouble signs such as longer pauses, repetitions and hesitation signals. Taking into account that they are beginning-level language learners, these trouble signs are likely to arise due to limitations in their AL Norwegian repertoire. As a result, the development of the talk is largely dependent on Guri engaging in topic pursuit, by means of additional questions. At the same time, topic pursuit shows the co-participant’s involvement in talk, and thus allows the learner to hold the floor and provide more turns-at-talk. As shown in extract 5, delivering only minimal backchannel signals in

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response to a newsworthy event results in the topical talk coming to a halt, while the learner engages in a repair sequence. In extract 6, on the other hand, Guri’s topic pursuing strategies ‘force’ the learner to contribute to the talk. One can conclude that while topic pursuing strategies exert control on the topic development, they also allow the learners to participate in the talk to a greater extent. Responding to RQ2, one can defi nitely say that the participants of the study show growing aural comprehension, and deliver more fluent, and thus more adequate, responses to TIEs in the later recordings. All learners also show growing participation in the topical development of the talk, yet only Christophe and Zépherin exhibit changes in their response to the TIEs. In their fi nal recordings, both learners deliver successful rejections of the TIE sequence (cf. extracts 9 and 10). Christophe performs the rejection twice, and the changes he introduces to his response can be treated as a sign of growing conventionalisation and context-sensitivity. In other words, Christophe’s management of the TIE sequence becomes more effective, allowing him to shape the content of the talk (cf. Pekarek Doehler & Berger, 2018). Also Zépherin successfully introduces a new topic to the conversation, using conventional linguistic resources such as present perfect tense and the discourse marker men ‘but’. This fi nding corresponds well with Brouwer and Wagner (2004) and Nguyen (2020), who have shown how growing interactional experience results in changes in conversational conduct. Summing up, the data in this study underscore the role real-life conversations have for AL learning. It is likely that forced migrants, which this study focuses on, are even more dependent on being offered opportunities to engage in real-life conversations than other learners. Forced migrants did not choose their host country based on their interest or profession (see Steien & Monsen [Introduction], this volume), which could provide them with natural conversational partners in their target language. Thus, one implication of the study for teaching AL to this specific group of learners is that teaching institutions should make room for situated, contextualised language use in different settings, or ‘collecting the language from the streets’, as argued by Steien (this volume). Another didactic implication, which is somewhat unsurprising, concerns the coparticipant’s role in sustaining the interaction and ‘making room’ for the learner to monitor understanding and deliver turns in accordance to that. CA studies have repeatedly shown how the construction of meaning is shared by both participants, and while this is true for all interactions, the active topic pursuing by the interlocutor is especially vital for beginninglevel learners. Conversational data collected over time shed light on language learning perceived as a social process, where all interactions in the AL build up one’s biography of learning in social encounters.

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Transcription key .

Falling intonation

?

Rising intonation

↑

Marked change in pitch upward

siste

Stressed syllable

STED

Anonymised element

[ ]

Overlapping utterances

(2.0)

Timed silence within or between adjacent utterances

(.)

A short untimed pause

=

Latching (no interval between adjacent utterances)

-

An abrupt cutoff

:

A prolonged stretch

@

Laughing quality of the voice

hh

Aspirations

.hh

Inhalations

{French}

Additional information, including language (used when several languages appear within the same turn).

Notes (1) The transcriptions are perfomed by Marte Nordanger, Bård Uri Jensen and me. (2) Siste ‘last’, pronounced /ˈsistə/ bears a strong phonological resemblance with English ‘sister’, the only small difference between them residing in the quality of the stressed vowel. (3) It is also possible to interpret this practice as transfer from English. As shown by Rørvik (this volume), the spoken English of Congolese refugees displayed evidence of left-dislocation, and the practice shown in extract is formally speaking a type of leftdislocation. Among the functions of left-dislocation are ‘alleviating cognitive demands, and (…) planning pressure’ (Rørvik, this volume), and conversational data suggest that this is indeed the case. (4) Note, however, that in none of the extracts discussed above do the learners indicate their lack of understanding in an explicit way. A conventional signal of difficulties would be to initiate the repair sequence by means of a repetition request, such as hva sa du ‘what did you say’. In the later conversations, two of the participants (Zephérin and Fidèle) do deliver several more or less conventional requests for repetition, such as the previously mentioned hva sa du or unnskyld ‘sorry’. While interesting, this topic will not be addressed in this chapter. (5) Marte Nordanger (this volume) found that the preposition på ‘on’ together with the verb gå ‘go’ represents a semi-fi xed pattern in the learners’ repertoires, and thus provides evidence that language learning may start from specific exemplars (in this instance, gå på norskkurs ‘attend Norwegian classes’).

References Bardovi-Harlig, K. (1999) Exploring the interlanguage of interlanguage pragmatics: A research agenda for acquisitional pragmatics. Language Learning 49 (4), 677–713. Bardovi-Harlig, K. (2013) Developing L2 pragmatics. Language Learning 63, 68–86. Brouwer, C E. and Wagner, J. (2004) Developmental issues in second language conversation. Journal of Applied Linguistics and Professional Practice 1 (1), 29–47.

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Button, G. and Casey, N. (1984) Generating topic: The use of topic initial elicitors. In J. Maxwell Atkinson and J. Heritage (eds) Structures of Social Action: Studies in Conversation Analysis (pp. 167–190). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Fina, A. (2007) Code-switching and the construction of ethnic identity in a community of practice. Language in Society, 36 (3), 371–392. García, O. and Li, W. (2014) Translanguaging: Language, Bilingualism and Education. New York: Palgrave Macmillian. Goodwin, C. (1996) Transparent vision. In E. Ochs, E.A. Schegloff and S. Thompson (eds) Interaction and Grammar (pp. 370–404). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heritage, J. (2013) Epistemics in conversation. In J. Sidnell and T. Stivers (eds) The Handbook of Conversation Analysis (pp. 370–394). Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell. Kasper, G. (2001) Four perspective on L2 pragmatic development. Applied Linguistics 22 (4), 502–530. Kasper, G. and Rose, K.R. (2002) Pragmatic development in a second language. Language Learning: A Journal of Research in Language Studies 52, 1–352. Lee, Y.A. and Hellermann, J. (2014) Tracing developmental changes through conversation analysis: Cross-sectional and longitudinal analysis. TESOL Quarterly 48 (4), 763–788. Markee, N. (2008) Toward a learning behavior tracking methodology for CA-for-SLA. Applied Linguistics 29 (3), 404–427. Mori, J. and Nguyen, H.T. (2019) Conversation analysis in L2 pragmatics research. In N. Taguchi (ed.) Routledge Handbook of Second Language Acquisition and Pragmatics (pp. 226–240). Abingdon: Routledge. Nguyen, H.T. (2011) A longitudinal microanalysis of a second language learner’s participation. In G. Palotti and J. Wagner (eds) L2 Learning as Social Practice: ConversationAnalytic Perspectives (pp. 17–44). Honolulu, HI: National Foreign Language Resource Center, University of Hawai’i Press. Nguyen, H.T. (2020) Turn-design as longitudinal achievement: Learning on the shop floor. In J. Hellermann, S. W. Eskildsen, S. Pekarek-Doehler and A. Piirainen-Marsh (eds) Conversation Analytic Research on Learning-in-action: The Complex Ecology of Second Language Interaction ‘In the Wild’ (pp. 77–101). New York: Springer Publishing. Pekarek Doehler, S. and Berger, E. (2018) L2 interactional competence as increased ability for context-sensitive conduct: A longitudinal study of story-openings. Applied Linguistics 39 (4), 555–578. Schegloff, E.A. (2007) Sequence Organization in Interaction: A Primer in Conversation Analysis (Vol. 1). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sloetjes, H. and Wittenburg, P. (2008) Annotation by category-ELAN and ISO DCR. 6th international Conference on Language Resources and Evaluation (LREC 2008). Nijmegen, The Netherlands: Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics, The Language Archive. See: https://archive.mpi.nl/tla/elan. Young, R.F. and Miller, E.R. (2004) Learning as changing participation: Discourse roles in ESL writing conferences. The Modern Language Journal 88 (4), 519–535. Wong, J. and Waring, H.Z. (2010) Conversation Analysis and Second Language Pedagogy. Abingdon: Routledge.

13 Conclusion: Towards a Research Agenda on Language Learning and Forced Migration Guri Bordal Steien and Marte Monsen

This book contains 11 original research contributions concerned with different aspects of the language learning of 12 refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), via Uganda, to Norway. The authors have contributed their theoretical and methodological insights to shed light on various topics related to the learning of these 12 individuals. In this concluding chapter, we will first discuss what we believe are the main contributions of this book to the field of Second Language Acquisition (SLA). Then we will present some limitations of the current work and propose some lines for further investigation of the topic of language learning by forced migrants.

13.1 Contributions

In the introduction to this book (Steien & Monsen, this volume), we showed that surprisingly little work within SLA is devoted to forced migrants, even though language learning might be of primary importance for this group to be able to ensure an income in the host societies. The main contribution of this book to the field is, as we see it, that it draws attention to this group of learners. We will here expand on two other aspects of the current research, which we believe to constitute its originality. Firstly, the linguistic repertoires of the participants are more varied than those of many of the learners that have informed the field of SLA. Secondly, we take a multidisciplinary approach, combining different theoretical tools to shed light on data collected from the same participants.

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13.1.1 Varied linguistic repertoires

Several researchers have called for a multilingual turn in the field of SLA (May, 2013, 2019; Ortega, 2013). Nevertheless, the field mostly remains concerned with what May refers to as outliers, i.e. ‘initially monolingual adult language learners, elite and often college-based, who are learning an additional language sequentially and discretely’ (May, 2019: 124). The participants in the current research, on the contrary, are not outliers as they have in no sense been monolingual when they learned additional languages. They all gained their primary language socialisation in various linguistic ecologies in the DRC, and describe their childhood linguistic practices as translingual, often using Kinyabwisha and Swahili interchangeably in their daily lives. Some attended French-medium education in the DRC and/or English-medium education in Uganda. Most of them learned additional languages informally in Uganda, such as English, Luganda and Runyoro. When they started to learn Norwegian, they already had various repertoires, reflecting their histories of mobility (Blommaert & Backus, 2013). Hence, one of the contributions of this book, we hold, is that we are concerned with speakers whose linguistic repertoires are different from those of most participants in SLA research. We have taken this reality into account in this book by avoiding simplifying the participants’ repertoires, i.e. referring to them as a dichotomy consisting of a first language/mother tongue and a second language, as is sometimes done by authors dealing with speakers of this kind (see Steien & Van Dommelen, 2018, for an overview). The term additional language (cf. Douglas Fir Group, 2016) is consequently used by all authors, rather than terms such as second or third language. Although the latter terms are sometimes used as umbrella terms referring to any language learned later in life, they have sequential and linear connotations that do not fit the linguistic repertoires of the participants in this research. Moreover, the varied nature of the participants’ repertoires is thematised by the different authors. Both Syvertsen and Rørvik discuss cross-linguistic influences on the participants’ English. However, instead of tracing such influences back to one specific named language, they view the participants’ English in the light of structures found in many Bantu languages, as a variety of Bantu languages are found in the linguistic ecologies of both the DRC and Uganda. In Randen’s analysis of cross-linguistic awareness, she examines the participants’ accounts of all their languages, both those that they read and write and those they have learned informally. Moreover, Steien compares the participants’ accounts of language learning in the DRC, Uganda and Norway, and hence proposes to view their language learning experience across different spaces and in different periods of their lives. In Monsen’s work on basic literacy education, she points to the advantage of using interpreters who know both Kinyabwisha and Swahili in interaction with the participants, namely due to the participants’ habitus of translingual practices. Monsen and Eek are concerned with multilingualism in the

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classroom and shed light on the extent to which teachers under the Introduction Programme take account of the varied nature of the participants’ repertoires. Cenoz and Gorter (2019: 134) argue that ‘SLA studies have often been carried out in North America but were subsequently discussed as though they applied in the same way to all contexts’. By being aware of the nature of the participants’ repertoires, we have aimed at avoiding such a Northern bias (Pennycook & Makoni, 2019). That said, we refer to linguistic resources by terms such as Swahili, English and Norwegian, and in that sense, we operate with categories which do not necessarily fully reflect the complex realities we are describing. This is a pragmatic choice, as the participants and we ourselves are used to deploying such terms to describe linguistic resources. Moreover, although the participants’ linguistic practices tend to be translingual, as language learners they experience boundaries between new and familiar linguistic resources. But for now, referring to named languages is the most convenient way of talking about such boundaries. Although we recognise that this terminology is problematic from an ontological viewpoint (Li, 2018), it is used by language teachers in Norway (and beyond) and as such it reflects the social reality in which the participants navigate. 13.1.2 Multidisciplinarity

Another contribution of this book to the field of SLA is that it is multidisciplinary. The authors draw on various theorical tools, such as critical pedagogy (Monsen & Eek), critical sociolinguistics (Pájaro), conversation analysis (Horbowicz), crosslinguistic awareness/metalanguage (Randen), ecological approaches to language contact (Syvertsen), imagined communities (Monsen & Steien), investment theory (Monsen and Monsen & Steien), space as understood in human geography (Steien), translanguaging theory (Monsen & Eek), structural syntax (Jensen & Rørvik) and usage-based grammar (Nordanger). As we have not merged epistemologies – each chapter follows its own logic – we prefer to see the book as multidisciplinary, rather than transdisciplinary (Duff, 2019). The reason we have chosen a multidisciplinary approach is that the current research is issue-driven rather than theory-driven (Duff, 2019). We are interested in the language learning of a particular group of people, i.e. forced migrants. Our aim is thus not to test theoretical claims, but rather to draw on existing tools to provide rich empirical descriptions. In that sense, we are answering the call of Duff, who holds that SLA will benefit from ‘more longitudinal, case-based research drawing on different sources and (sub-)disciplines that can be triangulated in integrated and innovative ways’ (2019: 19). Instead of attempting to bridge the gap between linguistic, cognitive and social approaches to SLA (Hulstijn et al., 2014), we combine different approaches to the same data within the same book. We believe that such an approach is the only way to obtain a

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holistic picture of the language learning of a particular group of learners, which, in turn, might inform theoretical development. Moreover, our motivation for taking a multidisciplinary approach in this book is related to our day-to-day activity as teacher educators. Duff argues that case-based research ‘[is] helpful for theoretical as well as practical purposes – for example in teacher education’ (2019: 17). Namely because we work in teacher education, we see the need to combine approaches, as the curricula that our students will apply as teachers are indeed multidisciplinary. In practice, this means that they will be teaching grammar and at the same time need to be sensitive to learning contexts and emic perspectives. We, as teacher educators, and our students, as future teachers of Norwegian or English as additional languages, sometimes need to view language as consisting of discrete units (e.g. syllables, words or phrases) and sometimes of constructions. At the same time, we all need to keep in mind that language is a social practice, and that language learning is identity work (Douglas Fir Group, 2016). In sum, we believe that, through a multidisciplinary approach, we have contributed to capturing the holistic nature of language learning by a group of forced migrants, which hopefully will be reflected in teaching practices. 13.2 Limitations and Further Research

As stated in this book’s introduction, our purpose is to initiate a research agenda on language learning in the context of forced migration. At the same time, we have focused on only one type of forced migrants, which is resettlement refugees. Further research needs to examine the learning (context) of other types of forced migrants, such as asylum seekers and victims of trafficking. Moreover, we have limited our work to concern one group of refugees, i.e. people who fled from the DRC to Uganda before being resettled in Norway. To better understand what is specific to certain individuals and groups, and what is generalisable, refugees with different trajectories, who are resettled in different political contexts, need to be researched. Obviously, we have not been able to grasp all aspects related to the language learning of the participants in this book. Several of the topics highlighted by other authors concerned with forced migration (see Monsen & Steien [Introduction], this volume) are not covered in the part on learning contexts and emic perspectives. For instance, we have not drawn attention to how trauma or responsibilities outside the classroom influence investment in classroom practices, nor have we addressed the experience of marginalisation and undesired racial identities, topics that might be of primary importance to understanding the social context of language learning by forced migrants. These issues need to be addressed in further research into the experience of the participants in this research, as well as in research on

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language learning by forced migrants in general. Moreover, we have only shed light on some aspects of the participants’ language practices, knowledge and learning. The linguistic analysis in this book is limited to English and Norwegian. Analysis of the participants’ deployment of their other linguistic resources, e.g. Kinyabwisha and Swahili, as well as of the translingual practices (Canagarajah, 2012) that characterise their daily communication, would be needed to draw a full picture of their repertoires. It should also be mentioned that the English and Norwegian data are collected in contexts that favour a monolingual mode (Grosjean, 2012) and hence give a restricted insight into the participants’ linguistic practices and knowledge. Only some aspects of the participants’ English (syllable structures and left-dislocation) and development in Norwegian (syntactic complexity, verb–locative constructions and topic initial elicitors/topic proffer) are covered. Further research should consider a wider range of linguistic phenomena, such as segmental phonology, prosody, morphology, other aspects of syntax, semantics/vocabulary and other aspects of pragmatics. 13.3 Conclusive Remarks

With this book, we have aimed at initiating a research agenda within the field of SLA that is concerned with language learning by forced migrants. Such a research agenda could be addressed in different ways. What we have proposed here is to take a multidisciplinary approach to study different aspects of data generated from the same individuals, in order to provide a first step towards ‘a robust understanding of the language-in-person-in context (=temporal, spatial, geopolitical, educational, legal/migration status, social affective) and thus generating an understanding of the developmental SLA process within the context of [the participants’] lives’ (Duff, 2019: 18). Hopefully, we will see more research into language learning by forced migrants in future SLA. References Blommaert, J. and Backus, A. (2013) Superdiverse repertoires and the individual. In I. de Saint-Georges and J.-J. Weber (eds) Multimodality and Multilingualism: Current Challenges for Educational Studies (pp. 11–32). Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Cenoz, J. and Gorter, D. (2019) Multilingualism, translanguaging, and minority languages in SLA. The Modern Language Journal 103, 130–135. Canagarajah, S. (2012) Translingual Practice: Global Englishes and Cosmopolitan Relations. Abingdon: Routledge. Douglas Fir Group (2016) A transdisciplinary framework for SLA in a multilingual world. The Modern Language Journal 100, 19–47. Duff , P.A. (2019) Social dimensions and processes in second language acquisition: Multilingual socialization in transnational contexts. The Modern Language Journal 103, 6–22. Grosjean, F. (2012) An attempt to isolate, and then differentiate, transfer and interference. International Journal of Bilingualism 16 (1), 11–21.

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Hulstijn, J.H., Young, R.F., Ortega, L., Bigelow, M., DeKeyser, R., Ellis, N.C., Lantolf, J.P., Mackey, A. and Talmy, S. (2014) Bridging the gap: Cognitive and social approaches to research in second language learning and teaching. Studies in Second Language Acquisition 36 (3), 361–421. Li, W. (2018) Translanguaging as a practical theory of language. Applied Linguistics 39 (1), 9–30. May, S. (2013) Introducing the ‘multilingual turn’. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL, and Bilingual Education (pp. 1–6). Abingdon: Routledge. May, S. (2019) Negotiating the multilingual turn in SLA. The Modern Language Journal 103, 122–129. Pennycook, A. and Makoni, S. (2019) Innovations and Challenges in Applied Linguistics from the Global South. Abingdon: Routledge. Ortega, L. (2013) Ways forward for a bi/multilingual turn in SLA. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL, and Bilingual Education (pp. 42–63). Abingdon: Routledge. Steien, G.B. and van Dommelen, W.A. (2018) The production of Norwegian tones by multilingual non-native speakers. International Journal of Bilingualism 22 (3), 316–329.

Index

Acoustic analysis, 106 Additional language learning, 2, 106, 139, 175, 218 Additional language Norwegian, 157, 175 Additive approaches, 71 Affective priorities, 129–130 African Englishes, 114 African Frenches, 116 Agency, 54, 60 Antidialogic education, 75 Aural comprehension, 199

Discontinuity, 96 Discourses of deficit, 87 Disempowerment, 67 Dominant language, 101 DRC, 5, 7, 23, 88, 214 Dynamic approach, 141 East African Englishes, 105, 114, 126 Eastern Congo, 5, 28 Emic perspectives, 1, 10, 28, 37, 89 Empowerment, 11, 50, 60, 66 English, 12, 39, 41, 58, 64, 79, 102, 122 Entrenchement, 178 Entrepreneurship, 50 Ethnography, 20, 23, 36

Bantu languages, 102, 104, 116, 122, 126, 215 Banyabwisha, 38 Basic literacy, 86, 87, 215 Blommaert, Jan, 35, 88, 94 Bourdieu, Pierre, 88, 96 British Protectorate, 125

Forced migration, 1, 2, 70, 214 Formulas, 175 French, 39, 79, 102

Capital, 22, 88 Central Congo, 39 Citizenship, 21 Classroom practices, 29, 70 Clausal complexity, 165 Clausal subordination, 164–165 Clientification, 52 Cognitive demands, 129–130 Common European framework of reference for languages, 26, 160 Consonant clusters, 102 Conversation analysis, 195 Critical pedagogy, 76, 82 Crosslinguistic awareness, 12, 140, 143, 150, 153 Crosslinguistic influence, 122 Cultural orientation programme, 19, 24, 36, 43, 93

Gender equality, 27 Gender identity, 22 Gender relations, 20, 23, 24, 28, 30 Global North, 50, 101 Global South, 45 Governmentality, 49, 52 Grassroots literacy, 88, 94, 95 Grassroots multilingualism, 45 Holistic approach, 1, 217 Humour, 95, 96 Identities, 19, 22 Illiteracy, 87 Imagined community, 20, 31 Imagined identities, 22 Immigration policies, 19 Informal language learning, 42, 44, 101 Initial formulaic sequences, 190 Integration policies, 20, 82

Dialogic education, 75, 80 Digital literacy, 61, 92, 94 220

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Introduction programme, 6, 10, 19, 29, 34, 49, 86 Investment, 2, 10, 19, 22, 88, 89, 96, 216 International Organisation of Migration, IOM, 9, 23

Multicompetence, 141, 154 Multidisciplinary approach, 214, 216 Multilingual practices, 77 Multilingual repertoire, 11, 71, 76, 77, 82 Multilingual turn, 215

Kinyabwisha, 38, 64, 65, 79, 89, 102, 122, 215 Kinyarwanda, 38, 65 Kivu, 5, 38 Kyangwali resettlement, 7, 38, 40, 43, 93, 95

National culture, 20 Non-western, 26 Norton, Bonny, 2, 96 Norwegian culture, 21 Norwegian language teaching, 90 Norwegian language training, 70, 81 Norwegian society, 25 Norwegian values, 25, 26, 30 Noun phrases, 169–171

Labour intergration programmes, 50 Language acquisition, 141 Language background, 123 Language contact studies, 102 Language ideologies, 70 Language learning space, 34, 37 Language learning, 141 Learner language pragmatics, 199 Left-dislocation, 12, 123, 127–137 Leitkultur, 21 LESLLA, 86 Linguistic ecology, 102 Linguistic knowledge, 142 Linguistic practices, 111–112 Linguistic repertoire, 8, 37, 70, 72, 81, 96, 150, 215 Literacy, 11, 61, 87, 94, 143 Local vernacular, 92 Longitudinal study, 1, 175, 216 Luganda, 45, 102, 125 Lusoga, 102 Marginalisation, 3, 22, 31 Maximal onset principle, 103 Metalanguage, 12, 142, 144, 151 Metalinguistic awareness, 139–154 Metatalk, 143 Migrants, 2, 21 Mobility, 118 Monolingual approaches, 71 Monolingual bias, 72, 141 Monolingual ideology, 78 Monolingual Immersion, 11, 77 Monolingual practice, 101 Monosyllabic words, 107–114 Morphology, 143 Motivation, 96

Othering, 31, 83 Pedagogical translanguaging, 3, 11, 73, 74, 77 Phonology, 143 Phonotactic principle, 103 Phrasal complexity, 169–171 Place, 35 Pollysyllabic words, 107–114 Pragmatic development, 13, 195–196 Precarity, 96 Primary discourses, 74 Proficiency, 158 Pronunciation, 114 Qualification, 71 Reflexivity, 23, 36 Refugees, 3, 6 Resettlement refugees, 4, 5, 86 Runyankore, 102 Runyoro, 44, 102 Rutshuru, 38, 92 Rwanda, 5, 38 Schemnatisation, 178 Scripts, 49, 53, 55, 66 Second Language Acquisition (SLA), 1, 2, 214 Secondary discourses, 74 Social media, 92 Social space, 35, 45 Socialization, 71 Sociolingustics, 50, 105, 216

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Space, 35, 216 Spatial practices, 43, 44 Spatial repertoires, 36 Standard English, 122, 126, 128, 136 Subject positions, 75, 95, 96 Subjectification, 71 Subjectivities, 2 Subtractive approaches, 71 Swahili, 29, 39, 58, 64, 65, 79, 89, 102, 122, 125, 215 Syllable structure, 12, 101–105, 117 Syllables, 91 Syntactic analysis, 162 Syntactic complexity, 12, 157–172 Syntax, 127, 143 Teaching practices, 70 Technical language, 151 Technologies of government, 10, 53, 66 Textbooks, 27 Texts, 49, 53, 66 The Norwegian Directory of Diversity (IMDi), 24, 58 The street, 34, 37

The verb island hypothesis, 191 Topic establishment, 129 Topic Initial Elicitors, 195–212 Topic Proffers, 195–212 Translanguaging, 4, 72 Uganda, 5, 7, 65, 93, 125, 214 Ugandan English, 104–105, 116, 122, 126, 136 UHNCR, 9, 23 UNESCO’s sustainability goal 4, 70 Usage based theories, 175, 178, 190, 216 Utterance length, 162–164 Verbal structure, 168–169 Verb-argument constructions (VAC), 176–177 Verb-Locative constructions (VL), 13, 175–192 Western values, 26 Word order, 12, 122, 126 World Englishes, 129