Literature: who is it good for? (absolutely…everyone!)

 

One aspect of the research published around the teaching of literature (literatuuronderwijs, in the Netherlands) is how often it is conducted with the higher reaches of schools: vwo 5, vwo 6 for example. Or that research is conducted with an implicit line of development: it starts in Year 1 at secondary school and finishes in Year 6.

And because only vwo go to Year 6, it’s clear that if you’re not in vwo, you’ll stop short of achieving whatever those in vwo can (or are supposed to) achieve: that’s exemplified in the oft-quoted ‘literary competence’ of Witte, which, let’s be honest, makes little sense. Why on earth would we want all our students to be literary competent? What for? To be experts at reading a niche market like literature? Why then leave visual literacy – surely a much more pressing problem in the world of social media – out of education?

And the biggest problem is of course: does that mean those in vmbo or havo can have no hope – are given no hope – of reaching that level? Why shouldn’t they, if it’s so important?

Beyond that, the problem of doing research in vwo bovenbouw (between the age of 15-18) is one of representation: after all, just under one pupil in 5 was studying at that level in 2023, while around 2,5 in 5 were in vmbo. Not only that: we all know the material used across those levels differ, as do the approaches of most teachers and the learning aims those levels identify – many make a distinction between Fiction and Literature: I wonder why…Would one be seen as cultural capital, good only for some, while the other would be perceived a low-level, infantilizing perhaps, certainly not ‘too difficult’?

This dichotomy is obviously informed by a number of things, chief among them the cultural place afforded to Literature, and by extension, its use as a Bourdieuesque ‘Distinction’: a way to (re)enforce societal divisions and perpetuate an implicit hierarchy – well, implicit I’m not so sure since it is visible in many other areas as well.

So the question really is: should Literature be reserved for some, and denied others?

That, you will say, is heavily dependent on what our aims and therefore what we do with it in class…and you will be right of course.

And therein lies another problem: under the guise of ‘using literature’ we often find language aims, that is, teachers who use a literary text (of whatever level in terms of contents) but who are really only interested in working on their learners’ language. And indeed, the little research done there tends to be heavily language-focused: using fiction to develop linguistic competence.

At this stage then, our original question can be refined: if top-learners are given fiction to think from, to reflect from…why isn’t it also done at lower levels? Do we mean to say that those kids can’t think, can’t reflect? Do we mean to say, perhaps, that they don’t really need to since they will probably have manual jobs, whereas the top kids will have  brain-jobs?

Really, it comes down to something simple: if we can sort of philosophise with fiction (explore the world, ask questions, reflect, go further, think, question, argue), why on earth would that be reserved for some and not for all? Aren’t those skills, that knowledge, that self-knowledge, isn’t this wisdom-looking aim applicable to all?

We could even go further and ask: doesn’t the learning environment of the ‘best’ learners already provide multiple opportunities to exercise those skills as opposed to those whose education is seen in practical terms? And therefore isn’t that last population the one most in need of those skills?

At this stage, we may want to think about a basic distinction that I think is too often forgotten: that between Teaching Literature and Teaching with Literature. And that distinction is crucial, if only to help answer the first question: there is no way to have clear, attainable aims if you do not know whether you are using literature as a finite, factual object of study, or as a vehicle for other aspects of learning – but then which?

Because one can learn a lot in a lot of different ways: learn about factual stuff, learn about others, learn about yourself, learn to think, learn to open one’s mind and learn how to do that, learn skills, learn how to learn, learn to learn. And I must be missing many more. How can you hope to identify what you want, or can achieve, if you do not first ask whether the material you handle is studied for itself, or for something else?

I wrote about this previously (for example in LevendeTalen a couple of years ago), but allow me to remind you of some reasons (or justifications) different teachers may have for using literature in their class – and by ‘teachers’ I do not mean ‘Those who work in vwo 5&6’: I mostly mean those who have not been to university themselves, those who teach in onderbouw, those who teach classes where literature may seem incongruous, out of place…where it’s too often seen as ‘elitist’.

·       To guide learners towards the essential meaning of a text – what the text is really about

·       To help learners understand what the author meant with their text

·       To broaden learners’ horizons and offer different perspectives

·       To help with language development

·       To teach Literary history (e.g. the canon of English/American Lit., with main authors, works and periods)

·       To teach how to analyse a text with e.g. literary theory, terminology and analytical methods: the text is central but as an end in itself – the text is the object of study (=what does the text mean?)

·       To encourage learners to read, as otherwise they don’t read on their own

·       To stimulate interest and love for reading in learners so that they’ll start reading outside of the classroom

·       To use a text to discuss topical subjects (e.g. bullying, homosexuality) – the text is secondary to the discussion of that one topic, which is the focus.

·       To use  a text as an instrument to develop e.g. critical thinking, citizenship debates: the text is a means to an end, and the end is relatively open-ended, student-dependent and teacher-led.

 

Looking a bit more in details at the list above, you can see how many assumptions are made in combination to any of them: in fact, they rest on assumptions about what literature is (or not), what reading means, what literature signifies culturally, what literature reflects (its time, or eternal themes, or beauty, or the mind of one writer, or the thoughts of many etc.). You just need to read the first one to see it rests on the idea that each text has one definite, identifiable, agreed-upon meaning: a heresy in a post-(post-)modern world for sure, but crucially one that remains prevalent today and very much stands in the way of non-readers engaging with texts. 

So we must teach our students, and we must remind ourselves, that literature does not belong to anyone, is not reserved for anyone in particular, and should not be seen as the end-point of our classes. Literature can be a tool you use to achieve something instead of being the object of study. I may go for a run everyday but it doesn’t mean that the run is the reason for it: I run for my health, or I run for my muscles, or I run for a bet, or I run to prove something to myself or others.

Likewise with Literature: as the great, the immense Penelope Fitzgerald writes in a letter to her daughter: ‘I’m sorry that the poor English school is so dull too – the truth is, though I would never dare saying it in public, that the value of studying literature really only appears as you go on living, and find out how it really is like life – that it all works – and it’s a pity this can’t be shown in the course’.

Well: we can, we should, we must show that in the ‘course’: we are not trying to make our learners ‘literary competent’, whatever that means, as that would restrict the use of literature to a few chosen ones. Literature belongs to everyone and as soon as you can identify what to do with it, you’re good to go.

What’s that you say? ‘What to do’? What do you mean?

I mean what she meant: the value of literature is in the life contained in it, the lives contained in it, and therefore our life, our lives. If we set out to make that connection in class, from the lowest age-groups to the highest, from vmbo to vwo, from primary school to hbos and universities – we will have made a great leap forward in anchoring fiction in reality and we will have given reasons to read – not just study but read, think, reflect, learn, and grow.

Penelope Fitzgerald: So I have thought of you - Letters (2010). London: Fourth Estate.
This collection of letters by one the greats of last century also contains that killer of a line: 'All distances are the same to those who don't meet'.