What the Patrologist does for a summer break

It is, of course, the summer in the Southern hemisphere. We are now into the second week of the Greek summer school, and we’ve moved on from Polycarp’s Martyrdom to Perpetua’s. The text of Perpetua is quite a fascinating one. If you read the Greek recension, you get a number of interesting linguistic features, as well as an exposure to ‘translation Greek’. At the same time, there are very interesting theological elements in the text: the idea of special benefit from prayer immediately connected to baptism, receptivity to visions and prophecy in keeping with Montanist tendencies, special efficacy of prayer connected with being a confessor, what appears to be a transfer from eternal punishment to heavenly reward for someone already deceased on the basis of Perpetua’s prayer, and other such interesting elements.

It’s also a pleasure to read with a group of students. They continue to both point out things I have missed or occasionally misunderstood, as well as ask questions I have not really thought of. I’m looking forward to revising the Patristic Reader edition.

 

In the rest of my time I have been trying to reorient myself in my studies, as well as prepare materials for a week of Latin the following week. In the midst of this I’m also trying to organise and plan out the year. So it’s plenty busy here. And then on my downtime I’m tackling M. Aubrey’s thesis on the Greek perfect.

2015, State of the Projects

And we’re back…

 

I thought I better get back into the blogging saddle before too much of this year sailed by. I hope you all had an enjoyable break. Christmas and New Year fall in summer here in the southern hemisphere, so there is a lot of swimming going on.

 

PhD

As of Jan 1st my student status switched from part-time to full-time, so this is where most of my attentions will be from now on. There will no doubt be the war of staying-on-focus vs. beautifully tempting side-projects. I’ve picked up a desk at the uni and will be sitting at it for long stretches of time.

Teaching

This week and next I’m taking an Advanced Koine group at the Macquarie Ancient Languages School, we’re reading through the Martydom accounts of Polycarp and of Perpetua and Felicity. A great benefit of reading through these texts with others is that they have lots of questions I don’t know the answer to because I didn’t think about it! So I’m making a lot more notes.

Patristic Readers

I’m still making slow progress forward on the 2nd reader; I will also be updating and revising the 1st reader. I am noticing quite a few things that can be improved as my class works through it, and there are some formatting issues with repeated text that are a real shame (that they got through my system, I guess even digital scribes make textual errors).

Audio / Visual

I have some more raw footage to edit and post, but it’s always so time consuming. It’s more WAYK Greek. Then we might see about some Latin too this month.

Tutoring

If you’re one of my students, individual sessions should start again next week. As far as classes go, it looks like online Patristic Greek will go ahead for certain, just a matter of timing, and still exploring other options. If you’re Sydney based and have an afternoon free, I might try and do a small group on campus at Macquarie as well.

 

It’s going to be an exciting and great year, I can tell you. And this is the place to be for all your Greek, Latin, Patristic related rants and not-quite-rants.

Why People continue to teach via Grammar-Translation

Foreword: this is our last post for 2014. Enjoy your holidays and you’ll hear again from the Patrologist in 2015.

 

In this second of twin posts I’m exploring common ‘defeater’ reasons people give for sticking to GT as a method and rejecting approaches like Communicative Instruction. In each case I give a brief explanation of the belief, and some counter-points.

  1. It doesn’t work

I.e. applying CI or other modern language approaches to Classical Languages ‘doesn’t work’. I’m not sure this is a sincere objection, I suspect it’s rather of the order of ‘I don’t want to engage this idea and I’m blanketing you out’.

The fact that it has not worked, or is not pervasive, or that sometimes it doesn’t go perfectly, are not arguments against it. In fact it has worked and it does work. A few timely videos of those few individuals with a decent speaking facility in Latin or Greek shows that it is by all means possible. It is not just possible for the elite either, it is possible for all students.

  1. Dead languages are different

 

Not heard as often these days, but for quite some time people would say things like, “Latin is no longer spoken, therefore our method of learning must be different.” They were generally not making a comment on the difficulties of learning a language no longer spoken (i.e. lack of speakers to talk with) but asserting a fact about the nature of a no longer spoken language.

 

Which is absolute nonsense. Latin is not different from other languages insofar as it doesn’t have a speaking community (I don’t wish to debate whether it does have such a community at this time). Latin is a language. Which means it can be learnt as a language. The status of any language in regards to the number of speakers currently using it has zero bearing on whether it can be learnt as a language or must be learnt as a ‘something other’.

 

If, heavens forbid, all French speakers were wiped from the face of the earth tomorrow by some new, virulent, French-speaker-targeting super-virus, this would not alter the kind of language that French is. It would certainly create obstacles for anyone wishing to learn French. And, given their sudden fatality, I can’t imagine anyone rushing to do so, but French itself would not have changed.

 

So too with the classical languages: if they are languages, they may be learnt as such.

 

  1. It’s too hard

And remembering arcane rules of grammar that appear once every 10,000 words isn’t hard?

 

Yes, I would say, learning a language is hard. It’s hard to learn it as a spoken language, and it’s hard to do GT. All GT students know that! And all students who acquired an L2 as adults know that it was hard too. It took hours, it was tiring, it involved a lot of interaction with speakers, probably embarrassment, and there were many highs and lows and plateaus as well.

 

But it’s not harder. GT is not only hard, it’s often incredibly boring. CT is hard because it requires more investment, but it yields greater satisfaction, it’s more interesting, it’s more motivating. It’s far better to go home from a lesson of CT having interacted in the Target Language for 1-3 hours, and have one’s head swimming in the TL, than to go home after 1-3 hours of GT with one’s head full of “The wicked sailors gave roses to the good girls.”

 

 

  1. It takes too long

Basically this reason is saying that while CT might ‘work’, it is slower, takes longer, and in the end takes too long for the results it promises. Better, in their view, to stick with GT, which requires less hours and gets us ‘somewhere’ faster.

I am almost convinced this is a valid point. I’ve written several times about how many hours working with Comprehensible Input in the Target Language might be required to achieve decent levels of competency, and they are considerable. Anyone learning a modern L2 knows this. I think those invested in teaching classical languages need to be very up-front and honest that considerable time investment is necessary.

However, what I would say is this: I don’t think GT takes less hours to get to the same place. I think GT takes less hours because it teaches and achieves far less. For GT practitioners to achieve real reading fluency takes many, many hours, which is my contention under point 6. In this instance we should not compare apples and pears. Furthermore, from what I generally hear from school teachers using CI based instruction, their results outstrip traditional methods, especially when (a) they spent a little bit of time prepping their students for the kind of tests that traditional methods favour. If that little bit of prep time isn’t their, CI students often simply don’t understand the jargon of grammar questions. No wonder, since they didn’t need it.

So let’s hold off on conceding that GT is ‘faster’, because it may not be faster and it may not even be to the same destination.

  1. It doesn’t match our goals

 

What are ‘our’ goals? I think this is a really important question, or debate to have. Often it seems like the goal of classical language instruction is to do grammatical analysis, but I’m sure most people don’t actually think this is the goal. Isn’t the real goal to be able to understand, appreciate, interpret, texts in classical languages and so to discuss and engage their ideas and content? Isn’t ultimately the content not the form that interests us? And while content and form are never divorced, just as culture and language are inseparable, they are distinct things.

 

If our goal was to train grammarians, then grammar is what we ought to teach. There’s nothing wrong with being a grammarian, of English or of classical languages. And in fact, probably some people do want to study the grammar of ancient languages. We need those people! But that’s not the goal of most students, or of most programs.

 

CT approaches do match our goals, they drastically and desperately match our goals. The claim that no one needs to know how to order a latte in Koine is irrelevant. That’s not our goal either. The goal of CT is to produce competent users of the language with an active facility that enables reading and comprehension of texts in the target language without recourse to translation or grammatical analysis for the purpose of understanding. (Though translation and grammatical analysis may be done for other purposes).

 

  1. GT is how I learnt, so it works

 

People who end up as teachers of classical languages via GT are the 4%. That is, they are often the small minority for whom GT ‘clicks’, who ‘get it’, who enjoy it, while the rest of the cohort is destroyed by a war of attrition fought with boredom and irrelevance.

 

And some of these teachers get very, very good at Greek, Latin, what have you. Especially those that do doctoral programs that require epic amounts of reading of primary language material. But this is my hunch – it wasn’t GT that got them to that point, it was using GT to render those texts comprehensible, and having a huge exposure to comprehensible texts over time. It was Comprehensible Input that gave them competency in reading directly, and this was only indirectly the result of GT.

 

I could be wrong, but I could be right too. People whose primary discipline is classics or the like, who studied primarily via GT, and who achieve marked ‘fluency’ in reading ability, often have a pop- or folk- view of language acquisition that is poorly informed by research or SLA theory, and dominated by the insular views of their own discipline and experience.

 

Even if it did work for you, why should we stick to a method that works for the 4%? What about the 96%? What if we used methods that meant classical languages were learnable by all, not the self-selective and self-satisfied ‘elite’? Wouldn’t that open up the field for the simple ploughman in the field in a whole new way?

Review of Decker’s Reading Koine Greek, Part 4

In this fourth and final part of my review of Decker’s book, I cover chapters 21-33, the Appendices, and some concluding comments.

On p386, introducing participles, Decker gives the example text “I will be heading to bed right after the game. (This verbal form has a subject, so it is not a finite verb)”. Firstly, this example is of English –ing forms that are not participles. Decker is presenting the view concerning English that heading in this use should be considered part of a tense/mood finite verb construction: future progressive. However I would parse that out differently and say that the English future progressive is formed with the active participle. Secondly, the text in brackets seems to just be a mix-up, it has a subject, therefore by Decker’s scheme, it is a finite verb. Perhaps he meant to write, “it is not a non-finite verb”. This is actually an error in the text (one of very few I have found).

In chapter 27 we get to the Genitive Absolute. In this I think Decker is a little bit behind the eight-ball, since he continues to list (p447) no grammatical relationship to the rest of the sentence as one of the normal elements. However he does note (p448) that this element is the one most often missing, however “[t]he function of the participle is to change the reference of the subject”. In this, even if Decker maintains the idea of absolute, his attention to the actual usage of Koine and familiarity with function and discourse, helps the student to see what a genitive absolute phrase is effecting in the discourse of the text.

I often wonder about the arrangement of textbooks. It’s not until chapter 28 that we reach the Subjunctive mood. Does that reflect usage? Or does it reflect a progression through forms for grammatical-pedagogical reasons. I also found it amusing how many times Decker reminds the student that there is no future subjunctive. No doubt Decker had many a student who regularly keep parsing verbs as Fut Subj!

Likewise, chapter 29 introduces the imperative and optative. A different philosophy of language instruction would probably introduce the imperative earlier. I cannot agree with the suggestion on p490 that third person imperatives should avoid translation with “let…” (in order to avoid the idea of permission) in preference to “must” language. While “let” for permission is common in English, the only option for formal equivalence is the slightly archaic “let…” construction, introducing a necessity construction does not alleviate the issue, it just replaces one misrepresentation with another.”

The optative is rare enough by the Koine period that it rightly takes up little space in a Koine grammar. Decker spares the student by teaching only what is essential for recognising them.

I was interested to read the historical divergence between Goodwin and Gildersleeve in describing Greek conditional statements, on p499, and glad for its inclusion. The section on informal conditions in the following chapter will also be of great help to students.

Another question about sequencing arises when we finally reach the –μι verbs in ch.32. Decker even discusses the question about how much attention they need, and so his decision to leave them towards the end and give a more general survey. While a few –μι verbs are quite important, and quite frequent, they are so only in a restricted range of forms; right through this chapter and the following Decker often gives frequency data for forms of the word appearing in the NT, which assuages the student that for reading the NT and LXX a full knowledge of every theoretical form is not necessary.

Appendices

Decker includes several appendices, all of great utility. He first gives reference charts, which are exactly what you expect them to be. While generally laid out well, I do find that Decker’s idiosyncratic use of extreme abbreviation sometimes makes charts less ‘sight-readable’ than preferable. Similarly, while the Morphology Catalog (App B) could be useful, it just reads like a string of words with arcane abbreviations; I’m unconvinced this is really useful compared to other tools (i.e. computer based ones). App D (the vocative case), and E (Greek numbers and Archaic Letters) are both informative and useful. Especially the frequency data and forms for vocatives in the NT.

Some Concluding Thoughts

It’s difficult to assess a teaching textbook without actually teaching from it. However Reading Koine Greek represents a decisive and new contribution to the Koine Greek textbook selection. It includes up to date insights and approaches from linguistics and Greek research, incorporates and employs frequency data in a pedagogically helpful manner, as well as showing the wealth of experience Decker held in teaching Koine Greek. I hope the text sees widespread adoption. I know I will be using it for reference and to refer others to.

Why People teach via Grammar Translation

In twin posts I’m going to explore some of the reasons people teach classical languages (by which I mean Ancient Greek, Latin, and similar languages that are mostly no-longer spoken and primarily of academic or historical interest) via the Grammar-Translation method (i.e. teaching grammar explicitly and training students to translate into their native tongue for the purpose of understanding). The second post will follow up on this one and tackle some issues more directly.

 

  1. That’s how the Ancients did it

 

People often think that ancient students of foreign languages learnt primarily via Grammar Translation. I think this is incorrect. Firstly, it’s often prejudiced by the fact that the Rhetoric-based education system of Greece, then Rome, included explicit grammar instruction as the fundamental stage of language and literature study. However, this does not mean those students learn either their L1, or their L2s really, via that grammar instruction. in the case of upper-class diglossia among Romans, who often spoke Greek quite well, this should be tempered by the very fact of that diglossia – they had a living Greek-speaking community that they were being initiated into.

 

  1. That’s how we’ve (‘Classics’) always done it

 

Again, largely untrue. This time for two reasons. I recommend anyone interested in this to read two books, Waquet’s Latin: Or, The Empire of the Sign which deals in part with Latin’s socio-cultural place in the 17th and 18th century, and explicitly talks about shifts in pedagogical practices. Secondly, James Turner’s Philology: The forgotten Origins of the Modern Humanities which discusses in depth how, in the Anglophone world, the practice of Philology ‘disciplinised’ into modern humanities, including classics, especially from 1850 onwards. ‘Classics’ as a distinct discipline along the lines we know it today, did not exist before then, and the revered pedagogical practices that dominate it often go back no more than 200 years, or less.

 

  1. That’s how my teacher did it

 

The path of least resistance for teachers is generally to teach what they know, how they learnt it. For many, myself included, Second Language Teaching (SLT) was explicit grammar instruction paired with translation exercises. Regardless of beliefs about SLA, the pressures of teaching often ‘push’ us to simply teach with what is ‘easiest’, and what is easiest in many classes is to pull out a textbook and replicate our own teachers.

 

  1. That’s what worked for me

 

Those that teach classical languages, no mistake, are often those who did really well at them. And with a culmination of points 1-3 the self-fulfilling elitism can be deafening.

 

In a recent discussion relating to why certain advocates of ditching G-T were so down on G-T, someone helpfully pointed out to a newcomer that all the people in the discussion who were down on G-T were those who had been very successful at G-T. This argument isn’t, generally, coming from those who failed because of G-T, but those who succeeded at the 4% method, and have come to consider it deeply flawed. Just because it worked for you, doesn’t mean it is a viable methodology in general. Indeed, the self-selection involved in ‘it worked for me’ actually really means, “it will work for people like me and that the only type of student I care about”.

 

  1. That’s what our goal is.

 

I’m going to tackle this much more thoroughly in the next post on this question, but some people think G-T achieves the kinds of goals we want in these disciplines. What does G-T achieve? It produces Grammarians and it produces Translators. Those are two good things, but is that the goal of classics and related disciplines?

 

One of the problems is that grammarians often try and do linguistics, and when they do it’s usually second-rate linguistics because they’re grammarians. The problem with translators is that they learnt to translate from a language they’re not competent in, instead of achieving competency first and then learning the art of translation. Meanwhile, don’t we actually want to train people as things like historians, litterateurs, theologians?

Reviewing Decker’s “Reading Koine Greek”, part 3

It’s not my intention to give you an exacting series of comments on every chapter, so I’ll move a little quicker now and spend more time discussing points of interest.

I was interested to see that in chapter 11, p200, Decker includes in his definition of χάρις “A disposition marked by generosity, frequently unmotivated by the worth of the recipient”; just the other day I was discussing with someone the view that Paul’s novel view of χάρις in the NT is precisely that God shows χάρις to the unworthy, not the worthy, in contravention of Graeco-Roman norms. The question then becomes, “does one include this in a definition of χάρις in Koine Greek, in NT Greek, in broader Greek?” For if we enter it into our definition, we would perhaps miss what Paul is doing and perhaps misread what non-Christians authors were doing with the word, but if we do not we are left perhaps to define all Koine words deliberately disregarding, say, NT usage. Thus the conundrum of lexicography.

Chapter 13 deals with “Verbal Semantics” in which we get to see the outcome of more contemporary approaches to Greek linguistics played out in an introductory grammar. As in several grammars (Mounce springs to mind), Decker illustrates concepts such as person, number, voice, mood, with English examples first. On p219 he does say that “imperatives do not have subjects” whereas I think they do, but that is neither here nor there. When he comes to discussing tense and aspect we see what we’ve longed for – a clear introduction in an introductory grammar to

  1. tense forms encoding aspect primarily, time secondarily
  2. an explanation of aspect for learners

Although Decker retains the term “verbal aspect” which is only really a phrase used in Koine circles. Decker adopts the mainstream and uncontroversial aspect scheme of Perfective (Aorist tense-form), Imperfective (Present and Imperfect), and Stative (Perfect and Pluperfect). He does not include the future since there is no consensus on it! Instead deferring discussion to chapter 19. Decker also includes a brief paragraph explaining Aktionsart and referring the student to a more advanced Grammar for that.

We also see a re-casting of the issue of Voice. Decker, in part drawing on Conrad, contrasts situation-focused verbs with subject-focused verbs and then subdivides the second category into middle and passive. He does not bother at this point to explain how this newer view overturns traditional categories or do away with deponency, either from a desire not to confuse learners by introducing a concept that is not accurate, or else seeing no need to accommodate the fiction any longer.

Chapter 13 is central, not for learners, but for those with an interest in Greek text books. To see come on the market an introductory text that incorporates contemporary debate and findings in a clear and accessible way, not deferred to intermediate texts, and not requiring teachers to ‘unteach’ what their students learnt in first-year Greek, is most welcome.

Chapter 14 returns to the Present tense-form, with the information covered in 13 now in view again. Decker makes a strong effort to demystify the idea of the middle, though in a sidebar on p236 he does this by pointing to other languages with a middle voice. His aim is to make it ‘less weird’, but when he says that Classical Mongolian has 5 voices, this is not the best corollary, in my view, since Mongolian ‘voices’ are simply agglutinative suffixes that are not exclusive. One can stack 2 or 3 of them onto a verb.

In chapter 15 he discusses middle only verbs, (p252) which replaces the category of deponents with no comment on that terminology. Decker writes, “This is a set of verbs that typically has an inherent middle meaning in the very lexis of the word itself.” This is a much more helpful approach to middle-only verbs than the traditional one.

When introducing the Imperfect tense-form, Decker focuses on it differs from the present tense in terms of “remoteness” (p263), and “often has a discourse function in narrative: it supplies background information or sometimes introduces dialogue or summary statements” (p263). He then goes on to illustrate this. It’s, again, very pleasing to see this kind of material in an introductory Koine text. It also showcases Decker’s goal of teaching students how Greek conveys meaning. Similarly in chapter 17 Decker gets rid of the idea that the Aorist is ‘punctiliar’ in and of itself, or that the Aorist has any sense of “once for all” that yields exegetical ‘gold’.

When we reach chapter 19 we reach the unsettled waters of the Future. In the introduction to this chapter, p309, Decker remarks that “The Greek future tense-form is actually more closely related to the category of mood than of tense”, followed by a footnote that the same might be true of English. Likewise, Decker takes its aspect as “vague” (p310, following Porter. A footnote details some of the debate, with a nod to Fanning and Campbell).

As an aside, I appreciate that Decker notes at many points either “You need to memorise this”, “You don’t need to memorise this”, and “Your teacher may tell you otherwise”. He highlights what is essential for this approach, includes explanatory information while releasing the average student from overwhelming memory work, and defers to the reality of classrooms where instructors have preferences of their own. Related to this, Decker chooses to relegate the Pluperfect to ‘Advanced Information’ at the back of chapter 20, on the basis of it occurring only 86 times in the NT, and similarly few occurrences in LXX, OT Pseudepigrapha, and Apostolic Fathers. The very low frequency does indeed mean that mastering the pluperfect is less essential than other items.

Reviewing Decker’s “Reading Koine Greek”, part 2

You can read the first part of this multi-part review here.

In this second part of the review I offer thoughts and comments on the first 10 chapters of the text.

 

Decker demonstrates a great ability to write clear and communicative introductions to ideas that will strike English monoglots as ‘new’. This is a testament to his pedagogical experience and acuity. In the first actual content chapter, he introduces the alphabet. One pleasant feature is his inclusion of a sample of his own handwriting to give students an idea of what they should ‘aim for’ and ‘exceed’! In dealing with accents, he gives beginning students enough to know what they are doing, a little bit of history to contextualise them, and relegates more detailed rules to an appendix to the chapter. Wisely, he suggests that a student’s teacher will tell them how much detail they need to know.

Also in this chapter he discusses the difference between analytic, agglutinative, and synthetic languages. Although, I think he is confused, or writes a little confusingly, in that not all agglutinative languages are limitless in their construction, and agglutination is itself a form of inflection. Anyway, his introduction here sets the reader up for the syntax versus morphology ‘shift’ that English learners need to face.

A further very commendable feature of Decker’s volume is the decision to include actual definitions rather than simply glosses for vocabulary. While Decker doesn’t have much more to add to vocabulary acquisition beyond ‘memorise this’ and ‘flashcards have worked for lots of people’, the actual presentation of vocabulary for rote-memorisation is very well done.

Chapter 2 covers the Nominative and Accusative, Chapter 3 the Genitive and Dative. Excellent features in Decker’s introduction to case includes a good, linguistically grounded, introduction to the idea of grammatical gender, reading exercises that mix Greek and English words for the very beginner student; his treatment of the Genitive is well-managed. He avoids treating it as simply equivalent to English possessive or worse, ‘of’. Instead he spends time explaining how it functions to modify or restrict a word in relation to another. He spends a good deal of time showing the range of relationships with English examples and Greek ones. Also through these chapters he begins to teach a way of doing grammatical diagramming. Many teachers employ such a technique, although personally I do not find it very helpful, I am glad to see it taught within an introductory textbook from the start.

Chapter 4 moves on to personal pronouns, and Decker includes a well-rounded discussion of issues surrounding the third-person pronoun, gender, and generic pronouns. Although I think he is slightly misinformed in thinking that singular “they” is a relatively recent innovation, his insistence that contemporary translations aim to represent the antecedent accurately, in a way that is comprehensible for contemporary usage, is spot on.

Chapter 5 moves on to verbs. Unlike the (now) venerable Mounce who pushes verbs halfway back to his book, Decker deals with them almost as soon as possible, which I suspect will allow the text to construct or offer more meaningful example texts sooner. Decker opts for tense-form in place of the traditional term tense, showing his sensitivity to contemporary debates about tense and aspect.

As the chapter proceeds, Decker’s approach is not to introduce complete paradigms for every type of verb, rather to give a reduced set of charts to memorise (personal endings, for instance), and morphological formulae for each tense-mood-form. This is, in my view, a much sounder way to teach if one is adopting a deductive grammar approach. At least this way students are analysing each word for its distinctive markers.

I suppose this is as good a point as any to put in a mild criticism of the whole grammar approach. On p81 Decker proposes that learning the Present Active Indicative of λύω is so vital that one should be able to phone the Greek student at 2am, hear an immediate recitation of this paradigm, and then go back to sleep. In contrast, an oral communicative approach would never demand this. But presumably if I rang a student in the middle of the night and told them to open the door, they should likewise respond immediately – understanding and responding, rather than reciting rote material.

Anyway, Decker is certainly right that for someone taking this approach, they really should have such a degree of rote memorisation locked away.

Chapter 6 introduces Adjectives and Adverbs. At this point I began to feel that some of the chapters were quite long. I am not sure we needed both of these together. I was also a little surprised that comparatives and superlatives were relegated to an ‘additional information’ section towards the back of the chapter.

Chapter 7 then returns to verbs, and introduces the First Aorist Active Indicative. I think this is a real point of favour to Decker – the decision to introduce the Aorist as the second verb form learnt is a recognition that it is, as he says, “the most common verb form in the NT and in the LXX” (p117), it carries the main story-line, and is relatively ‘default’ or ‘unmarked’.

Chapter 8 moves on to introduce conjunctions, and as throughout the book contains some distinct ‘snippets’ that really enrich the book. For example, p144 he gives the text from Mark 2:1-5, with a translation that utilises (&) as a marker for untranslated καί which is so frequent in Mark. Then on p145 he gives an LXX selection and explains a feature of LXX syntax. Especially the attention given to LXX ‘oddities’ is most welcome in an introductory textbook.

I thought the amount of information included in chapter 9, on prepositions and the article, probably too much. It is at this point that one feels the divergent pulls of “introductory reference text for beginners” and “introductory teaching teach for beginners”. In a chapter supposedly introducing prepositions, the great bulk of the chapter seems concerned with uses of prepositions and articles, before the vocabulary on p166-7 which really gives the student some prepositions.

I have nothing too much to say about chapter 10, which deals more with pronouns, except that it too seems a little long and might have benefited from being a number of shorter chapters.

Overall my impression from the first ten chapters is favourable. There is a pleasing layout, clear explanations, though they do err to the ‘explaining too much’ side with concepts that will only be understood from later chapters, good illustration from a range of texts, and many interesting side-bars. It’s a little difficult for me to judge whether the exercises are sufficient for a learner, but my sense is that there is not quite enough for the ‘workbook’ element. These exercises would help a learner understand the information present, but not necessarily master the content for long-term usage.

Reviewing Decker’s “Reading Koine Greek”, part 1

The late Rod Decker was a fine and outstanding academic, teacher, and although I never met him or had any interaction beyond his writings, I held him in considerable respect. His passing earlier this year was a loss for us, but great gain for him! I was grateful, then, that his “Reading Kine Greek: An introduction and integrated workbook” was able to be brought to publication by Baker.

 

In this post and some subsequent ones I will offer a review of Decker’s new Koine Greek textbook. I am generally sympathetic, though obviously I have some methodological issues with the whole approach. In the first post I want to engage with some of the Preface (pages xix –

 

The first thing I appreciate about Decker’s work is that on page xx he up-front ‘outs’ himself as a Christian “who accepts Scripture as an authoritative text.” This, as he notes, has no particular bearing on his teaching of the Greek language, but at the same time he readily submits that even in a textbook on Greek language, some of his (theological) opinions on Koine texts will be apparent. If only more ‘content’ focused texts included a statement from the author claiming their subjectivity instead of pretending to impossible ‘objectivism’.

Decker has chosen to include more material from the LXX as well as other non-NT texts in his volume, again a very commendable feature. Students of Koine, especially those in seminaries, too often narrow their gaze down to only the canonical NT texts. It’s very good to see an introductory text broaden that back out again.

I’m very glad also to see the presentation of “Reconstructed Koine” presented alongside traditional Erasmian as a pronunciation scheme. As the author notes, pronunciation is best learnt by simply asking what one’s teacher prefers and hearing it from them. All attempts to reproduce pronunciation values with “__ as in English” are stymied by the significant variation in Englishes anyway. The decision not to simply eradicate Erasmian altogether no doubt reflects that Decker himself utilised Erasmian, and a great many places still do.

On page xxii Decker begins A Word to Teachers. He notes that this text follows the ‘traditional approach’ of up-front grammar and exercises. He then points to two ‘alternatives’ that have emerged – the push to use contemporary SLA techniques for the goal of oral fluency is the first. In Decker’s view, such would only be possible if (a) the program were “to be a major in Koine Greek alone” (xxiii). He writes, “I do not think it is possible to provide sufficient instruction to reach the level of oral fluency within the limits of an undergraduate major or a seminary MDiv intended for ministry preparation.” (xxiii).

I agree, though I disagree more broadly. I agree that communicative approaches are better suited to a major in Koine Greek. However, very few such programs, if any at all, exist. Nor are they likely. This is problematic in itself. If no one is teaching Koine Greek for the purpose of oral fluency, we will never have programs producing students who have actually acquired the language. Research masters and Doctoral candidates, in my view, must be required to have active fluency in the language of their target documents. Anything less is an ongoing farce. And, if such students come to graduate research via means of, not a Koine Greek major, but a seminary-type program, when will they acquire such language competency?

I have written elsewhere about the sheer problem of time – it requires very large amounts of time of comprehensible input in a language to achieve reasonable communicative competency. I agree that this is, generally, not possible in typical seminary programs. However, I think it’s a mistake to keep thinking and talking as if the current model of Grammar-based instruction somehow achieves “more” in the lesser time it is granted. Teaching a grammar-based approach is not a short-cut, it’s a different race altogether.

Decker goes on to explain the other approach new on the field – the attempt to basically teach students ‘enough grammar’ to make sense of Biblical software tools (e.g. Accordance, BibleWorks, Logos). In his view, this  only teaches “information about Greek” rather than teaching Greek per se. I suppose that my rebuttal to this would be that in essence, teaching Greek via the so-called traditional method is actually the same – it teaches about Greek. The prime difference is that it commits a great deal of that information ‘about Greek’ into the brain’s memory instead of leaving it on the computer’s hard drive.

To return to Decker’s method, he does not that he has attempted to modify his approach, to learn from the failures of the ‘traditional’ method. So, he attempts a more inductive approach, uses more real-Greek examples instead of ‘classroom Greek’, and attempts to integrate more dealing with Greek on its own terms. We’ll consider this approach as we delve further into the textbook.

 

Further on in the preface, Decker explains why his grammar is so large. This is because (a) it includes a lot of ‘workbook’ material, and (b) he treats some topics that are more often deferred to intermediate texts/grammars. I think this is greatly to be praised. He notes that students often turn first to their introductory textbook when dealing with ‘unknowns’ later on anyway, so it’s best to have this information included. My own experience confirms this – I and others will default to an introductory textbook to search out grammatical information. Withholding this information to an ‘intermediate’ textbook almost never aids. Especially since it’s not clear what slot such intermediate textbooks are supposed to fill in the curricula ecologies.

 

So much for the preface! In the next post we will go on to consider some of the content and methodology of the actual textbook.

 

State of the Projects, December 2014

I have to say, this has probably been the least productive month on record for quite a while here at The Patrologist.

Greek Natural Reader

No progress

Patristic Readers

Still negotiating with a graphic designer to do the cover for the first print edition. Minimal progress on the second text.

Teaching

I wrapped up teaching and exams, and have completed marking for a single subject, one more to go next week.

PhD

Minimal progress.

Audio and Video

I didn’t do a lot of audio recording this month, but I did commence some video work, as you will have seen in the recent WAYK videos.

 

Reasons (or excuses?)

Nov 19-21 we flew back to Australia and this was very disruptive. On the Mongolian end there was a lot of leave-taking as well as wrapping-things-up to be done. I underestimated how disrupted things would be on the arrival end too. Without a permanent place to reside, it is much harder to settle, especially settle into productive academic routines. Also there have been numerous ‘hellos’ and other errands to deal with.

In good news, I have been successful in a scholarship application, which means I will indeed be able to study full-time on the doctorate next year. Over December I should be able to settle a little more and begin making forward progress with both ‘main’ things and side-projects.

Where are your keys? – Koine Greek Edition

I have talked several times about Where are your Keys? and encouraged you to check it out. This week I started recording and uploading a series of videos to demonstrate or showcase how WAYK can work for Koine Greek. In this post I link to the first two videos, and I’ll post up links in the following weeks to subsequent videos.

1. Introductory video

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ETMt_qjfz0]

 

2. Lesson 1 video

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xk-hdIEqXuw]

 

The Future of Seminaries (Part 2)

Last week I wrote a little bit about the challenges facing higher education institutions, especially seminaries, and the future of such institutions as places. In this post I want to explore four things that I think are necessary ‘re-adjustments’ to our thinking, especially about seminaries, if they are to continue to be viable. Especially, these are a call for seminaries to stop modelling themselves on secular education institutions, because secular higher Ed continues to move to a model of Education that is driven by “delivering a product/service”, “students as consumers”, “professors as ‘education’ providers”, and “University as Business”. I don’t think this serves the genuine goals of education, and for seminaries I don’t believe it serves the church well.

Learning as a process of developing competent practitioners

If we stop thinking about education as primarily about transmission of content from knowledgeable sources (teachers) to empty buckets (students), how should we think about it? Our first re-adjustment is to think about the kind of people we want a school to produce. One aspect of that is to see the process of learning as about acquiring competence, not knowledge. This is a way of thinking backwards, and thinking about what that graduate should be able to ‘do’. For seminaries, the graduate is generally speaking going to be involved in various kinds of ministry, so we want them to be well-rounded competent people at ministry. Especially, I would say, we want them to be skilled handlers of Biblical texts – able to read and ‘exegete’ responsibly, well, to apply a sound hermeneutic, to deliver teaching and preaching to their communities and individuals, and so on. Some of that will involve acquiring a body of knowledge. But more of it will involve a process of:

  1. Seeing those skills practiced by experienced practitioners
  2. Experiencing those skills practiced on them by skilled practitioners
  3. Attempting those skills in various configurations themselves
  4. Gradually improving those skills through various forms of feedback
  5. Demonstrating their competence in those skills through performance.

Notice that assessment (5) is not a knowledge test, it’s demonstration of competency through actual practice. And most of that development of competency is through 3 and 4, actual practice. I use the term ‘competency’ because we are not after ‘mastery’, i.e. a high level of honed excellence from years of practice. We are after a level of ability that warrants trust in post-graduation independent, unsupervised practice.

This is true across most traditional areas of seminary study: New Testament study, OT, Church History, Pastoral Skills, Discipleship, Preaching, etc.. We want people who can do these things, not just people who ‘learnt’ a bunch of stuff way back when, passed an exam, and forgot half of it.

Learning as formation of persons in community

Related to my former point, seminaries ought to be institutions that shape not just a person’s ability to practice a set of skills, but furthermore shape the character of that person. This will emerge only if seminaries are actual communities. There must be shared relationality that goes beyond the ‘classroom’, and it must be genuine, not superficial or artificial.

My seminary talked a lot about community, and I experienced genuine community while there, but the community they talked about was not the one I experienced, and in many ways the community they talked about was undercut by the actions of the institution.

How does a community shape the character of persons? By holding and practising common values and shared disciplines. A community that values prayer and seeks to shape prayerful persons must practice regular, disciplined, corporate prayer. Not just make a note about it in their glossy brochure.

Sometimes in the push for distance and online education options there comes the push-back, “I have community, local church community”. There is a profound and right truth about this. But it also means that that individual is not being shaped by the same community as the seminary community. It might be a gain in other ways, but it is a loss in this way. This is an opportunity cost that must be counted, not simply ignored.

Learning as co-operation in research

You’ll notice that the first two points are about things done in community. In fact, all my four points are about community. Because the key issue of the 1/8th of a second problem is the key issue of 2 and 3 John, “I have many things to communicate… but I hope to see you face to face”. Transcending time, space, and embodiment is good, but being physically present is better. As embodied beings we prize, value, and derive greatest value from embodied fellowship.

In contemporary and traditional schools, real professors do research, and teaching is a distraction and a burden, best left to second rate researchers. Students don’t come up with new things, they just digest regurgitated breakfasts from mommy bird. This needs to go.

What if ‘teachers’ and ‘students’ were about learning. About studying together. If we really implemented point 1, that teachers were teaching students how to practice the craft of learning, then part of that would be investigating topics, studying things old and new, seeing old knowledge from new perspective. Some of this might look like traditional essay writing, but some of it would be even more co-operative. In this view the seminary is community of research, in which students have come to share and participate in the work of the more ‘permanent’ members of that learning community. They didn’t come to get some pre-fab processed material that everyone already knows is ‘correct’ and ‘safe’ and can be reheated at home.

Language Learning as a Language Community

Of course, language acquisition is a soap-box issue for me. But it has a place here too. Seminaries ought to be about studying the Scriptures, and in the original languages. They should be places where Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, and other languages too, are taught. This content in particular cannot be delivered through lectures. Or, to put it another way, you can make lectures about languages, but no-one will learn this way.

Languages aren’t even like other skills. I used to think this, but language as a phenomenon is too complex to reduce to a set of skills that need to be practiced until automated. We tried that, in the 60s and 70s with drills, audiolingual stuff, and it was better than some older pedagogies, but it’s still not up to scratch. Language is communication, and it needs ongoing communication to improve one’s ability.

The internet is amazing. In the last 4 years I’ve done 140 hours of online language classes, all with people thousands of miles away! Who would have thought this was possible. When I started learning Latin only 11 years ago, they mailed text book materials to me, and I mailed hand written assignments back. Crazy!

You can learn a language online, but you can acquire it better in person. And you acquire it better in a community of speakers. I also used to think language was just about an individual acquiring knowledge + skill, but it can never be that because language is about communication, and for that you need community. At least 2, but more is better. Small is okay, because it needs to involve all parties.

I think the tide is shifting in this area, I hope it will grab more people. Comprehensible Input, active proficiency, communicative strategies, etc., etc.. All these go best when there’s no 1/8th of a second dividing us. When language isn’t a ‘subject’, it’s the air we breathe.

Last thoughts

I haven’t said everything, I could probably think of more, but I’ve touched on four elements of the seminary as embodied, learning, community that I think need to be realised, grasped, adopted, incorporated, and set as the vision for the coming age. Seminaries that continue to adopt secular university models may not die immediately, but they will die. The small ones at first as the big ones consolidate and grow, but even then. And it’s not even simply these changing realities that ought to force seminaries to change. It ought to be a realisation that some of the current, not just future, practices of seminaries are in conflict with what they ought to be. It’s not merely education theory, it’s theological thinking about seminaries, that needs to drive some of this.

 

Enough from me, over to you.

Exegesis as Reading

A little while ago there was an exchange that started on B-Greek, a place I generally read but do not interact, about Exegesis. Then there were a few blog posts, one by D. Streett, one by B. Hofstetter.

I often deliberately don’t engage in discussions that I don’t have time for, but obviously I have opinions. Particularly outrageous, bombastic ones. So part of my heart warms when R. Buth writes, “This is why I define “exegesis” as learning to extract meaning from a language that one does not control. “

Somewhat like Barry, I had already done a degree that was virtually Literature studies, as well as started down the Classics track, and taught myself the fundamentals of Koine Greek, before I got to seminary. One of the reasons “exegesis” is so problematic is that Biblical Studies got hived off, with so many other humanities disciplines, into a discrete ‘discipline’ about 200-150 years ago. On this regard, see the recent volume by James Turner, Philology: The Forgotten Origins of the Modern Humanities, which among other things does a good job of explaining how humanities ‘disciplinised’.

Exegesis as practised by most biblical studies students is a process of analysis and interpretation of a text at a fine-detail level: grammatical, lexical, syntactical analysis of words, phrases, verses, put together at the level of a paragraph. It rarely moves beyond paragraph level. It is, as Buth points out, often done by students/scholars who actually have no “control”, that is no genuine active competency, in the target language.

Let’s just stop and say, “That’s odd.” We would find that incredibly odd for a modern foreign language student. “Oh, you can’t speak a word of French, but you can analyse to death the syntactic choices of individual sentences in Camus’ The Plague?”

I want to be really clear here: there is a place for fine-detailed studies of grammatical, lexical, syntactical elements of small units. Everyone else calls this linguistics. And many, many of these ‘questions’ disappear, or better yet are disambiguated by a genuine competency in the language.

Take a step back – what is the purpose or goal of exegesis? To acquire a better understanding of the meaning of the text. We can call this ‘exegesis’, but we may as well call it ‘reading’, though we must keep in mind that ‘reading’ here actually means something like ‘interpreting’, i.e. we are engaged in attentive, analytical reading at micro and macro levels. Or, “literary criticism”.

I don’t think calling it ‘reading’ is always helpful. In my school there were some teachers who used to say nonsense like “We don’t interpret the Bible, we just read it.” Which was always doctrinal dribble based on a claim to avoid the theological difficulties that the very idea of ‘interpretation’ generates. No, that won’t do. Reading itself is an interpretive act.

On the other hand, reading here is a higher order activity than mere reading. And it really must go beyond the sentence level. Unless you can get to a level of discussing a whole text – a whole book, then you are missing the integrity of the text and cannot complete your reading. That’s why discourse analysis, or just plain literary criticism, needs to work at the macro-level.

To wrap up, I am constantly amazed to interact with so called ‘critical scholars’ who look at, say, a book like John’s Gospel and see nothing but a pastiche of cut-up pieces that represent a proto-Gnostic text re-edited by a proto-Orthodox edited then re-edited again. Why do they see only that? It’s because they analyse a painting by looking at each blob of paint from a stroke of the brush and consider it a different source. They never step back and see the artistry. Whether they are right or wrong is irrelevant to the fact that they can’t step back and look at the whole, can’t discuss the meaning of the book, can’t discuss themes, genre, art, motifs. Because they can’t decide which of 400 types of genitives the proto-Gnostic redactor meant, and their competency in the language is like a tourist who got off the plane with an antique reference grammar of the language and nothing else.

Reflections on Interviews with Communicative Greek Teachers

Well, I have pretty much wrapped this series of posts up, though I won’t rule out adding some future interviews to it. I thought I’d take a moment to reflect on some things from the Interviews.

Although my interviews included some ‘clusters’, e.g. those involved or trained in part by Buth, and a small Rico-cluster, it’s clear that the ‘movement’ (not quite a ‘Movement’ yet, I would say) retains a diversity of people. Almost all participants felt or experienced a gap between their own language experiences in learning Greek/Latin/Hebrew, and other language acquisition processes. Moreover, several respondees wrote about their experiences in trying to produce better materials, for themselves and for others, and the general need to pull themselves up by their own boot-straps, for want of ready made materials. For some, the ability to use Buth’s Living Koine materials, and/or attendance at various immersion classes/workshops, proved very useful.

One other thing I would remark on, is that while my interviews were all with teachers, it certainly seems that it is those involved in teaching the language that are really ‘getting there’ in terms of fluency. Personally, this reinforces a working hypothesis that I have about language fluency and communities. Most students are not going to ‘arrive’ without considerable amount of time in the language, time that teachers get because they are the ones constantly teaching. If we want students to achieve anywhere close to these outcomes, we are going to need to keep raising the bar in this regard.

The Future of Seminaries (Part 1)

Today I want to talk a little bit about educational models, ‘distance ed’, the 1/8th second barrier, etc., etc..

One of the mainstays of tertiary education for a good two hundred years has been the model of a single professor presenting information via a lecture to a group of students, for 1-3 hours at a time. It hasn’t always been the only component, nor the only model, but it is common, widespread, and dominant.

In the not-so-distant past, physical attendance at lectures was a requisite for obtaining this content. Recording, even into the age of the cassette tape, was not an option. So physical proximity was required. But now we live in an age where all that content can be captured – at first audio, but now also video, and copied freely.

For those who think of education merely as the transmission of content, this opens all doors. Well, not all, but a lot. For example, the wonderful site www.biblicaltraining.org hosts high quality materials, including audio lecture series, from top-class evangelical scholars, which are free to download and use. The artist formerly known as Logos, aka FaithLife, is in the process of producing “Mobile Ed”, video content for all sorts of seminary-type courses. Many other institutes and programs have invested or investigated expanding their ‘reach’ through distributing this kind of material digitally.

It’s wonderful. It’s also deeply problematic.

We (those who have read any studies in pedagogy) know that lectures are pedagogically woeful. Information retention is very low. It is one of the worst ways for students to learn. Students are better off doing almost any other activity to obtain that content rather than passively listening to it.

Digitising it and seeing it freely distributed solves one problem (access), but it does nothing to improve it. I think institutions that want to enter the digital age by doing primarily this are self-deluded about pedagogy and learning and might as well close up shop. Especially, the problem of the expert alongside the problem of the free will render this model unworkable.

By the problem of the expert I mean that in the past when such distribution models weren’t available, then each physical ‘place’ needed to have an expert – a NT person, an OT person, so on, an expert to teach that content. But when physical space and time is not the issue, then one person can deliver that content not just to hundreds, but to hundreds of thousands of students through recorded content.

The problem of the free is that copying on the internet costs almost nothing, and depending on the funding side of the recording of content, there will always be other providers offering cheaper, and even free, content. To charge for lecture content can only be done if there is something ‘extra’, something premium, or something bundled, to make it so. Even still, the combination of these two factors means that simply selling the distribution of electronic forms of recorded lectures will not survive as a ‘business’ model for educational institutions.

Kevin Kelly in his New Rules for the New Economy talks about the change from ‘places’ to ‘spaces’, because the internet basically makes everywhere 1/8th of a second distant. He writes:

   And for many things in life, that is too far away.

   A kiss for instance. Or playing sports. Or getting to know flowers. Start-up companies selling futuristic multiplayer online games have discovered that the inherent delay in the speed of light circling the globe causes real-time experiences to fail. That noticeable gap makes no real difference in the transmission of a book order, or a weather signal, but enough of life thrives on subtle instantaneous responses that one-eighth of a second kills intimacy and spontaneity. Thus actual real-time face-to-face meetings will retain their irreplaceable value. Thus airline travel will increase as fast as online communication increases. Thus cities will endure as lag-free places where there are no one-eighth second delays. (http://kk.org/newrules/newrules-7.html)

I have been thinking quite a bit about that 1/8th of a second. I think ‘the Elder’ in 2 and 3 John was thinking about the same kinds of issues, when he writes:

 

   I had many things to write to you, but I am not willing to write to you by means of ink and reed (3 Jn 13)

If seminaries, and other higher education institutions, want to survive they need to offer more than ‘content’ if ‘content simply means a body of knowledge transmitted from expert to learner’. This is outdated pedagogy and will soon be unviable business model.

Next week I will write about my thoughts on the way forward.

Why I do Sub-Optimal Language Exercises

Why bother doing anything but the best types of language acquisition activities?

I’m a firm believer in Comprehensible Input, and fairly sold on Krashen et al., that CI is the key to language acquisition. I don’t quite buy Krashen’s “strong” version that nothing but CI is necessary, because I think he’s framing the question a little incorrectly. Krashen these days makes a strong claim that CI, only CI, is sufficient by itself for language acquisition. I think this might be true, but there are other aspects of language competency that are perhaps not quite ‘acquisition’. The ability to speak, write, produce output is probably a secondary outcome of acquisition, but in my view and experience one still needs some practice in these output skills in order to actually output.

Anyway, I do all sorts of activities that are not optimal CI activities. I read texts too difficult for me. I do ‘composition’ exercises that are really translation exercises of banal sentences from English to Greek/Latin. Lately I have been working on an idiosyncratic but modern translation of the New Testament (I’ll write more about that individually later on). Why? Why waste time?

  1. Don’t wait for the best.

There is no way to get optimal CI in Greek or Latin. There’s no language community, there’s no children’s cartoons, there’s no 5 levels of graded readers about contemporary society, there’s no young adult extensive reading materials available. One will never derive enough genuine CI from currently available resources.

  1. Output exercises are nonetheless moderately useful.

Because (a) they develop output automaticity, even if no new language is being acquired. And because (b) the process of doing the exercises does involve some CI even if suboptimal.

  1. The art of translation is itself an art to be acquired.

While it’s generally and genuinely preferable, in my view, to work mentally in the target language, there are times when one will want to translate – in either direction. There are structures of phrasing and thought that come to one naturally, and in the absence of knowing a target language structure, you tend to code switch or break thought. Working systematically to acquire some of these structures will improve translation ability.

  1. For others

I think a previous generation thought you acquired language competency largely by suffering and toil. They were wrong about that, but using sub-optimal methods requires suffering and toil because the amount of time required to get the same amount of genuine CI is so much more. The only way we will produce teachers who are competent enough to utilise more-optimal methods is if we have teachers who are prepared to suffer a little to acquire by the hard way, and generous enough to pass that on by an easier way.

Like a broken record

Q: Patrologist, why do you talk so endlessly about language acquisition?

A: Because our field is so broken. In no other field do so many people who know their target language so poorly talk with such authority. I honestly wish it wasn’t necessary, that we rather lived in a time, an age, a place, where we took for granted that people who studied ancient Greek literature knew ancient Greek, where people learned in Hebrew had learned Hebrew, where scholars of Latin had been schooled in Latin. But we do not live in such a mythical land, we live in its counterfeit where people peddle outdated methodologies to reach inadequate heights.

I believe this is changing, but slowly, and only because some are agitating – pointing out that the Emperor does indeed have no clothes. You can try it at home – approach a Greek professor or a NT one or whatever, and initiate a Greek language conversation. If you don’t get a quick χαῖρε, ὦ μαθητά, πῶς ἔχεις σήμερον; then there really is something wrong.

On the flipside, all I am saying is that we apply Best Practices from contemporary Second Language Acquisition to classical and biblical studies. This should be the least controversial thing in the world. And all I am discussing is how we can do that. There is a long road ahead of us. That’s why I keep talking about the same things over and over. Until the revolution comes.

Days of the Week (Greek)

Fridays are generally for specific language posts: Greek and Latin. Maybe some others thrown in from time to time.

One of the things it can be hard to learn in a language is things like ‘days of the week’. Actually, if you are using the language daily in communication, these will get high repetition. In this post I present not only days of the week in Greek and Latin, but some simple phrases and questions that are designed for daily usage, not for a one-off “learn the days” exercise. I present Greek first, then Latin.

 

The week            ἡ ἑβδομάς, άδος

or alternatively τοῦ σαββάτου, or τῶν σαββάτων may be used for “of the week”

Sunday                 ἡ κυριακή

Monday               ἡ δευτέρα ἡμέρα

Tuesday               ἡ τρίτη ἡμέρα

Wednesday         ἡ τετάρτη ἡμέρα

Thursday              ἡ πέμπτη ἡμέρα

Friday                   ἡ παρασκευή

Saturday              τὸ σάββατον, ου

 

 

Relative days:

the day before yesterday                              πρῴην

yesterday                                                         χθές, ἐχθές

today                                                                 σήμερον (τήμερον in Attic)

tomorrow                                                        αὔριον

the day after tomorrow                                εἰς ἕνην, τῇ ἕνῃ (*)

the previous day                                             τῇ προτέρᾳ (ἡμέρᾳ)

the following day                                           τῇ ὑστεραίᾳ

* rarely attested, but found in Antiphon’s speechs, 6.21 for instance.

 

Some basic questions

What day is today?                                                       ποία ἡμέρα ἐστὶ σήμερον;

What day was yesterday?                                            ποία ἡμέρα ἦν χθές;

What day is tomorrow?                                               αὔριον ἔσται ποία ἡμέρα;

What will you do on the weekend?                           τοῦ τέλους τοῦ σαββάτου τί ποιήσεις;

What did you do last week?                                        τί ἐποίησας τῆς προτέρας ἑβδομάδος;

What are you doing the day after tomorrow?        τί ποίησεις τῇ ἕνῃ;

Did you go to school the day before yesterday?    πρὸς τὸν διδασκαλεῖον ἤλθες πρῴην;

I’ll do that the following day.                                     τοῦτο τῇ ὕστεραίᾳ ποιήσω

Will you go today?                                                        σήμερον πορεύσει;

 

How to practice?

I would suggest each day just asking oneself, or a partner – what day is it, what was yesterday, what will tomorrow be. And, if you’re writing anywhere, get into the habit of marking the day of the week and the date in Greek (I might do dates in a later post, you want ordinal numbers).

What do you think? If you notice any errors, please point them out.

Why there’s no communicative language approaches in classics in Australia

1. Like most places, Classics and Biblical studies are dominated by teachers who didn’t train in language teaching, know little about language acquisition, and never acquired an active ability in their chosen languages.

2. The population is comparatively small.

3. Modern language teaching in Australia does not have even the small dedicated movement of those interested in fully communicative approaches (TPR, TPRS, etc..), and so there is no possibility of spill-over into classical languages.

4. There’s thus no opportunity for teachers to attend workshops, seminars, etc., to be exposed or trained in these techniques.

5. Most online classes are run in what, for Australians, is the middle of the night, or the mid-morning of the workday, limiting the possibility of participation.

6. Summer intensives, say like those run in the States, Europe, or Israel, all occur in the Summer. Which is not summer in Australia, and so is not the summer break. Due to the extreme distance involved in travel, to participate in one of those intensives (any of them) would cost, I have calculated, anywhere between $3300 and $6800 dollars, and generally one would not get away with less than $4500.

7. The (small) population that are interested in classical languages generally don’t know about communicative approaches to these languages, don’t realise the benefits, don’t understand much about language acquisition, and are often monolingual to begin with, so there is little drive for such an approach.

 

 

Of course, there could be people doing things I haven’t heard about. If you’re in Australia doing communicative-type methods for classical languages, get in touch and tell me I’m wrong!