Literature and Lives

Chapter 1 Preview                   

From Literature and Lives: A Response-Based, Cultural Studies Approach
to Teaching Literature in High School and College
, by Allen Carey-Webb, Western Michigan University.

Chapter 1: A Course in Contemporary World Literature

"Contemporary World Literature" was not a subject that I knew much about. I had never taught the class before. I didn't have a textbook. I didn't have any prepared curriculum. Yet, in a few days streaming in to meet me in room 12C would be a rowdy group of twenty-nine high school kids. A mixed lower-track course for sophomores that weren't taking a writing class and seniors avoiding British Literature, reading levels would range from fourth grade to college.

Three years earlier I had entered the profession with an English degree and a teaching credential, but otherwise poorly prepared to deal with the students and courses for which I was responsible. My training was primarily in British literature with an emphasis on the tradition of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and the Romantic poets. In college classes we attempted to understand the unity of form and meaning in imaginative works of art and we contemplated the supposed "eternal truths" that literature revealed to us. How such literature or such truths might be understood by teenagers or significant to their lives was not a subject that, as far as I can tell, crossed the mind of my professors. Even by the restricted standards of the 1970s, my college courses were narrowly focused. The only literature by a woman writer that I was asked to read during those four years were a few short stories by Flannery O'Connor. I never encountered-in fact I wonder now if at that time I had ever heard of-any writing by American minority authors. I had never been asked to read a book published within the last fifty years or written by an author outside of the British-American tradition. In other words, I had never taken a class or even been assigned a text that might be called "world" or even "contemporary" literature.

I learned from the former World Literature teacher that copies of Old Yeller were available. I am not especially proud of the fact that to this day I haven't read Old Yeller. Maybe by the time you read this I will have remedied my ignorance. For all I know this presumably heart warming story about a boy and his dog is the ideal classroom text. At the time, however, Old Yeller seemed so far from the exciting promise of "Contemporary World Literature" that I couldn't envision handing it out.

Instead, I headed to our school's book room to see what else, if anything, I could find that was not yet reserved by another teacher-all of them senior to me. Unfortunately our ready-to-retire book room warden was convinced that the fewer books on her shelves, the less work she would have to do, and she consigned unused titles to the flames. Those that remained she was reluctant to let escape. In other words, beyond Old Yeller precious little was available. The only thing I could break away with that might possibly fit the definition of "Contemporary World Literature" was a dusty class set of Elie Wiesel's autobiography, Night. So with this book the semester began.

Those who have taught Night have some idea what my students and I were in for. Wiesel tells the story of the Jewish Holocaust from his own experience as a fourteen year-old deported to Auzchwitz and separated from his mother and sisters. Desperate to keep his father alive, Elie constantly risks his own well-being in a futile struggle that shakes his faith in God and humanity. Written in a simple and direct testimonial prose, the book allowed students of different reading abilities to enter into the discussion. Their responses and questions varied-many that I could not answer. How could this have happened? What would I have done if these things happened to me and my family? Why didn't the Jews fight back? (Did they fight back?) Are there things like this happening today that we don't know about? How could we find out? What could we do? Students were responding in an intense and personal way to a story that seemed to be far from their own experience. Moreover, their behavior was unlike that of the other "low-track" high school students I had been teaching. These students were reading ahead, doing the homework, listening to each other in class They were caring deeply about-and troubled by-what they were learning.

I tried to create a variety of ways for them to turn this interest into a fuller response. In addition to small and large group discussions, students also wrote letters to Mr. Wiesel, illustrated scenes that seemed important to them, created monologues for different characters. Several students became involved in research on various aspects of the Holocaust, trying to find answers to questions that arose in the discussion. Through their research and my own we began to find other materials that would help us enrich our understanding of Nazi racism. We read a chapter from The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich that showed how Hitler created youth movements, influenced schools, controlled the media and "Nazified" German culture. We watched a recreation (and translation into English) of one of Hitler's speeches from the video of Inside the Third Reich. (see appendix for additional materials for teaching about the holocaust). As we learned more about cultural and historical contexts, the holocaust began to seem less like an abstracted evil and more like a real event in history-it began to seem, in other words, not so distant from the present day. This sense significantly increased with the next class event.

Inspired by their interest and the impact of Night, I contacted the Holocaust Resource Center at our local synagogue. From their librarian I learned that some extermination camp survivors were still alive, living in our area. With a measure of uncertainty I phoned the number the librarian had given me and asked Diana Golden if she would be willing to speak with my class. Mrs. Golden told me that for forty years following World War II she had not spoken about her experiences, not even sharing them with her own children. Yet, because some historians had begun claiming that the holocaust had never taken place, she was determined that the truth must be told. She said she had been seventeen years old when she was taken to Auzchwitz, about the same age, she supposed, as many of my students. "Yes," she said. "I will come to your class."

Nearing seventy Mrs. Golden was confident and resolute, yet it was clearly difficult for her to talk to us, and, at times, her courageous poise gave way to tears. Rounding up, train cars, Auzchwitz in the middle of the night, selection, loss of family, desperate struggle for survival, as my students listened to Mrs. Golden speak these were no longer events in a book but something that had happened to a real person we were coming to know. They listened intently and the questions they had been asking came up again with even greater urgency. I had talked to the class about treating Mrs. Golden respectfully, therefore I felt a bit uncomfortable when, as time for questions was nearing an end, Sherrie, one of the "low achieving" sophomores, asked if she could touch the numbers that had been tattooed on Mrs. Golden's arm in the concentration camp.

In response, Mrs. Golden pulled up the sleeve of her dress and rolled over her hand to expose the inside of her forearm. First Sherrie, and then the other students, stepping tentatively out of their desks and across the room, reached out and touched the clearly visible blue numbers marked on Diana Golden's skin.

Mrs. Golden's visit to my World Literature class was an event that I believe none of us will forget. Looking back on it eighteen years later, I recognize her visit and the teaching of a holocaust unit also touched something in me that began to enlarge my vision of English teaching. Starting off Contemporary World Literature with Night, the holocaust, and Diana Golden's visit, my students and I were immersed in discussion, writing, questions, and feelings that went beyond the boundaries of English studies-at least as I, until then, had experienced it. We weren't addressing literary genres or terminology. We weren't climbing a list of great writers simply "because they were there." We weren't learning writing skills merely to satisfy the academic requirements of the competency test or the next grade level. Instead we were vitally concerned about real people in the real world, about what had happened to them, and about what these events meant to us. We were reading, writing, and learning intensely, about history, literature, culture, racism and how they intertwined. Above all, and at Sherrie's instigation, students were being touched, and touching others, in ways that I hadn't expected.

As that holocaust unit drew to a close I found myself, as usual, rushing to consider what the class would be doing next. Although I didn't understand exactly how things would be different, I realized I had a new level of intensity, involvement, and meaning to aim for. Trying to identify possible materials, I went from our school, to bookstores, and to the public library. I wanted to build on the themes and issues we had started with and hoped to extend them into a broader consideration of "Contemporary World Literature" relevant in some measure to my students and their questions about what was happening today. In the 1980s Cold War tensions were still high. Threat of nuclear war was a subtle given in our lives, something there but rarely brought to the surface. The word "holocaust" provided a link, I thought, and I came across several collections of contemporary Russian short stories. Xeroxing like mad, these became my next unit, one that allowed us to look at our "enemies" in the "Evil Empire" and discover a human face. We watched the film "Dr. Zhivago" and students did research projects on Russian life and culture. My library and book store forays also led me to read contemporary works from India and Africa in English, and from Latin America in translation. Literary works, film, essays, photographs, speakers, research, library trips, they all began piling up on each other extending our curriculum and analysis in many directions. As I feverishly sought ways to teach that could develop the kinds of human connection that were made by Night, new worlds of literature, experience, and supplementary materials were opening up.

My journey into more effective teaching included plenty of bumps and potholes, as my experience with Contemporary World Literature illustrates. In an effort to develop a more careful step-by-step scope and sequence for our students, integrate writing and reading into the same courses, and reduce tracking, our English department decided to drop its remaining elective courses in favor of a sequence of grade-level based full-year survey courses. Thus, the year after I started teaching Contemporary World Literature, the course was no longer in existence. Although individual teachers could vary what they were doing, the content in the new courses was organized by the nationally standardized textbooks with which we were provided. The new understandings and approaches generated from the Holocaust unit did not have opportunity to mature in a second draft of the course. Nonetheless, teaching Contemporary World Literature showed me ways that my teaching could center on sensitizing students to the experiences of others, help them communicate from heart and mind together, and connect them to pressing social issues.

I allowed what I was learning from Contemporary World Literature to spill over into my other classes. My department chair agreed to purchase a class set of Alan Paton's Cry the Beloved Country, and I introduced it into my British literature class. We watched movies about South Africa, read history and contemporary essays. As with Night I realized I needed to respect my student's responses and allow their questions and interest to set directions for where our discussion and reading would take us. The divestment debate (did US companies need to leave South Africa in order to fight apartheid?) was going on in congress and the class expressed an interest in the issue. Thus we read newspaper articles and magazine essays and debated what stand the United States should take on the issue. While I had an opinion, in this discussion it was important for me to hold it back, to let students explore the complexities and make up their own minds. We didn't come to a consensus on divestment, but their reading of Cry the Beloved Country was becoming all the more compelling and relevant. And, as they learned about Apartheid keeping white and black people ignorant of each other in South Africa, my suburban middle class white students began to ask about the segregation that was still evident in our community.

In a hallway closet I found an out-of-use class set of John Hersey's book, Hiroshima, and started using it in the Freshman Language Arts class along with a variety of essays, speakers and films that addressed what we could do today about the nuclear threat. As I expanded the kinds of texts that were read in my classes, addressed present day issues, and developed integrated thematic units, my teaching was moving away from a narrow emphasis on the literature I had read in high school and college. The more I strayed from the textbooks, the more risks I took, the more I found material in which the students could develop a passionate interest, the greater the excitement and relevance my courses seemed to take on-and the more my students were willing to read, write, and work.

Still I felt a reluctance to let go of traditional curriculum and approaches. My own high school experience, my undergraduate education, and the weighty and authoritative organization of the textbooks I was given made me doubt the innovations I was making. Had I strayed from what literature classes were supposed to be? Were students learning the "right stuff"? I still valued the classics, but how could I integrate the new worlds of literature I had glimpsed? What changes could I make? How far should, or could, I go? What was the content of Language Arts classes supposed to be, anyway? Who had decided and why?

Contemporary World Literature, and the experimentation I was doing in other classes, made it plain that all students, and especially those struggling in school, needed to discover that everyone, even the most persecuted or oppressed, has a voice that can and should be heard and respected. I saw that for the white and relatively affluent American young people in my upper-track courses, comparing and contrasting their experiences with people different from themselves was a revelation. Somehow the media and the insulation of their suburban community lead many to believe that their experience was "normal," that everyone else in the world was either like them-or wanted to be like them. Although it was preliminary and haphazard, Contemporary World Literature also convinced me of the value of focusing on the content of literature and of carefully linking materials together in historically meaningful ways, ways that would generate student interest and make possible a wide variety of responses. This approach helped me better connect reading, writing, and speaking. It helped me make my teaching simultaneously relevant to issues in the contemporary world and respectful of my student's independent and critical thinking.

Although at the time I didn't have a name for the kind of teaching I was beginning to do, today I would call it a form of "response-based cultural studies," one that draws on both the "Reader Response" work pioneered many years ago by Louise Rosenblatt and the new and emerging "Cultural Studies" approaches rapidly impacting literature and cultural study around the world. If my first experiments with response-based cultural studies were almost lucky accidents, as I have learned more about literary theory and history, Reader Response and Cultural Studies have increasingly come to provide for me a theoretical framework and a research base for careful thinking about English teaching, both the way I had been trained and the teaching I am trying to do. [For summaries of each approach see the shaded boxes.]

Reader Response

Although they may not recognize themselves as enacting a literary theory, teachers who encourage students to develop and explore their personal responses to literature are putting the "Reader Response" theory into practice. Rather than lecture, recitation, or the discovery of some predetermined meaning, Reader Response teachers favor small and large group discussions, literature circles, creative writing, dramatic and artistic activities that help students actively engage with what they read and express their individual response and understanding. Just the kind of activities my students became involved in with Night. First set forward as a coherent theory of reading by Louise Rosenblatt in a now famous book Literature as Exploration (1938), Reader Response emphasizes that the way a work of literature is understood depends the interaction between reader and text and the presumably unique personal meaning that readers create for themselves.

Because this approach respects student reactions and insights and focuses on the interactive process of their learning, Reader Response is an important theory for teachers to know about. Rosenblatt herself emphasized teaching contemporary literature more likely to engage student interest and passion. She also understood that the more Reader Response teachers can draw student experiences into the classroom-the more self-aware students become-the better readers they are likely to be. As a movement for the reform of English teaching, Reader Response has helped teachers move away from telling students what to think or herd them all to the same "correct" interpretation.

At the same time, however, an exclusively Reader Response approach does have limitations. Rosenblatt's followers have tended to romanticize both the effect of literature and the individual uniqueness of student response. Because of the focus on reader rather than text, Reader Response tends not to be very helpful when it comes to thinking about content for English courses, about how we choose between "great" works, about why we might prefer the literary canon to popular texts or vice versa. Indeed, some Reader Response based classrooms, such as the one described by Nancy Atwell in her fabulous book In the Middle, focus entirely on students as independent readers with no common texts for analysis and discussion. By itself a knowledge of Reader Response theory would not have provided answers to the questions I was having about curriculum after teaching Contemporary World Literature. Reader Response doesn't facilitate our thinking about how we define "cultural literacy," about how and why we should select literature for study, nor what "literature" even is and how our definitions have changed over time. Yet, as Reader Response takes us into the interaction between reader and text it opens the door to a variety of approaches that further and more compellingly elaborate the connection between literature and lives.

Cultural Studies

The very limitations of Reader Response are precisely the strengths of a Cultural Studies approach. Cultural Studies emphasizes the integration of literary works, even the most canonical, with the whole range of cultural expression. In the classroom Cultural Studies calls for up-to-date and engaging thematic curriculums where culture, social structures, and historical circumstances are explored side-by-side with a particular emphasis on how those issues touch real people in the present day. While it draws on the insights and interests of "multiculturalism," Cultural Studies is both broader in its inclusion of issues of social class, women's studies, and popular culture and more critical in its emphasis on social change. Thus the Cultural Studies movement explores not only the high literary culture that has been the traditional domain of English teaching, but also the lives of people whose voice, perspectives and experience are seen as the very stuff of which culture is made. As I have come to learn about Cultural Studies, I began to realize that I had already started doing it in Contemporary World Literature and my other courses.

In exploring a particular issue or theme a Cultural Studies approach might involve a close and careful reading of one or more literary works, along with studying a television program, doing library research, and reading prose essays. Research papers can be combined with literary analysis, personal reflection, and argumentation. A Cultural Studies approach might lead us to compare traditional canonical authors with contemporary popular materials, including the mass media. Cultural studies invites a wide variety of new and potentially invigorating writing into teaching, such as interviews, ethnography, testimonial, surveys, film and media analysis. It urges us to be self-reflective but not cavalier about the disciplines we work in. While mixing genres and crossing disciplinary boundaries Cultural Studies spur us to also consider how the establishment of genres and disciplines has functioned historically.

Cultural Studies fosters critical thinking and activism as it wrestles with how we see ourselves and others in the process of understanding and acting in society. The perspective of "marginal" groups such as women, ethnic minorities, working class people are important in Cultural Studies. Valuable in themselves, they also help us better understand dominant ways of seeing. Thus Cultural Studies is interested in ethical, moral, and social questions. Emerging from British social theory, studies of American popular culture (such as television and film), and new forms of literary scholarship (multicultural, gender studies, third world studies, etc.), Cultural Studies is increasing shaping the university level study of literature, generating academic conferences, publications, and new ways of thinking about the job of English teaching. Cultural Studies serves as an umbrella category inclusive of many of the new theories and approaches we will examine in this book.

Yet, Cultural Studies also needs Reader Response if it is to avoid the danger of "political correctness"-when teachers dictate, legislate, or otherwise pressure students to hold particular opinions without respecting their own insights, experiences, ideas and perspectives. As we further explore the concept of Cultural Studies in subsequent chapters, I hope to show that bringing Reader Response and Cultural Studies approaches together offers exciting possibilities for the Language Arts teaching of the future.

Many teachers have already begun to integrate Reader Response and Cultural Studies approaches. I have found that an understanding of response-base cultural studies has enhanced my sensitivity and openness to students, increased my range of freedom and choice, and inspired me to become a more aware and braver teacher. It has helped me carefully and systematically build on the kind of teaching I began in the holocaust unit only by a stroke of luck. Those of us who have been teaching for any length of time have seen dramatic changes inspired by the new research in composition studies and the widespread integration of a writing process approach. The implications of a response-based cultural studies for English teaching are, perhaps, even more significant.

A couple of years after teaching Contemporary World Literature I had a conversation with a stranger that led me to take the next step on my journey toward integrating these new approaches into the world of my students.


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