<i> Imagination</i> : What Kindergartners Have Plenty Of

Joan Maturko, who teaches kindergarten at Jefferson School in Redondo Beach, has once again sent me the results of the vocabulary test she gives annually to her classes.

She simply reads a number of fairly common words and asks her children to define them. Once again, their answers demonstrate that English is a difficult language and make us wonder how children ever learn it.

Definitions are not easy even for literate adults. Take the ordinary word sofa . How would you define it? “It’s what you sit on.” “It’s a chair for three people that you sit on with six legs.”

That’s why any good dictionary, with its tens of thousands of concise, exacting definitions, is a miracle of condensation, insight, scholarship and accuracy.

Webster’s New World Dictionary, by the way, defines sofa , in the ordinary sense, as “an upholstered couch, usually of spring construction, with fixed back and arms.”

Since dictionaries may be too difficult for them, children must either have words defined for them, or they must guess their meaning through textual inference.

Thus, if I were to say “Traffic on the freeway was terribly congested,” a child might correctly infer that congested means “all jammed up,” since he would know that freeways are usually in that condition. But if I were to say “the moon is enchanting,” he might infer that enchanting means “far away,” because he knows that the moon is far away.

Considering these difficulties, the definitions given by Mrs. Maturko’s pupils are not only amusing, but often ingenious and sometimes on the mark.

As usual, they had trouble with debate , perhaps because this was not a presidential election year, when they might hear the candidates debating. Once again, the definition offered was “fish bait.”

With analogy they had sound-alike problems. “When someone sneezes a lot.” “When you throw up sometimes.”

One definition of critic was a gem: “When someone barks.”

Someone nailed extinct down pretty well: “When the dinosaurs are not alive.”

One definition of germ was not classic, but it got the job done: “When someone licks something and someone else licks the same thing.” Not as graphic, perhaps, but more scientific. “A bad bug that gives you a disease.”

History prompted this one: “Like when you go back in time when dinosaurs and cavemen were alive.” (Why is it that all children know what dinosaurs were?) Another definition of history--”When you’re gone”--is evidently picked up from violent movies in which the murderous villain says, “You’re history, man.”

That suggests, unfortunately, that children learn most of their words from television.

Definitions of marriage suggest that Mrs. Maturko’s children have a rather traditional grasp of that institution: “When you love someone you marry them.” “When they go to church and the woman has a pretty dress on and they kiss.” (Mrs. Maturko did not ask them to define divorce .)

The definition of normal suggests that this is a temporary condition: “Sometimes you act silly and the next day you’re normal.”

A definition for patient suggests a precocious addiction: “When you wait till your mom’s done with the phone.” (Does telephonitis start that early?)

A definition of science is narrow but graphic: “When you got a microscope and you’re looking at little things.”

A definition of secret is rather workmanlike: “When you tell someone something and you don’t want anyone else to hear it.”

Terminate was defined as “ant spray.” More ominous was one of the definitions a couple of years ago: “When you get terminated and you get shot.” (When that happens, you’re history.)

Some of the words were defined by their homophones: “ Weight --When you’re waiting for someone at the hospital.”

Their definitions of trouble are self-conscious: “When your mom tells you not to do something bad and you do it; when you break a window.” (Evidently they see trouble as something only they get into.)

A definition of vacate may be blamed on a misunderstanding of that verb: “When somebody takes you somewhere.”

The definitions of brain show that kindergartners understand that organ about as well as biologists do: “Your brain is in your head.” “It thinks for you.” “It helps you see.” “It tells you how things taste.”

It’s also where you keep your words.