General principles

We do not all have to do the same thing with literature in class, but if we are intent on using fiction to make learners think, reflect, be curious, explore the world, consider other ways of thinking and perceiving, then we should keep the following general principles in mind:


This is not to say that evaluation is impossible, and the reality of schools is that testing is an integral part of their functioning (whether they like it or not). But do consider that evaluation is a tool with certain goals (mass assessment, determination of abstract levels, administration of large numbers, external framework-based demand) which may not suit your own aims. 

Do consider also that putting numbers on something doesn't necessarily reveal any truth about it, or, if it does, that this truth might only be a reflection of the tool used to find it - a circular problem if there is one. 

Do consider, finally, how long it took any of us to become open-minded, critical thinkers, reflective professionals with a certain ability to interpret the world - it took us many, many years, and the process is never finished: we are still all learning to do all of that well. In the context of a school, where pupils have multiple subjects, large numbers of tests and a great deal of very attractive options besides school, developing strong critical skills will necessarily take time.

It's also important to remember that literature is a continuum, a game of call-and-response (or action-reaction) through time, as Gombrich (1950) put it: 'Each generation is at some point in revolt against the standards of their fathers; each work of art is related by imitation or contradiction to what has gone on before' . Texts, authors, movements, do not emerge out of nothing - the Romantics did not appear one day out of the blue, nor did the Angry Young Men: they were reacting to the Art of their forebears, adding to it, substracting from it, changing it, transforming it, bringing new ideas and, more importantly for us, new arguments for old themes. Literary periods are an academic super-imposition on the natural flow of time and creation, and we should not confuse the practicality of dividing literature into periods with the reality of literature itself.

Once you are clear about what you think, what is possible, what is desirable, and the way to get there, you can separate out what creates full engagement with texts (the approach on this site, i.e. the text as a means to an end) and what sees the text as an end in itself (e.g. text as cultural artefact, text as canon, text as example of a movement, text as historically significant, text as exercise for terminology)

You must be prepared to rebound on left-field remarks as much as naive ones, and to make use of any consideration, however far-fetched they may seem to you, put forward by readers. You must also be able to link up those different remarks and interpretations to the text - and if need be, question them on the basis of the text, or complement them with bits from the text. In other words, you must own the text, and not let it be external to you, your guts, your brain and your heart. 

When you prepare, you will end up with different themes, arguments and quotes that could be discussed, and questions you'd like to ask. But if you want to achieve interaction, you may have to ditch your plans after the first question if the discussion takes off right then. Do not interrupt a discussion for the sake of your lesson-plan, and remember your goal: to have learners think, ponder and discuss - that is the aim. If many of the questions you prepared are never asked, if some of the themes you identified don't get discussed, but if the discussion takes off in ways you had not anticipated: that is the price to pay...and it is a good price to pay.

So you should give free rein to the ideas, and be prepared to let go of your preparation. Remember that your preparation is not designed to lead to a full analysis of the text: it is designed to make you the owner of the text and the leader of the discussion. Letting go is scary, yes, it's filled with uncertainties, true...but it's the best feeling ever when it works!

That is where your preparation will come into its own: because you will have identified themes and arguments beforehand, you will be in a position to ask pertinent, probing questions when you need to; you will be able to suggest a new line of enquiry if the discussion dies down; you will be able to present alternative readings and interpretations and have your learners react and respond. You're not a coach, or an observer: you are a central participant in this process. 

And of course, it pays to consider the nature of the text in terms of readability, accessibility, pace, narrative techniques (voice: who speaks; structure; tone) and genre. Most inexperienced readers will struggle with very descriptive texts, slow-paced ones, heavily psychological ones, absence of dialogues, absence of strong events. Further, different backgrounds, reading experiences and tastes will make it almost impossible to wax lyrical about stylistic values or appeal to a response based on 'literary qualities'. 

Your purpose, not your taste, is the point here. I'm happy using a story or a novel that I may not read for myself or think much of in pure literary terms if that text lends itself to discussions. 'The Outsiders', that classic American school-text, is objectively a poor novel in terms of structure, characterisation and representation of the world. But in many ways, these real weaknesses are also perfect starting points for many discussions. As a reader, I sometimes had to laugh at the incongruities and flaws in that novel, but as a teacher I can see beyond those things because I consider my purpose, and not my own tastes. If I can find a text that marries those two, all the better - and I would never recommend using a text you truly dislike. But I do not dislike 'The Outsiders': it's both a very poor novel, and an excellent one - it all depends on your goals.

Similarly, do consider what is gained by having someone re-read a book they liked, for example Harry Potter: they might get great pleasure out of it, but how does that, in itself, either lead to thoughts or to reading other books? Such an approach seems close to a moral argument about reading, something like: 'As long as they're reading, it's all good, I don't mind what it is'. But such a view remains essentially a moral one, and it's hard to square that with your goals as a teacher as we describe them here. There is, objectively speaking, little reason why reading would be a morally good act - such a view is historical, and cultural, and promoted by those who read. Your goal is not a moral one, but a practical one: to introduce new ideas, new ways of thinking, of seeing, of reading, to educate, to broaden the horizons (all things which, objectively, are...morally good!)