Literature does more than add wonder and enjoyment to our lives: it also forms our minds.
Contemplating what they are reading actually opens children’s minds to a new way of thinking and a deep appreciation for truth. These gains are sometimes lost, though, when literature continues to be taught only as a sub-topic, integrated with other courses; this can all too often reduce our relationship with books to a friendship of utility, causing our students to take longer periods of time to make certain progressions in thought and to miss the purpose and beauty of certain works.
Part Three: Literature’s Importance in the Dialectic & Rhetorical Stages (Middle School – College)
What does literature uniquely offer us? There are three treasures it offers to the older student when it is given its due consideration.
1. An Intellectual History
This first gift might seem an irony, as I’ve insinuated that literature should not necessarily be combined with a study of history past the grammatical stage. What is actually sacrificed when literature serves the designs of a history curriculum? Often, the depth of its meaning is lost; great consideration is given to the historical period of the characters and the plot but little time is left for discovering the purpose of the author or pondering the various layers of symbolism present. If a historical novel is simply inserted into a child’s history course to meet the literature requirement and make the subject of history more interesting, then it often serves no grander purpose than that of a worksheet: to fill in the time and check off the list.
This becomes more obvious when we consider that the book choices themselves are often selected for the time of the story’s setting rather than the thoughts represented in the story. If, for instance, a high school student is given Murder in the Cathedral as a supplement to his medieval studies, he may read and enjoy Eliot’s portrayal of St. Thomas Becket’s martyrdom but he will likely fail to observe how Eliot seeks to model his drama on the Greek tragedy; he will assuredly miss the freedom within the form, a characteristic of modern poetry, which emphasizes certain passages and lends greater meaning to the text. Really, the teacher is in danger of teaching history through anachronisms, for the literary work does not illustrate the philosophy of the medieval age but ideas from the twentieth century.
Here, in reality, is one of literature’s boons to us: it reveals our intellectual history.
While the subject of a novel or epic may tempt us to align literature most closely with our history textbook, and its battles and significant events, it really correlates more closely to the study of philosophy, and the movements of thoughts, ideas which are typically touched upon only superficially in a high school history course.
When considering the meanings present within a story, we necessarily reflect upon the author’s world perspective and purpose in crafting the story; while the story’s themes are often impressed onto our minds by our mere experience of them through the reading, our recognition of their origin direct us to what degree we allow their influence to extend.
Now, a student may reflect upon the ideas of a time period, as well as how those thoughts are conveyed through art and literature, simultaneously with his memorization of key historical figures and events of the era. This would actually be the ideal integration of studies. It is often too tempting though, to emphasize one or the other if the subjects are conflated. Children shift gears more slowly than we adults; they find it difficult to make connections across subjects. If they have been asked remember important dates from the ancient Greek period, for example, to analyze the development of the civilization and the advances the people made and then are handed a text of The Illiad, they will read it looking for the names of key characters, a description of the siege of Troy, and details about the soldiers’ lives. They will not automatically consider the symbolism behind Achilles’ shield from Hades, how the presence of the gods impact the men’s perception of the carnage surrounding them, and why the act of Achilles slaying Hector as he wears Achilles’ old armor – stolen from the body of Patrocolus – is so climatic and devastating. These elements will naturally be given more thought by the student though, if they are presented as a literature assignment, rather as part of their history course.
Likewise, when I discuss A Red Badge of Courage with a student, I do not honestly care if he can place it within the framework of the Civil War and give me the pertinent dates and battle descriptions. I do desire him to observe the hopelessness and cynicism that pervades the text though, and glimpse that perception of the world he will later learn to call naturalism. Authors seek to make their historical fiction accurate in its presentation of events and culture, but they unavoidably infuse their writing with the thoughts of their own time. Hence, if literature is to be paired with history in any manner when presented to students in the dialectical and rhetorical stage – when they are detecting and conveying ideas – it should be matched with the time of its publication and not the period in which its plot is set.
2. A Mind for Critical Thinking
Often, the second detriment to an integration of literature with other subjects is that students miss out on developing a crucial skill that literary analysis naturally demands: that of critical thinking. During the high school years, students progress from a black-and-white view of the world to the realization of its shades and tones. The complexity of issues are recognized; the multi-faceted motivations of individuals are seen. How does a student move to this broader vision? By asking questions.
Discussing stories necessitates this. Who is the main character? What is your favorite part? What is going to happen next? Where is the climax? What is the purpose of the author?
Whether the question is a simple one directed to a youngster asking to read his favorite story for the umpteenth time, or a more complicated one given to a high school student in a seminar class, the student is urged to consider the story from different aspects.
When discussing another subject at the rhetorical level, say theology or history, the student is also encouraged to think about cause-and-effect or a principle’s nuances, but the emphasis at this level is still in summarizing and the relaying of information. (Further critical thinking is not always required until the collegiate level.) These, too, are important skills begun at the grammar stage with re-telling and paragraph summarizing but, while they help form an ordered thinker, they do not, by their nature, encourage the student to become a critical thinker.
The other advantage literary analysis gives a student is the ability to step outside his own mind. To really plumb the depths of a tale, a student cannot simply rest with the plot structure or his own response to the story but must also consider the characters as people, the effects of the narrator’s tone, and the author’s own world perspective. This exercise prepares the student to similarly question the objectivity of any particular historian or the validity of a religious or philosophical treatise rather than implicitly trusting a source or failing to go beyond his own first impression.
3. Recognition of Hidden Truths
To be clear, the analysis I’m referring to is not a deconstruction of the text but an effort to appreciate its various elements and meanings, in order to enhance our experience of it.
Many students lose out on the pleasure elicited from a wonderful story simply because they have never been asked to do more than complete the reading and spit out information regarding its structure; as a result, they miss points of symbolism and revelations regarding human nature contained therein.
It’s as if they were asked to describe the components of a musical instrument and how it works, but were never to play it.
Practically, this means a student could have trouble applying his learning to his life. His academic formation may be stymied; he may have more difficulty in writing analytical or argument papers when assigned them, and may not be as likely to glimpse the meanings underlying the reality around him. I’ve encountered so many students who have never been asked to actually think about a story, while those who have been are ready to analyze in other subjects and facets of life. If a student has not been guided into critical thinking, questions asking him to evaluate a point or reading may puzzle him, and he is more inclined to be a passive rather than active listener.
The greater loss may be though, that the sense of wonder suffers. Points of beauty may be completely overlooked and the discovery of a story’s hidden truths – I fondly call my recognition of them my “light bulb” moments – will never be made. As we sense we are losing a child’s attention when he must turn to his books under the shadow of his assignment to-do list, we will probably face two temptations: first, we may be inclined to teach didactically, only giving him works that blatantly uphold the good and true. This would be a mistake, though, because it encourages the reader to assume that everything of relevance is surface level and that he need not contemplate the subtle purpose and significance behind a story. Alternatively, we might become more hands-off, thereby risking the child’s strict categorization of books into “school assigned” or “entertaining”. Students will then never experience how thinking about the stories they read prepares them to see and consider the mysteries behind daily life.
Part Four: Eliminating the Trouble with Books
Time – time is often the greatest obstacle to making a good literature study a priority. As homeschoolers, we have precious little of it. I know I long to study so many things with my children, but I also have to be realistic regarding what can actually be accomplished across my children’s ages and my other commitments. So, how can we make such literary study a reality?
One solution is, as I mention above, not to completely integrate history and literature but to study them side by side, perhaps decreasing the amount of material so each can be given its own emphasis. If they do have the time to study literature as an exclusive subject, there are some wonderful literary programs already established.
Whatever our constraints, the greatest literary gift we can impart to our children is to teach them to ask questions, and to discuss what we read as a family or what they think about their current, personally chosen book.
Such conversation can occur, no matter what sort of school program we are utilizing.
Gradually steering our children towards the classical argument form of essay writing can also complement a deeper reading. This type of paper is focused on a specific point of interpretation rather than a re-telling. Once our students are adept at recognizing the form of the story, we can focus their writing assignments on explaining the “why” behind a character’s action or the significance of a literary element. I would generally avoid the book report format because it drills into students that the story’s structure is the only important element; if the student can summarize proficiently, then he is also ready to write on a question pertaining to the story.
Epilogue
The applications of a principle can be many and varied, and how we make certain to reap the full joy and intellectual gains from literature can be molded to fit our family’s life. My desire overall is simply to remind us how much is given to our children through stories, to form both their souls and their minds.
On the first page of the Silmarillion, Iluvatar, the creator, declares to the Holy Ones, “through you great beauty has been awakened into song.” May your children always be able to recognize the hidden beauty within the words on a page and may it awaken their minds, infusing their thoughts to judge what is true and to relish the joyous song.
