(This post inspired by a conversation I was in.)
There are lots of challenges, difficulties, and tensions in trying to adapt/change/alter/move a sequence of langauge teaching over to a more communicative approach. This is especially true in institutional settings, and probably moreso in seminaries than in colleges or universities. In this post I want to provide a guided walking-tour to what some of those issues are, why they arise, and my thoughts on tackling them.
Institutional resistance
Often it’s the case that your broader institution is resistance to the idea of communicative approaches. That can happen in a few different ways, and at different levels. For example, I have taught at an institution which was part of a broader conglomerate, in which the curriculum that was set for Greek was really beyond my purview, and it had built into it a clear set of expectations about grammar and analysis. In my case, I could to some extent ignore that, but that’s only possible to an extent. Sometimes it’s because higher-ups have set ideas about language teaching, and it’s going to be about negotiating difference, proving alternatives, buying the chance to demonstrate what’s possible.
Fellow instructor resistance
It can also be the case that one is part of a teaching team, in several types of configurations. You might teach one year, and another instructor might have a second year. Or you might need to be interchangeable. This could happen in a school setting or higher education, and again it’s difficult to navigate. And, again, so much here depends on the personal relationship between teaching staff, willingness to understand each other, and negotiate and compromise.
Student resistance
It can also be the case that students are resistant to communicative approaches. This still happens in my classes, even though I am explicitly trying to teach small groups with a goal and a method geared towards communication in the language! And I find it hard to work with/against/around. On the whole, in my teaching context, I mostly try gentle approaches that recognise why a student feels the need to translate, allows them some space to do what they feel they need to, and then I keep trying to steer things back into the target language. I know that anyone, almost anyone, if they get enough appropriate Comprehensible Input, will acquire a bit more of the language.
In a larger classroom, this is more difficult, and it’s partly about expectations, goals, and understanding of language learning. I’m going to wrap all these three points together in a moment, but as an instructor in language I assume that most students coming in don’t (necessarily) have an accurate understanding of what language learning involves. Indeed, many students are simply wrong about language learning. That is probably less true for my classes, but more true for other places.
At the end of the day, many people in society simply think that language learning involves learning grammar, vocabulary, and putting the two together. And that has been replicated countless times in the formal classroom experiences across the globe. So that any random person on the street thinks that “the way to learn a language is you have to study grammar and memorise vocab, and then you learn it.” It’s just that this is 100% wrong.
So, the way to tackle this is, I think, two-fold. It requires educating students about two things. Firstly, about how language acquisition takes place, and secondly about goals, expectations, and outcomes.
What all three of these have in common
Is that people in general don’t really understand language acquisition, but they sure do have all sorts of beliefs about it, many of which are wrong. This includes fellow instructors and professors who have come up, and prospered, in grammar-translation methodologies and are convinced that that is the way to go.
To the extent that one has trust and a certain auctoritas, then, one needs to educate and make the case for communicative teaching. In my mind, that involves ongoing conversations, formal and informal, that involve the following things:
1. Explaining to people the difference between language acquisition and language knowledge, i.e. knowing a language in a way that allows one to use and operate in that language, and knowing all about a language in a way that allows one to analyse it.
2. Explaining that those two types of knowledge don’t seem to have much correlation in the research on second language acquisition.
3. That the weight of evidence is actually firmly on the side of communicative methods, based on comprehensible input, as driving language acquisition. In the field of SLA broadly, it is arguably grammar-translation that bears the burden of proof. That is the opposite of what’s the case in institutions of education, where it’s “the traditional way” and assumed to work, so that communicative practices are “the new kid on the block” and constantly have to prove themselves.
4. That these two different types of knowledge really have two different types of learning, and they don’t cross-over that much. So if you teach for acquisition, you will get acquisition but not necessarily explicit linguistic knowledge; if you teach for explicit linguistic knowledge, you won’t get acquisition, except possibly as an unintended side-effect from a lot of exposure to input.
5. In courses or places where you want both outcomes, you have to teach for both outcomes. Which requires more time. The only short-cut here is that if you acquire enough of a language, you can do explicit linguistic knowledge in the target language. I can tell you that this is possible both in simple versions (I do teach some grammatical terminology in Ancient Greek) and advanced versions (having studied formal grammar and phonology in Gaelic about Gaelic).
6. That ‘rigour’ is a stupid way to talk about education. ‘Rigo(u)r’ for most in education means, “we don’t dumb things down, we keep it hard and make students rise to the level we want. You are getting top quality education because it’s hard.” This is actually stupid. Why? Because what rigour most often means is “boring, stiff, inflexible, and lots of you will fail”. Is that actually the educational philosophy we want to encourage? Language learning is more effective precisely when it is more interesting, flexible, and helps all learners move from where they are currently, to closer to where they want to be. Fun is not the enemy of learning, it’s a vehicle for it.
I suspect I could go on with this list, but it’s this ongoing work of persuasion that is necessary. For students, you can sometimes get away with “trust me and trust the process”. For administrators and co-teachers, I think something else is typically required. A combination of “see the results” and “taste and see for yourself”.
By “see the results” I mean that seeing the outcome of a well-executed communicative approach should be good proof that it does what it says it does. If you need that proof before you can implement a program, then you have to look elsewhere. Find a program that does something like what you want to do, and find its graduates. Ask to use them as props. Or, honestly, find some gifted speakers. The world has a (small) handful of very talented Latin speakers and (smaller) Ancient Greek speakers who are living examples of what is possible.
In the case of “taste and see for yourself”, I think many people actually need to have a kind of conversion experience. To experience themselves what it’s like to be a student in a communicative context, how effective a good teacher can be, and what it’s like to come out of that with some, even small, ability to think and process in the target language. That’s the buy-in that makes converts to this approach. I see this repeated across the board.
Self-resistance
For all this, there is also self-resistance. Sometimes you will be resistant or reluctant to your own efforts. I am! This can happen for a few reasons. Firstly, most of us began, or spent considerable time in traditional-type programs. We also often love grammar ourselves. So it can be easy to fall back to what we know, and want to teach the way we were taught. Secondly, we can doubt our own abilities or our approach, and think, “actually, maybe I do need to teach explicit linguistic knowledge. Maybe that is the way.” Thirdly, we can internalise the pressures and resistances from outside groups, and find ourselves simply conforming to make our life easier.
Competing goals, expectations, outcomes
One of the things then that helps clarify what communicative approaches are all about, is having the conversations about goals, expectations, outcomes, and methods.
If, at the end of (X time period) a student wants to read in a language and understand the text without having to translate, (and/or) be able to listen, write, and speak that language, then that goal is acquisition. And even though there are lots of things up for debate in Second Language Acquisition, we have a pretty good idea as a field that the way to get to that goal is through ‘communicative methods’, built upon principles like Comprehensible Input.
If, at the end of (X time period) a student wants to be able to analyse a piece of language (a sentence, paragraph, text) then that goal is really explicit linguistic knowledge and applied analysis. It doesn’t require them to really understand the language ‘as a language’, to acquire it, or to be able to use it in any way. The proof of that is to look at linguists, and linguistics students, who often have little ability in a language, but this doesn’t stop them analysing language units. The way to gain this kind of knowledge and ability is through explicit learning of linguistics.
There are two perennial problems that plague both biblical languages/studies programs, and classics departments. Firstly, it’s the mistaken belief that the method that applies to the latter (explicit linguistic knowledge) produces the goal of the former (language acquisition). History, and the contemporary world, is full of students who learnt grammar and can’t read, or produce, a sentence. Secondly, it’s that the tradition of grammar teaching in such departments is often hived-off from modern linguistics. This is more acutely true in biblical studies programs, and it’s not universally true, but the philological tradition that dominates these departments often just isn’t really engaged with modern linguistics, or if it is, only at the upper levels of teaching and research.
In an ideal world, the goals of a teaching course, the expectations of students (and other stake-holders) about outcomes, the forms of testing used to see if those goals are being reached, and the method of teaching, should all align. This, of course, is hardly ever as true as it should be. But if it were, we would at least reduce some of these tensions. But if you are expecting students trained in acquisition to be able to produce results on a grammar-focused quiz, of course they will fail. For the same reason, frankly, that if you ask native speakers to explain the grammar of their own language there is no guarantee that they’ll be correct, unless they’ve been formally schooled in the grammar of their native language. Vice versa, if you test students trained on grammar by asking them to do listening, speaking, or writing tasks, or heaven forbid have a live conversation, they are going to fail abysmally.
At the end of the day, we simply have to recognise that these are not two different methods to the same destination, and that communicative based approaches will not, do not, in fact cannot offer ‘a different, better, faster’ way to the same destination. But neither do I concede that grammar-translation is an approach that will produce communicative competency, even in reading, except as a by-product of copious amounts of unintentional comprehensible input along the way. And if we want to produce both, we are going to have to teach for both, and assess for both, and that is going to take more time. But maybe, just maybe, we’ll end up with students who both know a language and know about a language.