Text selection for class: further headache...and aspirin (part 2)

I said last week that a distinction needs to be made between a Readable text and a Teachable one.

Of course, my approach to using fiction in class (which you can read more about here) puts a premium on developing critical thinking, awareness of the other and, generally speaking, focuses on aspects of citizenship, so those will be my criteria.

In that sense, ‘Teachable’ means (but I simply repeat what I wrote earlier) a text that offers guidance and nuances, while leaving space for the reader to co-create the meaning of the text. And it is in that act of co-creation that a mind can flourish – that is, open up.

This act of opening up is paramount here, since it really means ‘Shifting your perspective’, ‘Putting yourself in someone else’s shoes’, ‘Trying to think like someone else’, ‘Trying to understand someone else’ (among others).

Those things require, from the reader, a certain dose of curiosity and willingness of course, something we teachers are here to foster, encourage and develop. But it is important to understand what ‘opening up’ runs up against, and what may hinder it.

For example, very readable books have been written about a particular topic such as a social issue – racism, bullying, discrimination to name but a few. Those topics are certainly important, they need to be addressed and discussed, but a discussion is always going to be more difficult if that topic is the only thing there is in the text. That is, a book about racism is bound to say racism is bad (which it is), something very few would disagree with – or dare to disagree with publicly.

The problem is: where does that leave you, the teacher? Most probably with an audience that will struggle to go beyond that simple (if true, and heart-felt, and necessary) answer: racism is bad.

Such a text may be said to have an educational and social value, but only nuances and complexity will allow us to go further: Is there a difference between saying and thinking? Between saying and acting? Thinking and acting? What does racism touch upon, what is it linked to? Are there other forms of discrimination? Are all types of racism the same, in their expression and in their origin? How does it play out in the public sphere? How is it related to the society now, as opposed to its historical context, say?How do everyday people navigate it, respond to it, act on it, sometimes justify it, understand it, view it?

You may say those questions sound like they belong to the History class, or Civic instruction, and that as long as the main message is clear on such a problematic, painful, historically loaded question, that’s all we need.

Perhaps, but then there will be little you’ll be helping your learners with in terms of thinking, considering, reflecting – in terms of opening up. You might as well give them historically accurate information in the form of non-fiction.

As the Grand Lady of American Literature, Joyce Carol Oates, said: ‘I am often annoyed by critics’ attempts to reduce complex works of art to simple ‘thematic’ statements’. If you’re using fiction, then use it for what it can give you: perspectives, differences, nuances – complexity. Do not reduce them to one statement, one theme (more on that here).

 Of course, there are more types of texts: plenty of very entertaining novels will be readable; plenty of obscure novels will be, too. Plenty of so-called literary novels will be immensely readable, and plenty of trashy ones as well. You will love them, you will cherish them, and you may even want everyone to read them. You will find them ‘important’, ‘seminal’, ‘great’, and you will want to communicate that enthusiasm to your audience.

But does that enthusiasm suffice when it comes to Teachability? What can you do with those novels? Is there enough material in them, enough nuances, enough complexity – is there enough space for different readers? And how reliable an indicator of all that is your personal taste?

The famous 19^th-century pianist Vladimir de Pachmann had this recommendation to (piano) teachers:

‘This is the way to secure results – go deep into things. Pearls lie at the bottom of the sea. Most pupils seem to expect them floating upon the surface of the water. They never float, and the one who would have his scales shine with the beauty of splendid gems must first dive deep for the gems’.

This dive is not possible with all texts, and you often have to kill your darlings when considering your reading list: this novel you love, that story you adore – are they good for your purposes? Do they serve you and your audience, or are they self-serving? Did you select them for your taste, or for what you can do with them? Because while I do believe it’s important for a teacher to use texts they like, I believe it’s even more important to use texts we know are suitable for our purposes.

For example: for a few years, I used ‘The outsiders’ in class – that classic of American classics.

Did I like the book? No – I think it’s a poor novel in itself: poorly written, poorly plotted, with saccharine dialogues and a completely unrealistic view of…well, everything, from society to gender to life in a big city.

Did I like the book as a teaching aid? Yes. There’s plenty you can do with it, precisely because so much of it is bad, or wrong, or clichéd. A young suburban girl writing ignorantly about inner-city gangs of boys leads to questions about authorship, knowledge of the other, stereotyping, age, and gender (and gender relations); the West Side Story-like plot can lead to discussion about class differences and class ethos, aspirations, the development of a middle-class and (if you want to) the coming of post-modernism (lack of Grand Narratives); you can go towards the city/countryside opposition, you can talk about the absence of colour, the absence of religion, the role of education, the ethos of work, the meaning of family, the American dream.

Do I like the book? Again, no, but only as a reader. As a teacher, there’s plenty to work with. That book is not readable for me because of all its defects, but it is liked by most students, and it is eminently teachable.

On the other hand, I recently finished what is to me a remarkable book: Sebastian Barry’s ‘The secret scripture’: masterfully, beautifully written, great plot, great depth, nuances and emotions and big questions throughout. I loved reading that book; I will not be teaching it: too much history, too much local history, too literary, too dense in some aspects, and harder to link to the now (not impossible, but harder)

And of course, you must consider your audience, who they are, what they can do, how far you can go, their level, and – again and again – your goals: opening minds up; broadening horizons; challenge assumptions; deepen empathy and understanding.

Choose your texts wisely, and always ask yourself: is this readable? Teachable? Both? Neither?

The wrong text will not help you, nor will it help others. Have lofty aims, be practical, remain humble.

Easy, right? 😉