The "best" way to learn a foreign language?

Well, quite by accident, I've been running an experiment over the past five years to determine the best way to learn a foreign language.

Note:  I used the word "foreign" on purpose.  This is for languages that aren't part of your language environment, and therefore aren't really second languages and aren't supported in any way, shape or form by informal learning in the community.

And I should probably also clarify that this is for adult learners, as children have access to language learning approaches (such as regular, relatively easy classes, being an exchange student and going on camps).

I've done:

• the thing where you buy a commercial teach-yourself package with books and CDs, and try to teach yourself.
• the thing where you hire a private tutor and have regular one-on-one classes.
• the thing where you attend a two hour evening class once a week for ten weeks.
• the thing where you have two-week intensive classes in the country where they speak that language.
• the thing where you do a proper university degree via distance education.

I haven't done:

• the thing where you have a two week intensive course in your own country (but I'm thinking of doing that)
• the thing where you study a proper university degree and turn up to on-campus classes (but I wish I'd done that).

And, having done all of this, I sat down the other day and thought about what had given me the best results, and what I should do if I want to actually move forward with this whole language learning thing.

And then I realised that the advice I was about to give myself is actually my answer to "what is the best way to learn a foreign language?"

My answer:

• Buy yourself a good textbook package - like you would be using if you were doing a proper university course - and also buy yourself a good teach-yourself package that's a little less intense.  Then,
• Hire yourself a private tutor who can help you work through both books, provide correction and feedback, give you someone to interact with in your target language and keep you on track.  Then,
• After you've covered the basics with your books and tutor, take some short courses every now and then to give you the benefit of a classroom.  A short course in a place where your target language is actually spoken outside of class is a magical thing for locking in the things you've learnt with your books and tutors. And,
• Above all, do homework.  There are activities in those books you paid a fortune for.  If you actually did them, you would be better off than if you just read over them

I struggle with the last point, myself.  I try to power through and cover the information, and forget that there is a real benefit to actually applying it to an exercise.  Taking the time to think about the question and trying to write (or speak) and answer is probably the most useful thing I'm not doing at the moment.

So, this is what I'm going to try to do with my two target languages this year (and next).  Textbooks, tutors and short courses, with a touch more self-discipline in the homework stakes.

I was going to try to spend some quality time in Austria the next time I went to Europe, and I'd say a language intensive is on the cards.  I'll have to see if I can squeeze another one in Estonia in at the same time...

Why learn Esperanto?

Sometime over the course of the past year, I've shifted from learning about Esperanto to learning Esperanto.

I'm doing it very slowly (which is ironic, seeing as one of the "selling points" of Esperanto is that it's quick to learn), but then I'm really only giving it five minutes a day and an extra 20-30 minutes a week.  In that light, it's actually a testament to the facileco of the language that I've picked up as much as I have.

One of the things you notice most when you start looking at Esperanto, is how often the question "why" tends to turn up.  It seems as if everyone struggles with understanding the point of it.  I did, initially, before I was won over.  It seems people who don't understand what Esperanto actually is are constantly asking why anyone would learn such a thing, while those who are learning Esperanto are constantly trying to give other people a good reason for it.

When I mention to others that I'm learning Esperanto, most people (if they've heard of it) ask me why - as in "why bother?" or "what's the point?" or "where will you use it?"

Well, to quote a character from Tashi:  "It doesn't matter!  You always ask the wrong questions!"

To be perfectly, strictly, completely honest, I'm learning Esperanto for the same reason one might take up quilting, amateur astronomy or chess.  I secretly suspect a lot of other Esperantists have taken it up for the same reason.

It's a hobby.  An amusement.  A diversion.  A chance to enjoy myself by engaging in something that pleases me.

Like quilting, I'm playing with pieces and patterns (only of words, rather than material), and as I learn more I can put the pieces together in the patterns in a way I find intellectually and creatively stimulating.

Like amateur astronomy I'm exploring part of the universe through a particular lens - picking up enough of a science I find fascinating (in this case, linguistics) to make new discoveries about the way it all works while keeping it light and fun.

As as for chess?

Well, chess is probably the best analogy for Esperanto I can think of.

When someone takes up chess, you don't ask "why" - the answer is incredibly obvious:  you take up chess in order to play chess.  And nobody asks you who you will play chess with, because that answer is also obvious:  You play chess with other chess players.

Why learn Esperanto?  Well, duh - you learn Esperanto to speak Esperanto.  Who will you speak with?  Other Esperanto speakers.  It's not rocket science.

And, just like taking up any other hobby, it opens up the world in a way that you'd never notice or appreciate unless you gave it a try yourself.

You can find a greater purpose or a more noble reason if you want to go looking for it - but you don't need it.  Esperanto is it's own reward.

Structure of a Paper

I found this in my notes from when I was doing the Graduate Diploma of Education (Tertiary Teaching).  It's the basic structure of a paper (for a journal).  I thought it was worth keeping - but it's also worth sharing.

These sorts of visual structures are gold, when you have never written something before, and you are trying to work out what it should look like:

Structure of a Paper

1. Set the scene
2. Present the Question/Problem your paper will address
3. Literature Review
4. Method
1. participants
2. data collection
3. data analysis
5. Present the Findings
6. Discussion (tying the findings to the literature review)
7. Conclusion.

Oh, and here's some heads-up about  one of the core differences between writing an essay for a journal and writing one for an assignment:

In a journal article, it is perfectly acceptable to talk about the fact that you are writing a paper.  You can use things like "we did X and we thought it would generate Y but it produced Z instead" and "this paper will explore the effect A has on B in the context of C".  However, you should try to stay as objective and neutral as you can - try to keep things general and professional, and avoid personal comments as much as possible.  The more scientific your article, the less "okay" it is to use personal pronouns (you still avoid contractions and colloquialisms, regardless of what you are writing).

In an academic essay, you avoid mentioning yourself (don't use personal pronouns) or drawing attention to the fact that you are writing an essay (although some lecturers will want the "this essay will" statement in the introduction, many consider it poor writing - find out what the person marking your essay expects).

You learn to read by reading, you learn to write by...

Reading.

It is, apparently, the key to everything (well, in terms of literacy, at least).

The latest issue of English Journal came the other day, and my old friend* Stephen Krashen had contributed an article.¹

Krashen's early articles were all about various language learning hypotheses, but these days he mainly writes articles that can be easily summarised by one phrase:

"Just read more books, dammit!"

His greatest and most oft cited Hypothesis was that language learners (First or Second) need language Input** - preferably input they can understand.  It seems such a simple concept, but it was quite radical in the day and still seems to slip the grasp of a lot of people involved in Education.

The idea was (and Krashen was one of the folk instrumental in promoting this) that if you want to improve your reading ability, you should read more texts and you should read more often.

This was tied into the idea that you learn to read by reading, you learn to write by writing, you learn to listen by listening and you learn to speak by speaking.

In this latest article, Krashen points out that there's research that indicates one part of that equation is a bit wrong:  you don't really learn to write by writing.  You improve your writing skills by reading more.

Writing, without corrective feedback, doesn't really do it (thank you, Stephen - I've felt this myself throughout my somewhat fruitless years studying German, but it's so nice to see it written in a citable article).

On the other hand, the more you read the more your brain absorbs how the written language works and what it should look like.

This is something I (and my colleagues) have often recommended to students as a way to improve the academic standard of their writing - that if you want to write well, you should read well written works.  It's interesting to realise it applies to writing skills across the board.

Krashen's article was, however, not actually about learning to write by reading - this was just something he was talking about (again) in order to add extra weight to the main crux of his article:  kids need more books far more than they need more tests.

The American government is busy trying to quantify education, by making things standardised and tested to the Nth degree.  Here in Australia, we're trying to do the same thing (although, it must be said, we are doing it rather badly).  Krashen would rather the powers that be put the money that would be spent on making and administering tests towards public and school libraries and better health care.

His theory is that poor literacy rates are directly related to high child poverty rates, and that you can't test poor children into becoming literate - you have to make sure they are fed, first, and then it's a good idea to give them something to read.

It's such a strangely simple yet profound idea.  So simple that any idiot paying the slightest bit of attention could probably come up with it.  So profound that it would never occur to anyone with the power to make it happen.

Go to the poorest neighbourhoods and invest heavily in local and school libraries, and make sure every kid has access to a decent breakfast and some books to read.  See what happens to literacy rates then.

What I'd like to add to this equation, though, is model readers.  It's not quite enough giving the kid a book and saying "go forth, young child, and read!"  It would be much better if they also had access to people who love books, and love to read them to kids.

Which is where Dolly Parton comes in: http://imaginationlibrary.com/

If you want kids to be more literate, start by a) giving them something to read and b) looking at what's going in in their lives that might stop them from reading.

It's not rocket science, but it's not happening.


Notes:
* Stephen Krashen is not actually my friend - I've never met the man.  I've just seen his name turn up a lot in my research.
** The Input Hypothesis.

References:

1. Krashen S. Access to books and time to read versus the common core state standards and tests. English Journal. 2013;103(2):21–29.

(You can read the article here, at Krashen's web site: http://www.sdkrashen.com/content/articles/access_to_books_and_times_to_read_versus_the_common_core.pdf)

License Plates

From the abstract for an article in the latest edition of Language Problems and Language Planning:

Since the 1990s, language-planning interventions have changed the alphabet on car number-plates in Cyprus three times, while a fourth change is expected to take place in line with the parliamentary decision of 2010.¹

I've not read the whole article, but the point it raises is that language planning can touch people's lives on a very practical level - showing that having a concept of ideologies of languages and language identity is a very important thing for government bodies at all levels to have.

1. Karoulla-Vrikki D. Which alphabet on car number-plates in Cyprus?: An issue of language planning, ideology and identity. Language Problems & Language Planning. 2013;37(3):249-270. doi:10.1075/lplp.37.3.03kar

What's in a format (or, paper is better)

I've recently purchased a Wii (yes, just in time for Nintendo to stop making them).  I've been thinking about exploring the world of games, and thought I'd jump in at the cheap end to work out if it suits me before laying out serious money for the latest toys.

As it seemed appropriate, when buying a Nintendo console, the first two games I've tried have been "classic" Nintendo franchises:  Mario Kart and Zelda.  May as well.

Mario Kart was a bit boring, I have to say (although, I'm probably not playing it properly, and I expect it would be more fun if I was racing against a real-live person, rather than the machine), but I've been enjoying Zelda.  It's quite supportive for a noob like me - giving me two entire tasks to complete just to get used to using the game before sending me off on the "serious" quest.  Although I did just spend an hour chasing a floating house around with a clay jar, and I still haven't figured out how to throw the dang thing in order to hit the bell, so that was annoying.

I've always suspected the story-based games would be a bucket of fun, and I think I might be right.  But I'm suddenly aware of one big, honking way in which honest-to-goodness paper-based products like books and board-games are better than video games.

You see, I'm enjoying this Zelda game, but it didn't occur to me that I wouldn't be able to play the other games in the series.  Zelda has been around for 25 years, and part of me always assumed I'd be able to play the other games like The Wind Waker or Ocarina of Time one day, when I felt like it.  But now I know that those games were only designed to work on particular consoles.

It doesn't matter that they were Nintendo games, and I'm using a Nintendo system.  Unless I have either a GameBoy or a WiiU, I can't play Wind Waker, and unless I have a Nintendo 64, I can't play Ocarina of Time.

You don't have that problem with books.  If you discover one of the later Dragons of Pern books, Miss Marple mysteries, Jack Reacher thrillers,or something like that, and you want to read the earlier books in the series, you can!

The thing about paper is that it's version free - and completely platform neutral.  If I buy a deck of cards in Switzerland, I can still play with them on my Australian table.  If I find a board game from thirty years ago, I can just open the box and play it.

I don't think the makers of video/computer games have really thought through the longevity issue.  Surely I'm not the only person who has just started playing games and wants to be able to find and play the "classic" games without waiting for a re-issue (which will, no doubt, be formatted for *another* console I don't have).

Paper.  Still No.1.

Flipping

Yes, it's the latest buzzy thing.  Let's flip the classroom, so that the "content" is perused by students at home, and "homework" is done in the classroom.

The boring bits that don't actually need anyone to be in the same room at the same time are covered asynchronously.  When everyone is actually together, we focus on collaboration and support.

I love this idea.  I really, really love this idea.

But the "flipped classroom" has one giant, impossible-to-miss flaw:  the assumption that students actually do stuff ahead of going to class.

Students rarely do things like that.  Most of the students I know do their class readings in fits and spurts as their assignments loom into view.  If they manage to comfortably survive their tutorials without doing the readings, they may even give those readings a miss altogether.  There's some "class preparation" work that is probably never done.

And when it comes to watching things online at home, I think their priorities are elsewhere.  The idea that some 20-year-old kid (or, worse, some 13-year-old kid) is going to spend their valuable Youtube watching time watching teaching content?

Pull the other one.

The thing about scheduled class time is that it's the one time people set aside in their day to actually attend to class stuff.  Making the average lazy student responsible for finding the time for class content doesn't strike me as a "good and useful thing".

Will it work?  Can it work?  Is it more than just a passing phase?

I hope so.

I really, really like this idea.