26, no. 2 (Winter 1995): 5-6
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Teaching Literature or Teaching Students?
Elizabeth B. Bernhardt
EIGHT years ago I published an article in the ADFL Bulletin entitled “Proficient Texts or Proficient Readers?” in response to the ACTFL proficiency guidelines for reading. My argument was, quite simply, that the guidelines were focused on descriptions of texts and textual features—not on descriptions of what readers of those texts may or may not do. The profession might describe texts into infinity, I argued, but until we had a real sense of what real students do, we were ignoring the key issue—how to help students learn.
I am now ten years into my professional life, and ACTFL, the foreign language teaching profession, and I have continued, expanded our visions, and modified our beliefs, for good and for ill. But recent conversations with colleagues from the “language” side of the house and others from the “literature” side have led me back to revisit the same issue with which I began and to understand the division within the house as precisely the conflict between a focus on texts and a focus on students reading those texts.
There is a common adage about how to tell whether a teacher is instructing at the elementary or secondary level: a teacher who talks about students probably teaches in elementary school; a teacher who talks about subject matter probably teaches in secondary school. A negative consequence of this dichotomy is that it is difficult to get elementary teachers to focus on content objectives; it is equally difficult to get secondary teachers to took beyond their content to the students who sit in front of them. The divide between lower-level language teaching and upper-level literature teaching is a corollary phenomenon. I am confident or cynical or realistic enough to realize that our profession will not and cannot change the fundamental distinction. But if we could define this distinction and come to understand it ourselves, we might be better able to service those who enter and, all too quickly, drop out of our classrooms. To this end, I have identified three points that we as language and literature instructors should consider.
The objectives of the language curriculum are clearly at odds with those of the literature curriculum. Since the early 1980s there has been a major shift in the language curriculum toward functional language—that is, usable or useful language that is principally oral. The policies of the 1980s were very much a response to the presidential commission on language teaching, which essentially demanded that American students actually be able to use the languages for some everyday purpose. The language-teaching profession responded to this call (principally under the banner of the proficiency movement) and spent large amounts of personal and professional resources to change the curriculum.
It is clear to me from my interactions with colleagues in literature that they have not bought into the premises behind proficiency. They say they are aware that students in literature classes “don't speak [the language] very well, but that is not what they're there for”—a statement that is extraordinary difficult to accept. It may be true that students are ultimately in these classes to gain access to the more elevated academic endeavors of literature study. But this attitude signals almost total indifference to the diversity of the student population, particularly to those students who have labored hard toward goals that include more than modest oral proficiency.
Many students are not proficient enough to cope with many of the belles lettres texts without additional linguistic support. It is no secret that we have an enormous dropout rate after the intermediate courses. Frequently, this rate is attributed to the fulfillment of the language requirement or to undergraduates' lack of interest in literary study. These hypotheses are reasonable. A third one, mentioned several times in the literature (James 79), is that students in upper-level courses are still in the process of language development. They are not native speakers who can blithely handle texts. Students faced with upper-level courses may well be interested and talented, but they may not be proficient enough to partake fully in what literature instruction has to offer. Instead of being invited to participate, they are essentially turned away by teaching aimed above their instructional level. This educational approach is tantamount to asking middle school students to read Hamlet , finding that their literacy skills are not yet developed enough, and sending them to study hall rather than allowing and helping them to develop and mature linguistically.
Students deserve linguistic support and instruction in literature classes. This final point is perhaps the most important. Two common attitudes are exemplified by responses that I overheard to questions concerning students' linguistic abilities. One person said, “Well, we certainly don't want to come down to the level of the student.” Another replied, “Yes, we need something lofty, not pedagogical.”
At the risk of being not lofty but pedagogical, I venture two statements. First, we must indeed start at the level of the students if we are to teach them anything and if we wish to meet our ethical obligations to the public. It is unfortunate that assessing student conceptual level and individualizing accordingly is considered “coming down.” Any young, inexperienced teacher-licensure candidate knows that teaching should begin not at the frustration level but at the instructional level, as determined by an assessment of entry-level knowledge and ability. Experienced teachers at the college level should know this principle as well. It presupposes that the instructor provides alternative strategies and suggestions for enhancing the performance of all students, no matter how disparate their abilities.
Second, enrollment is so small and proficiency and maturity levels so diverse in upper-level courses that it is unreasonable not to individualize instruction. Given that few if any upper-level or graduate-level foreign language courses across the nation contain more than fifteen students, it is not too much to ask that instruction proceed by instructional level. This is not to say that the texts have to change; we know from research that students of all proficiency levels are able to glean important content from authentic texts. It is to say, however, that individual students should be asked to performed different tasks with the texts. Why ask a nonnative first-semester graduate student to perform the same task and participate in the same way as a native-speaking second-year graduate student?
To return to my theme, if we are teaching texts, then we are continuing down the slippery slope toward putting ourselves out of business: our instruction is only for those who are fully proficient—generally, the native speaker or the affluent undergraduate who can afford extended study abroad. If we are in the business of teaching students, we can perhaps slow the revolving door out of our upper-level classes by tailoring instruction to an appropriate level. To state the issue succinctly, should we not perhaps remind ourselves that students, as well as their parents, sign our paychecks and deserve at least as much attention and respect as the texts we place in front of them?
The ADFL Bulletin is replete with articles on the complex issues involving the language and literature curriculum. One excellent example is Sylvie Debevec Henning's description of the struggle between language and literature departments and campus critics. In an understandable defense, Henning argues that the campus critics express imprecise goals and that “literature…functions as a classic scapegoat for deeper problems that most people prefer not to confront directly” (22).
I am not a campus critic. I am an insider: I have taught language, I have degrees in literature, and I believe (as a result of my own research) that the literature curriculum holds the keys to the cultural competence and understanding we allegedly wish our students to have. It is clear that the literature curriculum needs to survive and that we should not sacrifice it to functionalism. All members of the foreign language and literature community need to engage in a national dialogue about this issue: are we in our classrooms for the benefit of students as individuals, or are we there to ensure that certain bodies of work remain in the consciousness of literary scholarship? My belief is that we should answer yes to each side of the question and resolve the dilemma by focusing on student knowledge and letting the texts follow. When students are at the core and texts at the periphery, then perhaps we can reclaim the moral advantage and clamor justifiably for the survival of literature study in the foreign language curriculum.
The author is Professor of Foreign and Second Language Education in the Department of Educational Studies at Ohio State University, Columbus.
Bernhardt, Elizabeth B. “Proficient Texts or Proficient Readers?” ADFL Bulletin 18.1 (1986): 25–28 [Show Article]
Henning, Sylvie Debevec. “The Integration of Language, Literature, and Culture: Goals and Curricular Design.” ADFL Bulletin 24.2 (1993): 51–55. Rpt. in Profession 93. New York: MLA, 1993. 22–26. [Show Article]
James, Dorothy. “Re-shaping the ‘College-Level’ Curriculum: Problems and Possibilities.” Shaping the Future: Challenges and Opportunities. Northeast Conference Reports. Ed. Helen S. Lepke. Lincolnwood: Natl. Textbook, 1989. 79–100.
© 1995 by the Association of Departments of Foreign Languages. All Rights Reserved.
ADFL Bulletin 26, no. 2 (Winter 1995): 5-6 |
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