Language Learning and Teaching

Controlled processes are "capacity limited and temporary," and automatic processes are a relatively permanent" (McLaughlin et al. 1983:142). We can think of controlled processing as typical of anyone learning a brand new skill in which only a very few elements of the skill can be retained.

     When you first learn to play tennis, for example, you can only manage the elements of, say, making contact between ball and racquet, getting the ball over the net, and hitting the ball into the green space on the other side of the net. Everything else about the game is far too complex for your capacity-limited ability. 

Table 10.1.  Possible second language performance as a function of information-processing procedures and attention to formal properties of language (McLaughlin et al. 1983) 

   Automatic processes, on the other hand, refer to processing in a more accomplished skill, where the "hard drive" (to borrow a computer metaphor) of your brain can manage hundreds and thousands of bits of information simultaneously. The automatizing of this multiplicity of data is accomplished by a process of restructuring (McLeod & McLaughlin 1986; Mclaughlin 1987, 1990b) in which "the components of a task are coordinated, integrated, or reorganized into new units, thereby allowing the ... old components to be replaced by a more efficient procedure" (McLaughlin 1990b: 118). Restructuring is conceptually synonymous with Ausubel's construct of subsumption discussed in Chapter 4.

   Both ends of this continuum of processing can occur with either focal or peripheral attention to the task at hand; that is, focusing attention either centrally or simply on the periphery. It is easy to fall into the temptation of thinking of focal attention as "conscious" attention, but such a pitfall must be avoided. Both focal and peripheral attention to some task may be quite conscious (Hulstijn 1990). When you are driving a car, for example, your focal attention may center on cars directly in front of you as you move forward; but your peripheral attention to cars beside you and behind you, to potential hazards, and of course to the other thoughts "running through your mind," is all very much within your conscious awareness.

   While many controlled processes are focal, some, like child first language learning or the learning of skills without any instruction, can be peripheral. Similarly, many automatic processes are peripheral, but some can be focal, as in the case of an accomplished pianist performing in a concert or an experienced driver paying particular attention to the road on a foggy night. It is very important to note that in virtually every act of performing something, focal and peripheral attention actually occur simultaneously, and the question is: What, specifically, occupies a person's focal and peripheral attention? So, for example, a very young child who says to a parent "Nobody don't like me" is undoubtedly focally attending to conveying emotion, mental anguish, or loneliness, and peripherally attending to words and morphemes that underlie the central meaning. Other factors that garner attention somewhere in between centrally focal and extremely peripheral may be reading the parent's facial features, mental recall of an uncomfortable incident of rejection, awareness of a sibling overhearing the communication, and even such peripheral nonlinguistic, noncognitive factors as the temperature in the room at the moment, a light in the background, the smell of dinner cooking, or the warmth of the parent's arms enfolding the child. All of these perceptions, from highly focal to very peripheral, are within the awareness of the child. McLaughlin (1990a) noted that the literature in experimental psychology indicates that there is no long-term learning (of new material) without awareness, an observation well documented by Loew (1997) and Schmidt (1990) for second language learning in particular. A cognitive perspective of SLA entirely obviates the need to distinguish conscious and subconscious processing.

How does McLaughlin's model apply to practical aspects of learning a second language? I have attempted to "demystify" some of the rather complex constructs of the attention-processing model in Table 10.2. It is important to note that these cells are described in terms of one's processing of and attention to language forms (grammatical, phonological, discourse rules and categories, lexical choices, etc.). If, for example, peripheral attention is given to language forms in a more advanced language classroom, focal attention is no doubt being given to meaning, function, purpose, or person. Child second language learning may consist almost exclusively of peripheral (cells С and D) attention to language forms. Most adult second language learning of language forms in the classroom involves a movement from cell A through a combination of С and B, to D (DeKeyser 1997). Peripheral, automatic attention-processing of the bits and pieces of language is thus an ultimate communicative goal for language learners.

Table 10.2.  Practical applications of McLaughlin's attention-processing model 

Implicit and Explicit Models

Another set of constructs for conceptualizing the varied processes of second language learning is found in models that make a distinction between explicit and implicit linguistic knowledge. In the explicit category are the facts that a person knows about language and the ability to articulate those facts in some way. Explicit processing differs from McLaughlin's focal attention in that explicit signals one's knowledge about language. Implicit knowledge is information that is automatically and spontaneously used in language tasks. Children implicitly learn phonological, syntactic, semantic, and pragmatic rules for language, but do not have access to an explanation, explicitly, of those rules. Implicit processes enable a learner to perform language but not necessarily to cite rules governing the performance.

Among those who have proposed models of SLA using the implicit/explicit distinction are Ellen Bialystok (1978, 1982, 1990a), Rod Ellis (1994a, 1997), and Nick Ellis (1994a). Bialystok's (1978) diagrammatic conception of SLA (see Figure 10.2) featured a flow chart showing implicit and explicit processing as central to the total act of learning a second language.  Bialystok later (1982: 183) equated implicit and explicit with the synonymous terms unanalyzed and analyzed knowledge: "Unanalyzed knowledge is the general form in which we know most things without being aware of the structure of that knowledge"; on the other hand, learners are overtly aware of the structure of analyzed knowledge. For example, at the unanalyzed extreme of this knowledge dimension, learners have little awareness of language rules, but at the analyzed end, learners can verbalize complex rules governing language.

Figure 10.2 Model of second language learning (adapted from Bialystok 1978:71) 

     These same models feature a distinction between automatic and non-automatic processing, building on Mclaughlin's conception of auto-maticity. Automaticity refers to the learner's relative access to the knowledge. Knowledge that can be retrieved easily and quickly is automatic. Knowledge that takes time and effort to retrieve is non-automatic. As was true for the McLaughlin model, both forms of attention can be either analyzed or unanalyzed. An important dimension of this distinction is time. Processing time is a significant factor in second language performance, one that has pedagogical salience in the classroom. The length of time that a learner takes before oral production performance, for example, can be indicative of the perceived complexity of certain language forms in a task. Mehnert (1998) found that planning time had a significant effect on the accuracy and fluency of second language learners' production.

     The constructs of automaticity/nonautomaticity and of explicit/implicit knowledge have drawn the attention of numerous researchers over the past decade or so. On the one hand, arguments were raised about the identification of just what we mean by implicit and explicit (Hulstijn 1990; Robinson 1994, 1995, 1997), and responses offered (see Bialystok 1990b, for example). On the other hand, some useful applications have emerged in Rod Ellis's (1994,1997:107-133; Han & Ellis 1998) proposals of a theory of classroom instruction using implicit/explicit continua. Here, we are given some suggestions for grammar consciousness raising, for example, in which some explicit attention to language form is blended with implicit communicative tasks.

A SOCIAL CONSTRUCTIVIST MODEL: LONG’S INTERACTION HYPOTHESIS

The preceding two general theoretical positions, Krashen's Input Hypothesis and the cognitive models of SLA, both focus to a considerable extent on the learner. As such, they represent what Firth and Wagner (1997: 288) called "SLA's general preoccupation with the learner, at the expense of other potentially relevant social identities." The social con-structivist perspectives that are associated with more current approaches to both first and second language acquisition emphasize the dynamic nature of the interplay between learners and their peers and their teachers and others with whom they interact. The interpersonal context in which a learner operates takes on great significance, and therefore, the interaction between learners and others is the focus of observation and explanation.

   One of the most widely discussed social constructivist positions in the field emerged from the work of Michael Long (1985, 1996). Taking up where in a sense Krashen left off, Long posits, in what has come to be called the interaction hypothesis, that comprehensible input is the result of modified interaction. The latter is defined as the various modifications that native speakers and other interlocutors create in order to render their input comprehensible to learners. As we saw in Chapter 2, in first language contexts parents modify their speech to children (Mother to baby:"Mommy go bye bye now"). Native speakers often slow down speech to second language learners, speaking more deliberately. Modifications also include comprehension checks: "Go down to the subway—do you know the word 'subway'?"; clarification/repair requests: "Did you say'to the right'?"; or paraphrases: "I went to a New Year's Eve party, you know, January 1st, I mean, December 31st, the night before the first day of the new year."

   In Long's view, interaction and input are two major players in the process of acquisition. In a radical departure from an old paradigm in which second language classrooms might have been seen as contexts for "practicing" grammatical structures and other language forms, conversation and other interactive communication are, according to Long, the basis for the development of linguistic rules. While Gass and Varonis (1994) ably pointed out that such a view is not subscribed to by all, nevertheless a number of studies have supported the link between interaction and acquisition (Swain & Lapkin 1998; Gass, Mackey, & Pica 1998; van Lier 1996; Jordens 1996; Loschky 1994; Gass & Varonis 1994; Pica 1987). In a strong endorsement of the power of interaction in the language curriculum, van Lier (1996: 188) devoted a whole book to "the curriculum as interaction." Here, principles of awareness, autonomy, and authenticity lead the learner into Vygotsky's (1978) zone of proximal development (ZPD) (see Chapter 2), where learners construct the new language through socially mediated interaction.

     Lest you assume that this genre of research and teaching possesses unquestionably final answers to dilemmas of how best to teach and learn second languages, a word of precaution is in order. Interactionist research has just begun, and it has begun mostly in the context of Western cultural settings. The studies that are so far available are fragmentary with regard to pinpointing specific linguistic features, stages of learner development, pragmatic contexts, and pedagogical settings. And, as always, one side of the second language mountain of research must be compared with other perspectives. A broadly based theory of SLA must encompass models of learner-internal processing (such as those previously discussed) as well as the socially constructed dynamics of interpersonal communication. (Sec Table 10.3 for a summary of the previously discussed perspectives.)

   The other side of the story is that Long's Interaction Hypothesis has pushed pedagogical research on SLA into a new frontier. It centers us on the language classroom not just as a place where learners of varying abilities and styles and backgrounds mingle, but as a place where the contexts for interaction are carefully designed. It focuses materials and curriculum developers on creating the optimal environments and tasks for input and interaction such that the learner will be stimulated to create his or her own learner language in a socially constructed process. Further, it reminds us that the many variables at work in an interactive classroom should prime teachers to expect the unexpected and to anticipate the novel creations of learners engaged in the process of discovery.

FROM THEORY TO PRACTICE

The field of second language learning and teaching has for many decades now been plagued by debates about the relationship between theory and practice. People might say, "Well, how do I apply so-and-so's theory in my classroom?" Or, as Krashen (1983:261) once said, "When we [Krashen] provide theory, we provide them [teachers] with the underlying rationale for methodology in general." Typically, theories are constructed by professors and researchers who spend lots of time hypothesizing, describing, measuring, and concluding things about learners and learning. Just as typically, practitioners are thought of as teachers who are out there in classrooms every day stimulating, encouraging, observing, and assessing real-live learners.

Table 10.3. Theories and models of SLA 

   The last century of language teaching history, operating within this theory-practice, researcher-teacher dichotomy, has not been completely devoid of dialog between the two sides. The cycles that are represented in the In the Classroom vignettes throughout this book were the result of the interplay between in-class practice and beyond-class research. We moved in and out of paradigms (Kuhn 1970) as inadequacies of the old ways of doing things were replaced by better ways. These trends in language teaching were partly the result of teachers and researchers communicating with each other. As pedagogical approaches and techniques were conceived and developed, essential data were provided for the stimulation of research, which in turn suggested more effective ways of teaching and learning, and the interdependent cycle continued.

   These historical mileposts notwithstanding, the custom of leaving theory to researchers and practice to teachers has become, in Clarke's (1994) words, "dysfunctional." The unnecessary stratification of laborers in the same vineyard, a dysfunction that has been perpetuated by both sides, has accorded higher status to a researcher/theorist than to a practitioner/teacher. The latter is made to feel that he or she is the recipient of the former's findings and prognostications, with little to offer in return. What is becoming clearer in this profession now is the importance of viewing the process of language instruction as a cooperative dialog among many technicians, each endowed with special skills. Technicians' skills vary widely: program developing, textbook writing, observing, measuring variables of acquisition, teacher educating, synthesizing others' findings, in-class facilitating, designing experiments, assessing, applying technology to teaching, counseling, and the list goes on. There is no set of technical skills here that gets uniquely commissioned to create theory or another set allocated to "practicing" something.

   We are all practitioners and we are all theorists. We are all charged with developing a broadly based conceptualization of the process of language learning and teaching. We are all responsible for understanding as much as we can how to create contexts for optimal acquisition among learners. Whenever that understanding calls for putting together diverse bits and pieces of knowledge, you are doing some theory building. Lets say you have some thoughts about the relevance of age factors, cognitive style variations, intercultural communication, and strategic competence to a set of learners and tasks; then you are constructing theory. Or, if you have observed some learners in classrooms and you discern common threads of process among them, you have created a theory. And whenever you, in the role of a teacher, ask pertinent questions about SLA, you are beginning the process of research that can lead to a theoretical statement.

So, the ages-old theory-practice debate can be put aside. Instead, all technicians in the various subfields of SLA are called upon to assume the responsibility for synthesizing the myriad findings and claims and hypotheses—and, yes, the would-be theories—into a coherent understanding of what SLA is and how learners can be successful in fulfilling their classroom goals. This means you, perhaps as a novice in this field, can indeed formulate an integrated understanding of SLA. You can take the information that has been presented in this book and create a rationale for language teaching. In due course of time, as you engage in professional discourse with your teammates in the field, you will be a part of a community of theory builders that talk with each other in pursuit of a better theory.

How do you begin to join this community of theory builders? Here are some suggestions: 

1. Play both the believing game and the doubting game.

Throughout this book, we have seen that truth is neither unitary nor unidimensional. We have seen that definitions and extended definitions are never simple. Just as a photographer captures many facets of the same mountain by circling around it, truth presents itself to us in many forms, and sometimes those forms seem to conflict.

This elusive nature of truth was addressed by Peter Elbow (1973), who noted that most scholarly traditions are too myopically involved in what he called the "doubting game" of truth-seeking: trying to find something wrong with someone's claim or hypothesis. The doubting game is seen, incorrectly, as rigorous, disciplined, rational, and tough-minded. But Elbow contended that we need to turn such conceptions upside down, to look at the other end of the continuum and recognize the importance of what he called the "believing game." In the believing game you try to find truths, not errors; you make acts of self-insertion and self-involvement, not self-extrication. "It helps to think of it as trying to get inside the head of someone who saw things this way. Perhaps even constructing such a person for yourself. Try to have the experience of someone who made this assertion" (Elbow 1973' 149). Elbow was careful to note the interdependence of the believing game and the doubting game. "The two games are interdependent. . . .The two games are only halves of a full cycle of thinking" (p. 190).