We’re told to use literature in class for all sorts of things: ok, but HOW?

 

Over the last few decades, a lot of publications have appeared on the importance of using literature at schools – or, in more general terms, the importance of literature tout court. So variously, literature has been found to be good for empathy, perspective-taking, language development, culture, historical knowledge, personal growth, critical thinking, citizenship or both at the same time.

Of course, we are all aware that at the same time, reading is declining (for example in England, in The Netherlands, in France), parents and educators complain young people don’t read, can’t read, won’t read, even if we can all see that those same parents and educators must, by definition, form part of this non-reading public. Do as I say, not as I do.

So we can see it coming, not because we can predict the future but because that future is already here: reading literature is a niche activity, one undertaken by a very small subset of our populations and largely upheld by education systems that still privilege literature reading over most other forms of  activities. And we know why, too: literature is cultural capital in a way that, say, Netflix (or its equivalent) series, most films, gaming or youtube videos are not – or not yet, at any rate.

Still: that need not mean that literature is good for nothing, or only good for a few, and I certainly strongly believe it can be a powerful way to approach the world. The problem, I find, is a simple one: how do you make others do what you yourself find difficult to do, or can’t do at all? After all, I’ve never run a marathon, so I’d be stumped if someone asked me to train them in running one. I’ve never repaired a car in any way, so would you expect me to become a teacher of future car-mechanics? Similarly of course, if I hardly ever read, if what I do read is not literature, if I find interpreting a text mighty difficult, if I can’t make heads or tails of a poem, if I know very little about the cultural and historical contexts of texts: how then do I use literature to make all those incredible things – empathy, citizenship, whatever – happen?

That has long been a problem which, often, is solved in a factual way. What I mean here is that the easiest things to do when you’re in such a situation as described above is to factualise things. So literature will quickly be reduced to terminology (metaphors, alliterations etc.), that is, a way to analyse a text but certainly not a way to elicit meaning from it. Or literature is reduced to a vehicle to teach language (vocabulary, grammar, reading skills and the like). Or literature is reduced to putting the onus on the reader, that is, the pupil: Well John, what do you think the text means? How does the text make you feel? And what on earth can we expect John to do with that?

Is that making full use of literature? Of course not you’ll say: didn’t we refer to those studies about what literature should be used for, what it’s good for?

Yes but then we go back to the question above: HOW? HOW do you use texts then, what do you do in class? What’s the method, what’s the approach?

Because we can all remember those dreary sessions when the teacher would ask us, pupil or student: ‘So, Vincent, what is the theme in this story? What do you think the author is trying to tell you?’. And that has got to be the most tedious, most annoying, most unanswerable question ever which, yet, keeps being asked the world around.

• Tedious because asking it doesn’t help me find the answer
• Annoying because it implicitly negates the possibility that there could be more than one meaning, more than one ‘theme’.
• Unanswerable because of the two points above, but also because I JUST DON’T KNOW HOW TO FIND THAT OUT!!!

I’ve written about this before but one thing teachers forget is that the text they offer to learners is a text they’ve offered before: a text they’ve not only read but worked with before. They know what the learners don’t know, so they can do what learners can’t: relate the overall text to the details inside of it, and draw thematic conclusions on that basis. Then, of course, everything looks clear, evident, obvious: after the fact it does, but not the first time, and certainly not if you’re a very occasional reader of usually simpler texts.

Interpretation doesn’t come naturally to us, it’s hard to do when you don’t read much, it only looks easy once someone’s done it for you: it’s a job or the result of long practice, and it simply cannot be expected to occur spontaneously in non/reluctant/occasional readers. And hey, that’s why we’re here, us teachers – there is method in madness, there are ways to help people come to interpretations; there are ways to help teachers use texts rather than expect the text to do the work for them.

But for that, we need to stop thinking only in high moral ground terms, or in general terms, or in high-minded ones. Of course Literature is great for this, and for that as well, but that’s hardly the point, nor knowing this will ever convince anyone to go read a book. It’s up (and down) to us to find ways to translate those high-minded discourses into action so that we do not simply assert how good literature is at eliciting this and that: we show it too, and we share the secret(s) of how to do it.

Simple exhortations to go do something are fine, and probably needed, but ultimately most teachers want to know how to do it: the will is there, and the belief – we must ensure we also provide the tools.

Don't hesitate to have a look at my website, where you will find definitions, a method, examples and texts!