The Treasure Hunter

Today I am posting a piece I wrote several years ago for the National Council of Teachers of English. I decided to do that because the teaching of grammar to children in school has again raised its ugly head, and I want to make clear why that is a waste of time.

Some years ago, while visiting a grade 4/5 classroom in the school where I was principal, I listened to a group of children reading aloud the first drafts of essays they had written about the holidays celebrated in America. They were helping each other to correct errors and make meaning clearer. In reading her essay aloud one girl said, “In the United States we celebrate Christmas by giving and receiving gifts and sing Christmas carols.” Immediately, another girl in the group interrupted her, saying, “That word should be singing.” The interesting thing for me was not that the second girl was absolutely right, but that she was able to do it without knowing why. Neither she nor any other child in the classroom could have stated: “Sentence elements of equal grammatical rank should be expressed in parallel constructions.” Yet, all of them subconsciously knew that principle of English grammar and were able—most of the time—to demonstrate it in their speech and writing.

This story is but one illustration of what happens most of the time in language usage; we construct grammatically correct sentences or correct our mistakes by intuitively applying the rules that govern English syntax. If, instead, we had to apply those rules consciously, they would only get in our way, making it impossible for us to speak or write at all. For example, to construct a simple two-word sentence, such as “He dreams,” requires the application of at least seven grammar rules. Imagine trying to apply them consciously following the instructions of English grammar: “To say what I mean, I need a noun phrase and a verb phrase. The noun phrase can be made up of a singular noun plus a determiner, a plural noun, a proper noun, or a nominative case pronoun. If I choose a pronoun, it can be singular or plural, but it must be inflected for a first, second, or third person. The verb I choose can be transitive, intransitive, or copulative. If it is transitive, it needs an object. But if it is copulative, it needs a complement. In any case the verb must also be inflected for a first, second, or third person to agree with the pronoun.”

With grammar rules so complicated and hard to remember, you may wonder why we have them at all. The fact is that such rules were created by linguists in order to explain language phenomena that had already existed for thousands of years. Most of the grammatical explanations were reasonable at the time they were created, but some have been discredited by subsequent discoveries about language. Others were cancelled out by actual changes in spoken language over time. In all cases, though, the rules were merely rough models for incompletely understood mental processes. No grammarian ever asserted that a grammar list exists in the brain, from which human beings select and apply rules as they needed them.

Although grammar rules are explanations for what exists in language– not prescriptions for what “ought to be”– they have been misused for a long time. Teaching those rules in schools started with instruction in ancient Latin and Greek, where it made sense because those were “dead” languages that nobody spoke anymore. But then those rules gradually slipped into other parts of the school curriculum, such as modern foreign language courses and English classes, where they should never have been.

Over the years, the teaching of grammar has continued to be prominent in English and foreign language instruction in schools, leaving less class time or energy for students to speak, read, or write. Yet, many perceptive teachers, sensing that grammar lessons might not be beneficial for students, have pressed for research to determine their real impact on learning. As early as 1906, studies were undertaken that attempted to show the relationship between school-taught grammar and naturally acquired language skills. Since then, hundreds of such studies have produced clear and unequivocal conclusions: the teaching of formal grammar does not help any student to speak, to write, to think, or to learn a foreign language.

It is important for today’s educators to know that recent research studies do not justify teaching grammar as the way to help students write better. Although we accept the fact that many social, economic, and political forces influence education, we ought not allow them to outweigh knowledge and reason in determining what the school curriculum should include.

Today’s post I wrote and published elsewhere some time ago. I am repeating it today because I’m not finding anything about education in the newspapers I read. If you can suggest any good sources for me now, I would be very grateful.

Several years ago we closed our special resource room for disabled students and set the inmates free.  Although most of those children are still with us, no one remembers just who it was that once inhabited our back ward.  Those children now are in regular classrooms full-time, where they work shoulder to shoulder with regular students, where teachers modify the teaching for their particular needs, and where a specialist comes in to observe students progress and also teach them—along with their regular classmates—in small groups. All this has happened not as a result of the national movement toward “full inclusion schools” but because we, as educators could not tolerate the old pullout and self-contained systems any longer.

What you would have seen if you visited our resource room before we closed it was a relentless dance of students drifting in, filling out workbook pages, getting grades on their daily work records, and drifting out again. Their teacher could not attend to the wide range of needs in the students that had been sent to that room all at once, as was expected.  He felt he had no choice but to use commercial self-instruction programs that required little or no teaching. To both him and me, the principal and outside observers, it was clear that kids weren’t learning much, but at least they were quiet and occupied.

At that time our rural school had about 20 students classified as disabled. Most of them were “learning disabled,” four or five were “emotionally disturbed”, and two or three, “mentally retarded.”  In my opinion, most of those kids might have been more accurately called emotionally battered.  The cruel irony was that our school was battering them even more by isolating them from their regular classmates and filling their days with assignments that were meaningless drudgery.  Worst of all, there was no way out; nobody ever got “unclassified.”

Like most people in and out of education, our teachers and I originally held three misconceptions about special education: (1) the teaching was truly “special”.  (2) It can make handicapped children “whole, and (3)” teaching is the best thing we can give disabled children.

The truth is that good special education teaching is no different from regular teaching. Although the teachers rely more heavily on behavior control than are normally used, their teaching methods are no more magical than those used by teachers in ordinary classrooms.  They plan, struggle, and react; then plan again, trying to capture all children’s attention and hold it until there is a breakthrough of understanding.

Another truth is that all children have learning problems at one time or another. Those who become successful as adults have learned how to work around their deficiencies and emphasize their strengths. Our fate is decided by the number and severity of our learning problems, as balanced against our strength and self-esteem, and the quality of education we get in school and at home.  If lucky, we learn to cope and compensate, but no one is ever cured.

Good teaching is only half the story, the other half is good learning, and that depends more on psychological factors than intellectual ones. Handicapped children need to be persuaded that what they are being taught is worthwhile and they are capable of learning it.  Such beliefs are essential to learning, but hard to come by when you are a student in a resource room.