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We’ve all done it before—sometimes an elusive word is on the tip of the tongue, but we can’t seem to come up with it. So, we type in a similar word, right-click, and hope the synonym list jogs our memory. The right correct appropriate word pops up, the writer’s-block crisis is averted, and we’re on our way. Good times. Sometimes, though, the synonym doesn’t quite fit, or is the wrong word altogether.
Clive Thompson writes about a more obtuse use of the right-click synonym trick (keep the rhymes comin’, Stallings) on his blog CollisionDetection. Read the article, then come back.
* * *
This problem came up often when I was tutoring in college. A student would hand me a paper arguing that “Reading Frankenstein is otiose because their is a movie that says the same thing.†When I would ask why he used that particular word (“otiose,†not “theirâ€â€”that was a different discussion), the reply would invariably be “big words=better grade.†When I pressed further, his line of thinking became clear:
Of course, this is not the whole picture. (It’s not even a complete syllogism.) The problem here is not about “big words.†The problem is about a miscommunication between teachers and students, and the result is the student missing the forest for the trees.
English classes aren’t about learning “big words†or the difference between synecdoche and metonymy—English classes are about learning to communicate. A larger vocabulary certainly helps us communicate more precisely, but it is terrifying to imagine the classes that my college friend took in high school. What was the emphasis of those courses?
I picked up The Best American Nonrequired Reading: 2006 the other day. Under a chapter entitled “Best American Answers to the Question ‘What Do You Believe is True Even Though You Cannot Prove It?’†(Best. Chapter. Title. Ever.), Alison Gopnik, a psychologist from the University of California, Berkeley, wrote this:
I believe, but cannot prove, that babies and young children are more conscious, more vividly aware, of their external world and internal life than adults are….
As adults, when we need to learn something new—say when we learn to skydive, or work out a new scientific idea, or even deal with a new computer—we become vividly, even painfully conscious of what we are doing; we need, as we say, to pay attention.
This hyperawareness is something we teachers often forget. When an experienced reader picks up a story, he or she reads through the lens of past books. The experienced reader draws from the richness of the word “wicked†chosen over “bad,†knows which details to focus on, and brings forth similar situations in other stories (for more on this, check out Thomas C. Foster’s book How to Read Literature Like a Professor). The inexperienced reader does not have this lens, and so is overwhelmed by all details, is sidetracked by unfamiliar words or syntax, and misses the point of the story. For them, reading Frankenstein is like reading a BabelFish translation of a Chinese poem—the basic idea comes across, but barely, and only with a tremendous amount of concentration on the words themselves, rather than the message they contain.
The simplest solution I can give to inexperienced readers is, of course, read. Books like How to Read Literature Like a Professor and other reading guides (Sparknotes, etc.) offer glimpses of the great stories available, but reading the study guides is like watching the commentary of a great movie without watching the movie itself. It may be enlightening, but it isn’t exactly entertainment. Teachers, remember, when we ask an inexperienced reader to explain a symbol, we are asking him or her to solve a Rubik’s cube while driving for the first time.
I’m wondering:
What do you guys think?
Source trail for this post:
RSS link to Neatorama article linked to Thompson’s article.
RSS link to dy/dan (one of my favorite teacher blogs) linked to Revealing Errors, which had a post on a similar problem.
August 4, 2009 at 9:13 am
I think a lot about why I teach what I teach. Every time I assign a book I ask myself some hard questions. Why use this book? What do I hope students will take away from it? And, probably my biggest question: what will students remember about this book 5, 10, 20, and even 30 years from now?
Teaching English is indeed about learning to communicate. And in that seemingly innocuous word lies a world of complexity, richness, and depth. I want my students to read, and to bastardize Thoreau, suck all the richness from what they read. I want them to be able to express their opinions, passions, questions, struggles, and epiphanies out loud and in writing. I want to meet them on the street or on Facebook when I am old and grey and have them say, “David Copperfield changed my life”, “I wrote my parents a letter and told them how much I loved them”,”I write for work all the time and it is easy”, “I see and talk about the beauty, injustice, pain, and love in the world and people listen.”
I asked former students on Facebook recently to give their honest opinion about David Copperfield. I’ve considered teaching a different book for the AP Lit. Senior rite of passage. Without exception,(I had 12-15 responses–ranging from recent graduates to 8-10 years ago) they all passionately made the case to continue teaching it.
I acutely feel the responsibility of what I teach and how I teach. There is most certainly an ethics to teaching English, and may I never abuse the power I have. As you said, I want them to be able to communicate.
August 4, 2009 at 10:20 am
To Ellen:
I don’t think you need to poll students’ opinion of Copperfield. You cannot be closer to a book. You love that book more than any other. Of course you should teach it! That would be like telling Stallings to lay off POMO. Or me to lay off Hemingway. For better or worse, they strike a chord with us, and it’d be stupid to turn away from something we’re so passionate about.
Re: Click Trick:
A Buddhist teacher said to Philip Glass (music composer) in a documentary about the latter: “Teacher and student are learners. But one gets paid.” That’s one thing I really appreciate about your blog and your class, Stallings.
And teaching is making you a better writer.
Re: your last four bullets:
Well, I won’t comment on the last two bullets because I don’t want to, but the first bullet has a simple answer: you can hear the music. You can hear the difference in the tone of Nick Drake and Insane Clown Posse; you don’t even need to read the words. Now the trick would be to compare a confessional poem and song lyrics — I bet you the tone of Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy” will ring ten times louder than the lyrics of Radiohead’s “Morning Bell”. And they’re both intelligent.
The second bullet (do I have enough colons in this comment?): I already know what you think about this and I agree. Yes, it does matter what the story is about. Each story may differ in the weight placed on either characteristic: plot vs. challenging read. T.S. Eliot and Kurt Vonnegut are required reading for very different reasons. A ten year old would have a raucous time with Breakfast of Champions and so would a 80 year old. But it would take a very precocious child to read The Wasteland.
I’ve babbled too long and said nothing I wanted to say, or very little I wanted to say.
August 4, 2009 at 10:30 am
And I’m back….
“The problem is about a miscommunication between teachers and students, and the result is the student missing the forest for the trees.”
“English classes are about learning to communicate.”
Yes and Yes. But I love and hate what the second quotation says. English class is so much more than that, but it’s foundation IS that.
To be a good English student, one must be a seer and a journalist. To see the many layers of White Noise and to communicate that vision. What good are communication skills if you can’t see?
August 4, 2009 at 8:22 pm
Ellen: Well put. I’m glad to be working with someone who is as concerned about her students as you are.1 My question, now, is this: How often do we come across a student who says “I’m just not good at English”?
If English is about communication and not literary devices2, how do we make this clear to them? How do we change the “English class” paradigm in the minds of those students who are hung up on worksheet answers when what we want is for them to understand that theme and tone and diction apply to life in a much more profound and practical way than in discussions of literature?3
Okie: “Teaching is making you a better writer.” This coming from someone with your talent and passion is quite humbling.
Regarding the music, is it that the sounds are more familiar/primal/something else? Is it that they can sit and let the song wash over them, while reading is a more active activity? Oh! I’ll experiment with reading a text out loud, then see if the tone is more apparent to them.
Regarding “communication”: This is where we diverge. You have always been the romantic (in the best possible way, of course; you know what I mean), while I’m the rational one. You write poetry; I write essays. We both want to read deeply because it speaks about the human experience. I want them to find the patterns of literature in their own lives, and use the skills they develop in writing essays to launch their ideas into the world. You want them to feel the beauty and pain of the world through reading, and use the skills you taught them to produce more beauty and expression in the world.
Final extremely broad question to both (and anyone else following along…): How do we help them see?
1 And second Okie’s comment. I think it’s wonderful that you stand behind David Copperfield. I’ve said it a million times, but our students receive an amazingly well-rounded education because of our disparate interests and passions.
2 I understand that the devices are how we talk about lit., and necessary to a thoughtful discussion.
3 Whoa, long sentence.
August 5, 2009 at 8:28 am
I was stumped as to who “Okie” is but I just figured it out. Great comments! Probably part of my problem as a teacher is that I get ridiculously excited about almost every book I teach. That drives some students crazy, but more often than not, it catches the “I’m not good at English” students.(And I have students tell me that every year) Language is a funny creature and what they mean in their idiolect when they say, “I’m not good at English” is not what I hear in my idiolect. They often mean, “I’m not good at English the way it has been taught to me, I hate the way it was taught to me, but I don’t want to say that.” So, I basically refuse to believe that anyone isn’t good at English. Each student(including me) is at different levels of learning, but my core value is that we are all created to be eloquent. (I know that sounds pompous and esoteric, but it really is a deep set, practical part of why and how I teach). Okie: David(wow, how presumptuous is that? I call the book David, as though it is a very dear friend, which I guess it is!) is not my favorite book, but it is certainly one of them. It has an enduring quality that is remarkable. I would also put Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings Trilogy in that category. Kelly Arndt came to see me recently and he gave me a CD he had made of 6 different songs from Fellowship of the Ring. He wrote me a really nice note telling me how much my classes had encouraged creativity in him. So, we do make a difference is our students lives. What we do really matters, Jesse. I, too, am grateful that we are so different in what we love to teach. I feel that our students leave high school really equipped to face life, at least in the realm in which we operate!
August 14, 2009 at 5:21 pm
“How do we help them see?”
By doing exactly what you’re doing.
And I only take slight offense at your essay/poetry comment. I enjoyed teaching Creative Writing AND AP Lang. But, you’re right, if I had to choose, none of us have to guess which I’d pick.