Vocabulary and Blizzards

In the 1880's, a German-American anthropologist named Franz Boas went to live amongst the Inuits on Baffin Island. In the process of working with them, studying their culture, and learning their language, he remarked that the Eskimoes have a staggering number of words for snow. This factoid has allowed many an elementary schooler to sound really smart and worldly when they tell to their less-informed friends that "Eskimoes have, like, 32 words for snow."

 

The claim has since been disputed by linguists who point out that the Inuit language is polysynthetic. In a polysynthetic language, you can stack a bunch of descriptors together into a single compound word. Where we might say "a drift of powdery snow on the ground," their language would hook all those descriptors together, using words like drift (qimuqsuq) and ground (aput) and snow (patuqun) to make a new colossal uber-word. As a result, their language is a veritable generator for new distinct words for snow and for all kinds of other things. I picture it kind of like German, which has a 41-letter word Betäubungsmittelverschreibungsverordnung that translates as a "regulation requiring a prescription for an anesthetic."

 

Other linguists think the claims about the Eskimo snow vocabulary are feasible, citing that the non-polysynthetic language of the Sami people has at least 180 words related to snow or ice, and up to 1000 different words for reindeer.

 

Regardless of how many words the Eskimoes have for snow, it's currently snowing all of them here in St Louis. 



The view from my window right now

The Truth...as We Know It

Do you remember elementary school science fairs? It was a rite of passage of my childhood to enter the science fair every year, usually with a project that was either so discombobulated that it was hardly recognizable as science or with a project that was so flammable/corrosive/smelly/blow-torch-involving that it probably wouldn't be allowed in a school building today.

 

I remember the year I made a plaster model showing how water erodes sedimentary rock. It weighed roughly 60 pounds and served no experimental purpose, but at least it didn't involve fire or acid, so that was a relative victory. Alas, the geezers judging the fair were too busy being impressed by Teddy Bailey's project on liquid chromatographic separation of the colored dyes in various inks, which was admittedly cool. Still, I wished the geezer judges had given me a science fair prize.

 

This weekend while visiting Dave up in Rochester, MN, I became a geezer judge.

 

Event: The GATEway Science Fair for children grades 3-6, held in the Gonda building atrium at Mayo Clinic.

The kids were very smart, and had clearly worked really hard. (In some cases, at the very least, the kids' parents were very smart and had worked really hard.... I'm talking about you, Third-Grade Kid Who Ran Statistical T-tests On Your Data... and you, Girl Whose Project Description Included the Words "Aliquot" and "Sterile innoculation loop.")

I reviewed one project by a 4th grader who set up an open circuit (power source connected to wire connected to a clamp... gap in the circuit ...clamp connected to wire connected to light bulb connected back to origin of circuit) then used it to test different materials to see which of them conduct electricity. He'd clamp the object with both clamps, and if it was conductive the power would flow through it causing the lightbulb to light up. But here's the awesome part:
 - He predicted a copper penny wouldn't conduct electricity. (That's ok. He's a 4th grader. He doesn't have to know everything yet.)
 - He found that a copper penny does, indeed, conduct electricity. (That's ok. Copper's a great conductor. His experiment worked!)
 - When I asked him if he was surprised when his results didn't match his prediction, he flatly explained to me that clearly there are different kinds of copper (...ummmm) and the kind they put in pennies isn't supposed to be the kind that conducts electricity (...hmmmm), but his mom must have gotten him the wrong kind of pennies for his experiment which is why it didn't turn out right.

Anyway, the whole experience got me thinking about what truth is. Especially in science, truth is a moving target based on the best evidence we can gather, until whatever time a better explanation can be proven instead. Sometimes, accepting new evidence that changes our personal concept of truth is a really tough hurdle.

For example, that science fair kid is now at a crossroads. Major dilemma:
  A) Copper conducts electricity. I was wrong. Now I know.  -OR-
  B) There are different kinds of copper, most of which aren't supposed to conduct electricity, but sometimes they do, but only when my mom is trying to thwart my scientific endeavors,  -OR-
  C) Why is this geezer science fair judge sweating me?! I knew I should've done that project where you put a seed in a cup and count how many days it takes to sprout.  -OR-
  D)  Blow-torch and acid.