Fluency through TPR Storytelling presents a method for teaching foreign languages. The TPR in the title stands for "Total Physical Response." In print, then, the method is usually referred to as TPRS.
This book is of interest mainly to educators (of any grade level) and other fans of the craft of teaching. I came across it while searching for resources for teaching English as a Second Language. I found the ideas of TPRS quite challenging. I wrote myself a review of the book in order to better understand the concepts and practices it espouses.
I decided to post my review here, due to the presence of many educators on the site. Also, I figured non-educators might find it interesting, both for the method itself, and for what its presence says about the teaching profession in this country.
Anyway, if you're interested, please continue reading below the great orange doodle bug.
Oh, and be forewarned - I can be a bit long-winded.
To have another language is to possess a second soul.
- Charlemagne
Why I want to write this
A while back, I wrote a comment on someone else's diary whose main theme was "Why aren't actual teachers ever involved in reform efforts?" I knew what was meant by that question, but still, I wrote the following as part of my response:
What's ironic in all this is that teachers ARE changing the way we teach.
What's amazing to me is that even in the midst of all this stupid test fixation and vigorous attacks on their profession and support system, teachers and teacher workshop presenters (who are usually also teachers) all seem to be moving slowly in the same sorts of directions, continuing the same expansion of techniques that we started in the 1970's, 1980's and early 1990's, though at a bit slower pace, due to this huge testing stone, which, like Sisyphus, we must backpack everywhere.
And by the way, if there are any foreign language teachers out there, if you haven't allowed yourself to be challenged by the techniques of TPRS, you're missing something.
And by the way, the acronym TPRS can be deciphered more than one way. The original meaning was "Total Physical Response - Storytelling" I'll let it stand that way for now.
Well, nobody commented on my assertion. Well, often nobody comments on my assertions. But I was a bit surprised that nobody commented on this.
After all, people on this site have great passion about all aspects of educational reform and deform. And here I am claiming that groups of teachers, pretty much on their own, with little support from educational and political institutions, are slowly but surely building up a body of theory and practice based on experience and personal experimentation. Furthermore this movement (not movements) advances steadily on, no matter the current political fad, curricular fad, social fad, or level of economic support.
What drives them to do this is simply that they lucked out in having one of the most rewarding careers available on this earth. And there is nothing ... repeat-nothing . . . more wonderful than witnessing one's students achieving to the best of their ability (except, maybe, when they get your jokes).
So when you see your students come alive and master new skills in your classroom, you pay attention to the determining factors. And unless some test maker or politician (or, sad to say, some administrators) comes around to make you "disbelieve your lying eyes" you'll continue to use what you yourself have witnessed working. And so, to the best of their time and opportunity, teachers not only think about this goal of achievement, but network with other teachers on how to promote it. And access to other teachers is key, because those individuals' background, position and experience usually makes their comments most relevant and their feedback most meaningful.
The Teacher Movement
The first such teacher group that I came across, back in the early 1980's, was the Bay Area Writing Project, nominally hosted by the University of California at Berkeley, and organized by James Gray and three of his colleagues. I took part in one of their summer sessions back then. How refreshing it was to sit together with my colleagues from every grade level listening to speakers so varied that as soon as one person said "Do it this way" the next one said "Oh, I never do that."
And so we got away from frivolous, surface-level details so we could concentrate on the underlying issues - What is the writing process? How does it work? And if it seems different for different people, what are its essentials?
And then we ourselves practiced writing- all of us seemingly different in the details of our writing techniques, but honing in on the same writing principles. And then we tried it in our classrooms - and it looked different in each classroom, but the same basic principles prevailed. Not only did they prevail, they developed. And many teachers returned in subsequent years as presenters, not audience. And they still said "Do it this way," and the next person still said "Oh, I never do that." But the body of professional knowledge beneath the algorithms grew, and students became better writers.
And those left behind kept arguing about things that don't really matter. Should we teach the five paragraph essay? Well, yes!! Oh .. . and, no!! Uh, the answer is yes .. . and, well ... no, but . .
It's like arguing over the kind of truck we should buy the fire department. Big truck? Automatic transmission? Mechanical or electronic siren? Whereas the firemen are more worried about putting out the fire - tricks to gain access to structures, which chemical to use, how to apply them, etc.
The Bay Area Writing Project is certainly one of the most successful of these teacher groups - even to the point that eventually it received federal funding! At least, it did for a while. I don't know about lately.
And there are other teacher groups teaching other subjects - science, the arts, social studies.... and the rest, who are just as passionate and just as committed to deepening their understanding of the teaching/learning process in these areas.
TPRS
So recently, as I've been casting about for guidance in my latest assignment - teaching English as a Second Language, I came across a group of teachers organized under the auspices of nobody in particular called TPRS (I'll get back to the acronym's meaning eventually - it derives from TPR, which stands for "Total Physical Response"). I purchased the basic book on the subject, entitled Fluency through TPR Storytelling, by Blaine Ray, who originated the method back in the early 1990's.
I immediately saw the value in what they were doing, because it harmonized with general principles of linguistics, the developmental psychology I studied for many years, the training in ESL that all California teachers are required to have, my experience as a musician, my own varied attempts to master foreign languages, as well as with my experiences in the Bay Area Writing Project, the California Science Implementation Network, and other professional teacher groups that I have taken part in at one time or another, and of course, my own long classroom teaching experience. Yes, it really looked worthwhile.
And it's my experience with teachers' groups that made me commend TPRS in the manner that I did in the above comment. That is, it need not be taken as a formula to be followed. Rather, individual teachers should let its ideas challenge them. It's such challenges as these that promote professional development. A teacher's response must take his/her own particular situation into account. After all, in education, one size does not fit all.
I gave myself the homework of writing a review of this book, Fluency through TPR Storytelling, partly so I could share it with other teacher friends (many of whom also teach foreign languages), but mainly because it would help me to grasp the book's ideas and methods.
And then I thought, maybe I should post the review on this site. After all, there are many teacher friends here who might enjoy the challenge. And for those who are not teachers, it might provide some insight into the kinds of things that, for me, constitute the most interesting and compelling aspects of the growth of teacher professionalism. So here goes . . .
Fluency through TPR Storytelling
by Blaine Ray and Contee Seely
First I'll review the form of the book, and then the contents, including some commentary of my own. The acronym TPRS has more than one meaning. Originally it meant Total Physical Response - Storytelling. However, it's probably best to simply treat the acronym itself as the name of a body of educational thought -
TPRS.
The Green Book.
Fluency through TPR Storytelling is a significant book in the development of foreign language teaching methodology. It has a green cover - both front and back. It's also a work in progress. The first edition was published in 1997, and this, the fifth edition, was published just eleven years later (2008). Each edition incorporated significant changes and additions, and in fact, the present edition tweaked the content even further upon its third printing in 2010.
Thus, it pays to have the most recent edition's additions.
I give this book four stars out of five. Why not five stars for a volume that is certainly one of the most important contemporary books in its field? Well, the constant revisions/additions furnish a clue. This book is more of a collection of journals, essays, and resource lists than a textbook organizing the basic principles of a program. In other words, it needs some restructuring for a more general audience.
However, as it is, it is invaluable for those who already have an idea of how their conception works. So teachers who have attended one of the TPRS workshops, or who know a TPRS teacher should not hesitate to purchase this book, as an adjunct, a reminder, and an expansion to what they have learned already.
And, in fact, those readers who are already familiar with the ideas of Stephen Krashen and Jim Asher will figure it all out as they go. Admittedly that's a pretty large audience, who also should not hesitate to buy this book.
For the rest of its potential audience, I think the book would benefit greatly if an experienced ghostwriter (who might also be a TPRS teacher) edited it into something more structured and consistent, and perhaps composed a solid first chapter as a general orientation to language learning and the program itself.
On the one hand, it took some courage to publish a method while (or whilst) the method was yet developing fundamentally, which necessitated frequent revisions. On the other hand, the method itself has now matured to the point that the pace of fundamental changes should slow. A bit of burnishing to make it more easily accessible to a wider audience would be well worth the effort , and would not have to be done again soon.
Such an editor could also add a few redundancies into the glib flinging about of acronyms. Ink is cheap, after all! I got tired of always having to look back and relearn what the acronym PQA meant. As language teachers, the authors should know that one doesn't acquire new vocabulary without repetition. (If the reader is curious - it stands for "Personalized Questions and Answers" - more about that later) And don't get me started on trying to figure out the meaning of "asking a story" (as opposed to "telling a story") which appeared in more than one place before it was finally explained in chapter 3. I will also explain "asking a story" below.
An editor could also unify the terminology between chapters, and include more examples from the TPRS textbooks that the authors refer to, but that not all readers will have access to.
Finally, an editor could also fix the little annoyances - cross references that refer to the correct pages of a past edition, a five-item list that contains six items, text formatting marks that print within the text, etc.
The ideas in the book are very sound.
I'd like to expound a bit about the ideas explained in this book, to perhaps encourage those not familiar with the aforementioned Krashen and Asher to take this plunge, a dive into a very different way of looking at language learning.
After all, this book not only outlines, but develops fundamental principles of foreign language teaching that differ sharply from traditional classroom methodologies. Such traditions rely on grammar and conjugation rules, long lists of vocabulary, and in fact make it hard to believe that normal humans have the smarts to actually use the target language. Only a select few highly-motivated students ever master a second language that way, while the rest learn to hate foreign languages so much that they try to pass laws in their respective native lands forbidding the use of any language but their own within their borders.
In contrast, TPRS instruction is fun without simply being entertainment, interesting without simply being a puzzle, and it's effective. Most students actually learn to understand and speak the new language, at least on a practical, day-to-day level. And isn't that why most people want to study a foreign language in the first place?
Moreover, after three or four years of this, large numbers of the students can pass the AP test for further study at the college level. Susan Gross, a well-known TPRS advocate and high school French teacher, is fond of telling how the scores on that same old final test she gave year after year always averaged just below 80%, no matter how she tried to reform her practice, until she discovered TPRS and then the scores averaged over 90%. In addition, she witnessed great gains in language skills that tests usually don't measure - such as the spontaneity and fluency of unrehearsed language use.
So how does this method work? First, a bit of background, which is not material that's found in the book, but it's the lens through which I view its contents. I present it here rather simplistically, because I don't intend to be scientifically rigorous so much as pedagogically sound.
A Bit of Background
The contrast between traditional methods and TPRS is akin to the difference between the mental skills of comprehension and acquisition. And what is that difference?
Well, normally when you study most subjects in school, such as maths, physics, or biology, your central goal is to comprehend ever-newer and complex concepts. But language learning doesn't really work like that. It works through acquisition - the "picking up" of new skills. Its more like learning to play basketball or paint fine art or improvise music than it is like understanding mathematical principles. Traditional language teaching methodology fails (for so many students) precisely because it doesn't grasp this distinction.
The Language Center
The source of the distinction, by the way, lies within the structure of the brain itself. Language skills are handled by the Language Center, a particular part of one's brain, which is located in the subconscious, and thus insulated from direct conscious control. This area of the subconscious brain, originally termed the "Language Acquisition Device" by Noam Chomsky, and recently (possibly) identified by his colleagues at MIT, functions through what Chomsky termed a Universal Grammar - a common inheritance of the human species. This is not a grammar rooted in rules of word order, or the sudden appearance of inflections. It's a grammar based on meanings. This fact underlies its universality as well as the tendency of the surface forms of various languages to adhere to its dictates.
Thus, the Language Center is a multitasking little meaningful entity that dwells hidden within one's subconscious , almost like another person.
Its job in life is to process meanings and sounds, both associating them and coordinating them, as well as supplying them to the conscious mind precisely at the time they're needed, like an active assistant faithfully serving the executive from behind the scenes, like "Radar O'Reilly" in the old MASH TV series.
It's like the office manager in an elementary school. Maybe the principal (the conscious mind) is in charge, but if the office manager (the Language Center) isn't both capable and well trained, the school is going to fall apart. In the case of language learning, 99.9% of the population has a fully capable language center. (Which leaves training as the critical factor)
The relationship between the Language Center's skill acquisition and the conscious mind's ability to comprehend can be described through various metaphors, such as the aforementioned principal-office manager relationship. Or, one could say it's like the relationship between a basketball team (the Language Center) and its coach (the conscious, comprehending mind). Or, if you prefer, it's like a racehorse (the Language Center) and its rider (the conscious, comprehending mind).
The important idea is that the conscious mind does have a role in language learning, and also some ability to comprehend and express language. But it's not designed for performing the "heavy lifting." It's not designed for fluency.
So, by analogy, could the principal perform the duties of the office manager? Yes, but probably not as well. And could the coach play a game of basketball? Yes, but he probably wouldn't win. And could the jockey himself compete in a horse race? Well, 'nuff said.
Traditional language instruction mainly strengthens the conscious mind's comprehension of language. Other considerations tend to come second to that. The main result is simply that the student comprehends, ever more clearly, the myriad ways that his/her undertrained Language Center fails to produce appropriate language. No wonder the method doesn't work for many students! No wonder they hesitate to speak! It's kind of like reforming an education system by simply introducing harder tests and then just sitting back and hoping for the best.
All the more enlightened methods of teaching language focus on helping the conscious mind to actually train the language center, just like a coach trains his team, or a jockey trains his horse.
"Meaning" is more important than syntax or grammar rules, since that's what the language center deals with. Translation is avoided so meanings can be directly attached to words. The language center becomes fluent with a basic vocabulary before expanding it, the same way budding basketball players better learn to dribble and run at the same time before attempting a lay-up.
Comprehensible Input
The key to this kind of training is something called "Comprehensible Input." Basically, this phrase is just a fancy way of saying "You can understand the message when you hear the speech." Others might say "listening for understanding."
When language training occurs mainly through Comprehensible Input, then the learning faculties assume their proper roles. That is, the conscious mind comprehends, and so it motivates the subconscious Language Center, which labors behind the scenes, to follow its lead, associating meanings with sequences of sounds, and practicing them into habits. Thus, while the student focuses on the meaning of what he's hearing, that independent little Language Center engages itself in acquiring the language.
This acquisition is a slow process, because it involves growth. It's like learning the clarinet. It's like mastering basketball defense. And what you might think of as one skill actually may have several components, all of which must develop together.
For example, in learning second languages, people often assume that if you simply teach people how to make the various sounds of the language (the phonemes, that is) then they will automatically be able to hear them and more-or-less reproduce them themselves. In fact, phonemes are not a single sound, but a range of sounds, and it's not enough for the conscious mind to understand them, or even to hear them, it's only enough when the Language Center can hear them properly without conscious effort.
It's like the language center has a whole other system for dealing with sound, separate from the system that deals with noise, pitches, volume, etc. People who only speak the languages they learned in infancy usually don't perceive this separation, because the systems work in tandem. But obviously, unless your language center is trained to accurately recognize the sounds of a new language as language, then your ability to take in comprehensible input is limited.
Anyway, once the Language Center has acquired the speech/sound habits of the new language (phonemes, words, phrases, etc.), it can not only dredge up stored meanings to deal with future input that matches them, but it can also make them available to the conscious mind, along with the appropriate syntactical structures, whenever a person wants to express a thought, without a lot of conscious effort. This is what is meant by "fluency."
Although Comprehensible input (i.e. listening for understanding) should always be the centerpiece of language acquisition, its effectiveness can (and should) be bolstered through practice in speaking (especially in the later years of language learning) as well as reading (which strengthens the structure of a target language within the Language Center and augments vocabulary). And, of course, writing is occasionally useful, particularly for evaluating student progress.
TPR - a forerunner of TPRS
A pioneer in basing a program on comprehensible input (rather than grammar rules and translation) is James Asher. His ideas are called Total Physical Response, abbreviated TPR. This is in fact the source of "TPR" in the term "TPRS." And in fact, advocates of TPRS still recommend that abject beginners in a language receive TPR for their introductory lessons.
Asher's program, in its simplest, most famous, and most basic form, associates words directly with meaningful movements - this "total physical response," thus avoids translation completely. For example, on the first day of class, a teacher might say (and demonstrate) "Stand up," or "Sit down," and all the students will then sit or stand as directed, like a class-sized game of "Simon Says." Thus, the Language Center associates these new phrases directly with the corresponding actions of a student's body, even as it's also associating the sounds of the phrases with actions of the vocal tract muscles to produce speech.
At this point, some limitations of this method become apparent. For example, it's not obvious how this practice can generalize out from the "here and now." And if you say "jump," students can define the word by actually jumping. But how are they going to define something more abstract, like "imagine?"
Now, Mr. Asher has been at this for thirty years, and he and his many colleagues have used their time wisely to address such concerns and others, but that's his book, not this one. And by the way, his book is titled Learning Another Language through Actions, and is held in high esteem by current members of the TPRS community. But let's return to Fluency through TPR Storytelling, which has its own particular ways of addressing these concerns.
TPRS - the first extended movements
What seems to be the initial development of TPRS (that is, Total Physical Response Storytelling), involved expanding the range of definable vocabulary by using gestures rather than an entire-body, total physical pantomime. I say "seems" because I don't really know the early history.
So, for "imagine," one might use the gesture of pointing to one's head. Or one might point to a picture of a light bulb. And so, in its first iteration, TPRS was concerned with associating an ever-more elaborate system of gestures with phrases and words, kind of like a recapitulation of American Sign Language. Furthermore, such signs could be used while telling a story, much like how a deaf person might tell a story with ASL.
But this is not what TPRS is now, because somewhere along the line, author Blaine Ray gained a key insight into the language-learning process. Yes, movement is important, and it remains a means of referring to meaning without translations. But more than simply modeling or defining word meanings, movements were even more significant as an appropriate response to Comprehensible Input. And in fact, appropriate non-translating responses to Comprehensible input are more important than movement itself. And this is what allows TPR (Total Physical Response) to transition out of the "here and now" to "Storytelling." And once you have language learners telling stories, there's almost no limit to the kind of language and language structures that can be employed.
1. Establishing Meaning
So, for example, a unit of TPRS typically begins with the teacher introducing a small number (say 3) of vocabulary items, which may be words or may be phrases. This phase of the lesson is called "establishing meaning." The teacher explains the meanings of the vocabulary in the students' native language, and then often asks for volunteers to suggest manners of gesturing that meaning. Once the gestures have been determined and practiced, the teacher can briefly and orally drill the new vocabulary, while the students, with eyes closed, respond with the appropriate gestures. Thus, the students are transitioning from a translation to something akin to comprehensible input. At the same time, the teacher can observe if the vocabulary is mastered and the class is ready to move on. And all this only takes a couple minutes.
The vocabulary can be further cemented in the students' minds by personalizing it. For example, if the vocabulary item is "bird," a student can come to the front of the room to play the role of the bird. The teacher can ask the class all sorts of questions about the "bird," in the target language, such as its size, color, its friends, where it lives, etc. and the student can act these things out, or just laugh along with the rest of the class. The teacher might also ask individual students (again, in the target language) if they have a bird, or have seen a bird, or will eat a bird, and then ask other students what the first students said, etc - always using the target language.
This sort of personalized inquiry into the actual opinions and/or lives of authentic students is known as "Personal Questions and Answers" or "Personal Q and A" or simply PQA. It's a technique that runs through all stages of TPRS lessons.
It echoes another key insight Ray had: Instruction needs to be centered on the learner, and not on the curriculum to be learned. In this, his thinking lies squarely within the pedagogical trends for all areas of education for the last thirty years (except in the areas of political policies, American text book publishers, and other "no nothings," of course). As the saying goes, "I don't teach French. I teach students."
And thus, the details of the "bird" character are fleshed out through a questions-and-answer type of collaboration (always in the target language) between the students and teacher, though the teacher retains ownership and editorial control. And these questions don't simply solicit information. They themselves also provide Comprehensible Input to the students, and the answers students give are (generally) an appropriate response to such input.
2. The Story
Next comes the core of TPR Storytelling - the story itself.
These stories, by the way, are not meant to be literary masterpieces, but to have somewhat predictable forms. In fact, most of them are so short and simple that they're called "mini-stories." Even so, these short mini stories provide enough material for one or two entire class sessions.
And just as Leo Tolstoy once wrote, "All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town." so do TPRS stories present a limited number of plot forms. The most common form consists of three scenes.
Scene 1. A problem is defined.
Scene 2. A solution is attempted in another location, but fails
Scene 3. A solution is attempted in a third location, and succeeds.
It's pretty basic stuff. What makes it all interesting is the same thing that makes Tolstoy interesting - the details of the story. Again, these details are developed with student input in a sort of collaboration. And the more bizarre the details, the more memorable they are, and therefore the more effective in developing language.
So, for example, a story might begin with a simple statement like:
The girl wants to feed the ducks.
This statement defines a problem because she's presently not feeding them. So when the class learns this new information, they respond appropriately. Perhaps, realizing they are hearing new information, they shout "Oh!" Or perhaps, empathizing with the girl's plight, they might chant "Oh, me, oh, my!" Then, a student either volunteers or "volunteers" to portray the girl and steps up to the front of the class.
At this point, the teacher unleashes a barrage of repetitive questions in the target language, which provide comprehensible input (because the students can understand the questions without translating), and also provide more opportunities for the students to respond appropriately. For example:
Teacher |
Students |
Class, a girl wants to feed the ducks |
Ohh!! |
Does the girl want to feed the ducks? |
Yes |
Does the girl want to feed the cat or the ducks? |
The ducks |
Does the girl want to eat the ducks? |
No |
Right, class! The girl doesn't want to eat the ducks. She wants to feed the ducks |
|
Does the boy want to feed the ducks? |
No |
Who wants to feed the ducks? |
The girl |
Right! The girl wants to feed the ducks |
|
This sort of questioning is called "circling" - for two possible reasons. First of all, it kicks off with a statement, and then wends its way through a fairly stereotypical set of questions until finally circling back to the original statement. Secondly, all these questions neither review nor advance the plot. It's as if the class were circling in a holding pattern with respect to the story, waiting for a cue to move on.
But rapid plot advancement is not the goal of the class. The goal is to provide comprehensible input, which at this point means recycling the same old phrases over and over in new contexts, using new questions. It's very much like how a basketball team might drill particular game situations (to which they already comprehend the logic and rationale), which allows them to acquire and perform more complex maneuvers later. Or it's like a musician not just understanding what a scale is, but practicing scales so that later he can master ever more sophisticated patterns within that tonality, each of which, to his ears, has a different emotional meaning.
Another TPRS strategy is to add further details right where you're at in the plot. These details are termed "vertical," since they pile on top of the plot without advancing it (which would be one kind of horizontal details). The reason you don't want to advance the plot yet is that you can continue to use much of the same language while discussing the new information.
And questions which solicit vertical details are called, (say it with me now) "vertical questions."
So for example, here is a class trying to guess the answers to the teacher's vertical question (in the target language, of course):
Teacher |
Students |
Class, what kind of duck is the girl looking for? |
Mighty Ducks! |
No. |
A big duck! |
no, no . . . |
A little duck? |
Hmmmm... no . . |
A Vampire Duck!! (this word is possible to guess in a Western European language) |
Yes!! You are so smart! The girl wants to feed vampire ducks! |
Oh!! |
The teacher, who accepted that last answer simply because it was cool, can then"circle" this latest statement with questions in the target language just like before:
Teacher |
Students |
The girl wants to feed the vampire ducks! |
Ohh!! |
Does the girl want to feed the vampire ducks? |
Yes |
Does the girl want to feed the vampire ducks or the Mighty Ducks? |
The vampire ducks |
Does the boy want to feed the vampire ducks? |
No |
Right. The boy doesn't like vampires. The girl wants to feed the vampire ducks |
|
What does the girl want to do? |
feed the vampire ducks |
Right. The girl wants to feed the vampire ducks |
|
And thus, the same language is practiced again and again with incremental additions.
Now, who is this boy that keeps cropping up? Well, he's part of a parallel story with similar language forms that exists to provide contrast. He might actually be a real student in the class. The parallel story may or may not eventually be told separately.
Ray makes the point that having to answer a repetitive and never-ending series of questions like these in one's native language might drive the responder nuts, and may, in fact, be prohibited under the Geneva Conventions. However, the feeling is very different, and much more welcome, to a responder who is a language learner. Meanwhile, look how much repetition occurs. And due to the stereotypical nature of the questions, comprehension is near 100%. Thus, a simple scenario furnishes gobs of Comprehensible Input.
Well, after adding lots of vertical details, with as many tie-ins to the personal lives of students as possible, it's finally time to move on with a horizontal question - a question that doesn't simply add more details to the same object. This will not only advance the plot, but since something is actually happening in the story, it will finally provide the student volunteer with real opportunities to act out the part of "the girl." The teacher begins (in the target language, of course) by restating all the details that have slowly accumulated so far.
Teacher |
Students |
Okay, class! The girl, named Nausicaa, wants to feed fried flounder fritters to 13-foot-tall vampire ducks. |
|
Where does she go to feed them? |
Transylvania |
No |
Transylvania? |
No, no, no . . |
Boston! |
No. |
Central Park? |
No, no, |
Bobby's bath tub !! |
Hmmm. Yes, that's right - Nausicaa wants to feed fried flounder fritters to the 13-foot-tall vampire ducks in Bobby's bath tub! |
Ohhh!! |
Now, Bobby is the squirrelly kid who sits in the second row. And this points up an important aspect of the process. The teacher incorporated Bobby's tub in the interest of personalizing the story, as well as because it's rather bizarre, both of which are generally good things. However, he only dared to do this because he knows Bobby well, and also knows the class well enough and can trust them enough that he's not afraid of Bobby being scarred for life by his peers with a wretched nickname like Ol' Bloody Bobby, or The Vamp, or Tubby.
And this points up something critically important to the whole process. To get away with this sort of ribbing, the teacher needs to be strong enough in discipline, perceptive enough in knowing his students, and proficient in promoting positive attitudes, so that the class atmosphere is calm and safe, so that poking a little fun at one of the students will add the spice that makes the lesson memorable without adding poison that can make a kid's life miserable.
Again, TPRS strives to be student centered, and so the more accurately the teacher knows and understands the students, and the better the rapport with them, the more possibilities open up for interesting, fun, and effective teaching.
Well, eventually, after a couple thousand words of Comprehensible Input, and a healthy dose of PQA (Personalized Questions and Answers) in the target language, and some talented acting from the volunteers playing the girl and the ducks, spread over almost two class sessions, the end of the plot plays out. To wit: The girl Nausicaa, having survived the disaster of Bobby's bathtub, finally fulfills her dream by feeding fried flounder fritters to the 13-foot-tall vampire ducks in Johnny Depp's swimming pool.
And all along the way, the story hasn't been narrated, so much as it's been collaboratively developed through a barrage of questions like the examples above. In fact, it's not been so much telling a story as it was asking a story. So it isn't really TPR Storytelling. It's TPR Story-asking.
But at this point, someone finally does tell the complete story in the target language without "asking." And that someone may not be the teacher. Students can either volunteer or "volunteer" to retell sections of the story, or maybe even the whole thing. And of course, such retelling can occasion yet another barrage of questions, depending on the time available and the degree of fanaticism of the teacher.
Now, some people might look at this process and say, "Gee, I remember doing something like that in school. What was it? 'See Spot. See Spot run. See Spot run after Fluffy. Poor Fluffy!' But that was in First Grade!!! When are these high-schoolers going to get to some real vocabulary - like "waterfowl!" Ducks, indeed!!"
Well, first of all, the story-asking phase of TPRS focuses on common, high-utility words, the kind most needed for simple, effective spoken communication. These are called "small circle" words, presumably because there are few enough of them that they fit into a small circle. And mastering them takes an amazing amount of practice (especially practice in listening for meaning), much more than many people realize.
A word like "waterfowl" is what's termed a "large circle" word, part of a larger group of words (that include the small circle words) that are more typical in books than in conversation. I mean, really - unless you're a hunter, a naturalist, or a zoology student, when is the last time the word "waterfowl" ever came up in normal conversation? And yet it's not unusual at all to see it written.
And this is one of the reasons that TPRS teachers have incorporated ever-greater amounts of reading in their program - so they can include some "large circle" words.
The other reason, of course, is that it provides more opportunities for a barrage of comprehensible questions.
3. Reading
Reading was not originally a significant part of TPRS. (At least, that's the impression I've got). However, it's grown so much in importance that it has even affected the name of the program. TPRS originally was Total Physical Response Storytelling. Nowadays, TPRS stands for Teaching Proficiency through Reading and Storytelling. Probably, it's just as well not to pay attention to what it stands for, and just think of it as TPRS - and then come up with creative ways to pronounce it.
And just as the story-asking phase lasted a couple class periods, the reading phase will also last another couple days. This reading takes place as a group activity, much like the "guided reading" commonly done in elementary school classrooms everywhere. Each student has his own copy of the story, which is also written large on a poster, or a white board, or a transparency, or what have you, so that the teacher can focus the class's attention on particular words or phrases.
The story is not too long, though usually it's more elaborate than the spoken mini-story had been. Perhaps it's a dozen paragraphs. For no consistent reason that I can see, this reading is usually called an "extended reading," as if there was a basic reading somewhere else. If I had been in charge, it would simply be called "the reading," or maybe "the accompanying reading" since it contains the same basic language as the mini story. Thus, it should be mostly comprehensible to the class right from the get-go.
Student volunteers (or "volunteers") translate it, a paragraph at a time, while other student volunteers act it out at the front of the room. The teacher, though not the students, will read the paragraph in its original (target) language. The students don't read it in the target language partly because their speech is not yet the best model, and also because simply reading it out loud does not guarantee that the reader (or anybody else) understands it. And accurate comprehensibility is what it's all about. Once again, "comprehensible input" is the most important factor.
While reading, the teacher can quickly define the big-circle words through translation so that the students can write the definitions into their copy of the story. Not much time is spent reviewing the big circle words. Instead, the small circle words and phrases come under another barrage of questions hurled by the teacher. And as before, some of these questions invite the students to add details to the story they've been given.
In general, then, the reading passage is handled in a quite similar manner to the original mini-story, with continuing interaction between the teacher and the class, adding vertical details and background story to the reading, backed up by volunteers acting out bits of the story as it is discussed.
As with the mini-story, the teacher and the class invent a parallel story, usually with a class member as the main character. This time, the parallel story is more likely to be told in full. Details to this story can come from a student's life. For example, if the accompanying reading is a story about a race car driver, and you know that one of your students competes in bicycle races, or footraces, then that student could be the main character of the parallel story. Once again, it pays to know your students.
Finally, the actor(s), instead of acting in response to your slow discussion of the plot, can simply act out the whole story, with pauses for the teacher to ask the class even more gobs of comprehensible questions.
Other activities
So, the principle three steps to a lesson, outlined above, are 1) establishing meaning, 2) the mini story and 3) the accompanying reading. They typically last for most of an instructional week - perhaps four days. So what about Friday? And what about the inevitable scraps of time that occur during the first four days?
Well, for one thing, there's assessment. TPRS advocates frequent, brief, and usually informal ongoing assessments, mainly through teacher observation, but also with a scattering of quizzes and brief writing samples. These informal written assessments exist mainly to give the students confidence (since they usually get all or most of the answers correct) Fluency through TPR Storytelling explains how these quizzes work and also shows how assessment can be ongoing without drowning the teacher in paperwork.
Other activities may include using something like a wordless "comic strip" to help students tell or retell stories, holding personalized class discussions using the vocabulary phrases of the mini-story. Another important activity is simply free reading for fun. TPRS teachers have found that even after just a few weeks, students are able to independently read simple works, and after a year or two, they can read the foreign language equivalents of children's classics such as Ramona the Pest or The Hardy Boys.
TPRS community
The ideas of TPRS are so effective and logical (given what we know about the structure of the brain and language learning) and produce such immediate improvements in students' achievements, that an entire community of teachers has grown up around these methods. In fact, even though he's trademarked TPRSTM, and even though this book, the green book, is still considered the classic of the field, it's getting hard to justify TPRS as belonging to Blaine Ray only, or even mainly.
For example, there is a teacher's group hosted on Yahoo groups called MoreTPRS that presently has several thousand members. I suspect that as a group, they have built up quite a body of knowledge.
Foreign Language Teacher Communities
In fact, TPRS is not the only collection of thousands of foreign language teachers in existence. (For that matter, of course, foreign languages are not the only subject area where teachers network in order to implement self-motivated reform.)
Several other groups of foreign language teachers base their practice on similar concepts to those underlying TPRS, but they may differ in the details or the emphasis. For example, there's James Asher's TPR (Total Physical Response) group, still going strong, still strongly based on the original TPR concepts. There's The Natural Approach, developed directly from the ideas of Stephen Krashen by both himself and his colleague Tracy Terrell. There's an even newer method by Jeff McQuilian and Lucy Tse called The Narrative Approach. In addition to that, there are the foreign language programs within the national education systems of such countries as Netherlands and Germany.
All of these programs are based on the same or similar principles as those that guide TPRS, principles that derive from actual practice and experimentation on the part of motivated teachers whose methodology and understanding have deepened steadily over the past several decades, even as, in much of America, we must endure one shallow and distracting fad after another. Whole language, anyone? Phonics, anyone? What about the "new math?" Shouldn't all students know computer programming? What about departmentalization of the faculty? K-5 vs K-8 schools? Small classes will fix everything, right?
By the way, I'm not saying that such issues lack merit. I am saying that more fundamental considerations exist. And the answers to these issues will manifest themselves as the more fundamental considerations work themselves out in different contexts. And they won't produce the same answer for every locale. Again, one size does not fit all.
The struggle to identify and master these fundamental considerations, and the arguments over how to apply them are well worth a teacher's attention. It's a struggle that the pubic in general has no awareness of. Perhaps they should not be expected to, since they may not have enough information to craft their own informed opinion, nor the time to pursue it. However, I do think it's useful that they realize that the search for such fundamentals continues, and that it produces fruit on an ongoing basis, despite minimal support from the system.
Anyway, because the different groups of teachers that I've just mentioned share a basic conceptual framework, as well as actual classrooms to teach and observe the results, the differences in their approaches serve to challenge the other group's methods the same way that such experience and experiment function within any other scientific concern.
One example of such a challenge is this: How should the students' native language and the expedient of translation be used (or not used)? TPRS uses translation more frequently than some of the other groups. They justify this use because it's comparatively infrequent, and always used to ensure that students know the precise meanings of words, so that comprehensible input is accurately comprehensible input.
This use of translation is an argument worth having, even if it never results in a consensus, because the argument itself, when framed through this common basic conceptual framework, will not simply come down to "I'm right and you're wrong," but instead will deepen understanding of the basic principles for all.
Final Thoughts
At this point, having understood this introductory outline of the general methods of TPRS, the reader might think s/he's ready to write up some materials, stride into a classroom, and launch into it. And if that's what s/he thinks, then s/he must already be a TPR or TPRS teacher, who understands what it takes, or not a classroom teacher at all, with no idea of what they'd be getting into.
There's a lot more involved in actually implementing TPRS than can possibly be conveyed in this simple 4500-word outline that I've presented above. If that's all you know, then it's likely you will fail.
It's like the freeway overpass they just built near me. I could observe and record what was constructed, the order that different phases were implemented, and the exact materials used, etc. But unless someone has the skill set of a civil engineer to back up their efforts, they're probably not going to build a duplicate so sturdy that I would trust my car or myself to it. It's possible, I suppose, that they could succeed, but I wouldn't want to stake my car on it.
TPRS demands real professional development. It's not like the simple "Anticipatory set - Instruction-Guided Practice-Closure-Independent Practice" so easily assimilated and beloved by administrators everywhere. TPRS advocate and French teacher Ben Slavic self-publishes a book detailing 49 useful skills for handling the process of TPRS. And I somehow doubt that 49 is the limit. (And, of course, these 49 are in addition to the multiplicity of skills needed to simply manage a classroom of students in the first place.)
In fact, it's the complexity of getting this all to work that might be a reason that some traditional-minded teachers may disagree with it. Maybe they even thought they tried it, and when it failed, they gave up on it.
And as I type this, I see that 25 new messages have been posted to MORETPRS just today, and they're not posted simply because teachers like to chat. They're looking to share knowledge and solicit feedback.
One recent message mentions the latest issue of the magazine published by the American Council on the Teaching of Foreign Languages. Apparently a community college teacher has just published a study examining the difference between traditional students and TPRS students. It's heartening that this particular teacher-groundswell of TPRS is now reaching such established publications.
And I didn't compose my 4500 word introduction simply for the pure joy of writing, either. Even if it's not enough guidance for teaching a real class, it nevertheless should enable someone to read and understand the 350 pages of Fluency through TPR Storytelling.
And that was my goal.
After such reading, then, with the help of experienced teachers (in-house if you're lucky), or perhaps through MORETPRS and its archives, or perhaps through a workshop, someone will at last be prepared to take those first tentative steps towards using this method in their own classroom and thus entering this community of teachers.
And, again, it is the teaching community that is growing, developing and effecting a non-uniform change, not only in this small realm of language education, but all across the broad landscape of academia. And it makes me wonder what education would be like if there were more systems in place, or perhaps a nation-wide system in place to further this non-linear growth, instead of the road blocks we so often see, well-intentioned as they often are.
And if I have gotten anybody else to start wondering the same thing, then,
That was my goal, too.
To paraphrase John Donne, no teacher is an island. And most especially, no good teacher is an island.