The Principles of Language-Study

by Harold E. Palmer

CHAPTER VII
INITIAL PREPARATION

In the first chapter we have seen that each of us, child or adult, possesses in either an active or a latent state certain capacities for the spontaneous assimilation of the spoken and colloquial form of any given language, native or foreign. In the case of the young child, these capacities are in an active state and at his immediate service, he does not require to be trained in their use; in the case of the average adult, these capacities are in a latent state, they have fallen into disuse, they are not at his immediate service, he must train himself to use them, he must learn how to learn.

In the first place, he must realize that language-learning (within the scope of our definition) is an art and not a science; to become proficient in an art is to acquire the capacity for doing something; to become proficient in a science is to acquire knowledge concerning something. So long as the student treats language-study as a science he will make little or no progress in the art of using language.

Now, there are two possible ways of acquiring proficiency in an art; the one consists in applying theory, the other consists in persistent efforts to imitate the successful performances of others. Let us say that the student wishes to use the French equivalent of ‘she went.’ By the method of theory he will remember that past actions are generally expressed by the French passé indéfini (or perfect); he will then remember that this tense is formed by means of one of the two auxiliaries plus the past participle. His knowledge of theory will tell him to derive from the infinitive aller the past participle allé; theory will also tell him that this particular verb requires the auxiliary être and not avoir, and that the present tense third person singular of être is est. If he is writing the sentence, he must remember that the participle must in this case agree with the subject and be spelt allée.

By the method of practice he will merely reproduce by imitation the sentence elle est allée, which sentence he will have had occasions of learning or of reading. In both cases there is the possibility of error; the theory may be imperfectly known and one or more links in the chain of reasoning may be weak, or the sentence may have been badly memorized.

First attempts at imitation are sometimes inaccurate; our initial attempts at reproducing are occasionally unsuccessful; we wish to produce a foreign sound we have just heard, but utter a native sound instead; we wish to produce a foreign sentence, but construct it wrongly; we wish to express a certain thought, and fail to hit upon the right word. For this reason the method of practice is often termed the method of trial and error. We are told that some of our efforts will be successful and others unsuccessful, and that in the course of practice we shall gradually eliminate the unsuccessful ones. We are even told that it is only by making mistakes that we learn not to make them. Although we may admit a modicum of truth in this somewhat hyperbolical dictum, we would suggest that it is liable to misinterpretation. Nor is the term trial and error an ideal one from the language-teacher’s point of view.

In both cases there is an implication that all successful attempts must necessarily be preceded by unsuccessful ones, which is not only untrue but unsound pedagogy. The literal interpretation of the term and doctrine may induce a sort of fatalistic attitude, and the principle of accuracy (which we shall deal with later) will suffer in consequence. It may provide teacher and student with an easy pretext to condone careless work. The student may say, “Since it appears that error must precede perfection, I will not unduly strive towards accuracy.” The teacher may say, “Since psychologists tell us that error is inevitable, I will allow my pupil to do inaccurate work.”

It may be true that some forms of inaccuracy in certain conditions tend to eliminate themselves in the course of time and practice, but it is certainly true that errors also tend to become habitual, and no psychologist has ever maintained that the forming of bad habits is a necessary step towards the acquisition of good ones. We would lay stress on this point, for there seems to be a real danger in the misapplication of such terms as ‘trial and error,’ ‘the selection of the successful and the rejection of the unsuccessful efforts,’ ‘practice makes perfect,’ etc. Misunderstanding on this point has caused many teachers to encourage, and many students to acquire, pidgin-speech, and to consider it as the inevitable or even indispensable prelude to normal speech.

In the present chapter we are inquiring what are the processes of nature and how we may train the student to observe them. We have just seen that there is a method of theory and a method of practice; it is fairly evident that the latter is a natural process and that the former is not. We will now proceed to set forth another pair of rival processes and determine which is the one followed by the natural language-teaching forces.

When we are young we form new habits with facility; a new sort of work has to be performed, and we proceed to acquire the new habit which will enable us to perform it. When we are older we form new habits with greater difficulty and certainly with greater reluctance. We make all sorts of efforts (generally unconsciously) to avoid forming a new habit, for in some respects the adult seems to dread novelty.