The Principles of Language-Study

by Harold E. Palmer

Adult students in general dislike forming new habits and avoid such work as far as possible; they seek to replace it by forms of study requiring discrimination and other processes of the intellect. One reason for this is that habit-forming often entails monotonous work, whereas the other types of work are more or less interesting; another reason is that the forming of a habit seems a slow process; so many repetitions are required and progress is not at once apparent, whereas the other form of work has all the appearance of rapidity. We know, however, that in reality what we have learnt as the result of a habit is not only immediately available at all times, but is also a permanent acquisition, and that what we have learnt by the aid of theory alone is neither immediately available nor permanent. Let us take an example to illustrate our point.

We wish to learn when and how to use each of the German cases. The theory of the declension provides us with all the necessary rules and exceptions. One set of prepositions requires the accusative, another the dative, another the genitive, another accusative or dative according to certain semantic considerations. This rule can be mastered without any great difficulty; within the space of a few hours the necessary formulæ may be committed to memory, and the student imagines that the problem is solved for all time. “Whenever I want to know what case to use,” he thinks, “I shall only have to remember to which category the preposition belongs and I shall know what case is required.” In reality his knowledge of the theory, i.e. his memory of the categories, will soon become blurred and will tend to fade away; and even if he does succeed in retaining this fresh in his memory, he will always require a second or two of conscious reflection before he is able to hit on the right case. He will be using consciousness where unconsciousness would serve him better; if (as is probable) he has learnt to determine gender by a similar process, his conscious attention will have to be devoted to this as well, he will be focusing his attention on the language-material, which will prevent him from focusing it on the things he wishes to say. Deciding to use these ‘short cuts’ he will therefore assume for his whole lifetime the burden of continual conscious effort.

Now, instead of learning and applying theory he might memorize a hundred or so real living sentences, each exemplifying one of the results of the theory. By doing so he would acquire a hundred or so new habits or automatic actions. He recoils before the task; the perfect memorizing of a simple sentence is so distasteful to him; it seems to take so long; he fails to realize the permanent advantages which he might obtain by doing it; he chooses what seems the easier path, the short cut.

It is here that we see the value of spontaneous assimilation. If the student has trained his capacities of retaining unconsciously what he may happen to hear (or read), he will memorize without effort, and without the expenditure of any appreciable amount of nervous energy.

The same considerations apply to the learning of the French conjugation, English pronunciation, Hungarian vocalic harmony, Welsh mutation, or to the overcoming of the other obstacles in the path of progress towards perfect attainment.

The fear of monotonous and tedious memorizing work, and the realization of the length of time necessary for each act of memorizing, induce the student to invent pretexts for avoiding such work. He declares that ‘parrot-work’ is not education, that modern educationalists condemn ‘learning by rote,’ that the age of blind repetition is over and that the age of intelligent understanding has taken its place. He will talk of the method of discovery, the factor of interest, and will even quote to us ‘the laws of nature’ in defence of his thesis. But we know that in reality these are but so many excuses for his disinclination to form those habits which can secure him the automatism which alone will result in sound and permanent progress.

This fear of tediousness is not really justified at all, for mechanical work is not necessarily monotonous. Automatism, it is true, is acquired by repetition, but this repetition need not be of the parrot-like type. Repetition, in the sense ascribed to it by the psychologist, simply means having many separate occasions to hear, to see, to utter, or to write a given word or sentence. The object of most of the language-teaching exercises, drills, and devices invented or developed in recent years is precisely to ensure proper repetition in attractive and interesting ways.

Nearly all the time spent by the teacher in explaining why such and such a form is used and why a certain sentence is constructed in a certain way is time lost, for such explanations merely appease curiosity; they do not help us to form new habits, they do not develop automatism. Those who have learnt to use the foreign language and who do use it successfully have long since forgotten the why and the wherefore; they can no longer quote to you the theory which was supposed to have procured them their command of the language.

When teaching the French word chauve-souris it is not necessary to point out that this is literally equivalent to ‘bald-mouse’; and if we tell our student that ça se comprend really means ‘that understands itself,’ we are telling him something which is not true, and something that will cause him needless perplexity. Hauptstadt is the German equivalent of ‘capital’ (in the geographical sense), and we need not pander to morbid etymological habits by making an allusion to ‘head-town.’ Nothing is gained, but much is lost, if we tell the student that the French say ‘I am become’ instead of ‘I have become.’