(Pytash) How Stories Work

 

“Stories that withstand the test of time stimulate readers both by confirming our expectations and at the same time surprising us” (Jago 67).

I find that many students, pre-service teachers and teachers question why some stories are continuously taught. This is one of those explanations that make complete sense to me. Why has The Grapes of Wrath continued to be taught even though students (and often teachers) groan every time the book is handed out? It’s pretty simple—we know what to expect, but are still surprised by the truths of Steinbeck’s story. Even veteran readers and teachers of the novel can learn something new with each reading. This can be applied to many stories that hold sway in the curriculum.

“Students are also convinced that authors deliberately make literature difficult” (Jago 60).

I found this sentence amusing, if I’m being honest. As an author of sorts, I can assure readers that I do not intentionally make my work difficult. Although I’ve been told that my diction is often elevated and difficult in some of my fantasy pieces, it was not done to intentionally confuse or irritate a reader. When most authors sit down to write something, I highly doubt that they intend to write a difficult piece which will be taught in a classroom. How many of the authors being taught today even thought they’d make it to publication, let alone the canon? Do you think that Steinbeck sat down to write The Grapes of Wrath, having a gut feeling that it would become a masterpiece? I highly doubt it.

Let’s be completely honest here. Authors who sit down to write something “great” often end up failing. Why is that? There is something to be said for having something important to say rather than saying something to be important. I know that when I feel inspired to write, it isn’t because I want to write a great piece of literature; I sit down to say something. I believe that most authors that we read and teach feel the same way.

“Plot and structure, character, setting, point of view, style and language, symbol, and theme are the building blocks of fiction” (Jago 61).

Ahh… good old building blocks. We used to play with them as children, creating castles that scraped the clouds and towns which housed princes and princesses (or, for those like me, they housed ogres and elves).

The questions that I think of when considering these elements is: are we spending too much time on these in high school? Shouldn’t students know what they are by the time they reach, say, junior year? At that point, I feel that teachers should focus more on the application and indications of these elements on the texts being used. While I feel that the building blocks of fiction (let’s not forget that non-fiction uses these too!) are very important, I keep going back to the word “building.” As with scaffolding and Zygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development, we should use that base knowledge of these literary building blocks and move forward with them. In other words, I think that educators should choose a grade level where introducing and solidifying these concepts would work the best. From there, teachers shouldn’t have to focus entirely on these and should be able to go further with them. I am also very understanding of the fact that students play a large role in the retention of information and whether or not they understand it.

Let’s take a look at two excerpts from this chapter:

“A hero or heroine takes center stage. Trouble emerges. Help appears, sometimes from an unlikely source. Complications develop. Things get worse and worse until the conflict is finally resolved.”

“the key structures of the story: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and denouement or resolution” (Jago 65).

What is the difference between these two? For starters, one consists of “structures” rather than ideas. Let’s discuss another way to view these: connotation and denotation. The structures in the second example offer denotations, or what could be considered definitions of plot elements. The first would be a better example of connotation, or what the structures mean in a non-literal sense. I found that the repetition of ideas here was interesting, as many educators try and stick with the denotations of words rather than applying them in a connotative manner which students may understand more.

“What they don’t understand is that understanding how literary devices work gives readers power over text” (Jago 68).

Apparently I’ve discovered a theme in this chapter. I am a devout fan of knowing basics, but I want my students to do more than define them. I want my students to apply literary terms and devices to a text and know how that affects the text (and/ or themselves) in a meaningful way.

Why do students have a difficult time unwrapping a text? It is likely because they don’t know how identify, link and make critical remarks about the literary elements contained therein. This is sort of the point I’ve been coming to all along. “The more clearly students understand how a writer works his magic in a line of poetry or prose, the better able they will be to analyze that line” (Jago 68).

What is our job as teachers? We are giving the tools to our students with which they will use to interpret their world—for the rest of their lives. Knowing the tools is a fantastic start. Understanding how to use them merits a bit more attention.

Let’s talk for a few moments about the idea of advances courses versus regular courses. As Jago mentions, many teachers feel that more complex ideas, tasks and assignments should be reserved for the advanced placement classes. I, much like Jago, question the validity of this point. My personal belief with all students is that if you do not have high expectations for them, then how will they ever have high expectations of themselves? I feel that difficult literature belongs in the classroom for a reason. We are not there to teach easy texts—students can explore those on their own using the tools with which they are given for more difficult texts. Believe me; they will start seeing new texts a bit differently after studying classics in the classroom. (That was not a reference to Jago’s book, although my subconscious cleverness amuses me.) While some teachers may not agree with me whatsoever, I believe that even the slow or challenged learners should be given difficult texts. How can we expect students to improve if they are not put in their zone of proximal development? If we continually give students texts that are simple for them, then what skills are we building?

I don’t necessarily fancy myself to be a difficult teacher, but I want the texts I use to challenge my students. I find some of these texts challenging and that is part of the excitement! I will be discovering things about the text just as my students will undoubtedly teach me things that I never saw before. I love it when my professors admit that they’ve never thought of that angle on a symbol or grasped this particular theme of a short story when a student describes it just right.

Just as we are there to teach; so are we there to be taught.