On Literature and Teaching

  Fiction as a safe place When it comes to citizenship education, a great many approaches can be taken, depending on which aspect of it you want to emphasise, or work on: you may be interested in the ‘Norms and values’ aspects, and want to come to grips with the workings of the democratic system, say. Or you may want to concentrate on the skills needed, for example communication skills; or you may focus on global citizenship, aspects of culture and inter-cultural communication and multi-cultural societies. Or you may be more interested in attending to critical thinking and its development in your learners. One issue any such approach will have, however, is that of loyalty. Loyalty to a family, loyalty to traditions, loyalty to a belief (system), loyalty to a culture. The bond that loyalty creates is strong, and will often override such notions as objectivity, multi-perspectival approach and willingness to consider different viewpoints. Thus when discussing, say, Dutch democracy...

  Short, even very short…but powerful One constant problem for teachers of literature at secondary schools is to do with preparation: that of the learners as much as that of themselves. Learners, when asked to read a text in advance, will usually turn up not having done so; or if they have, it was probably just a glance, or a quick read-through, maybe a few minutes only before the lesson started. (To be fair, I’ve know the opposite albeit only rarely, when a student would read the texts so much in advance that they’d sort of forgotten everything about them when lesson-time came round). We all know the consequences of that non-reading-in-advance problem: what to do in class if no-one’s read the text? Some solutions spring to mind of course, like handling the text then and there when class starts for example. But that often leads to more problems because those texts will usually be too long to be read in class, or will at least take up so much time of said class that there will...

  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 syst...

  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 reachin...

  One of the most famous questions asked in linguistics – and there are a few – relates to the way language might influence our perceptions, and in particular whether the language you speak restricts your perceptions, or at least forces you to perceive in this way rather than that way. That’s what is known as the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, with more or less strong versions. And while the strong version of their hypothesis (that the language you speak influences your perceptions) has largely been abandoned, milder, so-called weaker versions have been shown to operate in the world. When Frederic Jameson, the literary critic and theorist, wrote his seminal book ‘ The Prison-house of language’ (1972), he was partially referring to that idea, something Barthes or, of course, Derrida, were keen to emphasise as well. You inherit the language you speak: from people, from history, from a culture – the language you speak every day is not transparent, it is loaded, it carries ways of thinking th...

  It is a remarkable fact of life that we can keep holding on to beliefs while professing we’re not. As Michel Foucault once said, we claim we believe in equality but deep down, we don’t, not really. We believe ourselves when we say it, we certainly do mean it, but there’s a nagging doubt at the back of our minds: is it true? Do I really believe that? It doesn’t have to be about something big, or important, or moral – it can be as general as saying everyone should be free to do what they want while not quite believing that some people should choose to do that . I mean: really? That’s how you spend your time? Well, ok, if that’s what you like… It reminds me of that bit of dialogue in the majestic, out-of-this-world-fantastic Penelope Fitzgerald’s novel ‘ The beginning of spring ’. Two people are talking: Frank, the main character and a woman he’s met through their social circles. They didn’t take to each other, and Frank sees her as a traditionalist living in the past. They’...