Language Arts in Asia 2 : English and Chinese through Literature, Drama and Popular Culture [1 ed.] 9781443861717, 9781443858151

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Language Arts in Asia 2

Language Arts in Asia 2: English and Chinese through Literature, Drama and Popular Culture

Edited by

Christina DeCoursey

Language Arts in Asia 2: English and Chinese through Literature, Drama and Popular Culture Edited by Christina DeCoursey This book first published 2014 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2014 by Christina DeCoursey and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-5815-3, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-5815-1

This book is dedicated to Eric, Owen and Elizabeth

TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgments ..................................................................................... ix Contributors ................................................................................................ x Part I: Popular Culture in Language Arts Introduction ................................................................................................ 2 Christina DeCoursey Chapter One ................................................................................................ 8 The Constitutive Role of Semiotic Modes for the Theory and Practice of Multimodal Analysis John A. Bateman Chapter Two ............................................................................................. 34 From 2D to 3D: Implementation and Evaluation of Second Life as Supplement to Language Study Lan Li Chapter Three ........................................................................................... 51 Comics as a Medium for Teaching Grammar to Older Students Ahmed Bhuiyan and Michelle Draper Chapter Four ............................................................................................. 70 The Heroic Villain: Anime in Moral Education and English Language Learning Carman Ng Part II: Literature and Drama in Language Arts Chapter Five ............................................................................................. 90 Drama in Education, Education in Drama: A Student-Centred Historical Perspective for Studying Alan Bennett’s ‘The History Boys’ Mike Ingham

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Chapter Six ............................................................................................. 110 Popular Culture as Language Art: Tales of Literary Tourism Brian Eaton Chapter Seven......................................................................................... 130 Creative Writing in Action: Fostering EFL Learners’ Positive Attitudes toward Foreign Language Learning Afshin Mohammadi Chapter Eight .......................................................................................... 149 The Use of Video Clips in the Teaching of Drama Shilpagauri Prasad Ganpule Part III: Teaching Chinese through Language Arts Chapter Nine........................................................................................... 160 Dubbing as a Method for Language Practice and Learning John C. Wakefield Chapter Ten ............................................................................................ 167 Language Arts and the Teaching of Chinese: Literature and Fiction Resources Christina DeCoursey

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The editor is grateful to the many people who assisted with the production of this volume. It is a great pleasure to see the interest in Language Arts growing in Hong Kong, in Asia, and internationally. At this time, I am grateful to the Department of English at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University. In particular, I would like to thank Professor Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen, Head of the Department of English, for his generous support in developing APELA, as it has metamorphosed into Language Arts and Linguistics (LAL). For the past two years, the conference has provided a springboard for developing the community of research into Language Arts in Hong Kong, and in Asia. It is my pleasure to thank the Organising Committee who helped plan the conference, read papers and provide feedback facilitative in the planning and editing processes. I am grateful to Professor Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen in this regard. I would also like to thank Ms. Margaret M. Nicolas, Ms. Tiffany Yating Yu, Ms. Catherine Law and Ms. Rowena Hon for their administrative assistance. The last two years have seen the conference renamed LAL, and a journal and book series begun. It has been a privilege to work with various colleagues around the world on these projects. I look forward to continuing this work. Christina DeCoursey The Hong Kong Polytechnic University

CONTRIBUTORS John Bateman is Professor of Appliable English Linguistics at the University of Bremen, Germany. His research interests include multimodal analysis of film, discourse structures, natural language generation and systemic functional linguistics. Ahmed Bhuiyan is a graduate of North South University who majored in English Literature and TESOL and then completed his Masters from King’s College, London in English Literature. He is currently a Lecturer in English at North South University. Christina DeCoursey is Programme Leader of the MA in English Language Arts in the Department of English, Hong Kong Polytechnic University. She got her PhD from the University of Toronto. Her research interests include language and literature, reception studies, virtual worlds in teaching and learning, and the use of animation to teach ESP. Michelle Draper is a Lecturer in English at North South University, who did her Bachelor’s in Linguistics and TESOL at North South University. She completed her Masters in ELT at the University of Nottingham, UK. Brian Eaton is an Associate Lecturer at Derby University, UK, and at the University of Hong Kong’s SPACE. He was previously Marketing Manager for the Wordsworth Trust at Dove Cottage in the Lake District, Cumbria, UK. His research interests include marketing research, and visitor behaviour at cultural attractions, museums and literary houses. Shilpagauri Ganpule is Associate Professor and Head of the Department of English, at Professor Ramkrishna More Arts, Commerce and Science College, Akurdi, Pune, India. She received her PhD in English at Pune University. Her area of specialisation is English Language and Literature Teaching. She is a member of the Academic Council and Faculty of Arts and Fine Arts, at the University of Pune, India. Mike Ingham is Associate Professor in the Department of English at Lingnan University in Hong Kong. Previously he was Head of the Department of Modern Languages, British School of Gran Canaria. He has

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worked extensively on dramatic texts, and his research interests include intermediality (poetry, art and song) and Shakespeare’s language. Dr. Lan Li is a Fellow of the Chartered Institute of Linguists, UK, with MPhil and PhD degrees in Applied Linguistics from Exeter University. She works as an Associate Professor in the Department of English, Hong Kong Polytechnic University. Her teaching and research interest cover semantics, lexicology, computer-mediated communication, corpus linguistics and sociolinguistics. Afshin Mohammadi is a recent graduate in English Language Teaching (ELT) from the University of Kashan, Iran. His main research interest focuses on the contribution of out-of-class writing activities to language learners’ autonomy. His other research interests include investigation of the effects of identity formation and social structure in language learning. Carman Ng is a PhD candidate in the Department of English, Hong Kong Polytechnic University. Her research interests include anime, drama and multimodal analysis. John Wakefield teaches in the Department of English Language and Literature at the Hong Kong Baptist University. His research interests include English language and literature, languages and linguistics, applied linguistics and second language acquisition.

PART I POPULAR CULTURE IN LANGUAGE ARTS

INTRODUCTION CHRISTINA DECOURSEY Over the past quarter-century, Language Arts has undergone constant development. It began as a teaching and learning programme in the United States, focused on the four skills and the delivery of language ability outcomes. It had four content areas: literature, drama, popular culture and media. Visual literacy was folded into Language Arts skills during the 1990s, as it became apparent that multimedia would be a major new element of art and communication. Since that time, Language Arts has embraced new issues connected to language use and language study, including critical and creative thinking, ethics and civics, and cultural sensitivity. In the same time frame, Language Arts has rapidly gone global. This is because its approach of using literature, drama and popular culture texts in the language classroom is intrinsically motivating for language learners. It also provides many classroom opportunities for practicing and naturalising idiomatic language, and assisting teachers in scaffolding elements of the cultural performance necessary to second-language proficiency. A major development for Language Arts over the past decade has been its convergence with tertiary learning objectives and graduate attributes. Tertiary departments and fields worldwide understand the need to produce graduates with competencies in the core mother tongue and second-language communication skills, as well as the related areas of visual literacy, critical thinking, creativity, ethics, civics and cultural sensitivity. The much-advertised demise of the Humanities has been accompanied by a rise in appreciation of Language Arts in terms of delivering skills and proficiency, across a variety of disciplines. Writing and reading fiction are an example of this. Both are now routinely used across a variety of tertiary studies, for example to sensitise healthcare practitioners and clinicians to the human needs and experiences of patients, to assist business students in exploring interpersonal dimensions of the workplace, to introduce non-specialists to scientific ideas, to explore the human impact of science on individuals, societies and ecosystems and

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to equip social welfare practitioners with tools to reach and assist people coping with various life challenges. Multimedia is an area of growth for Language Arts in tertiary contexts. Media tools, including apps, mobile telephony and animation, have become integral to twenty-first century communication. These tend to entail, and even foreground, elements of literature and drama. For example, constructing and pacing narratives, and inventing characters and scenarios have become necessary abilities in graphic design and marketing. The emergence of tertiary area studies, such as the Creative and Cultural Industries and Fine Arts Management, has taken on a new significance, as institutions and educators appreciate the nexus of fieldspecific subject knowledge with communication and with literary, dramatic and popular culture content. Perhaps most excitingly, Language Arts has become a research paradigm, notable for its diversity of interests, as it engages scholars from various fields to study Language Arts areas and competencies. This volume builds on research into the major Language Arts areas seen in the first volume, Language Arts in Asia: Literature and Drama in English, Chinese and Chinese. It extends that initial analysis of popular culture, literature and drama, by applying them to new issues in the teaching of both English and Chinese. It makes a significant contribution to deepening the research base supporting Language Arts as a teaching and learning paradigm. It offers a variety of chapters focused on Asian contexts, including Hong Kong, mainland China, India, Iran, Malaysia and Japan. It includes chapters addressing Language Arts teaching, not only in teaching English but also teaching Chinese to non-native speakers. The current volume is divided into three parts. Part 1 focuses on the use of popular culture texts in language teaching. Part 2 contains chapters on using literature and drama in the second-language classroom. Chapters in Part 3 consider the use of Language Arts teaching areas and methods in the teaching of Chinese. Throughout this rich scholarship, areas of theory drawn on include systemic functional linguistics, motivation studies, film studies, multimodality and second-language acquisition. Methods include appraisal analysis, content analysis, corpus studies, case studies and genrebased pedagogies. Chapters explore a broad range of genres and media, in the teaching of English and Chinese. Chapters in Part 1 focus on the use of popular culture to teach second-language competencies. John Bateman’s seminal paper addresses the ways in which second-language learners process multimodal combinations of visual and verbal elements, and the visual mechanics of layered and serialised visual formats. Other papers also address this vital new area of research. The chapter by Lan Li

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explores the use of multi-user virtual environments with digital natives as well as digital immigrants, in particular noticing the benefits of embodied learning experiences, as well as positioning materials in-world and managing the learning and assessment processes. Ahmed Bhuiyan and Michelle Draper report on a study that tested the viability of using comic strips to teach grammar to older students in Bangladesh who have fossilised grammar errors. Their recommendations cover the choice of comic strip, the means of structuring comic strips into pedagogical materials, and teaching the modalities of the comic strip as a medium. In her chapter on anime, Carman Ng explores the sophisticated narrative structure, and complex ethical ambiguities presented in this popular Asian medium. Her findings include the use of anime to help second-language learners understand ideological positioning and socio-ethical issues. She offers reading and writing exercises to teach critical visual literacy and cultural sensitivity. Literature and drama have been foundational to Language Arts, with its focus on reading and writing, and its recent inclusion of ethics, civics and intercultural sensitivity. While observing and taking advantage of research trends in these areas, Language Arts has not yet been well theorised. The current volume contributes substantially to this issue. Where the previous volume sophisticated methodological and theoretical approaches in Language Arts, here we extend that trajectory. Mike Ingham interviewed Hong Kong tertiary students for their responses to the Alan Bennett play, The History Boys. Ingham sets students’ responses to a range of subversive perspectives articulated in the play, against the meliorist, conventional and conformist use of role play in the Hong Kong second-language classroom. His concluding reflections are well worth reading for their insight into navigating the conundrums of teaching through drama. The chapter by Brian Eaton looks at an exciting new area – literary tourism. He explores the different ways students respond to locations associated with iconic English literary authors, including Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter. Afshin Mohammadi’s chapter presents a valuable study of second-language learners’ motivation, focused on the use of creative writing in learning English. He compares Iranian learners’ attitudes towards creative writing as compared to expository texts. The chapter by Shilpagauri Ganpule presents a study of Indian second-language students’ responses to the use of video clips when working on Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. Her data explores the impact of costume, music and set on students’ enjoyment and understanding of characters and plot. In Part 3, papers address Language Arts in teaching Chinese. The changing role of English as a global language will significantly reposition

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Language Arts as a language teaching paradigm in the next few decades. In the past, as an English language teaching paradigm, Language Arts in second-language contexts tended to be done by native speakers, who taught well-known texts by canonical authors from native-speaker countries. This tended towards teaching second-language students the details of English or American cultural performance. In recent years, the English language has become deterritorialised. It can no longer be said to belong definitively to any single culture or country. Shared among many more second-language, than native, speakers, it exists as a negotiated space, defined by native and non-native users as equals. These changes highlight the role of language teaching and learning in the ongoing processes of globalisation. Post-colonial studies have problematised claims for England or America as a phonological, lexico-grammatical or cultural ‘centre’ of the English language. At the same time, they have valorised post-colonial and non-native literary and dramatic voices. In the previous volume, the complexities of authenticity were explored, and extensive lists of Asian authors writing in English provided. However, the challenges Language Arts must address go beyond the English language, and the selection of English cultural texts. There is a realisation in language teaching and related scholarly fields, that there is not one single English language to be instilled in language curricula. The English language in its new, transnational phase, must embrace its multiplicity and hybridity. English language teaching pedagogies now recognise many varieties of Englishes, spoken in different parts of the world. English language scholars study World Englishes. It is not surprising, that English language teaching methods are caught up in the politically and culturally contested flows of post-colonial language use and dispersal. In the same way, Language Arts is in process of accommodating the new global realities, embracing non-native writers, teaching local varieties of English, and moving beyond the English language. At the same time as the native speaker has been displaced, there is a growing realisation that other languages will join English as widely used global languages. As global power shifts away from western powers and towards Asia, scholarly attention has been directed at the teaching of Chinese, now emerging as global language. Language Arts arose decades ago in western universities, as a projection of Liberal Studies. Then an elite tertiary study projected back into primary and secondary curricula, it aimed to develop reading, writing and speaking competencies. It is now in widespread use in Asian education systems, used to teach English language competencies. Hong Kong has adopted Language Arts at all levels of its education system, with mainland universities not far behind.

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Similar programmes are found in Australia, Japan, India and Malaysia. Further, Language Arts approaches are beginning to be used for the teaching of Chinese. While traditional teaching methods for Chinese have emphasised drilling, repetitive copying and rote memorisation, these methods are not attractive to second-language students worldwide, whose learning experiences are more student-centred. In recent years, Chinese language teaching and learning has embraced a range of contemporary second-language teaching methods, such as computer-aided language learning, the use of culture in the curriculum, and contemporary classroom management strategies. The profound commitment of Confucian cultures to their language and culture, and the attractive qualities of the culture to Chinese language learners, make Language Arts approaches useful in this context. Further, as mainland tertiary institutions increasingly adopt western general education courses for teaching English, giving Chinese language teachers personal experience with Language Arts areas and methods, it seems likely that methods for teaching Chinese language to non-Chinese speakers will develop steadily in this direction over the next decade. Thus, we can expect the use of literature, drama and popular culture, in company with visual literacy, critical and creative thinking, ethics, civics and cultural sensitivity, to become widespread pedagogic norms in the teaching of many languages across Asia. These processes are ongoing, worldwide. And so, Language Arts is in a phase of reconceptualising itself as a teaching, learning and research paradigm relevant to the teaching of all languages, rather than just as an English language and culture teaching approach. Chapters in Part 3 of the current volume address the use of Language Arts in teaching Chinese. These chapters break new ground, as very little work addresses the teaching of Chinese through Language Arts. John Wakefield’s engaging chapter considers dubbing as a means of supporting second-language acquisition. He notes its flexibility as a teaching tool notable for providing second-language learners authentic and interesting native-speaker models, and its ease of use in the classroom and beyond, and with individuals or small groups. My own contribution reviews the particular challenges involved in teaching Chinese language to speakers of alphabetic mother tongues, and the revival currently underway in using literature to teach various aspects of a second language. Extending the bibliographic work from the previous volume, this chapter includes reference lists of bilingual Chinese and English Chinese classical and contemporary literature and fiction. I am pleased to announce that the APELA conference was renamed in the past year, and is now called Language Arts and Linguistics (LAL).

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This is part of a broader effort to support research into Language Arts, particularly through literature, but also across all the well-established Language Arts areas and skills. I am pleased to be taking a related book series and a scholarly journal into production in the coming year. Christina DeCoursey

CHAPTER ONE THE CONSTITUTIVE ROLE OF SEMIOTIC MODES FOR THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF MULTIMODAL ANALYSIS JOHN A. BATEMAN False judgements enter art history if we judge from the impression which pictures of different epochs, placed side by side, make on us.…They speak a different language. (Wölfflin, 1929: 228)

Introduction: The multimodal challenge In most areas where the study of texts has traditionally been pursued, calls to include a variety of further communicative practices and artefacts are now common. A shift can be observed towards the exploration of a whole spectrum of media, ranging from film to websites to manga. This expansion of concerns is driven by several factors. The most mundane is that it often looks more attractive when other media are addressed and so, in a context of increasing competition for students, it is understandable that curricula promise a more varied media diet. A deeper reason is the suggestion that this may in any case be more relevant for today’s cultures given the growing acceptance of mixed and hybrid media as objects worthy of study. This is supported, on the one hand, by the awareness that notions such as ‘narrative’ are applicable independently of the medium in which that narrative unfolds (Ryan, 2005) and, on the other, by the rapid advance of the study of the visual and of visual communication in general (Rose, 2012). There is also increasing discussion of possible cognitive commonalities across different means of expression, asking to what extent processing mechanisms are shared (Zacks et al, 2009; Cohn et al, 2012). These developments bring with them not only a new constellation of research challenges but also a considerable range of practical difficulties – particularly in education. Where formerly it might have been sufficient to

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teach the workings of language for various purposes, educators are now expected to find useful things to say concerning a far broader range of media. This expectation too often neglects the simple fact that understanding how such media combinations work is, itself, a substantial scientific challenge. Without further guidance it is natural to fall back on more generalist, interpretative ‘readings’ that discuss multimodal artefacts as symptoms of broader socio-cultural phenomena and what is known of the particular objects of analysis from other contexts of discussion. Approaches of this kind are less tied to specific details of form and so can be applied more readily regardless of medium. However, while there is little doubt that such work can produce insightful accounts of its objects of study, its methodology is heavily reliant on well-honed intuitions and the ability to pick out telling examples illustrating the arguments being made. Doing this well is already a considerable challenge when dealing with verbal texts, demanding expert knowledge and experience in both literature and culture. When multimodal artefacts are addressed, the challenge grows and changes. The analysis of sophisticated combinations of semiotic modes is far from straightforward – so much so that traditional techniques inherited from linguistic and literary studies rarely give sufficient guidance concerning how multimodal analysis might effectively proceed. Nor is it always clear just what multimodal analysis should be contributing – is it just film theory, comics analysis, document design, art history and so on dressed in new terms, or has it its own contributions to make? When such questions are placed in educational contexts, they require communicable answers. And here, practitioners and educators are too often left on their own. Even describing what is occurring in complex multimodal artefacts can be a significant problem raising basic semiotic questions. To move beyond impressionistic responses to multimodal artefacts presented as analyses, therefore, analytic methods must be found that are more responsive to identifiable details of form and ensuing media specificities and which can be reliably applied and communicated. Such methods need to be capable of, on the one hand, helping to manage the multiplicity and complexity inherent to multimodality and, on the other, revealing the meaning-making practices at work in dialogue with existing media approaches. Without this, traditional educational aims such as empowering students to articulate fine-grained critical analyses of their objects of study and to understand and engage with the analyses of others will be difficult to foster. As one step towards achieving a repertoire of such methods, this paper suggests that a critical methodological building block can be founded in a

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suitable definition of semiotic mode. Despite the apparent centrality of ‘modality’ evident in the very use of the term ‘multimodality’, definitions for just what is meant by mode still vary. Some suggest that mode is inherently a fuzzy notion: Norris (2004: 11), for example, suggests that modes are “not bounded units”, instead “mode is a loose concept of a grouping of signs that have acquired meaning in our historical development.” Others relate mode closely to the sensory channels that are employed (Allwood, 2008). Positions such as these do not, however, provide effective methodological guidance for many of the tasks facing the would-be multimodal researcher or teacher since they are comparatively undiscriminating. The direction taken in the present paper follows more closely that set out by Kress and van Leeuwen (2001) and developed further in Bateman (2011). This refocuses attention on the semiotic ‘backdrop’ out of which any means of expression can grow. Saussure, Hjelmslev and others traditionally emphasised notions of system by which signs can exist and this can too easily be neglected when talking of individual signs and their classifications, ‘groupings’ or recombinations. One consequence of this has been to leave a gap in the theoretical space within which practical work on multimodal artefacts proceeds: on the smallest scale, there are signs, on the largest, there are ‘semiotic systems’. For effective practical analysis, however, we need intermediate categories that can be made sufficiently fine-grained to be applied as a tool in the analysis of particular multimodal artefacts as required. This paper will pursue the notion of semiotic mode as one such category. Methodologically, this means that the identification of semiotic modes will be placed in the foreground: we will argue that the very first step to be taken during practical analysis must always be an explicit attempt to ‘fix’ the semiotic modes being mobilised in any specific artefact or performance. As we shall see, approaches still commonly assume that the semiotic modes present are somehow already ‘known’ or obvious. But this is often not the case at all. Detailed empirical analysis is required to reveal which particular semiotic modes are active and even which semiotic modes exist. Much of this paper will therefore concern itself with demonstrating this for some superficially clear cases that turn out, on closer inspection, to benefit from a more discriminating allocation of semiotic modes. The paper will focus specifically on visual media for its examples. Essential differences in internal semiotic organisation are particularly evident in this area and have led to the existence of a set of disciplines concerning themselves both with critical analysis and the history of visual

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forms that are completely, and occasionally antagonistically, disjoint to approaches to language. In such disciplines it is often assumed that basic organisational properties of the semiotic modes addressed are so different to those of language that approaches drawing on language are, at best, irrelevant. Aspects of this same discussion of the relation between visual studies and language-based studies reverberate in some form or other back through history (cf., e.g., discussions in Mitchell, 1994), taking in philosophical considerations of the differences between pictorial and propositional ‘representations’ and the competing arguments for and against imagistic, propositional or mixed cognitive or neural mechanisms along the way (cf., e.g., Pylyshyn, 1973; Danto, 1982; Paivio, 1986). Here we will take a specific ‘semiotic’ slice through the issues at hand, constructing via the notion of semiotic mode a more inclusive account.

Semiotic modes at work As discussed in visual semiotics, one of the striking properties of visual artefacts is their resistance to decomposition or segmentation into basic units responsible for guiding construction of their meaning (cf. Eco, 1976: 215; Nöth, 1995: 451–452). They appear to lack the ‘second’ articulation of that double articulation often argued to be an essential design feature of language (Nöth, 1995: 237; Martinet, 1960; Hockett, 1960). On the one hand, lower levels of pictorial abstraction are not arbitrary due to their close link with perception; on the other, the significance or otherwise of any distinctions drawn at those lower levels appears to be driven from the more abstract levels. This makes it necessary to adopt a far more dynamic approach to the demarcation and identification of analytic units – a position which, although not new in itself, is certainly now becoming increasingly prominent within concrete proposals for models of multimodal interpretation (cf., e.g., Bucher, 2011; Boeriis, 2012; Wildfeuer, 2012). Much of the interplay of meanings in multimodality is of this kind: information given in one mode may set up questions to be addressed in another. The units relevant for analysis are then created in the interaction between the modalities and their guidance of the interpretative questions raised for viewers. A straightforward demonstration of this is offered by Nelson Goodman by means of the following thought-experiment: Compare a momentary electrocardiogram with a Hokusai drawing of Mt. Fujiyama. The black wiggly lines on white backgrounds may be exactly the same in the two cases. Yet the one is a diagram and the other a picture. What makes the difference? (Goodman, 1969: 229)

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Here Goodman is concerned with critiquing accounts of ‘iconicity’ that base themselves on ‘resemblance’; as we shall discuss further below, resemblance alone is certainly insufficient when discussing artefacts that appear ‘iconic’ in the traditional Peircian sense. The important methodological step that we must now add into the account, therefore, is the realisation that demarcating some distinctions made in material form as meaningful is ontologically dependent on the prior adoption of particular semiotic modes. The prior adoption of a semiotic mode is inescapable: without such an adoption, there are no grounds for articulating potential material patterns for semiotic interpretation and no way of identifying those material patterns that are to be considered significant and those which are not. This is then what makes the difference between the Hokusai drawing and the electrocardiogram. The semiotic mode taken to apply determines that, in the case of an electrocardiogram or other kind of graph, the precise thickness of the line drawing the graph may not be meaning-bearing. In contrast, in a painting, for example, the precise thickness of lines may well be held to be an intrinsic component of the artist’s style and so be attributed with considerable significance. Such differences are clearly not derivable from the physical data alone. If a visual representation identical to a mathematical graph were produced as an artwork, it is no longer the case that the thickness of the lines adopted cannot be meaning-bearing. Since in the artwork they are a decision of the ‘artist’ rather than a byproduct of the representational constraints of the semiotic mode of graphs, they could well have been drawn differently. Actual instances of such distinctions can be found in well-known cases such as Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup Can renderings and similar re-appropriations. This relatively ‘free floating’ aspect of visual artefacts with respect to the semiotic modes that they invoke is then the crucial point. It is still common to assume that the identification of precisely which semiotic modes are active in an artefact is relatively straightforward. The step of defining the semiotic modes in play is, as a consequence, overlooked or taken to be obvious – the distinctions made in some material form (as well as the material itself) are taken to have already signalled their artefact’s intended mode of reception. We will show that this is not the case by considering two paintings, both from the fifteenth century and both extensively discussed in the literatures of multimodality, semiotics and art history. Although these paintings can be considered to be broadly ‘representational’, and so would, on a first reading, most likely be assumed to be iconic depictions of some states of affairs, we will see that adhering to this assumption complicates and distorts subsequent analysis

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considerably. A semiotic mode of naturalistic depiction turns out not to be the most insightful way to approach their analysis within a multimodal perspective.

Example 1: La Primavera The first painting is La Primavera (Allegory of Spring) painted (originally untitled) by Sandro Botticelli sometime between 1477 and 1482 and reproduced for ease of discussion in Figure 1. This painting has been given an extensive semiotic analysis by Michael O’Toole (O’Toole, 2011 [1994]) and we build on this analysis so as to illustrate the benefits of setting out a more explicit orientation to the semiotic modes being mobilised. While not disagreeing with much of the final content of O’Toole’s analysis, which is itself, as he notes, also largely consonant with established positions taken in art history, we will rearrange some of the particular distinctions he proposes in order to bring the operation of semiotic modes into clearer relief and to show more explicitly the process of interpretation from a semiotic perspective.

Figure 1: La Primavera, Sandro Botticelli, ca. 1480

O’Toole’s overarching goal is to open up art to semiotic treatment within a broadly systemic-functional approach, a linguistically inspired perspective now finding increasing application in multimodal analysis (cf. van Leeuwen, 1985; Kress and van Leeuwen, 2006 [1996], 2001; O’Toole, 1990, 2011 [1994]). For each type of artwork he considers, O’Toole

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accordingly defines a general matrix of semiotic distinctions that draw on principles from systemic-functional linguistics and which are intended to operate as guides for interpretation. These establish for each object of analysis a scaffold that leads would-be interpreters to ask certain questions of a work and its aesthetic and thematic organisation. O’Toole intends this as a method for allowing spectators to talk about how an artwork has affected them, relating that experience to broader discussions of the work’s history, content and aesthetic form, thereby bringing semiotically informed discussion into dialogue with questions of art history and the sociocultural background necessary for understanding any given work. This is without doubt a valuable line to follow but it does not yet separate sufficiently the respective contributions of any individual artwork being analysed and the semiotic processes that must be brought to bear for interpretation. This is important because without this foundation, the support provided for analysis is limited. There remain significant ‘leaps’ that the would-be analysts must make on their own. This is then less than ideal since, particularly in educational contexts, the background knowledge necessary for making such leaps may well be absent. Of the several dimensions from systemic-functional theory that O’Toole’s semiotic matrices employ we will focus on just one of these here, that defining structural analytic units. These units are set out on a ‘rank scale’ analogously to treatments well-known from grammar within systemic-functional theories of language. The rank scale for a stratum within a semiotic system defines the units available; each ranking unit is composed of elements taken from the rank below. For current purposes, we consider O’Toole’s discussion of painting, beginning with the kinds of analytic units and methodology to which O’Toole appeals. Here we will see quite precisely the consequences of de-emphasising the prior ‘fixing’ of applicable semiotic modes, which O’Toole also evidently takes to be unproblematic. The rank scale O’Toole proposes for paintings consists of four elements: ‘work’, ‘episode’, ‘figure’ and ‘member’ – thus a work is made up of episodes, episodes of figures and figures of members. Some variation in the deployment of these elements is also accommodated since portraits and landscapes do not necessarily involve episodes; episodes are a particular feature of narrative. The precise status of the potential segmentations suggested by this rank scale bears closer scrutiny, however, since two (onto-) logically distinct processes are conflated. Semiotically, we see the implicit construction of a semiotic mode of naturalistic depiction. O’Toole presents this without explicit discussion as more or less ‘obvious’. What makes the mode ‘naturalistic’, however, is its

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(conventionalised) congruence with processes of visual perception which would also tend to segment the visual field in this way. Apart from trying to disrupt or subvert the perceptual system as found in works of the 1960’s Op Art movement, the ‘artist’ can do very little about how the perceptual system functions. The access the system provides to visual representations is robustly oriented to naturalistic interpretations since this is the evolutionary purpose of the system. In contrast to this, the semiotic modes that can be developed with respect to visual material are limitless and are by no means restricted to congruence. O’Toole’s adoption of the naturalistic reading within his semiotic matrix of semiotic interpretation therefore confounds perceptual properties arising from the medium of painting with just one of the very many semiotic modes that that medium may act as support for.1 Returning to the particular case of La Primavera, O’Toole’s approach decomposes the contributions made to the painting’s interpretation as follows. Along the structural dimension given by the rank scale, the painting exhibits several figures (human-like figures in this case) made up of several members (arms, weapons, clothing, etc.), and so on. Distinct ‘functions’ are then set out to describe the combinations such elements may take on at each level of structure. This is again, by and large, similar to descriptions of language and grammatical clauses: clauses are composed of elements of various scales taking up various functions, such as Actor, Subject and so on; this makes it natural for O’Toole to talk here of a ‘grammar of painting’ as capturing the expressive options available to an artist. Precisely this similarity to grammar makes the approach ‘userfriendly’ from the perspective of those coming from linguistics because they encounter a familiar frame of reference for analytically decomposing an object of study. Analyses may, as a consequence, come to look very similar for the linguistic and visual contributions – despite the fact that a very different kind of meaning-making is involved. O’Toole’s interpretation of the painting then operates by ‘shuttling’ between the individual structural units and the work as a whole in order to fill in the questions raised by his semiotic matrix. The result of this process is a collection of functionally labelled configurations of structural units largely compatible with what is known from art historians concerning the work and the intentions behind its creation. O’Toole presents this as if it follows from his guided interpretation, but actually this cannot be the case – somewhere in the middle of the process an unremarked shift in semiotic modes occurs. This shift is not made explicit, and so constitutes a gap where interpretation can founder. Let us follow this through in detail.

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At the very beginning of his discussion, O’Toole includes one of the standard interpretations of the ‘story’ depicted in the painting, which is also one of the traditional modes of access to artworks of this kind. The human or human-like figures present perceptually in La Primavera are standardly identified as follows: in the centre is Venus and, above her, Cupid; on the left, there are the three ‘Graces’ – Love, Chastity and Beauty – and, extreme left, Mercury; on the right we find Zephyr descending from the trees to Floris (left) and Chloris (right). When we know this, any additional knowledge that we might have concerning Greek and Roman mythology naturally adds a host of further interpretative clues – we will see some of what these characters are up to below. However, for our current purpose of considering multimodality and its semiotic foundation, this potential level of further interpretation is less interesting. When we pursue this path, the depicted elements become little more than illustrations of known stories: the stories define certain attributes that can be expected of the figures present and this then mutually conditions the perceived adequacy of the illustrations offered, filling in narrative contexts. The considerable aesthetic value given to the work also clearly lies elsewhere since this is largely unaffected by such background knowledge and it would be possible to have the same ‘story’ told in a manner totally devoid of aesthetic impact. Moreover, even if correct and important for an art historical understanding, from the perspective of semiotic interpretation, this view of the painting as illustrating a story has omitted most of the explanatory work that is necessary. The multimodal analysis as presented only exists ‘after the facts’, i.e., a posteriori, when all sources of evidence have been considered. This is a reoccurring problem in multimodal analysis: results are presented from a position that ‘already’ seems to know the answer. Baldry and Thibault (2006: 31), for example, similarly talk of the need to play structural units off against one another, so that in the final analysis information from various sources has influenced the outcome. However, in practice, what this all too often comes down to is that analysts know the results that they wish to bring out and negotiate the resources they have defined in their analytic frameworks accordingly. The analyses then naturally combine distinct kinds of information drawing on very different kinds of evidence. Some of that evidence is ‘present’ in the image, but a host of other information can only be read into the material given background knowledge about what an artefact is ‘meant’ to represent. This does not then distinguish the contribution of a multimodal analysis from other ‘hermeneutics’ of interpretation familiar from literary and cultural studies or from art history itself.

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The description of an analysis as the analyst presents it may well try to capture something of the reasoning process that has been passed through while weighing these diverse sources of evidence, but the process itself rarely achieves the status of having become an explicit part of the model. Although many researchers, O’Toole included, note at this point that what is actually required is more a treatment of semiosis, i.e., the process of semiotic interpretation, there is rarely movement beyond impressionistic description. O’Toole’s own characterisation of this analytic process in terms of ‘shuttling’ “between our images of each unit and of the picture as a whole” (O’Toole, 2011 [1994]: 15), although suggestive, remains insufficient. The shuttling relies on the skilled and well-informed interpretative acts of the analyst and is not accounted for or further elucidated by the model. As a consequence, if the analyst does not happen to already know the answer, then he or she is placed in an awkward position. This is of particular concern when we consider how multimodal analysis of such complex artefacts is to be communicated to others. It also leaves open a substantial point of criticism from the perspective of art history since it becomes unclear what is being added that is not already covered, and covered in rather more detail, by traditional art historical discourses of description and evaluation. Traditional analysis appears to be being redone simply within a set of, non-obvious and theoretically loaded, new terms, while still crucially relying on just that knowledge that art history offers (cf., for a very similar line of critique, Machin, 2014: 223). A description of semiosis as ‘shuttling between elements’ also invokes yet again the fundamental disagreement concerning analytic units holding between approaches to visual artefacts that draw on linguistic semiotics and those anchored more in art history and in approaches to the visual. One cannot ‘shuttle’ between units as O’Toole suggests because the units are not there: they must first be created by active semiosis: somehow the very act of ‘shuttling’ must bring into existence the units among which the shuttling is taking place. A considerable tension between this kind of patterning and the notion of rank scale that O’Toole employs is then established: the representationally-motivated elements making up the rank scale in O’Toole’s analysis cannot be derived semiotically in a straightforward manner from the painting even though the analysis makes use of the units picked out as if those units were self-evident. The analysis thus underestimates the effects of the very different operation of visual semiotic systems when compared with linguistic semiotics and operates by conducting visual and linguistic analyses in similar terms.2 What must be provided is a more explicit account of the operations of this semiosis so that the interpretative acts of the analyst can, on the one hand, receive

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more support and, on the other, be made more transparent for communication to others. Returning, then, to our central theme of the importance of an appropriate selection of semiotic modes, let us now approach the interpretation of this artwork again, but this time without prejudging the question of the semiotic modes that might apply. As suggested above, the fact that we directly perceive a natural scene with various figures in various spatial relationships and performing certain actions is not yet sufficient to tell us what is being done with this material semiotically.3 And, in fact, there is much in the depiction itself that works against the simple assumption that a naturalistic semiotic mode is the best one to employ. For example, there is no doubt perceptually that the figure on the extreme right (Zephyr, O’Toole tells us) is physically interacting with the second figure from the right (Chloris). This is visually manifest and would be recognised by anyone with visual access to the image: iconic representations of figures, of respective gaze, and of motion/force vectors render this inescapable. What, however, is the third figure from the right doing? Here O’Toole draws on commentaries on the story behind the events depicted and tells us that this figure is, in fact, a ‘product’ of Zephyr’s attentions on Chloris. O’Toole includes this information at all levels: his first summary of the work, intended as an unsemiotically-informed account drawing on knowledge of mythology, describes this small scene as a “drama involving Zephyr and Flora” with Hora/Chloris between them (O’Toole, 2011 [1994]: 9). His more technical description resulting from the shuttling between the units given in the semiotic matrix then recodes and recapitulates this informal segmentation thus: Agents, Patients and Goals are the roles of the participants in actions. Thus, Zephyr is an Agent of the force of spring, Chloris is the Patient submitting to this force, and Flora is the Goal produced by it. (O’Toole, 2011 [1994]: 21)

But there is simply no way that such an analysis can be produced on the basis of the visual evidence given unless one first rejects the assumption that a naturalistic pictorial semiotic mode is being used: the picture just does not ‘show’ the events that O’Toole describes with his functionallylabelled elements. Given a characterisation of the painting in terms of the naturalistic mode of representation inherent in O’Toole’s semiotic matrix, any such interpretation can therefore only be considered surprising. There is no methodological step that could lead to it apart from a generic, unconstrained hermeneutic question of ‘what could that mean?’ that is

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licensed to disregard or re-interpret evidence from the work whenever a better story has been found. Any would-be analyst can thus have their analysis undermined by ‘secret knowledge’ – precisely what O’Toole was attempting to restrict by providing an explicit semiotic scaffold for guidance. This tendency is echoed in the interpretations offered for most parts of the painting. It is suggested that there is a collection of episodes and that various relationships are to be identified between these episodes. Venus, for example, acts as a mediator or transformative agency between the ‘earthy drama’ of the threesome on the right and the more ‘ethereal’ rendition as a dance of the threesome on the left (O’Toole, 2011 [1994]: 23). There is then only one way of allowing any such readings to follow from the material. The semiotic mode at issue must be considered noniconic (or, following Peirce more closely, non-‘imagistic’) in that what is depicted does not stand in a simple depiction relation to a corresponding natural scene. That is: the semiotic mode mobilised in this painting is not one of naturalistic rendition as O’Toole’s matrix implicitly assumes. This has many implications both for the interpretations that become relevant and for the analytic procedures to be followed. On the one hand, difficulties are raised for O’Toole’s goal of remaining as close as possible to what the object under analysis actually contains, since what precisely is contained is less clear when the assumption of an iconic pictorial mode is relaxed. Being able to ‘read’ this artefact then requires awareness of just which non-pictorial semiotic mode is deployed, which makes important connections to issues of ‘multimodal literacy’. On the other hand, ‘reading’ the painting non-iconically beneficially opens up a range of rather different interpretation strategies. The straightforward placing together of figures in the image should, for example, probably be given a semantic interpretation more closely related to ‘these figures are to be associated’ rather than the pictorial reading. For the scene with Zephyr, this would simply have been ‘here are two figures and one is touching the other’, which is clearly rather far from O’Toole’s preferred analysis. O’Toole’s description thus fails to distinguish these very distinct kinds of analysis and goes straight from perception to informed interpretation, just as the traditional critical art discourse does. There is in fact a continuum of characterisations to be distinguished here. There will in many cases be a range of visual cues in any visual representation directly supportive (i.e., perceptually supportive) of intended interpretations, even when the representation as such is not simply pictorial. Thus, the three figures of Zephyr, Chloris and Flora do not stand around statically but are arranged on a movement vector begun

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with Zephyr’s ‘unstable’ position in mid-air diagonally downwards, through Chloris, to continue with Flora stepping forward almost out of frame. The relations between movement, time, change and development are a standard resource in visual representations, and may in the present case be considered more ‘diagrammatic’ than pictorial (again drawing on distinctions as drawn by Peirce: cf. Nöth, 1995: 125–126). That is: the visual representation is being used to express structural connections and relationships rather than natural scenes. The structural association is carried further by the plant apparently issuing from Chloris’s mouth and wrapping itself around Flora: the diagrammatic connection is consequently being ‘blended’ (cf. Kutz et al, 2012) with naturalistic representational components – which is itself an interesting phenomenon both for further multimodality research and for multimodal literacy (cf. Bateman, 2011). The other figures in the painting are related in similarly indistinct and non-pictorial fashions. O’Toole tells us that what is depicted are selections of stories from mythology placed together by virtue of the relation drawn to Spring and the time of the year. It is suggested, for example, that the general right-to-left dynamic mentioned above might also constitute a reading path for the painting, although there is no evident narrative connection in that reading path. Iconic inter-episode relations in the sense of O’Toole’s rank scale are not expressed visually, although there are some connections of gaze and other vectors as Cupid is pointing his bow and arrow at one of the Graces, who in turn appears to be looking at Mercury. The interpretation in terms of Spring is open for those who have the background to relate the episodes – for such viewers the visual material may be seen as illustrating the narrative. The particular title, selected according to Foster and Tudor-Craig (1987: 42) by the painter and art historian Giorgio Vasari almost a hundred years after the painting’s production, helps in this, serving the traditional ‘anchoring’ function identified by Barthes (1977: 38–41) of guiding interpretation. The provision of interpretations on the basis of some material is not yet a particularly multimodal endeavour. However, the relevant background knowledge from mythology and literature that is necessary for building such interpretations applies equally, regardless of whether the depiction being interpreted is a painting or a text. More directly multimodal is the manner in which we can explore the semiotic resources being deployed in any medium or semiotic artefact in order to see how certain directions of interpretations are encouraged or supported rather than others. The painting as a whole exhibits a strong ‘tableau’ quality, a staged static configuration presenting the significant groupings of figures without action that unifies the composition. The three Graces are involved in some kind

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of joint action among themselves and Zephyr descends on Floris and Chloris as we have seen, but Venus and Mercury are otherwise engaged and there is little holding the episodes together. Thus, even those who lack the background information concerning Spring and Roman and Greek mythology are still presented with a striking aesthetic composition and interesting interpretative challenges to work out just what all these people are doing and why they are standing around in a wood. This then gains considerably in theoretical interest when we explicitly address the extent to which the design decisions embodied in the work could be indicative of the application of specific semiotic modes. As emphasised throughout this discussion, it is the applicable semiotic modes that determine both relevant interpretations and the material distinctions that are going to be necessary for recognising those interpretations. In the present case, therefore, it would be beneficial to explore the hypothesis that Botticelli’s painting gives us evidence of a semiotic mode that differs in significant ways from a naturalistic, pictorial or illustrative semiotic mode. For current purposes, we might call such an hypothesised semiotic mode visual allegory to go along with the common interpretation of how this painting is to be read, embodied even in its naming. Visual allegory refers not to the possibility of having representational elements in a picture take on symbolic meanings (which can always happen) but to the reappropriation even of essential visual configurations such as spatial relationships, connections, movement, and so on for new intended meanings. On the basis of the visual evidence in the current painting, then, we might hypothesise that this semiotic mode may use such representational resources to express abstract constellations of relationships. For example: non-interacting figures placed on some spatially-constructed ‘dynamic paths’ and linked visually in some way may indicate transformation or different phases/stages of single figures. Intrinsically dynamic figures placed on such paths may indicate agents of change, of directed transformation, of mediation. The paths themselves express what elements are being related and indicate cause, change and progression rather than spatial relationships; and interacting figures may indicate balance, contrast, discord amongst those figures and what those figure might stand for. These realisational possibilities are summarised in Table 1.

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Table 1: Sketch of an hypothesised semiotic mode of ‘visual allegory’ Meaning constellations Material distinctions cause, change, progression balance, contrast, discord transformation agents of change and transformation

visually-realised vector or path interacting figures spatially/visually-linked noninteracting figures dynamic figures positioned on visually-realised vectors, paths

Given a semiotic mode of this kind, it then becomes possible to begin ‘reading’ the painting in a way that supports O’Toole’s and others’ interpretations but which also draws directly on the evidence provided in the painting. We can then consider the application of the mode to other artworks in order to suggest similarly allegorical readings directly from the visually expressed material. This is not possible if we take the visual to be straightforwardly ‘illustrating’ a story since we have first to know the story in order to ‘re-interpret’ the pictorially-interpreted material. This defocuses the meanings that might be being made visually, spatially and so on, and so does not serve well as a basis for multimodal analysis. To summarise our discussion of this painting so far, the painting as visual artefact already gives us many clues that a pictorial semiotic mode of illustration is probably not the best candidate for driving interpretation, at least not as a primary motivation of the painting’s overall organisational features: groups of people standing around in a wood is, after all, not a promising basis for strong narrative. In contrast, adopting the visual allegory semiotic mode brings many compositional and representational details of the painting into relief as potentially meaning-bearing. This abstract pattern of inter-relationships and its realisation in the image is suggested graphically in Figure 2. Visually, we have an evident right-left ‘dynamic path’ established by many small-scale visual cues. Then, on the right-hand side Zephyr is a clearly dynamic figure indicating an agent of change with respect to the other two figures associated visually. We might perhaps gloss this meaning as “I [R2] take this [A2] and produce this [B2]”. In the centre, Venus is also a dynamic figure gesturing to the left with her right arm: this may be an indication of transformation/mediation across the balanced three figures on the right and the three figures (the Graces) on the left: a meaning that can perhaps be glossed as: “I [R1] take this [A1] and give you [because of the contact with the viewer established by gaze] this [B1]”. And to the left, the three Graces themselves are inter-acting and so this may be indicating corresponding balanced interrelationships rather

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than transformations among themselves. Important generally is that the choice of semiotic mode allows us to read visuo-spatially expressed patterns directly rather than leaving an inferential gap between an assumed narrative and non-corresponding visual elements.

Figure 2: Abstract interrelationships expressed in La Primavera under the assumption that a semiotic mode of ‘visual allegory’ applies; configurations AiRiBi express relationships of mediation and transformation where Ri exerts some transformative agency on Ai to ‘give rise’ to Bi

The operation of a semiotic mode of this kind is then in many respects more reminiscent of diagrams than of pictures: we have visuo-spatial renditions of primarily non-spatial interrelationships (cf. Tversky, 2011). Many of the individual features of the painting can then be seen to gain their aesthetic motivation from the need to express those relationships rather than from issues of pictorial representation. This also has an influence on how the operation of such a scheme can best be described. Whereas O’Toole’s selection of a rank scale of figures grouped into episodes conflates a narrative bias with natural perception, here, in line with the much weaker intrinsic commitments of visual representations, it is considered more beneficial to separate the contributions of semiotic modes and perception more clearly. Whether what we have described really warrants consideration as a semiotic mode or not remains, however, an hypothesis at this stage. The extent to which these details are attributable to a distinct semiotic mode

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rather than a relatively one-off example of the ‘same ink’ being made to serve more than one ‘graphical purpose’ (cf. Tufte, 1983: 139 and further discussion in Bateman, 2011) is necessarily an empirical question. If one knows the story of the relation between Zephyr, Chloris and Flora, then it is certainly a small leap to decode the movement vector as one of change and becoming and not simply one of movement; if, however, this technical device is regularly used in some collection of works so that for the intended community it constitutes a ‘standard’ interpretation, then one can (and needs to) consider its potential role as part of a semiotic mode. In order to establish this, a broad selection of socio-historically situated works would need to be addressed to see if the kinds of meanings suggested in Table 1 above are regularly expressed by some community of users in this way. It would then also be an interesting research question to track this mode of representation across time – perhaps we see here a precursor of diagrams proper – and across media: in contrast to art history, there is no requirement here that, for example, only paintings or similar works of art be considered. Such considerations are all, therefore, basic issues for the study of multimodality, opening up a rich array of more finely articulated interpretative practices together with open questions demanding detailed empirical investigation. Precisely this opening up of further questions in need of empirical support is seen here as a critical step towards an improved theoretical grasp of multimodality.

Example 2: The Feast of Herod and the Beheading of Saint John the Baptist The discussion so far has argued that even extremely naturalistic appearing renditions may be employing semiotic modes that are far from simply pictorial. Our second example takes this a step further. This is the painting The Feast of Herod and the Beheading of Saint John the Baptist (or The Dance of Salome) by Benozzi Gozzoli from around 1462; this work is discussed semiotically in some depth in Steiner (1988: 28–29; 2004: 162) and offers even more dramatic evidence for the necessity of being much clearer concerning the semiotic modes that are taken to apply to any artefact under analysis. Most of the theoretical apparatus that we need has now been introduced, and so the discussion in this case can be much briefer. First, the work is obviously a painting of some kind – traditional art history discourse offers more detail here, informing us, for example, that the current work is ‘tempera on panel’ and so on. This is, however, a description of the medium, i.e., the physical conditions of production and

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distribution of the work, and does not yet tell us the semiotic mode. Second, the work obviously adopts some naturalistic, pictorial elements as constituting its basic material for semiotic expression – this is perceptually given. But then, third and finally, we must ask what is being done with this material – this raises our fundamental methodological question concerning the semiotic modes that may apply. For present purposes, therefore, we start as before by considering whether there is any evidence in the work itself for particular semiotic modes that may need to be applied in its interpretation.

Figure 3: The Dance of Salome, Benozzo Gozzoli, 1461–62

At first glance, and to most modern eyes, the image looks as if it is depicting a single moment within a rather crowded room with several not clearly related actions taking place. On the right there appears to be some buffet with people standing behind the table and a woman dancing in front; in the centre but towards the rear of the room, a woman is presenting something, which on closer attention is revealed to be a head, to a further woman; and on the left-hand side someone appears about to be beheaded. This would be a reading compatible with the assumption of a naturalistic iconic semiotic mode of pictorial representation. However, as before, several cues in the painting quickly suggest that this might not be the best semiotic mode to apply. The strongest of these cues is the striking visual cohesion exhibited between the woman dancing foreground right and the woman presenting the head in the centre background: hair, clothes, colour of depiction and

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the direction being faced all set up a visual doubling effect. This kind of representational device is not uncommon, even nowadays – indeed, Boeriis and Holsanova (2012: 267) discuss a very similar case drawn from a modern illustrated book for children; there, as they write: The repetitive representation of a participant with the exact same intensive and possessive attributes identifies him as one and the same person in the same circumstantial setting. This short-circuits the spatial-temporal logic and makes the image a so-called simultanbild. (Boeriis and Holsanova, 2012: 270)

They also present striking eye-tracking data giving good evidence concerning how viewers gather information during their processing of such an image; clearly an essential prerequisite is to be able to pick out the fact that one and the same person is presented more than once in the image. Once this has been recognised, an overall spatial interpretation of the image must be rejected and further organising principles must be sought. These principles are provided by appropriate selections of semiotic modes. How multiple visual references to single individuals is performed in any particular case depends to a considerable degree on the granularity of the temporal relations to be communicated. If the time-scale is rather short, then the same figure might just be positioned in different places in a single environment; this is the case in the example discussed by Boeriis and Holsanova. If the time-scale is somewhat larger, with different episodes being involved, then some kind of visual segmentation of episodes may be pursued. In one extreme case developing this further, we find the construction now typical of comic books and sequential art: there also single figures make multiple appearances in separate panels. These generally (but not always) preserve a straightforward reading-direction corresponding to temporal unfolding. The Gozzoli painting is in many respects less clear cut. We first find episode-segments that are certainly to be organised temporally, standing in contrast to the rather more abstract relationships of change and transformation we saw in our previous example. However, here episode segmentation is sometimes achieved by strong framing (the enclosed space on the left-hand side of the painting), and in other cases by (relatively) empty space and staging in depth. The spatial encoding of the temporal relationships is also interesting since the episodes are ordered from right to left and from foreground to background. This may itself be indicative of different or more flexible ‘reading paths’ at that time. Reordered in comicbook style, the narrative would appear as suggested in Figure 4 with

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default temporal relationships between panels of indefinite temporal succession (i.e., ‘and then sometime later…’).

Figure 4: Sequential reworking of the Gozzoli painting

Nevertheless, just as was the case with the previous example, the extent to which the particular use of spatial ordering for temporal succession found here was a regularly deployed feature of some semiotic mode remains an empirical issue. It could be a one-off solution to the task of illustrating the story of Salome dancing for the head of John the Baptist or a more or less widespread semiotic mode for visual narratives. It would, therefore, be a valuable multimodal research task to track the development of this use of pictorial material across time more broadly, which again might involve diverse kinds of visual representations crossing both medium and genre boundaries. The use of multiple ‘shots’ within single images for capturing narrative time is itself, moreover, part of a more general multimodal concern with artefacts that employ ‘space for time’ (cf., e.g., McCloud, 1994: 95; Stöckl, 2002). Such solutions are then distinct from both multimodal rhetorical strategies and visual ‘styles’ since they have the capability to reassign the meanings that may be attributed to particular material distinctions: for example, segmented spaces become timesegmented episodes (cf. Cohn, 2010). How this communicative task has been addressed over time, as well as the question of how the lines of development and interaction of proposed solutions interact and influence one another, are certainly interesting multimodal research themes in their own right. In both of the examples discussed here, therefore, certain information is provided by virtue of the ‘perceptual realism’ (Prince, 1996) of iconic pictorial representations. But this information is then further blended with the resources of other semiotic modes in order to provide larger scale structuring devices for meaning-making. Without ascertaining the semiotic

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modes that apply, basic properties of the images – in particular spatial segmentation and spatial relationships – remain uninterpretable. It is not then known what semantics, if any, are to be given to spatial extents, regions touching or not touching, movement/gaze vectors and so on. Raising the question of the semiotic modes that might apply explicitly guides the analyst towards a richer set of hypotheses concerning possible interpretations, as well as opening up avenues of empirical investigation relating the works in question to other kinds of representations. All of these constitute central issues for multimodality theory and practice that are rarely addressed elsewhere.

Conclusion In this paper, we have attempted to establish the importance for a communicable and effective multimodal analysis by recognising from the outset that (a) the semiotic modes operating in an artefact play an essential role for that artefact’s possible interpretation and (b) it is by no means obvious what those semiotic modes may be. This has been suggested by considering the problems that occur even with respect to artefacts that might traditionally have been taken to exhibit a single ‘semiotic mode’ of natural visual depiction. One reason for the lack of focus on the constitutive role of semiotic modes observed hitherto has been a tendency to assume similar semiotic models for both linguistic and non-linguistic semiotic resources. This, ironically, has led to rather more naive responses to the visual contributions of artefacts. Despite the sophistication of the semiotic models available for language, the specific semiotic flexibility of visual material for supporting diverse meaning-making has been downplayed. In short, the general organisation of semiotic resources is taken to echo that observed in language and, as a consequence, the question of the impact of distinct semiotic modes on such organisations has been insufficiently addressed. This makes it difficult to approach multimodal analysis with the openness necessary for revealing how distinct semiotic artefacts may be functioning and so offers a weakened methodological and practical foundation for analysis. To counter this tendency, we have suggested that an explicit orientation and openness to the issue of the semiotic modes operating in an artefact should be a guiding methodological principle. There is little point to, as Baldry (2008: 234) suggests, “[f]orget grammar, semiotics and linguistics and start transcribing” when the material details to be transcribed have not yet themselves been clarified by ‘fixing’ the semiotic modes applicable. Visual materials are typically far too rich for this and the strong constraints

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and guidelines available in the case of language from phonetics, morphology, grammar and so on are simply not present. Of course, for any artefact addressed, recipients will already necessarily have made their implicit choices of semiotic modes so as to be able to read the artefact at all; for multimodal analysis, however, it is precisely this implicit choice that must be brought into explicit reflective consideration. Designations such as ‘paintings’, ‘drawings’, ‘web pages’, etc. are not sufficient for this. These are not ‘genres’ of visual representations reflecting options being taken up within some single overarching visual semiotic system since they cannot be distinguished as solutions to contrastive socio-communicative tasks (cf. Bhatia, 1993; Martin, 2001). And they are equally inappropriately characterised as ‘semiotic modes’, since they do little to constrain the kinds of meanings that may be created using them. Such designations are therefore best characterised as labels for media and the more general methodological question for multimodality returns to the empirical one of exploring which semiotic modes are carried by which media. This orientation makes it crucial that the contributions that are being made by participating semiotic modes be carefully ascertained with respect to each artefact examined. Without an attribution of semiotic mode, we will not know the material distinctions to which analysis must pay attention. Notions such as semiotic mode, genre and medium must therefore be distinguished rather more succinctly than has often been the case. Analysis beginning from the parallel starting points of medium, genre and semiotic mode then offers a useful strategy. Together these concepts provide a powerful theoretical scaffold capable of shaping methodological practice to the extent necessary for dealing with complex semiotic artefacts, for separating important properties, and for communicating that practice to others by making it clear that there is often far more to be drawn out in an analysis than what is simply revealed by perception. The analyst is then allowed, indeed encouraged, to pursue similarities and differences across diverse media and genres while not neglecting the specific affordances of material expressions that give multimodal artefacts much of their semiotic power. Returning attention to the objects of analysis in this way is thus one strategy for placing detailed analyses on a more robust empirical foundation allowing interpretations to be guided more directly by close interaction with the objects under study. For a final underlining of this point, we can return to the conclusions offered in the broader consideration of art interpretation developed in the article from which the quotation at the outset of this paper was taken:

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Chapter One We must not, however, expect to judge a work simply by setting ourselves to perceive it correctly, … Much of the argument in this paper has been directed against the seemingly common-sense notion that aesthetic judgements about works of art can be based solely on what can be perceived in them, how they look or sound. That notion is seriously misleading, I claim, on two quite different counts. I do not deny that paintings and sonatas are to be judged solely on what can be seen or heard in them – when they are perceived correctly. But examining a work with the senses can by itself reveal neither how it is correct to perceive it, nor how to perceive it in that way. (Walton, 1970: 366–367)

We suggest that an appropriate definition and application of semiotic mode is one way of making progress in this regard.

References Allwood, Jens. 2008. Multimodal corpora. In A. Lüdeling and M. Kytö (eds.), Corpus Linguistics: An International Handbook 1, 207–225. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Baldry, Anthony. 2008. What is multimodality for? Syllabus construction in English text studies for Communication Sciences. In Martin Solly, Michelangelo Conoscenti and Sandra Campagna (eds.), Verbal/Visual Narrative Texts in Higher Education. Linguistic Insight: Studies in Language and Communication 80, 229–250. Bern: Peter Lang. Baldry, Anthony and Paul J. Thibault. 2006. Multimodal Transcription and Text Analysis. Textbooks and Surveys in Linguistics. London and New York: Equinox. Barthes, Roland. 1977. The rhetoric of the image. In Image – Music – Text, 32–51. London: Fontana. Bateman, John A. 2008. Multimodality and Genre: A Foundation for the Systematic Analysis of Multimodal Documents. London: Palgrave Macmillan. —. 2011. The decomposability of semiotic modes. In Kay L. O’Halloran and Bradley A. Smith (eds.), Multimodal Studies: Multiple Approaches and Domains. Routledge Studies in Multimodality, 17–38. London: Routledge. Bhatia, Vijay K. 1993. Analysing Genre: Language Use in Professional Settings. Harlow, UK: Longman. Boeriis, Morten. 2012. Tekstzoom – om en dynamisk funktionel rangstruktur i visuelle tekster. In T. Andersen and M. Boeriis (eds.), Nordisk Socialsemiotik – Multimodale, Pædagogiske og

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Sprogvidenskabelige Landvindinger, 131–153. Odense: University Press of Southern Denmark. Boeriis, Morten and Jana Holsanova. 2012. Tracking visual segmentation: connecting semiotic and cognitive perspectives. Visual Communication 11(3). 259–281. doi: 0.1177/ 1470357212446408. Bucher, Hans-Jürgen. 2011. Multimodales Verstehen oder Rezeption als Interaktion. Theoretische und empirische Grundlagen einer systematischen Analyse der Multimodalität. In Hans-Joachim Diekmannshenke, Michael Klemm and Hartmut Stöckl (eds.), Bildlinguistik. Theorien – Methoden – Fallbeispiele, 123–156. Berlin: Erich Schmidt. Cohn, Neil. 2010. The limits of time and transitions: challenges to theories of sequential image comprehension. Studies in Comics 1(1). 127–147. Cohn, Niel, Martin Paczynski, Ray Jackendoff, Phillip J. Holcomb and Gina R. Kuperberg. 2012. (Pea)nuts and bolts of visual narrative: structure and meaning in sequential image comprehension. Cognitive Psychology 65(1). 1–38. Danto, Arthur C. 1982. Depiction and description. Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 43(1). 1–19. Eco, Umberto. 1976. A Theory of Semiotics. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Foster, Richard and Pamela Tudor-Craig. 1987. The Secret Life of Paintings. London: St. Martin’s Press. Goodman, Nelson. 1969. Languages of Art: An Approach to a Theory of Symbols. London: Oxford University Press. Hockett, Charles F. 1960. The origin of speech. Scientific American 203, 88–96. Kress, Gunther and Theo van Leeuwen. 2001. Multimodal Discourse: The Modes and Media of Contemporary Communication. London: Arnold. Kress, Gunther and Theo van Leeuwen. 2006 [1996]. Reading Images: The Grammar of Visual Design. London and New York: Routledge. Kutz, O., T. Mossakowski, Joana Hois, Mehul Bhatt and John A. Bateman. 2012. Ontological blending in DOL. In Tarek R. Besold, Kai-Uwe Kühnberger, Marco Schorlemmer and Alain Smaill (eds.), Computational Creativity, Concept Invention, and General Intelligence (C3GI at ECAI-12) (Publications of the Institute of Cognitive Science (PICS) 1), 33–40. Osnabrück: Institute of Cognitive Science. Retrieved from http://ikw.uni-osnabrueck.de/de/node/769. Machin, David. 2014. Multimodality and theories of the visual. In Jewitt, C. (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of Multimodal Analysis, 217-226. London: Routledge. 2nd edition.

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Martin, James R. 2001. Language, register and genre. In A. Burns and C. Coffin (eds.), Analysing English in a Global Context: A Reader. Teaching English Language Worldwide, 149–166. Clevedon: Routledge. Martinet, André. 1960. Elements of General Linguistics. London: Faber and Faber. McCloud, Scott. 1994. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Harper Perennial. Mitchell, W.J.T. 1994. Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual Representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Norris, Sigrid. 2004. Analyzing Multimodal Interaction: A Methodological Framework. London and New York: Routledge. Nöth, Winfried. 1995. Handbook of Semiotics. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. O’Toole, Michael. 1990. A systemic-functional semiotics of art. Semiotica 82(3/4). 185–209. —. 2011 [1994]. The Language of Displayed Art. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. Paivio, Allan. 1986. Mental Representations: A Dual Coding Approach. London and New York: Oxford University Press. Prince, Stephen. 1996. True lies: Perceptual realism, digital images, and film theory. Film Quarterly 49(3). 27–37. Pylyshyn, Zenon W. 1973. What the mind’s eye tells the mind’s brain: A critique of mental imagery. Psychological Bulletin 80(1). Rose, Gillian. 2012. Visual Methodologies: An Introduction to Researching with Visual Materials. London / Thousand Oaks / New Delhi: Sage 3rd edn. Ryan, Marie-Laure. 2005. On the Theoretical Foundations of Transmedial Narratology. In Jan Christoph Meister, Tom Kindt, Wilhelm Schermus and Malte Stein (eds.), Narrative Beyond Literary Criticism, 1–23. Berlin: De Gruyter. Steiner, Wendy. 1988. Pictures of Romance: Form against Context in Painting and Literature. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. —. 2004. Pictorial narrativity. In Marie-Laure Ryan (ed.), Narrative across Media: The Languages of Storytelling, chap. 4, 145–177. Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press. Stöckl, Hartmut. 2002. From space to time into narration – cognitive and semiotic perspectives on the narrative potential of visually structured text. In Christian Todenhagen and Wolfgang Thiele (eds.),

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Investigations into Narrative Structures, 73–98. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Tufte, Edward R. 1983. The Visual Display of Quantitative Information. Cheshire, Connecticut: Graphics Press. Tversky, Barbara. 2011. Visualizing thought. Topics in Cognitive Science 3, 499–535. van Leeuwen, Theo. 1985. Rhythmic structure of the film text. In Teun A. van Dijk (ed.), Discourse and Communication: New Approaches to the Analysis of Mass Media Discourse and Communication, 216–232. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Walton, Kendall L. 1970. Categories of art. The Philosophical Review 79(3). 334–367. Wildfeuer, Janina. 2012. Intersemiosis in film: Towards a new organisation of semiotic resources in multimodal filmic text. Multimodal Communication 1(3). 233–304. Wölfflin, Heinrich. 1929. Principles of Art History. New York 7th edn. Translated by M.D. Hottinger. Zacks, Jeffrey M., Nicole K. Speer and Jeremy R. Reynolds. 2009. Segmentation in reading and film comprehension. Journal of Experimental Psychology 138, 307–327.

Notes 1

There is much more to be said here since O’Toole actually attempts a ‘semioticisation’ of certain aspects of perception; this level of his account is, he suggests, “virtually universal and ‘the ‘baseline’ for more individual conceptions and flights of fancy” (O’Toole, 2011 [1994]: 11). Here we wish to distinguish more finely the rather different contributions of perceptual processes and semiotic processes, while still accounting for their close interaction. This is necessary, we suggest, if we are going to move beyond analyses as ‘flights of fancy’. 2 When applied to combined image-text combinations, this then allows the visual and the verbal to be placed straightforwardly in relation to one another as if they were simply variants of a common semiotic form of organisation, which they are not. 3 This distinction is related to the notion of the ‘virtual canvas’ in Bateman (2008), which emphasises that any material being manipulated in service of a semiotic mode may itself already be richly pre-structured.

CHAPTER TWO FROM 2D TO 3D: IMPLEMENTATION AND EVALUATION OF SECOND LIFE AS SUPPLEMENT TO LANGUAGE STUDY LAN LI Introduction Second Life (SL) is a 3D online virtual world created by Linden Lab in 2003. Although it is not quite as sophisticated as other online community services such as Facebook or Blogger, its 3D-rich-media virtual environment has shown great potential for simulating real life and has attracted interest in different sectors, such as medicine, military, science, business, education and so forth. Research by the KZER Company in 2009 showed that SL’s 18 million members are using the platform for a variety of different purposes such as sports, education, fashion, film and literature. Interestingly, the biggest user group lies in education, with over 700 educational institutions having set up virtual campuses, including some world’s leading seats of learning such as Oxford University, Imperial College London, Edinburgh, Yale and Ohio University. Research has found that some students perform better in an online learning environment due to the comfort it provides them in participating in learning activities. Designers and practitioners are trying to make Second Life “an environment in which every student feels comfortable about taking part in academic discussions” (Fox et al, 2009: 97). The Virtual PolyU was built in 2007. It is the first SL campus in Asia with a simulated environment for different teaching and learning tasks. Up to the present, eleven departments have set up various 3D learning facilities on the virtual campus and served over 4000 student avatars. For example, the Virtual Hotel enables students of tourism to deal with virtual customers; nursing students can practice treating patients in the Virtual

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Hospital, and business students can hold virtual negotiations with business avatars. Herold (2010) summarises the key educational functions of SL: teaching, learning, assessment, designing and resources. The virtual PolyU English Department was set up in 2009. It was designed as a Tree of Knowledge with five floors: the first and second floors are lecture halls; the third and fourth are exhibition halls for student learning products. There is also a Roof Garden for holding conferences and other activities. The tree may be developed on an even bigger scale, with different branches for different subjects or different functions. The development possibilities are endless within SL and limited really only by resources. English students have used the virtual English Department for various learning activities such as knowledge hunting, peer assessments, class discussions and webinars (Li et al, 2012), as in Figures 1 and 2.

Figure 1: A webinar on World Englishes

Figure 2: Peer review on Technical Writing assignments

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The Rise of Digital Learning Amongst the myriad digital technologies available for educational use, SL is regarded as a high-end virtual reality experience, in that one loses oneself in the digital environment by shutting out cues from the physical world; a process known as immersion (Witmer and Singer, 1998: 226). Unlike other media, users in a virtual environment play a role in a particular setting, and their actions can have a direct impact on the content of the environment. According to Fox et al (2009), virtual worlds differ from other applications in three ways. First, virtual worlds allow for realtime simultaneous interaction, whereas systems such as Facebook and Friendster are generally mediated through time delay mechanisms. Second, virtual worlds allow users to create fully customised selfrepresentations, or Avatars, far more flexible than image creations in online communities like YouTube. Third, users in the immersive virtual world of SL tend to behave in accordance with the norms of ‘real’ face-toface communication which in turn creates what has been termed as ‘selfpresence’. Self-presence connotes a feeling of connection between oneself (the ‘self’ as perceived in reality) and the self as an avatar. This furnishes a great sense of connection with other avatars, which in turn facilitates the possibility of language learning and idea exchange via interaction with other avatars. Finally, the basic rules of physics apply within virtual worlds, making Second Life three dimensional and navigationally comparable. In terms of SL, students can travel around the world, or as in our case, visit theatre sites, and communicate with people from different cultural backgrounds and industries. Second Life is innovative in that it dispenses with the norms of the traditional learning system and introduces students to a multi-user immersive virtual environment (MUVEs) where they can play vivid roles in simulated scenarios. With regards to language learning, SL combines action, speech and writing “with the interactional and reflective aspects of language merged in a single medium” (Zing and Takatsuka, 2009: 436). Once inside the virtual space, teachers can encourage students to participate in many forms of educational activities that allow for the acquisition of such skills as the cultivation of critical evaluative expertise, enhancement of digital literacy or technical competence, development of the ability to navigate 3D environments, or assimilation of different language-use contexts, as well as many other skills. Students who are keen on modern technology and enjoy computer games will find the SL environment stimulating, interesting and attractive. That said, there is a major issue that hinders the widespread introduction of platforms such as

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SL, one that Pensky called the “biggest single problem facing education today” (2001: 2).

Digital Divide: Digital Natives vs Digital Immigrants Prensky (2001) first talked about the concept of the ‘digital divide’. Made up of ‘Digital Natives’ and ‘Digital Immigrants’, the divide has massive ramifications for the development of any kind of educational digital utopia. ‘Digital natives’ i.e. those that were born after 1985 and enjoyed sufficient access to digital resources, generally demonstrate an innate affinity with such technology. Conversely, ‘Digital immigrants’ having grown up in a world before the advent and widespread diffusion of the internet, encountered digital technology later in life and generally show less affinity with this form of technology. Researchers have shown that digital native students have come to form firm expectations with regards to the inclusion of digital elements within the learning process. Digital immigrants, however, have a greater aversion to the adoption of such learning practices and respond more positively to passive forms of learning such as lectures (Barnes, Marateo and Ferris, 2007; Oblinger and Oblinger, 2005). Since developing the concept of the ‘Digital divide’, Prensky himself has moved away from the distinction claiming it as too simplistic an approach to explain the complex relationship individuals have with digital technology (Prensky, 2009). The status of digital native/immigrant is not simply a generational, age-determined factor. It is argued that not only age, but other more important factors are involved, such as “the availability of technology and breadth of use, prior experience, self-efficacy and education” (ibid., p. 3). That said, the concept has taken hold within the academic arena. Furthermore, it remains a practical and simple dichotomy to help understand divergent propensities within a population of students.

Online Learning Model and Internet Behaviour Salmon (2004) created a five-stage model with a sequence for online learning: access and motivation, online socialisation, information exchange, knowledge construction and development. Each stage develops skills that are prerequisites for the following stages, and supports a particular range of activities. Every stage also requires specific technical and teaching support. The preparatory stage includes the initial steps for students to access the site where the learning is to take place, and to master the basic

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technical skills required by the platform, such as logging on as an avatar, changing appearance, teleporting to a target place, using landmarks stored in the inventory, and recovering from a crash. In this stage, students’ main tasks are to develop the technical skills which will familiarise them with the environment, rather than with curriculum content. Acquisition of the skills of motion, manoeuvering, way-finding and using mouselook prepares them for the next stage: online socialisation. Salmon’s online socialisation stage includes using local chat, private chat and manoeuvring skills to apply proxemics. These online social skills are important to acquire early on, since the sense of co-presence with other users they foster is the factor most students respond positively to, and is essentially the advantageous differential immersive virtual worlds have over other online resources. ‘Collaborative learning’ begins to take place at the information exchange and knowledge development stage. It symbolises an important change from the typical teacher-centred to student-centred dynamic domain in teaching. Derived from the Harvard model of ‘teaching for understanding’, learning is conceived as a performance, whereby the learner applies learning in new contexts, thus increasing competence (Craft et al, 2007). This radically transforms the role of the teacher into that of a designer of intellectual experiences, as instructors increasingly become coaches of a more emergent learning process (Smith and MacGregor, 2008). Success in SL study is closely related to users’ internet behaviours: “high self-efficacy and optimism have been found to significantly influence success in a variety of information tasks” (Nahl, 2005: 1). Nahl outlines three types of internet behaviour. Affective behaviour refers to the emotion students put into activities. Cohesive behaviour refers to the social sharing, that is, the ways in which students talk to one another and share their views. Interactive behaviour concerns the ways in which students express their agreements and disagreements, how they use the social media, how they invite people, and how they make enquiries. Notably, “when people believe they are interacting with an avatar, their physiological responses and behaviours are more similar to how they would interact with a real person” (Okita, Bailenson and Schwartz, 2008: 132). All these behaviours are realised by language; therefore, student writing, whether reflective essays or online chat, can be useful resources for understanding student online behaviour.

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Implementation of Virtual Learning Second Life lends itself to the creation of complex multi-dimensional and multifunctional structures for the embedding of pedagogical related content in collaborative training. The initial purpose is to create a virtual world which is less expensive, less risky, less variable, and possibly more effective than traditional hands-on training media. Another advantage is to enable interactions among avatars, some of whom may be too timid to talk to other people in a real workplace or learning environment. Virtual spaces can create an optimal learning environment for every student. Because training and collaboration can be facilitated in a virtual environment, it is unsurprising that a great deal of research energy is going toward the development of virtual classrooms (Moreno and Mayer, 2007: 311). Digital technology offers unlimited opportunities for teaching and learning, the only limit being the imagination of the designers. However, as with many other educational technologies, Second Life can only be used as a supplement to teaching, not a replacement. Until virtual learning becomes a compulsory part of any given syllabus, it will remain within the teacher’s discretion to decide which elements of the course will be embedded into the virtual learning exercise. Our practice in the subject area of Drama and Language Teaching is discussed below: Drama and Language Teaching is a postgraduate subject with about 50 Cantonese/ Putonghua-speaking English teachers or ESL postgraduate students participating each year. Most students are full-time teachers studying on a part-time basis. In this course, students learn how drama motivates and facilitates second-language learning, explore different drama techniques, activities and practices, and gain an overview of what’s required to create, direct and produce dramatic productions.

An understanding of theatre is essential in drama study. Obviously it is highly impractical to lead a large group of students to visit a real theatre several times a year. Even if such an opportunity presented itself, the majority of attendees would not get the chance to ask questions to important personnel such as a theatre manager. The immersive virtual theatres in Second Life help remedy this problem by granting public access to such environments and providing students with the opportunity to interact with staff members who have proven themselves willing to talk to keen avatars. After a two-hour preparation class, students created their representative avatars and mastered basic movements in the SL space. The task required the students to complete the following exercises:

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x Spend 10 hours in Second Life and visit 5 or 6 theatres; x Observe technical factors such as costume, light, sound, set, and other special effects; x Talk to virtual theatre manages or other visitors; x Comment on how the venues/stages enable interactive performance capabilities; x Find out what Second Life avatars can do there, and how effective it is, and why; x Apply standard theatre review categories to compare the theatres; x Write a review of about 500 words comparing the virtual drama venue visit as a language learning activity, and reflect on your own virtual visits. The students were requested to attach their chat logs with other avatars in the virtual theatre. This SL task was embedded in the syllabus, accounting for 20% of the total assignment. Students were therefore required to log in to Second Life repeatedly to complete the task, as in Figure 3.

Figure 3: Visit to virtual theatres

Virtual theatres are usually characterised by the same basic elements we observe in our physical environment: ground, sky, building, streets and other components of external landscapes; the floors, ceilings, seats, lights and walls of internal spaces; and both realistic and fantastic objects. The most popular virtual theatres the students visited were 1) The Rose Theatre owned by Angel Manor, 2) Theatre on the Hill, directed by Zane Littlething, 3) Pure Luxury 4) The SL Shakespeare Company, and 5) The SL Globe Theatre. The SL Globe Theatre was created by THEATRON, a project sponsored by the British government through which twenty

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theatres were built, representing different cultures and different eras of theatre. The activities in these theatres were particularly designed for pedagogical purposes, including live shows, opera, classical music, film, movie scenes, jazz concerts, Victorian vintage costume displays, musicals and pantomimes. Some theatres are highly interactive and allow students to play with the sound, costumes and settings.

Reflections on SL practice In their paper entitled “Second Life and other virtual worlds: A roadmap for research”, Mennecke et al. (2008) believe that virtual worlds offer researchers a unique opportunity to study how these environments are built and managed by operators, how they are used and misused by users, and the impact that they have on users, communities, organisations and societies at large. To obtain the feedback on SL learning from the students, we used a number of evaluative instruments in different subjects, including a questionnaire survey, online i-feedback, a focus group discussion, staff interviews and student reflective essays. This paper will focus on one subject, Drama and Language Teaching, and address the following questions: 1. What is the motivation of students in using this new technology in learning? 2. How are individual differences addressed in the virtual world learning? 3. How effectively can SL supplement subject learning? 4. How can the SL environment promote collaborative learning? 5. How do differences in attitudes towards SL differ with regards to age? Two sets of data are discussed in this paper. The first is a 26,800-word corpus of reflective essays written by 40 students and the second is a questionnaire survey among 28 students. The reflective data was analyzed using WordSmith Tools 5.0. From the word frequency list we can find the lexical profile students used to describe their Second Life experience. From the concordance analysis of positive and negative words we can find student attitudes towards the Second Life.

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Findings from the corpus Corpus analysis was conducted to show how words were used in the reflective essays by the students. Lexical choice is the words a person chooses to make any kind of meaningful utterance. This choice can indicate the ideological standpoint from which the author is writing. Table 1 shows the lexical profile of the student reflections, with the top fifteen content words in the corpus. Table 1: Top 15 nouns, verbs and adjectives in the corpus

The top fifteen words in each word class can be taken generally to reflect students’ opinion on SL activities. In the top adjectives group, strong positive words include good, important, true, new, beautiful and interesting. The concordance lines can further reveal how attitudinal words are used to express student opinion. Thus, we searched the word feel and its inflections. Of its 41 occurrences in the corpus, 12 co-exist with positive words such as comfortable, excited, free, interested, happy, joy and sense of achievement. The negative feelings include difficult, angry, frustrated, isolated, nasty, nervous, unsafe and uncomfortable. The concordance lines are shown in Figure 4.

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Figure 4: Concordance lines of the word feel

From the concordance lines, we can also work out the reasons for different feelings. Comfort was due to the freedom from face-to-face communication; interest was aroused by experiencing something different from traditional classroom-based teaching; visiting the grand theatres provided excitement. By contrast, nervousness and difficulty were used to express a degree of stress students experienced in having to communicate with strangers. Frustrations were caused by technology malfunctions and difficulties of controlling avatars. Finally, anxiety occurred when, as is often the case with the SL experience, students were left alone on an island and felt helpless. Although the data size is small, the collocations clearly show uniformity in student attitude towards Second Life. The word interesting co-exists with Second Life, on-line chat, virtual drama and virtual theatre. The collocation of nouns can also reveal aspects of student opinion with regards to the SL experience. Take the word experience as an example. This word has 102 occurrences in the corpus and its collocates are shown in Table 2. Only one negative collocate with experience was found in the corpus. Another word worthy of consideration is confidence, which is used to express the fact that the SL experience had a positive impact upon selfesteem, capacity and normality. Various forms of confidence appeared in the text, the most popular being self-confidence, as in: “I become (a) selfconfidence to express my opinions. Self-confidence is very important. With self-confidence, we can act (b) more naturally and easily.” Despite some

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grammatical slips, such as become self-confidence, the reflection is more natural than normal, with a positive attitude. Table 2: Left collocates of the word experience Positive collocates amazing, learning, interesting, new, real, valuable, enriching

Negative collocates bad

Neutral collocates personal, life, debate, acting, performing, teamwork, SL, night, own, my

Student motivation is also illustrated in the corpus data. The word motivate has twenty-six inflections and derivations, most of which describe the motivated avatars in the SL tasks. Details are shown in Figure 5.

Figure 5: Concordance lines of motivate and its derivations and inflections

The corpus analysis indicates that students are generally positive about the immersive experience in SL theatres, and that self-presentation as an avatar is experienced as close to the real self. More appreciation of reaction-impact is illustrated by the following quotes: S1: It is wonderful and unforgettable experiences for me participate in Second Life. S2: Since I feel interested in this experience, I am willing to talk more.

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S3: Second life looks like a big family where I feel free to communicate. S4: It (SL) is a positive environment that makes us immerse in English. S5: You feel comfortable because you do not need to talk face to face.

There were, however, some negative opinions on the SL activities, mostly on technical frustrations and difficulty in finding another avatar to talk to. S5: When I first tried to open my account, it was quite frustrating. It took me around 45 mins to get registered. S6: Flying over oceans made me feel isolated and deserted with little help.

The following is a longer passage from a young man who chose a female avatar; his female avatar M was subsequently turned down by another avatar. He wrote: “My natural feelings and empathy for the character X apparently flooded. I was terribly hurt although I was aware that it was just in a virtual world and M is only my avatar. It seems that I have assumed her point of view at that moment. Until now, I cannot forget that experience. I think the reason is that I was in M and she was also in me.” This is a lighthearted but rather poignant example of identifying oneself with the virtual self. The evaluations, negative or positive, reveal that there is close connection between the virtual self and the self in a regular everyday sense.

Findings from the Questionnaire Survey A questionnaire survey was designed to further obtain students’ opinions about visiting Second Life theatres, and to cover some aspects missing in the reflective essays such as motivation (S4), comparison with 2D environments (S3), additional effort made to visit more virtual places (S2), and the physical navigation experience (S8). The questionnaire consists of eight Likert scale statements, for which students chose a response from 1 to 5 to express their agreement with the statements. A pronouncedly different story emerges when we cut the data by age. The younger students turned out to be more positive toward SL than senior students. This is not surprising because it reflects the characteristics of socalled ‘digital natives’. They tend to be “more engaged if electronic/digital information resources are included and information communication technologies are used to enhance the learning experience across all areas, including curriculum delivery, learning resources and assessment practices” (Palfrey and Gasser, 2008: 8).

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Figure 6: Opinion by different age groups

Figure 6 reveals that in all measures there is a greater propensity for the digital native generation of students to positively evaluate the SL exercise. The age group of 18–25 years old had the highest rates of positive feedback to the eight questions. 71% agreed with the statement “SL is useful for learning a second language”. The non-digital natives had consistently low opinions about SL activities. This may well be a demographic effect, reflecting the reality that younger respondents have grown up in a digitally pervasive world. It should be noted, however, that these are the results of only twenty-eight students, so indicative rather than definitive. The overall view of SL was on the positive side with the mean score of all statements over 2.5. The scores for statements are shown in Table 3. Table 3: Average student responses to the statements S1 S2 S3 S4 S5 S6 S7 S8

Statement Using SL helps me in learning the subject. I have visited other SL sites. It is more interesting to investigate a 3D theatre than texts or 2D pictures. I am motivated to learn play design through visiting virtual theatres. Virtual visits can help me to understand theatre structure. Chat room exchanges helps in learning the subject. SL is useful for learning a second language. I have no problem navigating in SL.

Mean 3.04 3.50 3.21

SD 1.26 1.17 1.13

3.07

1.36

3

1.41

3 2.68 2.68

1.19 1.47 1.09

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The highest figure is Statement 2, showing that students are interested in SL and made extra efforts to visit other virtual sites in addition to the theatres. S3, which indicates interest, was ranked the second highest. The students affirmed that the 3D learning environment was more interesting than 2D internet materials. Mean scores also indicate that immersive interactions with other avatars in chat rooms and the visits to the virtual theatres help students to learn the subject. The difference in standard deviation for Statement 7 indicates that there are very different views on the usefulness of Second Life in language learning. The effectiveness of using SL is dependent on students’ experience within the virtual environment, and since not everyone likes this, it can strongly polarise opinions. 39% of students agreed or strongly agreed with Statement 5, that using SL can help in learning about the theatre, and 39% rejected it. Figure 6 shows the diversity of the opinions.

Figure 7: Distribution of opinions

Compared with the reflective essays, the questionnaire seems to reveal some negative attitudes. There were 14% more disagreements than agreements with Statement 7, “SL is useful for learning a second language”. Further, only about 20% of the students regarded themselves as effective SL navigators, while a majority had problems moving in the SL environment. This is similar to the feedback from two other English subjects (Li et al, 2010). “Skepticism and criticism of new technologies in mass communication and computer science is not new” (Stoll, 1995: 135). The time difference between the two sets of data collected may also affect the survey results. The reflective essay is a part of the subject assessment and the survey was done after the semester. Conceivably, the students may have felt concern

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about expressing negative opinions directly to the teacher, when the reflective essay was under assessment.

Conclusion Second Life has undoubted potential for experiential learning, knowledge construction, creativity and collaboration. That said, at this point in time it may not be the panacea educationists would have one believe. A great deal, from the resources, to the design of the interface, to the exercises required of students, to the actual administration of the live activities, is required of the teacher. Furthermore, results would indicate potential demographic problems with regards to engagement; mature students are less appreciative or interested in virtual worlds as a learning methodology than younger students. With wider trends in learning moving from absorption to immersion, SL is a potentially irreplaceable tool for teachers who will increasingly have to keep abreast of such developments. Open around the clock, the platform allows students the flexibility to complete assignments and participate in exercises according to their own schedules. The connectivity available through the platform affords students the opportunity to engage in meaningful forms of contact which in turn facilitates a deeper form of learning, ultimately increasing linguistic confidence.

References Barnes, K., R.C. Marateo and S.P. Ferris. 2007. Teaching and learning with the net generation. Innovate 3(4). Beacham, R. 2009. THEATRON Final Report. London: Eduserv. Black, P. and D. Wiliam. 1998. Assessment and classroom learning. Assessment in Education: Principles, Policy and Practice 5(1). 7–74. Burgess, M.L., J.R. Slate, A. Rojas-Lebouef and K. Laprairie. 2010. Teaching and learning in Second Life: Using the community of inquiry (Col) model to support online instruction with graduate students in Instructional Technology. Internet and Higher Education 13. 84–88. Craft, A., T. Cremin, P. Burnard and K. Chappell. 2007. Teacher stance in creative learning: A study of progression. Thinking Skills And Creativity 2, 136–147. Fox, J., D. Arena and J.N. Bailenson. 2009. Virtual Reality: A survival guide for the social scientist. Journal of Media Psychology 21(3). 95– 113.

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Haas, A., C. Tulley and K. Blair. 2002. Mentors versus masters: Women’s and girls’ narratives of (re)negotiation in web-based writing spaces. Computers and Composition 19, 231–249. Herold, D.K. 2010. Mediating media studies – stimulating critical awareness in a virtual environment. Computers and Education 54 (3). 791–798. Li, L., D. Wong, D. Gui and G. Auyeung. 2012. Collaborative learning in the virtual English class: A Hong Kong case study. In H. Yang and Y. Wang (eds.), Cases on Formal, Non-Formal and Informal Online Learning: Opportunities and Practices, 341–370. New York: Igi Global. Mennecke. B., D. McNeill, E. Roche, A. Townsend and J. Lester. 2008. Second Life and other virtual worlds: A roadmap for research. Communications of the Association for Information Systems 22, 317– 388. Moreno, R. and R. Mayer. 2007. Interactive multimodal learning environments. Educational Psychology Review 19, 309–326. Nahl, D. 2005. Affective and Cognitive Information Behaviour: Interaction Effects in Internet Use. Proceedings of the 68th Annual Meeting of the American Society for Information Science and Technology, October 28–November 2, Charlotte, NC, Medford, NJ: Information Today. Retrieved from http:// www.asis.org/Conferences/ AM05/program.html. Okita, S.Y., J. Bailenson and D.L. Schwartz. 2008. Mere belief of social action improves complex learning. In S. Barab, K. Hay and D. Hickey (eds.), Proceedings of the 8th International Conference for the Learning Sciences, 132–139. New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Oblinger, D.G. and J.L. Oblinger. 2005. Is it age or IT: First steps toward understanding the net generation. In Oblinger and Oblinger (eds.), Educating the Net Generation, 2.1–2.20. Colorado: EDUCAUSE. Palfrey, J. and U. Gasser. 2010. Born Digital: Understanding the First Generation of Digital Natives. New York: Basic Books. Prensky, M. 2001. Digital native, digital immigrants. On the Horizon 9(5). 1–6. Retrieved from http://www.marcprensky.com/writing/Prensky% 20-%20Digital%20Natives,%20Digital%20Immigrants%20%20Part1.pdf. —. 2009. H. sapiens digital: from digital immigrants and digital natives to digital wisdom. Innovate 5(3). Retrieved from http://www.innovate online.info/index.php?view=article&id=705.

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Salmon, G. 2005. Flying not flapping: A strategic framework for e-learning and pedagogical innovation in higher education institutions. Research in Learning Technology 13(3). 201–218. Tapscott, D. 2008. Grown Up Digital: How the Net Generation is Changing your World. New York: McGraw-Hill. —. 1998. Growing up Digital: The Rise of the Net Generation. New York: McGraw-Hill. Smith, B.L. and J.T. MacGregor. 1992. What is collaborative learning? In A.S. Goodsell, M.R. Maher and V. Tinto (eds.), Collaborative Learning: A Sourcebook for Higher Education. National Center on Postsecondary Teaching, Learning and Assessment, 10–30. New York: Syracuse University. Witmer, B.G. and M.J. Singer 1998. Measuring presence in virtual environments: A presence questionnaire. PRESENCE: Tele-operators and Virtual Environments 7, 225–240. Stoll, C. 1995. Silicon Snake Oil: Second Thoughts on the Information Highway. New York: Doubleday Dell Publishing. Zeng, G. and S. Takatsuka. 2009. Text-based peer-collaborative dialogue in a computer-mediated learning environment in the EFL context. System 37, 434–446.

Acknowledgement This project was sponsored by the Teaching and Learning Fund of the Hong Kong Polytechnic University. I am also grateful to Dr. Christina DeCoursey for sharing the data from student writing.

CHAPTER THREE COMICS AS A MEDIUM FOR TEACHING GRAMMAR TO OLDER STUDENTS AHMED BHUIYAN AND MICHELLE DRAPER Language instructors are always searching for materials to be used to help facilitate their lessons. However, an instructor’s work is hampered by many factors, such as the student’s age, his or her ability, and the sociocultural context in which the teaching takes place. From overcoming these hurdles is born a teacher’s ability to modify and adapt a variety of sources to benefit the student. This paper looks at the potential of using comics not only as an aid for teaching grammar, but also in helping to streamline the grammar explanation process. The efficacy of the comic strip as a teaching device is based on it being an authentic teaching material (Williams, 1995), able to motivate students (Yang, 2003), and help them focus on applying the lessons they learn, rather than being forced to listen to technical lectures that bore and confuse them. Before describing the study itself, the environment that the students are studying in is examined.

Background Before looking at the research that has already been conducted concerning grammar, writing, and the role that comic books can play, it is best to first understand the position of English language in Bangladesh. While Bengali is the official state language, English is widely considered to be a de facto language of the nation as well. Unlike its neighbor India, Bangladesh has not declared English to be one of the nation’s official languages. Although Bengali is widely used in the government sector, many steps have been taken towards establishing the importance of English in Bangladesh (Musa, 1997). In trying to categorise the environment from which the students come, there is some disparity. Some scholars see Bengali as a foreign language (Selim and Mahboob, 2001). In contrast, others rate the importance and influence of English even higher,

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going so far as to consider English to be “serving as the second official language” (Morshed, 1994). Despite the changing status of English in the country, for the purpose of this study, we are considering English as a foreign language, rather than a second language for the students. The education system of Bangladesh has three major branches, English-medium, Bengali-medium, and the madrasa, or the Islamic-based curriculum. In English-medium schools, instruction is done in English and the teaching and curriculum are heavily influenced by the British education system. Most English-medium institutions are privately owned and thus are only within the reach of the wealthier members of society. Students take Ordinary Level (O-level) and Advanced Level (A-level) exams at the end of their 10 and 12 years of their studies, respectively. In the Bengali-medium educational system, most courses are taught in Bengali, with the exception of English language courses. Usually these are public institutions and have a minimal tuition fee, meaning a large majority of students go to such schools. The five years of lower secondary education concludes with a Secondary School Certificate (SSC) examination. Students who pass this examination proceed to two years of higher secondary schooling, which culminates in the Higher Secondary School Certificate (HSC) examination (Draper, 2006). The madrasa system is based on Islamic principles and philosophy. Arabic is the main medium of instruction with some subjects being taught in Bengali. The educational institutions are private, but receive financial support from the government which helps to keep the fees at a minimum. These schools have their own form of school leaving exams. Currently, the usage of English is increasing day by day, but the development of English in the classroom has been a slow process. When the country gained independence from Pakistan in 1971, there was an overwhelming emphasis on ‘Bangla everywhere’. The Bangla Procholon Act (Bangla Implementation Act) in 1987 severely limited the use of English in the socio-cultural context. This policy was reversed when English was introduced as a compulsory language to be learned from Class I to XII, as well as a requirement for students to pass board examinations in both English and Bengali (Selim and Mahboob, 2001; Draper, 2006). The changing and shifting of policy on English education over the years has caused English Language Teaching (ELT) to be neglected. It is these constant changes that caused Siddiqui (2003) to lament that “We lack a definite national policy on language which is based on consensus of the people and that is the main reason of the apparent downfall of the overall standard of English.” The policies are not the only problem that has affected the haphazard development of ELT in Bangladesh. Three political

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challenges that ELT in Bangladesh faces have been identified by Yasmin (2005). The first is the lack of awareness of differences between literature and language teaching. The majority of educators and English language teachers have insufficient knowledge about the difference between language and literature. This has created complexities in the teaching of English in the country. The national curriculum and the ELT text books concentrate more on English literature than on English language. Changes to rectify this situation have recently begun to occur. The second challenge that ELT faces in Bangladesh is the dependency on ‘old-fashioned’ English. In Bangladesh, English was formally introduced in education about two hundred years ago. The text books used to teach English in Bangladesh are quite old-fashioned and so is the form of English taught. However, according to Quader (2001) there is a growing demand to introduce the modern form of English and new text books into the curriculum. The third and final challenge that Yasmin (2005) has identified is political in nature. In Bangladesh there is a high level of government involvement in many areas, including education. The depth of this involvement is evident in the government’s decision to withdraw English textbooks in 1986. Rahman (1996) explains that in 1986 textbooks were written to teach English but were disliked by most teachers due to the absence of literature. The Education secretary at that time ordered the withdrawal of these books as he had a background in literature and was not happy with the total exclusion of literature. There have been concerted efforts made to improve the situation in Bangladesh, with programs such as the English Language Teaching Improvement Project in 1997 that promoted Communicative Language Teaching (CLT) as well as establishing a proper instructional structure for ELT in the country (Quader, 2001). In spite of these well-meaning projects, the ELT scene still needs improved curriculum and instruction. The next section describes the English language teaching situation at the university level, where the study was conducted.

North South University The medium of instruction in North South University and other similar private universities is English. There are two basic differences between the private universities and the public universities. The first is that in the private universities, classes take a more seminar-like approach, encouraging students to interact with the teacher during the lesson. The teacher expects students to have completed the reading assignment prior to attending class, to enable them to engage in discussion. However, a

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majority of the students’ instruction has been done in such a way that they have been ‘spoon fed’ everything they need to know. The result is that students are unused to thinking critically, and constantly asking the teacher for samples of even the most basic assignments in order to replicate it exactly. For the twelve years before they enter university, students rely on the teacher providing all the information. Students simply absorb what is being said, and are not encouraged to question the teacher’s words. At private universities such as North South University, teacher-student interaction is vital. But teachers are tasked to teach almost twelve years’ worth of foundational English within three months, so as to be able to raise the student’s level of English to the university standard. Teachers usually do not have the time to check over each student’s progress individually, relying on students to bring up any issues they face in the classroom. Teachers provide office hours for students to consult them about problems they may have in the subject. Teachers treat students like adults, expecting them to be able to identify their difficulties. However, due to the fact that the students have been given such freedom for the first time, they are hesitant to act upon this opportunity. The other concern is mainly teacher based. Teachers have limited time to teach all the areas that need to be covered before the exam, which usually takes place after every eighth class, and thus tend to teach for the exam instead of teaching fundamental skills.

Literature Review Having described the ELT situation in Bangladesh, this section examines research related to the use and application of comics in language-learning classrooms, where the use of authentic material is encouraged. The use of such materials makes instruction meaningful and allows the students to be able to bridge the gap between the classroom and real-world situations (Hadley, 2000). Using authentic reading materials also helps to improve writing (Kroll, 2001). Using authentic materials for reading and writing instruction has led to a dramatic improvement in students’ four skills proficiency (Elley et al, 1996). The use of authentic material in an EFL classroom is important, as students should be familiar with the realistic language being used outside the classroom. Davis (1997) emphasises the use of materials other than the traditional textbooks. He notes that comics can play an important role in the EFL classroom as they have a universal appeal. They can be used with any age group and at any level. Since comics reflect the real dialogue and culture of the creators, they introduce the students to popular culture.

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Thus, comics are motivating, as they grab students’ interest (Morrison et al, 2002). Another reason to include popular culture texts is that such texts are “an important part of our learners’ identity formation as young adults and, concomitantly, as learners of different language and culture” (MullerHartmann, 2007). Sree (2011) notes that due to the proliferation of popular culture, English language teachers have a range of texts to draw on. Comics are sometimes derided as a usable teaching tool, as explained by McCloud: “If people failed to understand comics, it was because they defined what comics could be too narrowly – The world of comics is a huge and varied one. Our definition must encompass all these types.” (2004: 3–4). Bitz (2004) observes that the comic book format is an amalgamation of voice, communication skills and creative inventiveness. It is the art of the comic book that makes it so accessible, with visuals creating cues that allow for the language to be easily understood (Sones, 1944). The wide variety of comics is the reason for its applicability in the classroom. Such texts are easily usable for both primary school and undergraduate students (Sree, 2011). Comics can demonstrate the use of colloquial language, providing authentic language for students at many different levels of proficiency and acquisition (Cary, 2004). Morrison (et al, 2002) point out, that comics allow students to explore how word choice and non-verbal communication work together in a conversation to convey a message. The comic-book format is also considered a superior vehicle for language instruction compared to television, movies or radio. This is because the comic format allows students to move at their own pace, without breaking the flow of the narrative. While it is possible to rewind and pause during a television show or a movie, this ruins the context (Yang, 2003). This concept fits into the idea that Schmitt (1992) put forward, concerning the inclusion of alternate forms of literacy, such as audio and visual, in the pedagogical setting. If teachers are to work on these other forms of literacy, they have to help the students develop multimodal communicative competence, so as to give students the proper tools to be able to understand various forms of text (Royce, 2002). Using comics as a teaching resource is not a new idea. The usefulness of comics as a teaching tool has been established primarily as a means to improve reading. Comics serve five major functions when they are used as a reading aid. The first is repetition, since the message communicated by the comic is supplemented/complemented by the visuals. Comics also provide order, since the text in a comic is unified by the visuals. The third role identified is that of scaffolding. Comics help to provide scaffolding to the learner thanks to the visuals, which provide information through which

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readers can properly interpret the text and action. The fourth function is the concept of conversion, as the visuals of a comic help the reader to convert the essential elements of the text’s message into a more memorable form. Finally, comics have aesthetics, in the interesting visuals that engage readers’ interest on a separate level from the direct message on the page (Levie and Lentz, 1982; Levin, Anglin and Carney, 1987; Liu, 2004). Besides their educational value, comics have an emotional component, which motivates students (Yang, 2003). Comic books have a positive effect in prompting students to participate in discussions more than with traditional forms of literature (Versaci, 2001). Yang (2003) has also noticed that comics can act as a stepping stone into more difficult ideas. The way that comic strips and books are designed forces students to understand the interaction between visuals and text, building and expanding their visual-spatial intelligence (Morrison et al, 2002). Cary (2004) suggests that it is this ability of comics to help bridge the gap for students to more complex concepts that can also help students to advance their writing techniques, especially narrative writing. Annett (2008) finds that students are at ease with the form and style of comics, and thus, more ready to discuss them than traditional texts. Not many direct studies of using comics in an EFL/ESL setting have been undertaken. Williams (1995) found that comic strips were a good source of spoken English for his intensive ESL course. At a Fijian elementary school, Mangubhai (2001) conducted a study on the impact of non-traditional literature. His conclusion supported the idea of using comics to teach the four language skills. He found the daily reading of comic books for twenty months had a positive effect on writing and speaking. Liu (2004) found that low-level university students reading high-level texts combined with support from comics scored significantly higher than students who were reading only the high-level texts. The comic strip facilitated the students’ comprehension of the difficult text and helped them in the recall of the material. Their counterparts had no visuals to aid them interpret the high-level text, and were unable to perform well. Ranker’s (2007) study drew a similar conclusion to Mangubhai’s (2001); even if comics are used only as reading material, they have a positive impact upon English language learners’ writing skills as well. One study conducted with a similar premise to this study is Norton and Vanderheyden (2003), with ESL students in Vancouver. They looked at the appeal of Archie Comics in the ESL classroom, noticing that students were interested enough to exchange the comics amongst themselves and discuss the comic book issues that they read in English, demonstrating the appeal

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of comics in the ESL classroom. Norton and Vanderheyden (2004) concluded that comics were a useful tool in developing the four skills. Drolet (2010) advocates the use of comic strips such as Peanuts, Garfield, and Calvin and Hobbes in writing character descriptions, and the use of visuals to teach narrative skills. He found that students enjoyed the simple style and amusing characters, which helped them to take an active interest in these tasks. This does not mean that comics are a solution to all English language instruction issues. Khoii and Forouzesh (2010) note that there was no significant difference between students who used comic strips to supplement their reading comprehension learning and those who did the same lessons without the aid of comic strips. They concluded that the visual iconography of comic strips can only be used effectively when the teacher takes into consideration the L2 proficiency of the student. They argued that the overabundance of imagery may overwhelm and confuse the student. Using the mental model theory proposed by Marcus, Cooper and Sweller (1996), they reasoned that imagery may help to lessen the mental load of the text, but can fail to capture the complexity that reading the text imparts to the reader. It has been suggested that authentic materials used in the language classroom can come from popular culture. Before one discusses the feasibility of using popular culture in the classroom, it is useful to consider the effects of popular culture on today’s youth. Contemporary media is an influence upon this audience, to the point that it may affect their psychological and educational development (Kline, 1993; Meyrowitz, 1985). However, advocates of “the new sociology of childhood” (James and James, 2004; Qvortrup, 2005) claim that with today’s media, the audience has more control when it comes to interpreting the message of the media they are exposed to, as opposed to being passive recipients when considering the meanings of the media. Other than the teaching method for grammar, there is the question of grammar itself. For the course that this study focuses on, grammar is an important element. ELT instructors debate whether to teach grammar directly or indirectly. Dean (2001) discusses the concept of grammar teaching and how it can be taught indirectly. She points out that teaching writing without any form of grammar introduction, indirectly or directly, is not beneficial to the students, who must be shown what the basic elements are that help to create a sentence: My students are writing, and they are trying to write more effectively, and they understand how to look at what they read as a model for what they want to say. They know grammar – they just don’t know they do.

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It is the integration of grammar instruction into what the students have read that is a plausible system to follow, and helps to explain why using comic strips can be useful in grammar instruction. Grammar pedagogy in communicative language instruction is also debated. Despite the disconnect between discourse analysis and language teaching and learning (Fujii, 2005), there have been some developments in this area, such as the argument that grammar needs to be considered along with the pragmatic and sociolinguistic aspects of teaching communicative competence (CelceMurcia and Olshtain, 2002; Larsen-Freeman, 2002). Fujii (2005) has pointed out that grammar instruction primarily focuses at the sentence level and does not look at language as a whole, making it a fragmented approach. Thus, grammar needs to be treated in a broader sense, rather than in smaller units of language, i.e. sentences. Students can see the use of different grammatical forms in comic strips, which can be seen as an example of authentic language (Marsh, 1978).

Method It is important for students to understand the function of the grammatical item they are studying. The goal of this research was to see whether or not comics could be used to teach a particular grammar item efficiently. Here, ‘efficient’ meant the amount of time spent on one individual grammar item would not exceed more than one ninety-minute period. This was because other language skills had to be covered before the scheduled exam for the semester. Hence, less time spent on teaching an item allowed more time to be spent on practicing it. For the purpose of this research, dangling and misplaced modifiers were introduced to the students using a modified Archie comic strip. The task for the students was to identify these errors in a paragraph and to rectify the mistakes. This was on top of learning other grammar items, such as run-on sentences and sentence fragments, as well as being able to write a coherent process paragraph. Covering these and other items in a limited time forces the teacher to make decisions on whether to spend time on the theoretical aspect, or to begin on practical exercises after a basic explanation. To test the effectiveness of comic-book based lessons for grammar teaching, we used four sections of ENG 102. In all, this involved a total of 160 students divided equally among the four sections. The sections were considered to be homogenous in ability. The similarity in competence in the language was reflected in the two university-approved standardised exams they had done previously, with all four sections having an average

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score of 71% in the first and 76% in the second exam. It is for the third and final exam that these students were required to learn dangling and misplaced modifiers. For the lesson, each section was given a double-sided sheet that had on each side a one-page Archie comic strip. The comic strip had the dialogue modified in a way so that each strip exemplified either a misplaced modifier or a dangling modifier1. An hour was spent on the lesson, and the remaining thirty minutes were used in doing a worksheet in which the students applied what they had just learned (see Appendix A-1). Section A was given the longest explanation regarding the errors and clarification of the comic itself. The time spent was forty-five minutes of explanation and fifteen minutes of analyzing the comic strip. Section B had less time spent on being lectured about the errors, roughly thirty minutes to Section A’s forty-five minutes. More time was spent on looking at the comic and using that as the focus of the lesson. Section C had only a brief explanation about dangling and misplaced modifiers. Approximately fifteen minutes were spent on explaining the grammar item. Students were asked to focus mainly on the comic itself and to deduce the error. Section D had no initial explanation about the errors. They were only given the comic to rely on for guidance for the worksheet they had to work on. A week later, all four sections were given a quiz to assess how well they were able to apply what they had learned. (Appendix A-2). The quiz asked them to perform the same tasks that had been done in the class previously – identify whether each mistake was a dangling or a misplaced modifier – and to rewrite the sentence so that the mistake was rectified. The results are given in the following section, as well as the implications of this research.

Results Table 1 records the results of the quiz that the students took a week after the lesson: Table 1: Grammar quiz results Section

Mean

Median

Mode

Highest

Lowest

Range

Section A Section B Section C Section D

85% 72% 80% 70%

80% 65% 85% 70.%

80% 70% 80% 70%

100% 95% 100% 85%

65% 50% 70% 60%

45 45 30 25

Standard Deviation 8.05 7.74 9.09 6.25

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Discussion The scores that the students received on the quiz were surprising. The original hypothesis was that those who received less direct instructions and had more focus on the comics, i.e. sections B, C and D, would perform better than Section A, which was the conventionally taught class. Instead, the results showed that out of the four sections, Section B and D did poorly, Section C, which got both the visual and verbal explanation scored closer to expectation, and Section A, which was the conventionally taught class, scored the highest. One assumption for poor performance by Sections B and D could be the unfamiliar material. Previously, these students had not encountered any teaching material in a comic form and were not familiar with Archie comics. Instead of the comics creating a link to the teacher’s explanation, students were not able to process the information in the comic correctly. Using the comic strip was confusing and did not facilitate in a mental model building of the grammar item being taught. Section B used a more typical class procedure than Section D. A lecture was given for thirty minutes, which could then be seen to be interrupted by the new exercise – that is, the comic element of the lesson – ultimately confusing the students. Section D was put into the most unfamiliar situation, being asked to draw knowledge from new and unfamiliar materials, as well as being asked to act independently, a new concept for them. Based on the results of Section C, we can conclude that there is a place for using comics as a medium for grammar instruction. We find these students, who were given an even mix of direct instruction and comic-based exploration, had the second-best overall average and with the second smallest range in scores and highest median and mode of scores. This suggests that if the students are given illustrations that can reduce the cognitive load, the visuals may become an effective teaching tool, as long as these are used concurrently with teacher lectures. If students are given appropriate guidance for a complex grammatical item, they may be able to approach unfamiliar material and comprehend the lesson it contains. Based on these results the hypothesis put forth in this research need not necessarily be rejected completely. The students were able to utilise the comic for understanding. It might not have been as complete or as smooth as expected, but some integration did occur. This means that using comics for teaching grammar should be revisited, incorporating some of the suggestions that are mentioned below.

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Recommendations The first thing that was noticed when handing out the sheets with the grammar lesson was that the students were unable to identify with the strip itself. While teachers may personally find Archie comics easy to relate to, these students were unsure what to make of the characters and the situation. Many were born after 1990. Many have little exposure to Archie comics, which have a small market share and are overshadowed by the well-known characters of DC, Marvel, and other major comic publishers. Thus, Archie might not have been a suitable choice for this class. To counteract the generational gap, one can use more topical comic strips that appear in the local newspapers such as Beetle Bailey and Garfield. While there is no guarantee that the students are familiar with those comics, at least these are easily available in their local newspaper, so students can become familiar with the characters. Another element that seems to be necessary is to have more than one example for the students to understand the grammatical item. With repeated attempts using several different comic strips, the lesson can be more easily understood by the learner. While this research project was meant to test the feasibility of using comics, one important point that needs to be considered is the unfamiliarity of the teaching medium, i.e. the comic strip itself, for the students. They had previously been taught grammar through lectures, without the use of comics, for approximately six weeks before this study was conducted. Thus, the sudden use of comic strips possibly thrust students into an uncomfortable new situation. If comics had been introduced earlier as a potential medium of instruction, then there is the possibility that students would be more open to using comics in their grammar lessons.

Conclusion The purpose of this study was two-fold. The first was to see how students reacted to using comics in grammar instruction. The other was to see whether using comics could reduce the time needed for a language teacher to teach a discrete grammatical item. While the students who were taught via more conventional teaching techniques did fare better than the other students, this is not cause for total dismissal of comics as a teaching tool. As the literature review shows, comics have positive effects on students acquiring the four skills. With the proper balance between conventional teaching and students’ working autonomously on the lesson, a high group score can be achieved. In the most successful group, Group

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A, while they achieved the highest average score, they also had the second widest gap in highest and lowest grades. Group C, the class which had a balance between conventional teaching and comics exploration, had the second smallest range of scores and second highest class average in the quiz. Also, the grades for the students were clustered around the same percentages, showing that few students fell behind in the lesson. This suggests there is a place for comics as a medium for grammar instruction. While the use of comics may prove to be beneficial in the grammar classroom, one very important aspect of student identity should be kept in mind, namely, that students have different learning styles. Some students may find it easy to process visual material, while others are comfortable with verbal explanation. Hence, one type of material should not be used exclusively for instruction. Future research should focus on achieving the correct balance between traditional teaching, and allowing the students to explore alternative ways to support their understanding.

References Annet, D. 2008. Implementing graphic texts into the language arts classroom. Minnesota English Journal 44, 150–179. Bitz, M. 2004. The comic book project: Forging alternative pathways to literacy. Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy 47(1). 574–586. Cary, S. 2004. Going Graphic: Comics at Work in the Multilingual Classroom. Portsmouth: Heinemann. Celce-Murcia, M. and O. Elite. 2000. Discourse and Context in Language Teaching: A Guide for Language Teachers. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Davis, R.S. 1997. Comics: A multi-dimensional teaching aid in integratedskills classes. Retrieved from http://www.esl-lab.com/research/comics. htm. Dean, D. 2001. Grammar without grammar: Just playing around, writing. The English Teacher 91(2). 86–89. Draper, M. 2006. The Use of the L1 in English Language Classes of Bangladeshi Secondary Schools. Unpublished Master’s dissertation, University of Nottingham, United Kingdom. Drolet, C.A. 2010. Using Comics in the Development of EFL Reading and Writing. Retrieved from http://www.tesolreview.org/down/2-7.%20 Claude%20Andre%20Drolet.pdf. Elley, W., B. Cutting, F. Mangbhai and C. Hugo. 1996. Lifting literacy levels with story books: Evidence from the South Pacific, Singapore, Sri Lanka and South Africa. Paper presented at the World Conference

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on Literacy, Philadelphia, PA. Retrieved from http://www.literacy.org/ products/ili/pdf/ilprocwe.pdf. Fujii, N. 2005. Learning from learner discourse: Rethinking grammar instruction. Japanese Language and Literature 39(2). 291–337. Hadley, A.O. 2000. Teaching language in context (3rd edn.). Boston: Thomson. James, A., and A.L. James. 2004. Constructing Childhood: Theory, Policy and Social Practice. Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan. Khoii, R. and Z. Forouzesh. 2010. Using comic strips with reading texts: Are we making a mistake? Literacy Information and Computer Educational Journal 1(3). 168–177. Kline, S. 1993. Out of the Garden: Toys and Children’s Culture in the Age of TV Marketing. London: Verso. Kroll, B. 2001. Considerations for teaching an ESL/EFL writing course. In M. Celce-Murcia (ed.), Teaching English as a Second or Foreign Language, 3rd edn. 219–232. Boston: Heinle & Heinle. Larsen-Freeman, D. 2002. The grammar of choice. In E. Hinkel and S. Fotos, New Perspectives on Grammar Teaching in Second-Language Classrooms, 103–118. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Levie, W.H. and R. Lentz. 1982. Effects of text illustrations: A review of research. Education Communication and Technology Journal 30, 195– 232. Levin, J.R., G.J. Anglin and R.N. Carney. 1987. On empirically validating functions of picturesi n prose. In D.M. Willows and H.A. Houghton (eds.), The Psychology of Illustration: Volume I. Basic research, 51–86. New York: Springer-Verlag. Liu, J. 2004. Effects of comic strips on L2 learners’ reading comprehension. TESOL Quarterly 38(2). 225–243. Mangubhai, F. 2001. Book floods and comprehensible input floods: Providing ideal conditions for second-language acquisition. International Journal of Educational Research 35, 147–156. Marcus, N., M. Cooper and J. Sweller. 1996. Understanding instructions. Journal of Educational Psychology 88, 49–63. Marsh, R. 1978. Teaching French with the comics. The French Review 51(6). 777–785. McCloud, Scott. 1994. Understanding Comics. New York: Harper Collins. Meyrowitz, J. 1985. No Sense of Place: The Impact of Electronic Media on Social Behavior. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press. Morshed, A.K.M. 1994. Bangladesh: Language Situation. In R.E. Asher (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics: Vol 1, 301. Oxford: Pergamon Press.

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Morrison, T.G., G. Bryan and G.W. Chilcoat. 2002. Using studentgenerated comic-books in the classroom. Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy 45(8). 758–767. Müller-Hartmann, Andreas. 2007. Is Disney safe for kids? – Subtexts in Walt Disney’s animation films. Amerikaner/American Studies 52(3). 399–415. Musa, M. 1997. Defining a new status for English in Bangladesh. BAFOLTA Journal 1(1). 6–16. Nigay, T. n.d. The strength of comics in teaching English. Retrieved April 22, 2007, from http://www.natek.freenet.kz/texts/nigay.rtf. Norton, B. and K. Vanderheyden. 2004. Comic book culture and secondlanguage learners. In B. Norton and K. Toohey (eds.), Critical Pedagogies and Language Learning, 201–221. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University. Quader, D.A. 2001. Reaction to innovation in language teaching: A project in Bangladesh. Journal of the Institute of Modern Languages, 5–20. Qvortrup, J. (ed.). 2005. Studies in Modern Childhood: Society, Agency, Culture. Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan. Rahman, A. 1996. Acceptability and English curriculum change in Bangladesh. In R.J. Baumgardner (ed.), South Asian English, 191–205. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Ranker, J. 2007. Using comic books as read-alouds: Insights on reading instruction from an English as a second-language classroom. The Reading Teacher 61(4). 296–305. Royce, T. 2002. Multimodality in the TESOL classroom: Exploring visualverbal synergy. TESOL Quarterly 36(2). 191–205. Schmitt, R. 1992. Deconstructive Comics. Journal of Popular Culture 25(4). 153–162. Selim, A. and T. Mahboob. 2001. ELT and English language teachers of Bangladesh: A Profile. In F. Alam, N. Zaman and T. Ahmed (eds.), Revisioning English in Bangladesh, 141. Dhaka: University Press Limited. Siddiqui, Zillur Rahman. 2003. English in the Education system: Policy and Strategy. The Daily Janakantha 7(3). Sones, W.W.D. 1944. The comics and instructional method. Journal of Educational Sociology 18(4). 232–240. Sree, Raj. 2011. Teaching literature and language through popular culture. Journal of Teaching and Research in English Literature. Retrieved on October 30, 2012 from https://sites.google.com/site/splissueeltailiterat urejournal/articles/ teaching-literature-and-language.

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Versaci, R. 2001. How comic books can change the way our students see literature: One teacher’s perspective. English Journal 91(2). 61–67. Williams, N. 1995. The comic book as course book: Why and now. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages, Long Beach, CA. Retrieved from http://eric.ed. gov/ ERICWebPortal/recordDetail?accno=ED390277. Yang, G. 2003. Comics in education. Retrieved from http://www.humble comics. com/comicsedu/index.html. Yasmin, F. 2005. Predictors of language learning success in Bangladeshi secondary educational institutions. Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, University of Nottingham, Nottingham, UK.

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Appendix A-1 – Worksheets: DANGLING AND MISPLACED MODIFIERS Directions: In the blank beside each sentence, indicate whether that sentence contains a dangling modifier (DM) or a misplaced modifier (MM). Then rewrite the sentence to correct it. Check the answers by using the key below. Examples: a. At the age of six, my mother sang hymns to me. Correction: When I was six, my mother sang hymns to me. b. We were told at midnight the concert would begin. Correction: We were told the concert would begin at midnight.

DM MM

1. Running for the bus, my book fell into the mud.

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2. Expecting confusion, our plans were made.

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3. Feeling hot, sweaters were taken off.

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4. I showed my dog to the veterinarian with the fleas.

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5. Larry told me he was getting married that afternoon at night.

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6. This typewriter is used by a secretary with a wide carriage.

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7. Swimming out into the sea, the current grew stronger.

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8. Walking along the bridge, a ship suddenly appeared.

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9. The Honda was stalled on the road out of oil.

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10. He kept a black book of all the girls he had dated in his desk.

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11. On entering the room, the messages are easily seen.

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12. While at the park, the sun shone brightly on the sunbathers.

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13. Mary should jump at whatever is demanded quickly.

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14. He kept all his medicine in the medicine cabinet that had been prescribed for him. ____ 15. When only a baby, Mom took me scuba diving.

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(adapted from the Student Learning Assistance Center in Texas State University-San Marcos) MISPLACED MODIFIERS WORKSHEET Write ‘C’ if the modifier is correctly placed. Write ‘MM’ if it is misplaced. Then, in the ‘MM’ sentences, circle the modifier and draw an arrow to show where it should go. ____1. The man was stopped for speeding in the blue sweater. ____2. I almost saw the whole movie, but I fell asleep around midnight. ____3. Joe promised to mow the lawn running out the door. ____4. The initials were those of the lovers carved on the tree. ____5. There are only two parking spaces left in the lot. ____6. Every four hours the doctor told him to take a pill. ____7. Sitting on the porch, I smoked my last cigarette. ____8. The woman walked toward us wearing the feather hat. ____9. The jet crashed into a cliff carrying 155 passengers. ____10. I hardly ate any breakfast. ____11. I watched the mechanic fix the car with admiration. ____12. I earn fifty dollars a week scarcely. ____13. Reaching into the cupboard, I found the bag of cookies. ____14. We borrowed a mower from a neighbor that was broken. ____15. Climbing up the telephone pole, we saw a squirrel.

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____16. Mel, running rapidly, disappeared around the bend. ____17. The cat was rescued after the building had been set on fire by a fireman. ____18. We’ve almost found all the pieces to the puzzle. ____19. She vowed on her birthday to go on a diet. ____20. We need gas badly. (adapted from the Student Learning Assistance Center in Texas State University-San Marcos) A-2 – Quiz: Directions: Identify whether each sentence is a dangling or misplaced modifier. Write DM or MM next to each of the respective mistakes. Then rewrite the sentence, correcting the error. 1. She claimed yesterday she saw the thief at her home.

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2. When entering the office, the painting caught my attention.

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3. After a quick change into my clothes, the nurse told me to wait. ______ 4. Though still young, the company accepted her application

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5. Having laid an egg weighing two pounds, the farmer proudly displayed his favourite ostrich for the photographers. ______ 6. The robber was described as a six-foot-tall man with brown hair and a mustache weighing 150 pounds. ______ 7. Before doing any strenuous exercise, warm-up activities are necessary. ______ 8. Inhaling the fumes from paint thinner, statistics show that significant brain damage can occur. ______ 9. Having applied a bandage, the bleeding finally stopped.

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10. The other day I shot an elephant in my pajamas.

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End Note No response was received from Archie Comics. In deference to their intellectual property, the actual worksheet is not attached to this paper.

CHAPTER FOUR THE HEROIC VILLAIN: ANIME IN MORAL EDUCATION AND ENGLISH LANGUAGE LEARNING CARMAN NG Introduction Good/evil impacts on our conception and evaluation of identities. Creating the backbone of the various popular cultural texts we encounter, the good/evil construct permeates narratives and the representations of heroes and villains. While these two character types have been deemed dichotomous, their representations are far from static. As historical and sociocultural contexts change, they twin, morph and blur. Examining representations of good/evil thus carries significance: it provides a way to comprehend the ideological interdependence between popular media and context, and in so doing, enables the use of media texts as pedagogical resources to cultivate intercultural sensitivity and critical literacy. Anime is among the most dynamic and disputed fictional narratives in the popular culture landscape (Napier, 2005). For Bryce and Davis (2006), Poitras (2009) and Suzuki (2008), the embodiment of often transgressive characters and narratives creates opportunities to engage moral messages and articulate identities. This study analyzes a terrorism-themed apocalyptic series, Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion (2006–2008), using a two-level multi-semiotic approach. First, a scene-by-scene examination of the pilot demonstrates how the narrative structurally interweaves themes and imagery specific to the series as a sign-complex to entice viewership. Second, the study investigates the significance of the imagery, symbolically and psychologically, in reflecting Japanese cultural identity. Based on the findings, this chapter proposes a way to integrate anime with discussion and blogging activities, to supplement the learning of creative/narrative writing and of multicultural understanding.

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This study also aims to stimulate awareness and discussion on the roles of anime in the visual culture nowadays, in particular how meanings are realised multimodally, which is at present limited in academia yet crucial in furthering anime research (Yoshida, 2008). A driving premise of the current study is that anime series that come with transgressive characterisations and complex narratives can serve as pedagogical means to assist students in critically questioning issues that shape realities and worldviews on ideological and moral levels.

Understanding Anime Anime, simply put, is Japanese animation. The stylised medium has reached global popularity, being commonly broadcast in a range of countries, including the United States, Canada, Malaysia, Singapore, India and Hong Kong. The influence of anime can also be observed in media texts created in the West, e.g. Animatrix (2003), as an extension of the blockbuster Matrix (1999), and Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005–2008) from the United States. Since 2010, Marvel has begun producing anime projects starring a cast of iconic characters including the X-Men, Wolverine, Blade and Iron Man. Affirmation of the medium is also evident in academia, with increasing research endeavours (see the Mechademia series; Hiramoto, 2010; Ranyard, 2006; Schaub, 2001), conferences and workshops. Anime, as an object of academic study, comes with a history spanning only forty years. The 1960s marked the birth of the medium (Napier, 2005; Chen, 2003; Lamarre, 2002). In 1963, Astro Boy, by Osamu Tezuka, was released and became the first and classic animated television series. In 1964, Kimba the White Lion came into the picture. Throughout these few decades, anime has come to be a media genre that proves engaging to viewers and academics from varied backgrounds. One reason for the wide appeal of anime lies in the medium’s distinctive qualities. Scholars such as Poitras (2008, 2009), Shen (2007) and Yoshida (2008) generally take note of the connection between anime and manga (Japanese comics), which most anime stem from. Manga has its own expanding research repertoire, focused in particular on how manga and anime narratives merge diverse genres. For example, Fullmetal Alchemist combines the genres action, drama, fantasy, adventure and tragedy. Academics consider this common presence of genre mash-ups a key component in the appeal of anime. Genre-mixing is apparent in other media texts as well. What distinguishes anime from them is that, as

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televised series, anime unfolds episodically and is therefore able to develop substantive plots and characters, on top of its cinematic qualities. Anime is also specific as a popular cultural form. Its most notable feature, as agreed by scholars in the field (Napier 2005, 2007), is its projection of transcultural elements, consistently situated in dark, violent, and occasionally sexualised contexts. Since the late 1980s, a period commonly considered the anime boom, anime has leaned toward adult themes and plot complexity. The 1980s not only marked the international appeal of anime, but also the recognition of the medium in the use of imagery and narratives that delve into emotions and psychology with an unprecedented intensity, compared with American animation (Napier, 2005; Yoshida, 2008). In the words of Bryce et al. (2010), the medium has matured into one of “hybridity and transmutability” with cross-pollination through interacting with products of popular culture from the West that continuously generate distinct aesthetics and storytelling styles that have global appeal (Napier, 2005, 2006; Perper and Cornog, 2011). As with other popular culture texts, anime storylines often include an apocalypse. Although the idea of an apocalypse takes its roots from religion, contemporary narratives include ecological disasters, astronomical collisions, assaults from unidentified life forms, political misrule and genocide. It appears inevitable that apocalyptic anime involves heroes and villains. For Hatayama (2009), anime features a myriad of characters with the potential to provide role models or alternate selves for viewers to identify with. Yet the construct of heroes and villains is elusive. To properly examine anime as both a medium and a cultural form, we have to consider the following questions: 1) What do heroes and villains represent? 2) How are heroes and villains represented, through semiotics and narrative? 3) How do these representations impact viewers’ identification with these characters? 4) How are cultural identities factored into anime? 5) How can we harness anime as an educational resource, to build critical literacy?

Understanding Multimodality This study draws from the social-semiotic theory of multimodality, most recently set out in the work of Kress (2010). Meanings are bound by contexts. In this framework, meanings are realised via modes (e.g.

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linguistic texts, pictorial texts, sounds etc.). The way modes are configured in a sign-complex to communicate meanings is dependent on the sociohistorical context, as all kinds of communicative practices or representations are socially-situated. In line with the Hallidayan conceptualisation of texts as social activities within the systemic functional linguistics (SFL) approach, meaning-making is divided into three metafunctions (ideational, interpersonal and textual), corresponding to the situational variables of field, tenor and mode (Halliday and Matthiessen, 2004). Iedema (2003: 31) comments on the most productive outcome, the tripartite view of meaning-making: On the basis of the metafunction hypothesis, the stratification hypothesis, the text-context hook-up, and the focus on whole social processes as texts… analytical methods were devised which did justice to texts’ socially meaningful role… texts’ features could be systematically linked to those of their social and institutional contexts, as well as to politics, the ‘ideologies’, or the worldviews that informed and shaped those contexts.

Connecting SFL theory with image analysis, Kress and van Leeuwen (2006) developed a framework of visual grammar, organised around the three metafunctions: representational (what is represented in an image?), compositional (how is the image represented?), and interactive (what is the social relationship among sign-makers, viewers and the represented participants?). Images, while different from language, are framed socioculturally and thus reasonably assumed to be able to display culturebased regularities that can be studied through systematic description. Scholars (Jewitt, 2009; Kress, 2001; Kress and van Leeuwen, 2006; Ventola and Guijarro, 2009) argue that multimodality provides a means to holistically examine the way modes are employed, organised, and integrated in the process of semiosis, thus optimising their meaningmaking potential and outcomes. Given the pictocentric quality of anime, conducting a multimodal analysis can explicate how verbal and audiovisual elements co-construct messages. In this study, the examination of the multimodal interplay of Code Geass will proceed in two phases: (a) developing a scene-by-scene description of the pilot (23 minutes and 24 seconds) to explore the denotative and connotative meanings involved in the narrative (Gaines, 2010) in the construction of apocalyptic and psychological themes; and (b) examining the intermodal mechanism of one scene, using the major codes of television: visuals, speech and camerawork.

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Examining the Multisemiotic Representation of Heroes/Villains in Code Geass Code Geass comprises a total of fifty episodes across two seasons. It is an award-winning project created by Sunrise that has spawned a wide range of derivative works including videogames and light novels. The current study investigates this series for two reasons; firstly, it stands among some of the tremendously disputed anime titles from the past five years due to its complex narrative centred on the moral tensions arising from social inequality and political oppression. It has been banned in some countries including China. Themes evoked in the series, and the manifestation of Geass, contain allusions to Roman and Norse mythologies. Secondly, by portraying the protagonist’s involvement in a terrorist group fighting for Japanese independence, the series presents distinctive characters with realistic motives and worldviews. More importantly, characters challenge the commonly accepted notion of good and evil, providing viewers opportunities for reflection and identification. In Code Geass, Japan was conquered and re-named Area 11 under the rule of the superpower, the Holy Britannian Empire. The protagonist Lelouch Lamperouge (also called Lelouch vi Britannia) is a prince exiled as a political hostage to Area 11. When caught participating in a terrorist incident, Lelouch gains the power of Geass from a mysterious contractor, revealed later in the series as C.C., or the Witch of Fate. The power of Geass allows Lelouch to compel people to obey his commands. Lelouch then masquerades as an alter-ego, Zero, to lead the Black Knights to free Japan from Britannia. He hopes to create a peaceful world for his blindand-crippled sister, Nunnally, but he tries to achieve this through acts of terrorism. Central to the series is the ambiguity that exists between vigilantism and terrorism, posing the question, how does one make choices in responding to contextual changes, and how are those making such choices held accountable? Code Geass interweaves a diversity of plotlines, including war and terrorism, social malaise, sexuality, drug abuse, economic collapse and identity. It is important to examine the pilot, titled ‘The Day a New Demon was Born’, which establishes key motifs and entices viewership. Spanning approximately 24 minutes, the pilot includes 22 scenes of an average length of 2 minutes. As the narrative progresses toward points of crises, viewers are confronted with an interspersion of shots, which last only 3 seconds at the shortest. The series creators have created an actionpacked narrative with a snapshot pace, emphasising the quick,

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simultaneous unfolding of events. Table 1 below describes the pilot in metafunctional terms. Table 1: Metafunctional description of the pilot of Code Geass Metafunctions Representational

Compositional

Interactive

Description x Japan occupied by the Holy Britannian Empire as Area 11; a site of political and social malaise x Protagonist contemptuous of the Britannians for exploiting Japan, and Japanese for their ignorance x Terrorists’ theft of a Britannian asset later revealed to be C.C. x Destruction of the Shinjuku Ghetto for assetretrieval x Protagonist’s childhood friend (and nemesis) shot for refusing to kill civilians (protagonist and C.C.) x Protagonist accepts the Geass contract and as self-defence commands the soldiers to commit suicide x Protagonist’s decision to use Geass to rebel x Approximately 22 scenes with an average scene length of 2 minutes x Use of dolly out and pan to demonstrate destruction x Use of wipe to introduce disequilibrium of narrative and quicken pace x Extensive use of close-ups and extreme closeups on protagonist, interspersed with long shots and extreme long shots x Lelouch is represented as helpless, shocked, and trapped in the shootout between terrorists and the military x Suzaku has joined the Honorary Britannian soldiers and was shot for refusing to kill civilians x Racist attitudes run throughout social classes

On a representational level, the pilot establishes political upheavals and the subsequent malaise as the undercurrent of not just the episode, but the

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series, by starting with young Lelouch’s declaration to obliterate Britannia after experiencing the traumatic invasion of Japan. Cutting to seven years later, on a regular day, Osaka is bombed and a top-security asset of the Britannian government (Geass contractor, C.C.) is stolen by terrorists hiding out in the Shinjuku Ghetto. The Viceroy orders a Knightmare-led wipe-out of Shinjuku. Lelouch, caught in the incident, facing the imminent danger of being killed by the military along with the Shinjuku residents, establishes a Geass contract. On an interactive level, Lelouch is portrayed as an intelligent highschool student (exemplified by his strategic defeat of a Britannian nobleman in a chess game), keenly aware of his inability to effect change under the dominance of the Britannian Empire, and of the ambivalence of the Elevens (Japanese) in conforming to the Britannian rule. He does not hesitate to rescue people. However, entangled in the military-terrorist shootout, his helplessness is amplified as he struggles to escape with C.C. from the civilian-killing soldiers. Interweaving the representational and interactive aspects is the compositional function. The creators consistently make use of dolly out and pan/tilt to highlight the dominant presence of the Britannian ruling class and the extent of military-induced devastation. Another compositional pattern is the interweaving of extreme long shots to signify the helplessness of characters and the massive scope of the Geass realm in the contract-sealing scene, and extreme close-ups to emphasise characters’ fears, thus engaging viewers’ emotions. These instances of camerawork occur at different speeds, to create emotional intensity. One motif in the pilot concerns the factual framing of war. This is a key issue in the language arts classroom, where students are encouraged to examine cultural issues and tensions critically. The series creators deliver this message succinctly in the opening sequence (44 seconds), in which viewers see the devastation of the Britannian invasion of Japan through the eyes of Lelouch and his childhood friend. The brooding sociohistorical context is established through utilising maps and warzone photos. By shifting between static, monochromatic graphics to lively animation and then back to static, colour, wartime shots, the creators portray the humanoid Knightmares’ crushing of the Japanese defence with a kind of immediate, witness aura. Viewers are then presented with an impersonal scene showing the replacement of the Japanese flag and a computer screen indicating the suppression status of Area 11. Both visualise the voice over, which notes “the country [Japan] was stripped of its freedom, its rights, and its name”. The creators use conventional television codes (Bignell, 2002; Lacey, 2009) such as the mobile frame, to evoke “empathetic

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feelings through identification with the realistic qualities of the events and experiences of the characters in a story” (2010: 21). This study adopts Gaines’s approach (2010) to take a deeper look at the narrative development of the episode. Table 2 presents an excerpt of the pilot in scene-by-scene sequence, to detail how modes employed and the editing process co-articulate meanings and propel the narrative. Table 2 analyses two scenes. The transcription maps what is shown in specific scenes, the range of modes (graphics, speech or sound) used, and instances of camerawork, as a way to explicate the narrative functions they serve. For instance, when the Viceroy orders the wipe-out of the Shinjuku Ghetto the narrative is further destabilised. This is realised through an upward tilt. In line with Kress and van Leeuwen’s theory (2006), this places viewers in a subservient position and the Viceroy in a superior one. A fast zoom creates immediacy, and the graffiti text signifies the bottledup, deep-rooted social malaise in Japan. A crucial pattern identified is that war is framed factually and prosocially. Upon the introduction of the disequilibrim in scene 6 (07:06) – the Viceroy’s order of deploying the humanoid Knightmares to retrieve the stolen property – a consistent increase in the use of camerawork is observed. An innovative example is the use of a sped-up upward tilt at an awkward angle to mimic the character Suzaku being shot. Rather than fulfilling the conventional habit of presenting solvable problems, the disequilibrium brings in a series of insolvable events for the protagonist, situated in a context where the ruling class orders cleansing of a district, by a military with a pervasive negativity toward the Elevens, and in which the Britannian nobilitysoldiers see massacre of civilians as leisure. This creates a context laced with power dominance and social suppression. Thus, Lelouch’s acceptance of Geass, his killing of the soldiers for self-defence, and his eventual decision to use Geass to obliterate Britannia through terrorist attacks all contradict the conventional concept of heroes as virtuous and just. But his choices are represented as necessary for survival. Consistent with previous works by CLAMP, such characters embody duality, often at the intersection of fate and choice (Cavallaro, 2012). Through these means of representation, the series creators challenge the seeming dichotomy of heroes and villains.

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Table 2: Excerpt of the scene-by-scene description of the pilot

Connecting Symbolic Imagery and Cultural Identity Media text involves an interaction between producers and viewers, socially, through the shared understanding of textual codes and conventions situated in the broader sociocultural context (Chandler, 2007).

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Understanding such codes is a foundational step in incorporating anime, or other media texts, into the classroom. Textual codes, in line with the tradition of film analysis, in general include narrative, characterisation, themes, setting, filmic techniques and iconography. In the language arts classroom, exploring the iconography of anime is significant because anime, as a visual-driven medium, delivers meaningful nuances through imagery. Code Geass, in this regard, is a relatively complex text. The series involves several instances of symbolic imagery, as in Table 3. Table 3: A brief summary of symbolic imagery in Code Geass Signs Blue-green pathways Plain sketch of characters (occasionally naked), white background Feathers Damaged/handless clocks Cogs Universe

Symbolised Meanings Neural/mental processes; abstract journeys The psyche or internal state of characters Time; transcendence; life Disrupted time/infinity Part of an elaborate, broader system Natural/mysterious phenomena

Along with such conventional symbolic structural markers as feathers (Cornog and Perper, 2009), the series utilises images innovatively. An exemplar is image-flash: a quick succession of images within one second, with different angles, without accompaniment of linguistic text. Through these, the series creators maintain the Geass-enigma, and establish a vocabulary specific to the meaning-making of the series. In the discussion of multimodality, image-flash serves as a good indication of resemiotisation where language as the preferred mode of meaning-making has become increasingly de-centred; and the conventional boundaries among modes are re-visited and problematised (Iedema 2003). Figure 1 demonstrates the use of image-flash in the contract-sealing scene of the pilot.

Figure 1: Image-flash in the contract-sealing scene (Taniguchi, 2006)

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The image-flash above presents a dimly-lit stone carving of the Geass symbol, followed by snapshots of an unidentified tribe with Geass markings, and the planet Jupiter, signifying the historic roots of the mysterious power. Jupiter links with Roman religion and myths, in particular Zeus as the father God. This visually alludes to Geass as “the power of a king”. Shifting from medium close-up (social) through extreme long shot (impersonal), shot size changes highlight the awe-inspiring quality of Geass. The anime also features an extensive set of symbolic imageries, briefly tabulated below. As noted, anime contains a kind of “statelessness” (Napier, 2005: 26– 27). Pellitteri (2010, 2011) argues that, however modified, while anime titles are entering foreign markets, elements particular to Japanese culture remain. It may appear that the symbolic imagery summarised in Table 3 only connects to the motifs of the series. Taking a deeper look in connection with the following set of imagery extracted from episode 11, ‘Battle for Narita’ (Figure 2), in which viewers see glimpses into the psyche of Lelouch/Zero’s nemesis Suzaku, it becomes apparent that the imagery of Code Geass manifests Japan’s cultural identity and fears.

Figure 2: Apocalyptic imagery in episode 11, season 1 (Taniguchi, 2006)

In this scene, to save the cornered Lelouch/Zero, the contractor C.C. feeds Suzaku shock images with Geass, showing that Suzaku in his childhood years, in trying to convince his father, the late Prime Minister of Japan, to surrender to Britannia, caused his father’s death. (It is revealed later in the series that Suzaku stabbed his father). This again shows the easily blurred boundary between heroes and villains. More importantly, the image-flash that ensues (Figure 2) carries apocalyptic undertones that connect to Japan’s post-war trauma. A ball of heat rising; a monochromatic image of faceless humans loitering; and billowing clouds of skulls screaming, combined with convulsing strokes, graininess and ominous music, signify psychological disturbance. When considering why the series creators conceptualise Code Geass in the apocalyptic genre, language arts educators can invite students to consider the functional values of apocalypse. Both Tanaka’s research (2011) and Napier’s text (2005) remark that apocalypse embraces

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opposing values such as life and death, or creation and annihilation, which raise ideological ambiguities or uncertainties fundamental to Japanese culture since 1945. LaMarre (2011) considers the atomic bombings at Hiroshima and Nagasaki as a form of national psychic trauma that has been absorbed into the underlying narratives of Japanese national identity. A victimised Japan, though fictitious, proves problematic and debatable to many (Drazen, 2003). This short sequence (1 minute and 55 seconds) can serve as a prompt to stimulate discussion on, for instance, the connection between the image set and historical imagery, and how this connection may affect the interpretation of warfare and cultural conflicts.

Integrating Anime into Language Arts We can now consider the integration of anime into the undergraduate language classroom, using a three-phase process: (a) understanding the narrative and characters of the anime, (b) blogging on student-chosen, specific characters as a way of consolidation and paving the way for (c), a piece of original, creative or narrative writing. The process is planned to be incremental, with a combination of individual and group work, for the purpose of generating a sense of progress for students and fostering creativity and competencies in both spoken and written genres of English. Peer critique also plays a key role in this process. Phase (a) familiarises students with the narrative of a chosen anime series through focused reading of the plot, characters, style and editing process. The transcription shown in the previous sections on analysing Code Geass provides a viable form of systematically enhancing students’ critical awareness of the modes utilised, their meaning-making potential, and their inter-complementarity. While multimodal analysis is increasingly computerised (O’Halloran, 2009), unless the learning outcomes are targeted at a sophisticated level of multisemiotic understanding, it is not essential to include software. This phase stresses sharpening students’ abilities to analyse and evaluate narratives in terms of the development of plot and characters; and in so doing, reflect on the sociocultural issues involved, as manifested by characters’ choices and consequences.

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Table 4: Summary of anime-driven learning activities Activities (Weeks) a) Narrative analysis of anime

Details

Nature

Discuss plot development and visual presentation of a selected anime

Group; spoken

b) Two blogs on character understandin g: one as character; one as outsider

Blog with media, e.g. photos, music, videos, self-created manga, about the characters; from various points of view (e.g. characters, audience, director etc.)

Individual; written

c) Fiction writing

Compose a work of original fiction; peer feedback

Individual – Group – Individual; spoken + written

Example Questions ‡ What aspects of the story are highlighted? Why? ‡ How would you describe the dynamics / tension among characters? ‡ What is the relationship between a villain and his/her nemesis? ‡ Can villains be heroes? How is criminality defined? ‡ Anime-derived; or original

Phase (b) provides students with a degree of flexibility, as they blog about how they understand characters from the anime, incorporating multimedia, e.g. photos, music, or panels of self-produced manga, and so on. The benefits of using blogs in the learning process have been affirmed by a number of studies (Black, 2005; Kunai and Ryan, 2007; Stevens and Brown, 2011; Thorne, 2009; Thorne and Reinhardt, 2008) in achieving these learning outcomes: (1) facilitating the pooling of experiences, resources and ideas from students that can in turn generate knowledge in problem solving; (2) providing students with opportunities to experiment with navigating different media forms and systems to research and communicate; (3) increasing student finesse and competence in appropriating media content to present information efficiently. In this case, as students assume different roles in writing their blogs, another learning outcome lies in honing their abilities to adopt identities to communicate creatively and simultaneously attune to the voices of characters and self.

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Students are invited to compose two blogs, one from the perspective of an ‘outsider’, such as a director, actor or teacher. This blog discusses the conflicts among characters, and how these connect with ideas circulating in the society. Some examples: x Would you attempt to change the social system of Area 11? How do you see what the characters mean, e.g. outward change through terrorism, inward change through joining the military/politics, participating in the media? x What right choices have Lelouch/Suzaku/C.C. made? What wrong choices? What impact do these choices have on the plot development and viewers? x Is there any blameless character in the story? The second blog is written from the perspective of a specific character. Students are encouraged to write to another character within the series, or another fictional/historical figure, or persons from the contemporary times. The discussion may focus on contrasting the motives, decisions and experiences of the characters, for example: x As Lelouch, write to L (from Death Note) about how Light’s vigilante actions (of killing criminals with the Death Note) may be justifiable. Detail how the society is affected, and how such vigilante actions should be followed through despite your conflicting emotions. x As Suzaku, write a story for Nunnally (Lelouch’s sister). How do you feel when you find out that your childhood friend has caused the death of many, including the person you love? When you hunt Lelouch/Zero down as a Britannian soldier, where do your priorities lie? x As C.C., write note cards to Mark Benford (Flashforward) to advise him on how not to be discouraged by each failed lead in solving the case, and how to emotionally interact with people without a vision of the future, who may be facing impending death. While students should be encouraged to include media in their blogs, it is important that they emphasise the appropriateness of the media incorporated, rather than over-using them for effect. So they can add photos, videos or hyperlinks to texts online to aid comprehension. They may also like to create manga with free generators on the Internet, such as Tokyopop. Blogs should be accessible online or through web portals, and classmates should be invited to read and comment on each other’s work,

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creating a feedback loop that can encourage students to evaluate and improve their work. In the final phase of the process, students are invited to write a piece of creative fiction, either based on the narrative of the anime, or original. Again, inclusion of media in this piece, such as hyperlinks to resources connected with creative writing, literary journals or magazines, will sharpen their critical skill. In developing this piece, students can discuss their ideas and drafts with their peers, critiquing and responding to each other’s writing. Scholars have remarked that media such as anime and graphic novels can be powerful platforms to provide students with a visual vocabulary that supports their learning of writing, in particular, tone and dialogue (O’English, 2006; Frey and Fisher, 2008; Versaci, 2001). Integrating anime in language teaching requires an understanding of anime, as its complex visual vocabulary and writing mechanisms may not optimise the learning process. For example, in Code Geass there are scenes that are suddenly cut into multiple frames that resemble panels in manga/comics. This method of indicating simultaneous events, as a form of visual vocabulary, cannot be readily replicated in classroom writing. Teachers may raise students’ awareness of the meanings realised by such methods of signification, and consider how to transfer this knowledge into their writing process.

Conclusion This study applies the social semiotic theory of multimodality in investigating a terrorism-themed anime, in light of its narrative development and multimodal play in realising meanings that resonate with the psychological, symbolic and political dimensions of cultural identities. Through this analysis, this chapter proposes incorporating anime viewing into the language arts classroom, where students discuss and examine the plot and character development in relation to the sociocultural issues involved, and demonstrate their understanding and creativity through blogs and creative writing. It is important for educators to invite students to consider the multiple voices in the series in relation to the motif of social inequality, ultimately represented by the tension between father and son. Lelouch attempts to obliterate Britannia to reject the Emperor’s philosophy of creating a pseudo-peaceful world through replacing the collective unconscious of mankind with a renewed humanity. Despite the fantasy content, the anime reverberates with the fears of WWII in its symbolic imagery, and appears

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to frame Britannia as a representation of the threatening Other, through creating a new national identity (Tanaka, 2011). Characters in the series often blur the boundary between heroes and villains as embodiments of dual forces. Dependent on the intended learning outcomes, educators can bring the political elements of the series to the fore, such as Lelouch’s criticism of both Britannian dominance and Japanese ambivalence as contributing to the socioeconomic oppression in Area 11. Educators can also use such plot elements to discuss tensions in globalisation, such as challenges in nurturing solidarity among dissimilar groups to create social unity. It is equally valid to engage Code Geass as an interpretation of maturation into adulthood that addresses crucial questions of how to live in connection with the self and others.

References Bignell, J. 2002. Media Semiotics: An Introduction. New York: Manchester University Press. Black, R.W. 2005. Access and affiliation: The literacy and composition practices of English-language learners in an online fanfiction community. Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy 49(2). 118-128. Bryce, M., C. Barber, J. Kelly, S. Kunwar and A. Plumb. 2010. Manga and Anime: Fluidity and Hybridity in Global Imagery. Electronic Journal of Contemporary Japanese Studies. Bryce, M. and J. Davis. 2006. Manga/Anime, Media Mix: Scholarship in a Post-Modern, Global Community. M. Atherton (ed.) CAESS (the College of Arts, Education and Social Sciences) Conference: Scholarship and Community, University of Western Sydney, 1–10. Cavalaro, D. 2012. Clamp in Context: A Critical Study of the Manga and Anime. London: McFarland and Company, Ltd. Chandler, D. 2007. Semiotics: The Basics. London: Routledge. Cornog, M. and T. Perper (eds.). 2009. Graphic Novels beyond the Basics. California: ABC-CLIO, LLC. Drazen, P. 2003. Anime Explosion! The What? Why? & Wow! of Japanese Animation. Berkeley: Stone Bridge Press. Frey, N. and N. Fisher (eds.). 2008. Visual Literacy: Using Comic Books, Graphic Novels, Anime, Cartoons and More to Develop Comprehension and Thinking Skills. Thousand Oaks: Corwin Press. Gaines, E. 2010. Media Literacy and Semiotics. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Halliday, M.A.K. and C. Matthiessen. 2004. An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Arnold.

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Hatayama, H. 2009. The cross-cultural appeal of the characters in manga and anime. In M.I. West (ed.), The Japanification of Children’s Popular Culture: from Godzilla to Miyazaki, 191–198. Iedema, R. 2003. Multimodality, Resemiotization: Extending the Analysis of Discourse as Multi-semiotic Practice. Visual Communication 2(1). 29–57. Jewitt, C. (ed.). 2009. The Routledge Handbook of Multimodal Analysis. London: Routledge. Kress, G. 2010. Multimodality: A Social Semiotic Approach to Contemporary Communication. London: Routledge. —. 2001. Multimodal Discourse: The Modes and Media of Contemporary Communication. New York: Oxford University Press. Kress, G. and T. van Leeuwen. 2006. Reading Images: The Grammar of Visual Design. New York: Routledge. Kunai, I. and C.C.S. Ryan. 2007. Manga as Teaching Tool Comic Books without Borders. Proceedings of the CATESOL State Conference, 1–9. Lacey, N. 2009. Image and Representation: Key Concepts in Media Studies. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. LaMarre, T. 2011. Believe in Comics: Forms of Expression in Barefoot Gen. In T. Perper and M. Cornog (eds.), Mangatopia: Essays on Manga and Anime in the Modern World, 191–208. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, LLC. O’English, L. et al. 2006. Graphic Novels in Academic Libraries: From Maus to Manga and Beyond. The Journal of Academic Librarianship 32(2), 173–182. Napier, S. 2005. Anime from Akira to Howl’s Moving Castle: Experiencing Contemporary Japanese Animation. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. —. 2007. From Impressionism to Anime: Japan as Fantasy and Fan Cult in the Mind of the West. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Pelliteri, M. 2010. The Dragon and the Dazzle: Models, Strategies and Identities of Japanese Imagination. Translated from Italian by Roberto Branca. Latina: Tunué. Poitras, G. 2008. Contemporary Anime in Japanese Pop Culture. In M.W. Macwilliams (ed.), Japanese Visual Culture, 48–67. —. 2009. Japanese Anime. In M. Cornog and T. Perper (eds.), Graphic Novels beyond the Basics. California: ABC-CLIO, LLC. Shen, L.F. 2007. The Pleasure and Politics of Viewing Japanese Anime. PhD Thesis, Ohio State University. Smith, B.A., S. Tan, A. Podlasoy and K.L. O’Halloran. 2009. Orchestration of Meaning in Multimodal Semiosis and Semiotics.

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Stevens, E.Y. and R. Brown, R. 2011. Lessons Learned from the Holocaust: Blogging to Teach Critical Multicultural Literacy. Journal of Research on Technology in Education 44(1). 31–51. Suzuki, A. 2008. Animating the Chaos: Contemporary Japanese Anime Cinema and Postmodernity. MA Thesis, Southern Illinois University. Tanaka, M. 2011. Apocalypticism in Postwar Japanese Fiction. PhD Thesis, University of British Columbia. Thorne, S.L. 2009. ‘Community’, semiotic flows, and mediated contribution to activity. Lang. Teach. 42(1). 91–94. Thorne, S.L. and J. Reinhardt. 2008. ‘Bridging Activities’, New Media Literacies, and Advanced Foreign Language Proficiency. CALICO Journal 25(3), 558–572. van Leeuwan, T. 2005. Introducing Social Semiotics. London: Routledge. Ventola, E. and A.J.M. Guijarro (eds.). 2009. The World Told and the World Shown: Multisemiotic Issues. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Versaci, R. 2001. How comic books can change the way our students see literature: One teacher’s perspective. The English Journal 91(2). 61-67. Yoshida, K. 2008. Animation and ‘Otherness’: the Politics of Gender, Racial, and Ethnic Identity in the World of Japanese Anime. PhD Thesis, University of British Columbia.

PART II LITERATURE AND DRAMA IN LANGUAGE ARTS

CHAPTER FIVE DRAMA IN EDUCATION, EDUCATION IN DRAMA: A STUDENT-CENTRED HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE FOR STUDYING ALAN BENNETT’S ‘THE HISTORY BOYS’ MIKE INGHAM Theatre is often at its most absorbing when it’s school. (Alan Bennett, Introduction to ‘The History Boys’)

Introduction Drama and role-play activity in Hong Kong secondary English teaching has often promoted institutionally oriented ‘right thinking’ ideology, as a consequence of the tendency to rely on stereotypes in moralistic student role-plays and educationally sanitised devised dramas. Tertiary-sector drama teachers have a responsibility to eschew such crude propaganda. One effective way to do this is to look at professional English language dramatists as a source of linguistic and thematic pedagogic inspiration. More than representing simply canonical ‘literature’ and ‘famous authors’, contemporary plays can engage both instructor and students on a more profound experiential level than is common for students, and engage them both cognitively and emotionally. Because the playwrights are critically recognised and accomplished writers whose theme is human nature in all its facets, such professionally produced dramas can touch our students’ lives more intensely than more morally simplistic and prescriptive ones devised to please educational authorities and reinforce the educational status quo. By introducing the study of such plays to students, we encourage them to appraise the complexities of our

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lives and social systems and foster critical, as opposed to simply conformist, thinking. The discussion and argument of this paper is predicated to a considerable extent on findings from a series of in-depth interviews with students from a drama course taken by second-year undergraduates at Lingnan University, primarily in relation to Bennett’s ‘The History Boys’. The students’ performances of assessment pieces, referred to in the course syllabus as ‘performance-presentations’, exemplify the heuristic nature of the drama activity. Students prepared extracts from the play to perform for the class and subsequently analyse and discuss with their classmates. In the follow-up workshop assignment students were expected to organise a drama workshop around one scene or extract from the set play-text, and conduct the workshop by employing their classmates as performers and themselves as facilitators. The findings of my focus group discussion and open-ended questions include a remarkably astute number of observations about the applicability of the dramatic and ideological conflict in the play to the ongoing university implementation of outcome-based assessments, as well as to student grading and teacher attitudes and values, and even to the universities’ often counter-productive obsession with rankings. A second hot topic that the small group of students began to engage with after the course had finished, and in our more recent discussions with them, was the vexed question of civic and national education and of citizenship. These students’ ability to transfer the play’s ideas and themes from the UK to the Hong Kong context has been noteworthy. Moreover, their faculties of critical thinking and creativity have been fully engaged by adopting a performative, discovery-based learning approach to a critically acclaimed contemporary drama text. In this piece I would like to share their evaluative feedback and engage in discussion concerning the implications for well-written drama as a pedagogical tool.

Drama in Education: The Background The idea of English drama as a pedagogical tool emerged in the postwar years of state-funded secondary education in Britain under the dynamic and radically alternative aegis of pioneers such as the great Yorkshire-born autodidact Dorothy Heathcote and her collaborator Gavin Bolton, who together developed the concept of drama as a medium for teaching and learning. Much of their classroom work was devised as opposed to fully scripted, experiential and – rather like the Forum Playback theatre approaches based on the work of Boal, Freire, Fox and others – based essentially on the shared experiences and shared

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storytelling of the students themselves and their own daily lives, perceptions and aspirations. Their work remains influential today and the slow but steady dissemination of pedagogical methods and learning practices that are drama-oriented in secondary education in Hong Kong today, developed by redoubtable figures such as Vicki Ooi, who completed her doctorate on documentary drama in Britain in the ’60s, can be traced back to this key movement. Sadly, there is little opportunity at present in extending this burgeoning interest in a drama-in-education model into tertiary education in Hong Kong. Indeed, it seems that there is far less potential for drama as a pedagogical tool in our assessment-driven and mechanistic outcomes-obsessed tertiary ethos than there was thirty years ago. The UK is experiencing a similar retrenchment and decline in arts education in a climate of what amounts to outright prejudice against, and hostility to, arts and humanities education – except for the fee-paying schools for the rich – on the part of its current neo-Thatcherite government. The intention appears to be to turn arts and humanities into a leisure preserve for the affluent classes. Dorothy Heathcote, the Yorkshire working-class girl, who inspired generations of UK drama teachers and who died last year aged eighty-five, must be turning in her grave. As regards the Hong Kong context, my contention is that by valorising drama as a methodology for shared creativity and heuristic critical thinking and, more importantly, simulated enactment of critical issues, we will equip our students to develop a more nuanced and independent critical engagement, and in the process become better citizens and more responsible voters after 2017 when universal suffrage is supposed to be introduced. While I certainly value the devised, interactive and contentflexible models conventionally deployed in drama-in-education as an enormously useful inter-disciplinary pedagogical strategy for exploring social issues of immediate relevance to the community, I was impelled, as regards this modest and admittedly limited study, by the traditional liberal arts notion that drama and literature provide fertile ground for the exploration of more complex ethical, social and political matters. I was motivated – and so too, I believe, were the students who responded to the pedagogical issues at the heart of ‘The History Boys’ – more by the study of play-texts as heuristic, metonymic and conducive to critical knowledge and experience transfer, than as canonical, and therefore fossilised, literary masterpieces. I regard the play-texts in the same way that any good director embarking on a production of the play-text does: as fundamentally performative and hermeneutically open, rather than as closed and complete in its pattern of meaning and social consequence.

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About the Play: ‘The History Boys’ Those with no head for dates or no interest in ‘breaking bread with the dead’ – as one definition of history would have it – would probably agree with Alan Bennett’s blunt Form 6 student Rudge, who in his mock interview for Oxbridge (Oxford/Cambridge) entrance expresses the view that history is just ‘one fucking thing after another’. This is one of the many character-driven witticisms which abound in Bennett’s internationally acclaimed play. Asking the boys to consider the possibility that they may encounter a female history don even in those bastions of British traditionalism, Oxford and Cambridge, their pragmatic and soberly feminist history teacher, Mrs. Lintott, conveys to them the possibility of an alternative viewpoint to male hegemony: “Can you … imagine how dispiriting it is to teach five centuries of masculine ineptitude? … History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind with the bucket.” (Bennett: 85) Most of the humour, and the underlying seriousness of Bennett’s utterly compelling play, conveys a feeling of universal relevance that is quintessential to all great theatre. The play portrays a boisterous group of sharp-witted and competitive post-sixth-form boys in a South Yorkshire comprehensive school. They display a keen interest in many things, including sex and, in one case, religion. Above all, they are competing for places to study history at the universities of Oxford or Cambridge. Hector, an experienced but unorthodox liberal humanist English teacher, is assigned to take this group of eight outstanding students for General Studies and coach them for the rigours of the Oxbridge examination and interview system, which they will face after one term’s preparation. Hector’s pedagogic methods, which are quite old-fashioned in one sense, but very enlightened, if highly unconventional, include giving the students his favourite poems and literary-philosophical extracts (Shakespeare, Hardy, Auden, Housman, Larkin, Wittgenstein) to learn by heart. He is a frustrated, closet homosexual, but has genuine affection for ‘the history boys’ and encourages them to act out scenes from movies and recite poems with the vague belief that, to quote one of his favourite poets A.E. Housman, ‘all knowledge is precious, whether or not it serves the slightest human use’. Hector has little faith in his headmaster’s results-obsessed view of education, which reflects the greater emphasis on supposedly quantifiable outcomes in the classroom becoming fashionable following the Conservative Government ‘Baker’ reforms of the 1980s, the era in which the play is set. A young, intellectually sharp supply teacher (Irwin) – a

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fresh graduate from Oxford, where he did his teaching diploma but not his degree, as we learn much later in the play – is assigned by the Headmaster to teach the History class. The Headmaster believes that the boys require a smarter and more incisive approach to essay writing than that provided by the successful but unimaginatively methodical teaching style of female teacher, Mrs. Lintott. The latter thinks both Hector and the Headmaster are fools, but actually likes and cares about Hector, much more so than the arrogant and vain Headmaster. The stage is set for a clash of values between Irwin’s fashionably relativist, postmodern views of truth and the more absolute, moralistic ideas of Hector. This conflict of values comes into confrontation when the two teachers share a General Studies class after Hector is disciplined by the Head, having been seen ‘touching up’ one of the boys whom Hector had taken on the back of his motor-bike. The boys appreciate both Hector’s and Irwin’s differing teaching styles, but begin to be more and more seduced by Irwin’s combination of intellect and youth. However, Irwin unwittingly upsets the balance of the group and their adolescent sexual feelings. He becomes the object of desire for the handsome and intelligent student Dakin, himself the object of desire for one of his male classmates and the Headmaster’s nubile secretary, Fiona. The clash of value systems – the Headmaster’s and Hector’s – is further complicated by Irwin’s showy but impressive facility for ‘turning an argument on its head’ and using paradox, inversion and casuistry in order to promote greater intellectual dexterity and sophistication in the boys’ essay argumentation skills. After the mixed-mode approaches of Hector and Irwin both pay off with success for all eight boys, there are celebrations and the stage is set for a happy ending, when tragedy strikes. Irwin is badly injured and Hector killed in a motor-bike accident. The boys, as we learn in the epilogue, which is integrated into the last scene – a memorial service for Hector – all take their various paths in life, but it becomes clear that two of them, Posner and Scripps, have been marked for life by these two very different teachers. In Hong Kong the educational and cultural issues raised by ‘The History Boys’ are strikingly similar. Perhaps that is not surprising since Hong Kong’s education system is based on the fundamental tenets of continuing education and equality of opportunity that were enshrined in the 1944 Education Act in Britain. The possibility of children from housing estates attending the universities – Hong Kong University and Chinese University at that time – became a reality during and after the MacLehose reform years of the late 1970s and early ’80s, reforms that were extended under the last two governors, Wilson and Patten. Even

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children from the lowest banding schools were theoretically (and very occasionally in practice) able to gain admittance to the ranks of the university elite. By the same token, in the post-war years in Britain, ordinary working-class boys and girls could apply, sometimes successfully, to the great British universities that had previously been the preserve of the aristocratic rich. Bennett himself, in the 1950s, benefited from a remarkably enlightened and egalitarian policy, attending Exeter College Oxford. In Britain the pendulum has swung back in favour of the rich, if not entirely the aristocratic, with the introduction of steep increases in the cost of higher education. Bennett’s play is set in the 1980s with lots of musical allusions to that period. This was the time when Margaret Thatcher began her assault on state education, and the school Headmaster’s shallow preoccupation with what is quantifiable in education, and on the Oxbridge entrance exam results, epitomises the shifting of values that is so evident today in the age of spin. The waggishly satirical Bennett has as much of an eye on the analogies and parallels of present-day Britain as he does on the historical setting or on his own experiences of the 1950s. For us in Hong Kong, the Headmaster’s preference for what Shakespeare calls ‘the bubble reputation’ is recognisable in the values of many, but fortunately not all, of our own school principals, for whom the individual interests and individual personalities of the students are often subordinated to the greater glory of the school. The quality that makes ‘The History Boys’ outstanding as a contemporary play is its superbly constructed dialectic about the nature of history, of culture, of education and of the way we live our lives. In one brilliantly written scene we are treated to a riveting debate about the way history is viewed retrospectively. What starts out as a difficult shared lesson on the Holocaust taught by the bright newcomer Irwin, and old liberal humanist Hector, engages both the boys and the audience/reader utterly. The question is: how detached and dispassionate can and should the historian be from such a terrible event. Like the boys we are morally and intellectually engaged in spite of ourselves, thanks to Bennett’s insightful script.

The Drama Assessment Activity – Performance – Presentation and Workshop: Perceiving Parallels What stimulated the feedback I elicited on ‘The History Boys’ – and indeed underpins the idea of this paper – was the response of English undergraduate students in Lingnan’s liberal arts degree programme to two

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drama assessment activities. In accordance with the task rubrics (Appendices A and B) the students were asked to select one of three contemporary English language plays from their course texts and organise a performance-presentation consisting of a short scene or extract from any of the plays with an accompanying seminar-style discussion and commentary. The second assignment was to organise and manage a drama workshop in which a chosen scene from the set text was presented and work-shopped in performance terms in a collaborative and constructively affirmative environment. As was obvious from the subsequent survey questionnaire given to the whole class during a summer study-abroad programme, in which they saw a UK student production of ‘The History Boys’, only the two groups that actually chose their extract from ‘The History Boys’ really engaged fully with the play and saw its significance in their own tertiary educational context. The others gave ambivalent or lukewarm feedback indicating that they understood and appreciated other set plays much more. Hence, I cannot extrapolate from the feedback data in terms of breadth of survey or its general validity in relation claims for drama in education, and do not propose to do so. However, the depth and intensity of response on the part of a small number of students was significant and their views, which were recorded in follow-up interviews, proved remarkably discerning. The most impressive aspect of their response was that analogies made by the students in connection with Hong Kong’s ongoing national education controversy and secondary and tertiary education reforms, including the outcomes-based initiative, were not prompted by course lecture notes nor elicited by professorial comment or suggestion. The parallels and analogies were intuited by the students themselves. Half a dozen of the students volunteered further clarification of their thoughts and ideas in follow-up interviews in London, and one of them elected to write a Final Year Honours project on the concept of transcendentalism and ‘Bildung’ (the Germanic term for formation and self-development, focusing on the harmonisation of mind and heart) as illustrated by ‘The History Boys’ and the film ‘Dead Poets Society’. The student plans to analyse and discuss the positions taken by various stakeholders in debate about arts and language arts education through the prism of how these social and educational questions are represented in the two case-study texts; she aims to explore potential correspondences between the fictional representations and the real-world scenario, especially in Hong Kong. This initial impulse to seek correspondence between the drama text and the world comes from ideas encoded in the play-text, but the application of it to a specific context depends of course on how the students decode those .

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meanings; in other words, the interpretive initiative was largely taken by the students in the performance-presentation groups themselves. No overt local parallels or analogies were discussed during the lecture on ‘The History Boys’, although students were encouraged to consider whether or not some analogies could be seen between older plays they had studied, such as Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’ and Hansberry’s ‘A Raisin in the Sun’, and an older specifically Hong Kong or generally Chinese social context. Another of the contemporary plays in the course was set among undergraduate students on a US liberal arts college campus, so a discussion of resonances and of similarities and differences was quite thought provoking for students on the course. Nonetheless, in the case of ‘The History Boys’, the play seemed primarily related to the UK educational and political context rather than to Hong Kong. In the scenes involving prolepsis when Irwin has become a wheelchair-bound historical pundit for television programmes, as well as an advisor to the New Labour government on issues of civic rights – and how the government might slyly curtail them using historical analogies and pretexts – the play implicitly attacks Blair’s pre- and post-Iraq attempts to prove black is white and vice versa with anti-libertarian legislation. In real life things can always get worse, however, as the Cameron years have proved. This is especially the case in the field of education with the Conservative education minister Michael Gove’s attempts to validate the elitism and unacknowledged racism that had never been really eliminated from the British school system, and especially to reduce the autonomy of schools and teachers in promoting critical thinking in the humanities. Again at the university level, the degree of cynicism and the anti-egalitarianism hinted at in Bennett’s fictional blend of the 1950s and the 1980s in his play has been realised perhaps faster than even he may have expected. On the other hand, my own students could have been excused for wondering how this play was relevant to their lives. Superficially, at least, it had little or no direct connection to them, unlike a play set in China or one with Chinese characters, as in the plays of David Henry Hwang. To have discussed the parallels that I could perceive between the history students in Bennett’s play and the life experience of my own students would have been presumptuous and pre-emptive on my part. Putting ideas into the students’ heads and words into their mouths cannot by any criteria be regarded as a critical practice. It was my firmly held opinion, then, that the students could only genuinely intuit what I saw as the play’s relevance to their lives, for themselves and in their own way. Hence, I kept strictly to my strategy of only referring to the British secondary and tertiary educational contexts without suggesting that the play could speak to the

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students about their own lives in Hong Kong. I believed that if they could construct the parallel scaffolding for themselves, they might be able to use it as a tool for critical analogy. In the event, those students who were consciously or sub-consciously drawn to the play and who used an extract from it for their performance-presentation assignment and subsequently their drama workshop assignment, began to discover the rich pattern of correspondences between the two educational contexts. In the process of acting out their chosen extracts – the comic scene in which the Headmaster interrupts the boys play-acting a brothel at which point Hector claims the scene is an army-field hospital, and the serious scene in which Hector and Irwin pair up for a General Studies class on the topic of the Holocaust – the students developed acute awareness of the potential for creative parallels. In the act of creating the scenes for their classmates’ edification, and of course for the two assessments, it was evident to me that students were struck by the parallels that they seemed to have missed in the class lectures and discussion. They had seen the film version of the play – acted by the same cast that performed in the original production, and likewise directed by Nicholas Hytner. I stressed that they might do well to note Bennett’s reference in his introduction to the play to the fundamentally pedagogic relationship between the director and his youthful actors in rehearsals and preliminary school visits and discussion, which extended also to their preparation for the film version. However, perhaps because film versions are usually more specific and concrete in their frame of reference than stage plays, the students had not felt prompted to broaden the drama’s referential scope in their imagination. It was only through working creatively as a small ensemble that they became aware of the potential correspondences, partly because they were encouraged to invoke simple Stanislavskian acting concepts such as ‘emotional memory’ and ‘what if’ (‘what if I were in the same situation as the character?’). They also made good use of old items of Hong Kong secondary-school uniform, and in rehearsing the scene and planning the workshop were clearly falling back on specific personal experiences of secondary school life. The fact that the class in the play-script consisted only of bright, witty and intellectually engaged students was a further boost to the process of work-shopping and performing. That is to say, the play itself encouraged them – indeed required of them – to identify with and role-play precisely that type of precocious and questioning student that is sadly seen as merely ‘naughty’ and the very antithesis of the so-called ‘model student’ in the, I have to say, somewhat benighted Hong Kong system. Needless to say, they greatly appreciated the license the two tasks

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gave them not to be themselves as they probably were, but themselves as they might have been. They also very much enjoyed, it was clear, making critical or subversive comments – including the use of expletives – in the character and from the perspective of an imaginary persona. The subject of homosexuality, which comes up a lot in the play, also gave them food for thought, especially in the way they discussed it as a pervasive theme in the play. The idea of it being taboo but nevertheless a common phenomenon in another culture encouraged them to consider aspects of dramatic representation and, as a result, explore pathways for discussion. Although the feedback and discussion obtained were not exhaustive, comprehensive or statistically significant in the slightest, and certainly cannot be viewed as representative of even this particular class’s collective opinion, I believe the responses nonetheless merit investigation and discussion. My argument is that the parallels intuited by the six enthusiastic students between the fictional-factional world of the play and the secondary and tertiary system of education with which the students are all too familiar inspired the students to voice out certain critical observations they have reached about this system of education. This is something they are rarely given the opportunity to do, since their compliance with it is more or less taken for granted, and therefore their opinions are rarely asked in any meaningful spirit or context. In their remarks written up below, students allude to the issues on which the reading and assessment tasks in relation to ‘The History Boys’ prompted reflection.

Student comment and survey feedback: The implications for Hong Kong educational issues The four follow-up interview questions asked of the six students who showed deep interest in the play and who responded in depth are given below, and a brief sample of responses to each question is appended. The student is identified only by the first letter of the name he or she is known by in my class: 1) What personal meaning did the play have for you? All six of you liked it much more than the rest of your classmates. What does that say about a) you and b) the quality of writing in the play? R. I liked the way I can always step into the students’ shoes as I find the true struggle for the ‘hearts and minds’ of the students in the play so very familiar. How the two men ‘teach’ and students ‘interpret’ history is always the question in the play which just makes me even more engaged.

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2) Which of the characters did you most sympathise with and why? Which did you find least sympathetic and why? Which of the teachers would you like to be taught by if you can imagine being a secondary school student again? L. Hector – I know someone just like Hector who used to teach in Chinese U. This professor inspired people. We don’t just want to be taught to be successful by so-called successful people. Society in HK is about money and doesn’t inspire us. C. Definitely Hector… Our Writer-in-Residence, Jenny Wong, encouraged us to find our own voices; she didn’t think about formal outcomes as an academic exercise; she was like Hector – “this is for life, boys”. I felt encouraged to develop a more edgy style and find my own voice, as a result. R. I like the way Hector talks about something inspiring you read or learn as “a hand reaching out from the past to touch you”, and the way Hector argues that “knowledge is not general, it’s specific”. I felt Hector’s hand reading out, and felt I was reading for pleasure and understanding, not just scanning for information to memorise for the exam. M. Most sympathetic: Hector (and would like to be taught by him as well).

3) What aspects of the school life represented in ‘The History Boys’ and the educations system it portrays, and to an extent critiques, are most recognisable to a HK student? Why? Does it say anything that’s relevant to secondary and tertiary students in HK about issues like national education and outcomes-based assessment? R. Irwin’s advice to the history boys to entertain and impress examiners by deliberately taking an unusual angle and using uncommon vocabulary is very familiar to us from the brand-name HK schools and especially the HK tuition schools. We are told to avoid writing about topics like love relationships, and above all on topics like homosexuality, because the examiners don’t like it and will mark us down. C. Some students in secondary school, and also in university, just want to impress the teacher the way the boys want to impress Irwin. Often they

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don’t try to understand deeper meanings and don’t want to try because they think there is not enough time. Like the students being prepared for entrance exams in ‘The History Boys’ they are looking for short-cuts. Unfortunately in this absurdly ridiculous society, what we are not is what we are expected to be. Hector is passionate about imparting knowledge to make them rounded individuals (regardless of targets and quantifiable results. M. Discussion on the play with my group mates made me reflect on the flaws of an outcome-based university education system. In my opinion OBA is unlikely to promote independent thought … I also liked the way that stress issues among students were represented, as this is relevant to us in HK. L. Literature and drama can help us be more well-rounded human beings. It is not like the plans for a national education subject, which will not help us to find out what we want to study and explore what we find interesting.

4) What do you feel you have learned from your study (reading, DVD viewing, audio CD listening) of ‘The History Boys’? C. I learned a lot about the relationship between teaching and learning. Bennett shows that teaching at its best is a process of drawing out rather than putting in; and he, at the same time, understands that a school is a network of private relationships and a public institution. It’s just a place where a precariously maintained order is constantly on the verge of disintegrating into chaos, especially a battle ground for opposing views of life and education … Hector captures the devastating realisation that, in this new world, the love of learning will be replaced by the love of efficient progress. M. The play shows how the education system can privilege style above content … Similarly in HK, we are taught to play by the rules, cutting corners and sticking to results. It’s seen as the only way to move forward. It’s really upsetting to see how people limit literature/poetry/art’s place. It’s sad that in the play literature’s chief function seems to be for ‘consolation’ – a consolation for the inconsolable incapability of living.

Concluding Reflections One of the salient aspects of the students’ feedback was the view that the play had struck a chord in encouraging them to think more deeply about its relevance to Hong Kong pedagogic issues. The potential for seeing parallelism is, of course, deeply embedded in the play itself. Moreover, it is dramatically configured on certain thematic coordinates,

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namely the parallels between monasticism and modern life, between one era and another, between one teaching style and another. It was gratifying, therefore, that some of the students perceived the pattern of comparison and contrast and parallelism, that is at its dramatic core, as being germane to the Hong Kong education system in which they are intellectually nurtured – or not, as the case may be. As Irwin avers at the beginning of Act Two of the play when being recorded for his television programme: “If you want to learn about Stalin, study Henry VIII; if you want to learn about Mrs. Thatcher, study Henry VIII.” (Bennett: 58) I would add to that, “If you want to learn about life, study plays for the life lessons you can find there.” Moreover, the play’s pattern of parallelism and dialectics is reinforced by its invocation of philosophical and educational concepts and dichotomies. Indeed, renowned western educational thinkers and philosophers such as Aristotle, Locke, Dewey and the early twentiethcentury Italian idealist Giovanni Gentile, have all perceived the close relationship that exists between philosophy and education, China’s Confucian tradition likewise. In Democracy and Education, Dewey went so far as to espouse the idea that, “Philosophy may even be defined as the general theory of education” (Dewey: 383). In his most famous work Reform of Education, Gentile claims that education can be considered as a spiritual act, ideally one in which the teacher and student are merged in a common purpose (Curtis and Boultwood: 545). In this process, it is not just the student who learns from the teacher but rather it is a reciprocal learning experience. One has only to look at the last scene of Act One in which Hector and Posner discuss the meaning of Thomas Hardy’s poem ‘Drummer Hodge’ to perceive the precise enactment of this process, as Gentile theorised it. Bennett’s play exemplifies how these more enlightened philosophies of education and lifelong learning can have both positive and negative aspects. Hector’s quotes from Wittgenstein that “the world is everything that is the case” (Wittgenstein in Bennett: 84) and “whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent” (Wittgenstein in Bennett: 71) go to the very heart of the play’s emotional compass and meaning and are retained in the boys’ minds for subsequent contemplation at university and beyond. The boys cannot understand deeply the processes they are undergoing and, as we see clearly in the final flash-forward scene, most of them are deeply affected by the experience, even if they only dimly grasp the value of Hector’s educational philosophy at the time. For the Headmaster and the meretricious Irwin, education is a means of passing exams and succeeding materially in life: “history as entertainment and not

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a matter of conviction” (Bennett: 35); for Hector it is for life, a philosophical buttress against fortune’s “slings and arrows”, a “consoling myth” (Bennett: 69) to cite Mrs. Lintott, speaking of Hector’s intuitive philosophy. The greatest indictment of the utilitarian view of education in the play lies in the critique of Irwin’s and the Headmaster’s postmodernist relativism, especially in relation to truth. For the narrator Scripps, as well as for Hector, the truth matters, and it is often found in poetry more than in social and political debate. Perhaps one of the most valuable aspects of the play is its inter-disciplinary spirit. Language, literature, history and philosophy of education – all are invoked. If the value of language arts resides anywhere, it is in its creative, free-ranging, inter-disciplinary spirit. More than any other English language play of the new millennium, ‘The History Boys’ invites us to ponder the value and significance of an interdisciplinary, creativity-based language arts pedagogy and its patent relevance to educational policy and development. As regards creativity, a number of academics involved in arts’ and humanities’ subjects in Hong Kong have criticised the lack of genuine commitment to this frequently invoked but apparently elusive goal within Hong Kong’s educational institutions. Empirical quantifiable research exercises, such as a recent one on musical creativity among Hong Kong primary and secondary students led by Prof. Samuel Leong of the Hong Kong Institute of Education, have shown that, despite the Curriculum Development Council claiming in their material that “the cultivation of creativity and imagination is a main learning goal in arts education”, the number of genuinely creative activities in the field of music education is extremely low. Drama-related activities, likewise, have equally low status in the Hong Kong primary, secondary and tertiary curricula, and the encouragement for students to use creative imagination at all levels is very limited. When my students saw a performance of ‘The History Boys’ by York University students in the UK, they naturally assumed that the production was organised and directed by teaching staff from the university’s English department. They were very surprised to be informed that this was not the case, and that everything was done by the students themselves. The production they saw was also explicitly aimed at the new Conservative government’s anti-arts and humanities agenda, as was clarified in the para-text of the house programme. In other words, they grasped the point that creativity is not about following instructions slavishly. The students’ responses cited above represent the critical thinking of young adults who are more sophisticated than is often given credit for in the predominantly deterministic Hong Kong education. The damning –

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and we must concede very plausible – accusation that any discussion of issues such as homosexuality, and indeed love, tends to be automatically marked down by teachers and examiners, is astute and obviously derived from experience. Also astute and trenchant is the observation that the display of sanctioned and legitimated knowledge, as opposed to complex and more dialectical learning, is so often, and lamentably, the pedagogical goal in the students’ schooling experience. Another critical aperçu by one student concerned the relevance of the Headmaster’s results and outcomes-obsessed thinking to the students’ introduction to the tertiary outcomes-based learning strategies. Judging by the student’s remarks, little effort had been made by the university to engage and involve the students themselves in a process that directly affected them. As for the claimed goal of promoting independent critical thinking and creativity among university students, there was clearly a degree of scepticism in the student’s response to this particular notion. Evidently the play’s themes stimulated this small group of students’ thinking, not just on language arts, knowledge transfer, creativity and free expression, but also on the nature of liberal arts education in their own place of higher learning. To conclude by reiterating my central argument, there is a case for incorporating plays that can foster critical thought about local and contemporary education matters in the tertiary English curriculum in Hong Kong. Arthur Miller’s play ‘The Crucible’, the great allegory on anticommunist hysteria and witch hunts in the USA in the1950s, but actually set in the seventeenth century, was an English Literature set text up until the demise of A-Levels in 2012. Its intrinsic pattern of parallels had of necessity to be explored by teachers and students in their collaborative study of the text. The meaning of both text and subtext in the play, however, is very far from their own lives. Plays with an educational context, such as ‘The History Boys’, David Mamet’s ‘Oleanna’ (a wordplay on the names of two pioneering Norwegian educationalists in the USA of the nineteenth century), George Bernard Shaw’s ‘Pygmalion’, Willy Russell’s ‘Educating Rita’, and Mark Medoff’s ‘Children of a Lesser God’, are arguably a lot more accessible to Hong Kong students than other more culturally remote works, because they can promote identification and a critical spirit based on parallel intuition. We all have experience of schooling at various levels; this is a common and shared experience, and one that makes the educational drama more universal than many other less familiar themes and contexts, I would argue. Naturally there is a great deal of intended subtext in all of these plays, which enriches the dramatic effect that the plays make on the reader or viewer. However, what I am arguing for is a reading that incorporates the

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notion of what I will call ‘creative subtext’; that is, subtext related to familiarity with a broadly similar experience, as that between the British context of ‘The History Boys’ and the Hong Kong relevance that my students established in their heuristic process of preparation for the two assignments. Drama, like other performative arts, has a definite place in the curriculum, as many great drama pedagogues have contended. Whilst agreeing wholeheartedly with that view, I would also argue that one of the implications of my students’ discoveries is that the theme of education in dramatic works can be a powerful tool for critical analysis in a dynamic upper secondary or tertiary curriculum. Thus, drama in education can create a constructive dialogue with education-related issues in original professionally produced dramatic works. Such an approach enables us to tease out what students themselves – those for whom education is planned, after all – think about issues that affect them directly, such as civic and national education. Let us not forget that the travesty of a National Education subject that was recently planned by the Hong Kong Education Bureau under the instigation of the central government in Beijing was only retracted thanks to the remarkable efforts of a group of secondary students, known collectively as Scholarism and coordinated on Facebook by a fifteen-year old. Overt propagandistic didacticism is surely the enemy of education. Hector in Act One in ‘The History Boys’ goes further by suggesting, albeit whimsically, that education itself is the enemy of education. Looking at educational issues through the prism of relevant and inspiring play-texts can, however, make education a more open topic for students’ evaluation and consideration and a domain in which they become active stakeholders, as opposed to passive subjects. Augusto Boal’s exploitation of drama games, which he related to his concept of the theatre of the oppressed, is pertinent too. Through play the ideas of the play in performance can be intimated by students in an experimental, exploratory and ludic spirit. The dramatic work may also lead to further debate and discussion, and can be conceived through a problem-solving spirit and methodology on the part of students: here is the Hong Kong problem, so let’s play out these problems and explore possibilities of solution in a ‘what if?’ dramatic pedagogy. For this reason it is effective to engage in smaller-scale drama games and role-plays prior to working on the selected scenes from the play itself. Hector, the character that fascinated my students the most in the play, explains in flashback at his own memorial service in the play’s concluding scene that life experience and the acquisition of knowledge is like a game: “Pass the parcel … Take it, feel it and pass it on … That’s the game I wanted you to learn. Pass it on.” (Bennett: 109) Hector’s lesson was not lost on my small

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group of students. Some of them may well become teachers in the future. It is clear that for them studying and presenting on Bennett’s play on education has given them the awareness of a need for change in arts and humanities education in Hong Kong, a change involving greater agency and empowerment for them and for those who follow them.

References Bennett, A. 2004. The History Boys. London: Faber and Faber. Boal, A. 1992. Games for Actors and Non-Actors. London: Routledge. Bolton, G. 1992. Selected Writing on Drama in Education. London: Longman. Curtis, S. and M. Boultwood. 1970. A Short History of Educational Ideas. London: UTP. Dewey, J. 1923. Democracy and Education. New York: Macmillan and ILT Web Publications. http://www.ilt.columbia.edu/publications/ Projects/digitexts/dewey/d_e/chapter01.html. Freire, P. 2000. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. London: Continuum (30th anniversary edition). Gentile, G. 1923. The Reform of Education. Project Gutenberg. http://www .gutenberg.org/ebooks/36762. Hapgood, E. (ed.). 1990. Stanislavski: An Actor’s Handbook. London: Methuen. HKIEd News. January 2013. Issue 4. Solving the Creativity Crisis. Department of Cultural and Creative Arts. http://www.hkiednews. edu.hk/en/content/ index.do? Hong Kong Curriculum Development Council. 2001 (web edition). Learning to Learn: The Way Forward in Curriculum Development. http://www.edb.gov.hk/ index.aspx. Johnson, L. and C. O’Neil. 1990. Dorothy Heathcote: Collected Writings on Education and Drama. Cheltenham: Stanley Thornes Ltd. Mamet, D. 1993. Oleanna. London: Methuen. Medoff, M. 1980. Children of a Lesser God. London and New York: Samuel French Inc./ Dramatists’ Play Service. Miller, A. 1968. The Crucible. London: Penguin. Russell, W. 2001. Educating Rita. London: Methuen. Shaw, G.B. 2003. Pygmalion. London: Penguin Classics (revised edition). Wittgenstein, L. Trans. D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness. 1974. Tractatus Logico-philosophicus. London and New York: Routledge.

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Appendix A B.A. (Honours) in Contemporary English Studies Course Title: Course Code:

Contemporary Drama in English ENG205

Assignment One: Dramatic Presentation and Commentary Working in small groups, prepare a presentation based on an extract from a selected scene from EITHER Neil LaBute’s play, The Shape of Things OR Alan Bennett’s The History Boys OR Timberlake Wertenbaker’s The Ash Girl. Your presentation will consist of the following: a) The performed extract with members of your group interpreting the roles of LaBute’s/ Bennett’s/ Weternbaker’s characters. The actors will need to memorise the lines/speeches of your chosen extract and deliver the lines in character, and, if you wish, with basic props and costumes. Refer to the bullet points to help you develop your scene both critically and creatively. b) A commentary on the extract you have performed, drawing the audience’s attention to the context and significance of this scene extract with particular attention to the points referred to below in the bullet points: The total time for performed extract and commentary should not exceed FIFTEEN minutes. The presentations will take place in mid-April. Performance score: /7 Presentation score: /8 TOTAL SCORE: /15 You need to consider the following aspects of the text extract in your performance and presentation, and your grade for the assignment will be based on these criteria: ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡

Contextualisation Characterisation and dramatic motivation Subtext – implicit, below-the-surface meanings in the selected scene Language features (verbal and non-verbal language) – how do the characters’ words and actions embody key concepts or relate to themes of the play? Tension/ conflict Use of dramatic conventions and your general interpretation of the scene

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Appendix B B.A. (Honours) in Contemporary English Studies Course Title:

Contemporary Drama in English (ENG 205)

Assignment Two: Text-related drama production project TOTAL: 20% Workshop/ seminar – peer assessment – 6 marks; self assessment – 6 marks; workshop management and materials folder – 8 marks TASK: Working in small groups (you may wish to work with the same partners that you worked with in the performance-presentation), choose a scene from one of the three contemporary plays on the course, The Ash Girl, The History Boys or The Shape of Things. Instead of performing it, this time you need to organise a mini-workshop/seminar for your tutorial class in which you explain to the class how you would organise the scene in terms of the following dramatic elements: ‡ ‡ ‡

‡ ‡ ‡

Characterisation and dramatic motivation Theme/text and subtext Language features (verbal and non-verbal language) – how do the characters’ words and actions embody key concepts or relate to themes of the play? What speech acts exemplify the characters’ motivation and goals in the scene? Tension/ conflict in the scene Use of dramatic conventions; movement and blocking/positioning Your interpretation of scene

1. Prepare a folder of materials to submit – e.g. images, projections for the backdrop, movements and blocking of the performers, key lines and body language (gestures, facial expressions, etc.); you can refer to the checklist above for guidance – and also a PPt of this material, to show your classmates at the beginning. 2. Explain your ideas about the scene to your classmates in a brief fiveminute presentation. 3. Run the workshop, directing your classmates in acting out the scene. Change performers after each small section of the text at appropriate points (according to significant changes of mood or character entrances, etc.) so as to ensure that everybody in the class participates

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in your workshop in at least a modest way. You may need to demonstrate particular lines, emphases. 4. Be prepared to clarify your ideas and explain difficulties and solve problems as they occur. You will need to work closely together and prepare carefully for the activity. The running order for each group will be decided as before by lucky draw. Please make sure you have read the plays and are ready to decide on your choice of play and scene. 5. Submit the folder of workshop preparation material to me for grading.

CHAPTER SIX POPULAR CULTURE AS LANGUAGE ART: TALES OF LITERARY TOURISM BRIAN EATON Literary tourism is well established in many countries. This paper refers largely to the UK and specifically Cumbria, because of established literary tourism in the area. The paper explores the nature of the attraction for visitors to the Lake District homes of William Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter, and their varying expectations. In particular, the research looks at expectations of Southeast Asian visitors. Previous authors refer to literary tourism as a largely economic phenomenon, for example Squire (1994) uses the vocabulary of production, consumption and consumers, and Stiebel (2004) of buying things. Here, the author assesses what particular features of the literary ‘attraction’ induce what sort of tourism behaviour. The paper attempts a typology of literary tourists based on their motivations, their interactions with the literature, and their touristic activities. Underpinning models used to develop the typology come from the discipline of tourism and include the model of cultural tourism created by McKercher and DuCros (2002). Reference is also made to Reader Response theory and its role in language teaching (Hirvela, 1996) to help explain some of the interaction of tourists with the site or destination visited. The paper opens with a literature review which briefly describes models of tourism based on geography, economics and social concepts. After this, models of cultural tourism are described and applied to original marketing and visitor behaviour research.

Established models of Tourism Tourism is, of course, about being somewhere else. Geographical and technical systems-based models of tourism, such as that of Leiper (1979), reflect this, but the broader social and cultural contexts under the influence of which the system operates are here left largely unexplored in favour of

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the more narrowly described tourism industry. It is these broader contexts, however, which shape tourism. Economic and political environments notably influence the propensity for tourists to consume tourism by crossing borders etc., while social and cultural environments, varying across countries and regions, influence the choice of destination and the choice of experience sought. Because Leiper’s model is based on the tourist system rather than the individual tourist, it struggles to reflect the motivations and needs of tourists. Other models do try to reflect this, notably that of the ‘tourism career ladder’ (Pearce, 1988, 1991, 2005), which is essentially derived from Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. In this, as with Maslow, basic or physiological needs are fulfilled first; these will include a need for escape or relaxation. A ‘step up’ the ladder follows. Pearce suggests that people tend to ascend the ladder as they accumulate travel experience, suggesting more ‘depth’ of experience is sought by more experienced tourists. (The ‘depth’ of experience sought is an important feature in writings about cultural tourism and will be explored later). This increasing depth of experience will fulfill more advanced needs for self-development and growth, for instance. At the same time, however, an equivalent depth of experience will also satisfy the need for the individual to have status, respect and recognition in society – in his or her peer group, family or workplace. It should be noted that not all tourism researchers accept the tourism ladder model in its entirety. The (obvious) operational criticism is that you can only be on one rung of the ladder at a time; Pearce does acknowledge that one motive at a time tends to be dominant. But equally, the tourist could be on different rungs on different days of the holiday, or even within the same day; notably stepping ‘down’ to the ‘bottom rung’ when s/he is ready to eat, for instance. Ryan is perhaps the most prominent critic of the model, suggesting that ingrained habits may lead to repetition, and concluding: It seems that it is not a case of changing psychological needs resulting from past tourism experience as proposed by the travel career ladder model but rather a case of better meeting needs. (Ryan, 1998: 936)

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Figure 1: Tourism Career Ladder

Cultural Tourism Cultural tourism research has been as diverse as the culture (including arts, heritage and popular culture) which provides for it and a full discussion of this is beyond this paper. Widely used is the technical definition of the European Commission and the Association for Tourism and Leisure Education (ATLAS), viz:

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All movements of persons to specific cultural attractions, such as heritage sites, artistic and cultural manifestations, arts and drama outside their normal place of residence. (quoted in G. Richards, Cultural Tourism in Europe, 1996: 24)

This is largely operational and based on movement. It is also somewhat all embracing, since anyone who visits any cultural site is a cultural tourist, however incidental the visit may be. Perhaps realising this, the ATLAS group adds a conceptual definition thus: The movement of persons to cultural attractions away from their normal place of residence, with the intention to gather new information and experiences to satisfy their cultural needs. (Richards, 1996, op. cit.)

Notably, this again refers to experiences and satisfying needs. There is also the idea of learning (“gather new information”), which may imply that cultural tourists are perhaps an earnest lot. These characteristics broadly coincide with the concepts of cultural tourism noted later by McKercher and DuCros (2002), who observe four different concepts which underpin definitions of cultural tourism. These are: operational concepts (based simply on visits to arts/cultural sites or events without comment as to motives, experiences and benefits); tourismderived concepts (where cultural tourism is a form of special interest tourism and so arts and events are viewed as ‘attractions’ or ‘products’); motivational concepts (based on trip motives and ‘benefits sought’ by tourists identifying specific cultural trips to festivals or museums etc.); and experiential concepts (where cultural tourism is defined through ‘personal constructs’ related to the meaning of the experience). Now, if arts/cultural experiences can potentially be part of all visits and part of all forms of tourism then cultural tourism will feature in experiences such as visiting family or a business trip. The logic of all this is to suggest that cultural tourists are not always motivated by culture alone and that they will expect and want differing types and levels of benefits from their ‘consumption’ of tourism: McKercher and DuCros caution against treating the cultural-tourism market as “undifferentiated … [and] with the implicit assumption being that all cultural tourists represent the prototypical ‘deep’ cultural tourist” (McKercher and DuCros, 2002: 46).

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Figure 2: Cultural Tourists Typology (McKercher and DuCros, 2002)

They go on to suggest cultural tourists fall into five categories (see Figure 2), where the importance of cultural tourism in the decision to visit the destination is plotted against the depth of experience sought. The five types of cultural tourist produced by this are now a) the purposeful cultural tourist (cultural tourism being the primary motivation for visiting a specific destination and a very deep experience follows), b) the sightseeing cultural tourist (cultural tourism is a key reason for visiting a specific destination but the experience is less deep), c) the serendipitous cultural tourist (where the tourist does not travel for specific cultural reasons, but ultimately does have a deep cultural tourism experience), d) the casual cultural tourist (where cultural tourism is a weak travel motivation and the resulting cultural experience is shallow) and, finally, e) the incidental cultural tourist, who does not travel for cultural reasons, but does engage in some cultural activities and has shallow experiences. Note that the emphases in the model are therefore motivations and experiences. For this paper, the author will distinguish between the two as follows: motivational is about the reason for taking the trip in the first place and influences the decision-making process. Experiential relates to activities undertaken during the trip itself.

Existing marketing research Existing marketing research can be compared against the model described above; given the later context the research used will be British but will take into account the specific characteristics of tourists from Southeast Asia and China.

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Figure 3: Activities undertaken by visitors to Britain (ONS, 2007, 2008)

Activities undertaken by visitors to Britain are identified in Figure 3 from International Passenger Surveys (ONS, 2007, 2008). How many of these constitute cultural-tourism activities depends, of course, on the definition of culture used. While ‘visiting castles, churches, monuments, historic houses’ (31%) and ‘going to theatre, ballet, opera, concert’ (11%) will be fairly obvious as cultural-tourism activities, ‘going to a pub’ (40%) would need an extention of culture to include ‘popular’ culture which may not be universally accepted. It should be noted here that cultural activities in general feature prominently, with ‘museums and art galleries’ at 23% and ‘visiting literary, music and film locations’ registering 4%. Specific research by VisitBritain, focused on Asian and Chinese markets, makes comments relating to British culture, literature and English language. On culture, we are told: Chinese respondents cited they were very interested in seeing the famous buildings and monuments that represent the key sights of Britain’s history and heritage. They felt an affiliation with Britain’s ‘1000 year old history’.

Meanwhile on language, the research reports note: English continues to be the essential language to learn. British English has a certain snob value over its competitors – the USA, Canada and Australia – and as a result … learning English in Britain is highly regarded as an activity in countries where English is not so widely spoken. Learning

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And on literature, the research says: Qualitatively, we often find the image of Britain is influenced by … books. In markets where consumers are less familiar with Britain, Britain is thought to be as depicted in detective novels [e.g. foggy weather, men with beards and walking sticks].… Tourists who are less familiar with Britain perceive Britain as an old-fashioned and conservative country … associated with the bowler hat, rainy London, and Dickensian images … [and with] … Sherlock Holmes, and old films such as Waterloo Bridge, The 39 Steps, and Death on the Nile [which was a key source of the ‘English gentleman’ imagery that is so pervasive in Chinese perceptions]… Current British cultural trends that have attracted Japanese attention include the Harry Potter books, Beatrix Potter and Winnie the Pooh.… Aware of Shakespeare’s significance in the English speaking world, Japanese are keen when visiting Britain to feel that they have not missed out on something so significant. Literature can give consumers an idea of Britain and its culture but it is rarely a strong enough driver to motivate an actual visit. (VisitBritain, February 2010, np)

Part of the particular appeal of Cambridge for Chinese comes from the famous poem ෌ูᗣᶫ (Zài Bié .ƗQJTLiR), ‘Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again’, written by the Chinese poet ᚎᚿᦶ (Xú Zhìmó) in 1922, which is widely known in China. What to make of all this? Firstly, it is important to understand that whether or not these perceptions are regarded as accurate, they still exist and are likely to persist for some time. There is both a challenge and an opportunity for tourism providers and those marketing destinations here. Secondly, and to emphasise: culture, language and literature underpin the whole experience of England and Britain, without being the dominant reason for the visit. Beyond that, the comments quoted largely speak for themselves, but the importance of the relationship of literature to perception of place should be emphasised, not least because ‘old’ literature will give an out-dated perception. This may (or may not!) be a bad thing. Literature as a freestanding ‘driver’ is not described as strong, although it is, apparently, a useful ‘add-on’ motivation, and this will be discussed

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further below. This emphasis by the tourist on culture, literature and language will vary considerably according to the nature of the visit; holidays and business and family visits will have different purposes, of course, from specific study tours and immersion placements, but there can be and is an overlap, notably during the process of language acquisition. Language acquisition assumes some sort of active involvement (rather than mere passive observation) on the part of the tourist and so motivational and experiential concepts in general, and the research findings described above, are likely to inform us better. This literature review has moved from cultural tourism in general to literary tourism specifically, without as yet having described the latter. Visitors may come to Canada to see the location which features in Anne of Green Gables; to South Africa to visit the former home of Olive Steiner; to New Zealand to visit the film set of the book of the Lord of the Rings. So, to pose a few questions: Is the literary tourist one who goes to see the house of a famous writer? Or, perhaps, a building or location made famous by a book? Or even someone attending a literary festival? Or someone who follows a trail or literary walk? And is the literary tourist also he or she who buys a furry toy of a character from a children’s book? Or who visits sites made famous not by a book, but rather by the film of a book? Or who sits and reads a book in the ‘very’ place in which it was written? These are questions which start to seek to categorise the literary tourist. Croy suggests “Literary Tourism is travel induced by or associated with works of literature, authors and the places featured within literature” (Croy, 2012: 119). The word ‘induced’ is strong and suggests that the pursuit of literary tourism can be a key motivator, though other evidence already noted suggests that this is not always the case (see VisitBritain, 2010, above). Croy continues, suggesting five ‘themes’ within literary tourism which relate to places where a book is written or set, libraries, festivals, destinations with bookshops, and places representing books by way of film or television. Again, this makes the literary (cultural) tourist sound rather serious or worthy. Thus far we have a definition of literary tourism which is about travel, and themes which are about destinations and places; but there is little about the tourist him/herself. Robinson allows for a rather different sort of interest in literary tourism by understanding a degree of enquiry – at various levels – of the “lives loves and celebrity” (Robinson, 2004: 62) of authors. This has some appeal because it allows the engagement of the literary tourist via the author or author’s reputation as well as through the text of the literature itself. As a result, motivations might be scholarly but also might be those of curiosity or even voyeurism.

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If so, then there will be different expectations from different literary tourists. So, tourism theory allows us to look at the motivations and expectations of cultural and, specifically, literary tourists. But literary theory also contributes to the understanding of expectations and motives of the reader, notably through reader response theories.

Reader-response theories Scott, discussing reader-response theories in a consumer context, says: A reader-response interpretation tries to show how a text works with the probable knowledge, expectations, or motives of the reader. (Scott, 1994: 463)

The ‘text’ takes written forms such as books, spoken forms such as film and unspoken forms including, as here, tourism. Expectations and motives are referred to explicitly by Scott, who continues: Reading as a consumer involves … having the willingness to ‘be’ a particular fictive reader. ‘Being the reader’ can mean answering to certain social roles being called forth … readers learn to recognise different ‘voices’ within a text, identify with one or several of them … (op. cit. 471)

The idea of the consumer being a particular reader and having a role to play or to perform is explored and used in the original research to follow. The motivations and expectations of, and the role played by, the reader/consumer are assumed to be interdependent. Scott is not the only author to try to assimilate literary theory and consumer studies, though she was one of the earliest. More recently, Heymann notes “Marketing scholars … have increasingly viewed advertising and branding through the lens of literary theory” (2010: 393). The author is not aware of the particular application of literary theory to tourism, though if tourism is defined as an economic phenomenon then that would, of course, include tourism as part of consumer studies; the tourist is, indeed, a consumer. But tourism should also be seen in terms of the experience sought and acquired; tourism is not only an economic phenomenon, but is also experiential and emotional. Again, this is reflected in reader response theories: Ultimately, all readers bring their own emotions, experiences, and knowledge to reading, so the number of roles can be as many as the

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number of readers and each interpretation will be subjective and unique. (Culler, 1982: 63)

Now, if the readers of written texts are substituted by tourists who experience tourism as an unspoken text, then the examination of the roles of (literary) tourists and their (unique?) interpretations can also be developed. In short, the ideas of Culler and others may be applied legitimately to tourism and to tourists. Hirvela, writing in the context of language acquisition, states the “inclusion of reader response in literaturebased communicative language teaching will strengthen such [ELT] instruction” (Hirvela, 1996: 128). If this is the case for second-language learning then presumably it can also apply to language acquisition through the experience and interpretation of tourism. Since immersion is a commonly used mechanism to improve language skills, the role of the student immersed in an alternative culture perhaps merits some research attention elsewhere. Finally, Waugh writes of the importance to reader response theories of the “shift of emphasis from ‘content’ to the fabric of artistic and literary works” (Waugh, 2006: 203). If the ‘fabric’ is construed so as to include the location and life of the author, then again there is something which can be interpreted through tourism. It is repeated that this is not a full examination of reader response theories, but it is strongly suggested here that there is enough in various writings to commend the (literary) tourism experience as worthy of examination in the context of those theories. Language acquisition through cultural immersion, the location and life of the author, and the roles and interpretations of tourists could all bear some scrutiny using literary theory and there is a potential research agenda evident in this.

Methodology The methodology used here is qualitative and is consistent with the exploratory nature of this research. The research question established by the above is “to what extent can the expectations, experiences and roles claimed by literary tourists find resonance with the categorisation of cultural tourists using models such as those of McKercher and DuCros or categorisation of roles using reader response theories?” The research outcome might be a cross-disciplinary taxonomy coinciding to some degree with those models. The research location is that of the Lake District, Cumbria, United Kingdom. The Lake District National Park is internationally famous for landscape, outdoor recreation and literary connections including Beatrix Potter and William Wordsworth, but also

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Arthur Ransome, Samuel Coleridge, Melvyn Bragg and many others. The importance of the local landscape to these authors in one way or another is well-established. Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit books are amongst the best-selling children’s books of all time, and remain very popular in many countries outside the UK (notably Japan and the USA) over a century after their publication. Beatrix Potter locations include landscapes, buildings and even hotels identifiable from the books (and indeed a 2007 film) as well as places associated with the life of the author. Particular attention is paid to the one-time home of Beatrix Potter at Hill Top, Sawrey. This attraction is owned and managed by the National Trust (by far the largest conservation charity in the UK). The house was left to the Trust by the author on her death in 1943 with many personal effects intact, giving a ‘completeness’ to the property which is often lacking elsewhere. The research for the paper included five semi-structured interviews focusing on observed behaviour by managers of sites associated with Beatrix Potter in some way, and postexperience comments of visitors during 2012 (n=145) about their expectations and their experience of the visit. The main Lake District location associated with William Wordsworth is Dove Cottage, Grasmere, regarded as the ‘creative home’ of the poet. This is described by the Wordsworth Trust (which owns and manages the site as a research centre and visitor attraction) as follows: Dove Cottage, was the first family home of William Wordsworth. He lived here 1799–1808. Settling in the heart of his ‘native mountains’ meant that he was able to concentrate on writing and this period was his most inspired and productive. Come and hear about Wordsworth and the antics of his friends and fans. Step into Dove Cottage to get a sense of time: stone floors, dark panelled rooms, glowing coal fires and the family’s own belongings. Stroll in the garden he created with his sister, where he composed some of the greatest poetry in the English language … and, most importantly, read, talked and wrote poetry. (https://www.wordsworth. org.uk/visit.html)

Note the emphasis on reading and talking: the two are a strong part of the narrative poetry tradition and also two of the four accepted components of language learning and acquisition as well as listening and writing. The research data relating to Dove Cottage consists of post-experience comments of visitors posted on the Trust website and on the TripAdvisor website during 2012 (n=87). So the methodology employed is both supply side (in the case of Beatrix Potter) and demand side for both sites. The two sources of data each give a face validation to the other.

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The comments are then analysed according to the activity or response or role described (or claimed) by the visitor as they interpret the tourist experience and typical comments are grouped together by way of illustration. These are supplemented by quotes from interviews with suppliers – managers of tourist sites associated with Beatrix Potter. These interviews are listed in Table 1. Questions asked of suppliers were fairly broad, to cover the variety of operator types and locations and to allow respondents to emphasise their own circumstances. The questions included: Who are the tourists? How aware are they of Beatrix Potter? What are their interests, activities, expectations? What are/were the responses of the operator to these? From these, broader groupings are identified by the author in the context of this paper. These are based on models of tourist behaviour and reader response theories described in the literature review. It is worth a reminder here of the idea that motivational concepts define cultural tourism by ‘benefits sought’ and that the cultural-tourism model of McKercher and DuCros labels one axis ‘experience sought’. Grouping according to nature of response or experience gained is consistent with this. Table 1: Summary of interviewee operations and locations Location 1 Hill Top & Beatrix Potter Gallery 2 Rum Story 3 Coniston Tourist Information Centre 4 Yew Tree Farm

Interviewee Curator

Nature of Operation Visitor Attraction

Duty Manager Customer Services Rep Proprietor

Visitor Attraction Tourist Information

5 World Of Beatrix Potter

General Manager

Accommodation Provider Visitor Attraction

Results and evidence Firstly, there is plenty of evidence found to support the existence of each of the five cultural-tourism categories identified by McKercher and DuCros and described above. Examples of each category are given below, with quotes used selectively as evidence of the importance of the literary tourism experience as motivation and the depth of experience sought and gained. The quotes are taken from the responses of suppliers at their interviews and the responses of visitors, so supplier/consumer comments are mixed to give a voice to each. A commentary on these responses is provided though the author is aware that the evidence here is limited and

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that this remains exploratory research. The commentary may therefore lead others to consider their own research questions and is justified on these grounds. The incidental cultural tourist of McKercher and DuCros includes those who say: “Just walked past on our way to Grasmere Village. Would recommend Wilf’s tea room just across the street from Dove Cottage” or “Typical – you visit the lakes and it rains, rains and rains some more. Thankfully Dove Cottage … gets you out of the rain for a while.” There is little evidence of depth of experience here, nor, perhaps, evidence of prior knowledge or planning, at least, here: “Sometimes I have been asked if Miss Potter is related to Harry Potter so I think some visitors get their fiction a bit mixed up!” The sightseeing cultural tourist tells us: “Since reading Wordsworth at school, I had long associated him with the Lake District, so was always going to visit.” So, the intention to visit the attraction is there, but there is no obvious stated purpose. The make up of the party also influences the stated purpose: “Why do you come to the attraction? The main answer … Peter Rabbit/keep kids happy.” The serendipitous cultural tourist shows a deep pleasure from an unexpected and unscheduled visit; the following quotes are selfexplanatory: “Visited Dove Cottage for family reasons, but ended up thoroughly enjoying learning more about Wordsworth.” “We didn’t plan to go to Beatrix Potter’s house the day we did; it ended up feeling like a surprise! We stayed in the house, soaking it all in, for two glorious hours.” “We came across by chance, felt most welcome. Lovely scenery, great walks and a pretty Beatrix Potter village.” The purposeful cultural tourist demonstrates both intent and depth of experience: “I have always wanted to visit Wordsworth’s place of inspiration and the guide was very helpful. Thank-you.” “One of the things that we really wanted to do was visit Beatrix Potter’s house at Hill Top; it was the fulfillment of an ambition and I was very happy to be there.” Fulfilling ambitions and being inspired are strong claims but there are several examples of these sorts of statement. Perhaps those who have had such an experience may be more likely to record their comments. Note also preparation for the visit: “We think that people are better ‘primed’ particularly Japanese because of the importance they attach to guide books … they think, I’m going on a special trip so I have got to know a bit.” The casual cultural tourist shows some appreciation of the experience while suggesting that the visit has not been a driver for them, but rather an add-on: “Worth a visit, even for anyone with just a passing knowledge from their childhood of the Beatrix Potter stories and books” and “Worth a

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visit on a rainy day. It is interesting to imagine daily life here in this little cottage.” There is a qualitative difference between “worth a visit on a rainy day” as here and “gets you out of the rain for a while” above. Predictably, there is evidence to suggest that boundaries between categories are not absolute. For instance, a supplier’s suggestion that “The [movie] map is for the visitor who doesn’t want to miss out on any experience of the Miss Potter film – but might also be reassuring for people who can’t find their way round the Lake district” might be describing the map as for the sightseeing tourist, or the purposeful tourist, or more probably both. Again, note that the experience sought used as an axis in the culturaltourism model might not be the same as the experience gained. The (casual cultural) tourist who says: This was our first time visit to Hill Top farm home of Beatrix Potter. We used a sat nav which helped us to get to the destination, no problems there, glad we arrived early as it was apparent that this place gets very busy … we had to walk on the road to access the farm which was slightly dangerous, avoiding fast cars was not fun. Sadly I didn’t get to go in the house but my wife, eldest son and mum-in-law did, when they came out their faces said it all, they weren’t allowed to take any photos …

shows a clear mismatch between experience sought and experience gained, or a gap between expectations and the delivery of the experience. So the results of the research suggest that, in general, literary tourists fit the model of cultural-tourism types proposed by McKercher and DuCros. It is also clear that the dividing lines between the categories of cultural tourist suggested and observed are in practice a little blurred. Importantly, however, there is additional evidence to be gained from the research, which suggests that there is perhaps something more to literary tourism. This is because responses from many visitors also refer to activities which demonstrate roles (and assumed responses to those roles) lying without the model used. This means that additional or alternative categories of literary tourist can also be suggested and evidenced. These are suggested below and will be grouped under five headings of response, observed by the author from evidence by way of visitor responses. These responses are left unaltered with any spelling/grammatical issues unaddressed. The quotes are selected based on those visitors whose response to their visit seems largely: to be Economic in nature, to have an Educational purpose,

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to have a Creative purpose, to be Emotional in response or, to act as Onlooker. Each of these response categories itself allows for a variation in the depth of response, and evidence to support this is quoted. Labels attached are selected by the author for this exploratory research and are not claimed to be absolute. So, those visitors whose response is primarily economic might include those who say: There was an expensive limited edition of her book Peter Rabbit in there, a first-time ever reprint of the one Beatrix paid to have published herself; and only 1000 made. I couldn’t bring myself to buy it. Don’t I have enough already?

The economic response includes buying a ticket or buying a souvenir but also the acquisition of books, including as here special editions. These may come from the tourist location, or perhaps bookshops and Book Fairs. Bringing together collections of books may be for personal pleasure (and hence this response is also emotional) but also perhaps for investment. Possessing or admiring books owned, and which are readily accessible and easily held, may also be economic or emotional. Those visitors whose response is primarily influenced by education in some form might include the following: We visited Dove Cottage and the Museum on a Friday in August. The tour guide really knew his stuff and put it over in an interesting and witty way – I learnt a lot about Wordsworth and why his poetry was regarded as revolutionary in its day. Not particularly being a Wordsworth fan, I came away determined to read more.

Learning as a literary tourist may be through such a visit as this and a possible associated guided tour. It could also take place via more ‘formal’ visits including those to see rare/library exhibits, or attend workshops/ conferences. Those visitors whose response is primarily influenced by a creative response include the following: Once upon a time I visited a lovely old farmhouse called Hill Top. I was greeted warmly by the staff and glowing fire. Exploring the house, I began to see where Beatrix Potter had been inspired to write and illustrate. Each room contained special features or treasures she had collected over the years. After exploring the farmhouse, I visited the gardens and even saw Jemima Puddle Duck’s egg!

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The reviewer here adopts the role of creative story-teller. Another says “The beauty itself and the soothing atmosphere will give anyone inspiration/idea for arts or poet or anything you like.” Creativity is regarded broadly, including new ideas, articles, books and stories. Evidence from visitors whose response is primarily emotional might include the following: “The house and gardens are wonderful to walk around, and you can immediately see how Wordsworth was inspired here.” “My interest in Wordsworth prompted my visit to Dove Cottage; my visit to Dove Cottage transformed me into a full-on Wordsworth obsessive.” “Great inspiration. Felt the presence of William & his Sister Dorothy in Dove Cottage.” Note the vocabulary here: ‘inspired’, ‘transformed’ and ‘felt the presence’ are strong words indicative of a highly emotional response. Even more so is this: This is sooo worth seeing. Quaint olde worlde cottage. I understand why William Wordsmith fell for this place as his home. I certainly have an idea of living in just a simple cottage in such heaven like environment.

It is perhaps fair, particularly in this last case, to suggest that the intent of the respondent may not always progress to achievement. Those visitors whose primary role is that of onlooker might include those such as the lifestyle curious, who might say: “Lovely little place, interesting to see the old newspapers and his passport.” “We were amazed to view his tatty old suitcase and his original passport.” Or else: “They stand in awe at the hat and the shoes under the desk – the direct link.” Those onlookers of landscape might comment: “If you appreciate winding lanes, scenic views and cute cottages you will adore Dove Cottage” or “visit it even if you’re not a fan … because the place is delightful and fully immerses you in a bygone era.” Or even: “I saw the Beatrix Potter movie and realised that Lake District is beautiful.” Within the grouping of ‘onlookers’ are those whose ‘gaze’ has been described by Urry. He argues that the tourist gaze is created by an individual tourist’s perception of the visual that surrounds them. It is through the visual that perception manifests itself and is able to grow into what becomes an ever-changing tourist gaze. This is evidenced by the curator of the Beatrix Potter home at Hill Top when she says: The ‘experience’ of visitors varied, though there were several comments about stillness, seeing the place as she [Beatrix] saw it, experience the house as she had.

Yet another set of onlookers might wish to follow in the (physical and metaphorical) footsteps of the authors. For instance, the visitor who states

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“I had already visited his old Grammar School in Hawkshead so I was able to piece his life together nicely” or “Come here before you visit Rydal Mount [his later home] where he went after earning some money” show signs of a trail or a progression. These onlookers might be involved in the personal discovery of new places or experiences or hunting and searching for and finding new tourism locations from books or films. It was suggested earlier that there is perhaps something more to literary tourism than ‘just’ cultural tourism because responses from many visitors also include activities which demonstrate roles (and assumed responses to those roles) lying without traditional models. Many of these activities imply more depth of experience than other tourists and state the obvious link between literature and books explicitly and in some detail. The responses selected above amount to a detailed, sometimes affectionate and even whimsical series of descriptions of book enthusiasts on holiday in a variety of roles; but they do allow the development of a categorisation. For instance, creativity is a feature which distinguishes literary tourism from many other types of cultural tourism. The cultural tourist will look at heritage locations, such as ancient castles or sites; but there will not often be the creative response available to that tourist of actually building something as a result of his/her tourist visit. The literary tourist has rather more opportunity to assume a creative role through writing. Creative activities were advertised, particularly by the Wordsworth Trust, in the form of workshops, readings etc. Economic activities, notably retail opportunities, were obvious during the research; the author observed shop displays and merchandise, including multiple language guides and DVDs. Interactive displays showing Beatrix Potter locations were on show at sites both connected and unconnected with Beatrix Potter – an aid to those ‘following in the footsteps’. Emotional responses, notably feelings of intimacy, were perhaps encouraged by the language and vocabulary of leaflets and guides (‘the very place’, ‘the actual pen’) which also actively reinforce authenticity. Educational activities can be very varied, notably between ages and purpose, but the growing role of ‘edutainment’ is acknowledged, though not explored here. Also noted but unexplored is the role and function of cultural and literary tourism for study tours, particularly those involving language acquisition. Study tours, immersion and language acquisition as tourist phenomena have attracted little attention in tourism literature. So, a tabular typology of literary tourists can now be proposed based on the economic, educational, emotional, creative or onlooker response of the tourist. This is presented in Table 2. Under each of these five categories is suggested a list of activities arising from these roles or

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responses. The activities are not necessarily exclusive and are of varying depth and degree of involvement. The table indicates several roles/responses which may reasonably be covered by more than one category and these are shown in italics. Roles and Responses Assumed by Literary Tourists Economic

Educational Emotional Creative Represented by Activities such as: ‘Edutainment’ Inspiration Writing

Souvenir Purchase Ticket purchase Reading (for learning) Investing Studying Gathering Possessing/ Admiring Collecting

Reading (for pleasure) Transformation

Lifestyle curious Feelings of (familiarity) Intimacy Culture acquisition Possessing/ Admiring Language acquisition

Reading Imitation Commentary/ Editing Scholarly work Collecting

Onlooker ‘Gaze’ (at location) Meet and greet Following in the footsteps or Imitation Lifestyle curious (observation) Authenticity Hunting/ discoveries Something to fill time

Conclusions This paper set out to assess what particular features of the literary ‘attraction’ induce what sort of tourism behaviour. It has achieved this by setting out a typology of literary tourists based on their motivations, their interactions with the literature and their touristic activities. In particular, the assumed roles and responses of literary tourists have been considered. In doing so, literary tourism has been explained as a form of cultural tourism, but one which has features which are not common in other forms of cultural tourism and are perhaps unaddressed by existing models of tourism in general and cultural tourism in particular. A feature of the paper is the cross-disciplinary use of these models from tourism along with reader-response theory. Both have in common the interaction of a ‘user’ (a visitor and reader respectively) with a ‘product’ (the tourism attraction or destination and book or other media respectively) and this feature assists the development of the typology. Original supply and demand side qualitative research establishes a certain validity for the suggested typology, but this will benefit from further development and research. Predictably further areas for potential study emerge. Firstly, there is the need to strengthen and perhaps refine the taxonomy proposed. Future research might move onto the use of quantitative methods to establish

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measures of these varying depths of response. There is also considerable scope for exploiting these categories as proxies for marketing segments in order for suppliers of literary-tourism attractions and locations to improve business revenues and business performance. This should take into account the particular motivations and roles and responses assumed by visitors from differing origins. Here, a degree of emphasis has been put on the Southeast Asian market, but empirical research based on different countries of origin of visitors would be potentially illuminating. Finally, the evidence understates the position of those on study tours and immersion and language acquisition placements; these are not well represented here. This last is a particular opportunity for cross-disciplinary research involving those in linguistics and language arts.

References Croy, G. 2012. Literary Tourism. In Peter Robinson (ed.), Tourism: The Key Concepts. London and New York: Routledge ISBN 9780415677929. Culler, J. 1982. Literature and Linguistics. In J.P. Barricelli and J. Gibaldi (eds.), Interrelations of Literature. New York: Modern Language Association. Heymann, Laura A. 2010. Reading the Product: Warnings, Disclaimers, and Literary Theory. Faculty Publications, Paper 657. Retrieved on 30 November 2012 from http://scholarship.law.wm.edu/facpubs/657. Hirvela, A. 1996. Reader-response theory and ELT. ELT Journal 50, 127– 34. Leiper, N. 1979. The framework of tourism: Towards a definition of tourism, tourist and the tourist industry. Annuals of Tourism Research 4(6). 390–407. McKercher, B. and H. DuCros. 2002. Cultural Tourism: The Partnership between Tourism and Cultural Heritage Management. New York: Hayworth. Office for National Statistics. 2007. International Passenger Survey (IPS) 2007: Activities undertaken by visitors to Britain. London. —. 2008. International Passenger Survey (IPS) 2008: Activities undertaken by visitors to Britain. London. Pearce, P.L. 1988. The Ulysses Factor: Evaluating Visitors in Tourist Settings. New York: Springer-Verlag. —. 1991. Analysing Tourist Attractions. Journal of Tourism Studies 2(1). 46–52.

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—. 2005. Tourist Behaviour: Themes and Conceptual Schemes. Bristol: Channel View Publications. Richards, G. 1996. Cultural Tourism in Europe. Wallingford, CABI. Robinson, M. 2004. Between and beyond the pages: Literature and Tourism Relationships. In Mike Robinson and Hans Christian Andersen (eds.), Literature and Tourism. Cengage Learning EMEA ISBN 9781844800742. Ryan, C.1998. The travel career ladder: An Appraisal. Annals of Tourism Research 25(4). 936–957. Scott, Linda M. 1994. The Bridge from Text to Mind: Adapting ReaderResponse Theory to Consumer Research. Journal of Consumer Research 21(3). 461–480. Squire, S.J. 1998. Cultural discourses of destinations, gender and tourism history in the Canadian Rockies. In G. Ringer (ed.), Destinations: Cultural Landscapes of Tourism. Abingdon: Routledge. Squire, Shelagh J. 1994. The cultural values of literary tourism. Annals of Tourism Research 21(1). 103–120. Stiebel, L. 2004. Hitting the hot spots: Literary tourism as a research field with particular reference to KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. Critical Arts: South-North Cultural and Media Studies 18(2). 31–44. Urry, J. 2002. The Tourist Gaze. 2nd edn. London: Sage. VisitBritain. 2010. China Market and Trade Profile. London. —. 2010. Culture and Heritage Topic Profile, February 2010. London. Waugh, Patricia. 2006. Literary Theory and Criticism. New York, OUP USA, ISBN 978-0199258369. Wordsworth Trust. Retrieved on 21 September 2012 from https://www. wordsworth.org.uk/visit.html.

CHAPTER SEVEN CREATIVE WRITING IN ACTION: FOSTERING EFL LEARNERS’ POSITIVE ATTITUDES TOWARD FOREIGN LANGUAGE LEARNING AFSHIN MOHAMMADI Introduction Affective variables have long been considered as highly influential predictors of language learning achievement (Gardner, 1985; Spolsky, 1989; Skehan, 1989). This is mainly due to the powerful impact such variables, including attitude, have on conditioning learning behaviour. While positive attitudes might facilitate and speed up the language learning process, negativity of attitudes plays an adverse role in how learners engage with different learning activities. If learners assume that they are unable to handle a specific task, they will also tend to show it in their behaviour. This notion was established by Gardner and Lambert’s (1959, 1972) extensive studies where they claimed that negative beliefs and attitudes toward the target language and its community could obstruct the learning enterprise, regardless of learner’s cognitive ability and language skills. Their discussion placed an emphasis on learners’ view of the target language and its speakers, and whether learners are willing to invest in learning and use the target community’s codes. Affective dimensions of language learning usually need to be taken far more seriously and systematically than the cognitive skills involved in the L2 learning process (Stern, 1983). It can be argued that if learners do not show signs of liking to learn an L2, most probably they will not bother measuring their learning abilities and actualising their learning. Similarly, Noels, Pelletier and Vallerand (2000) suggested that affective aspects of language learning, including learning anxiety and motivation, are more important than language aptitude in predicting success in learning an L2.

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This may mean, among other things, that linguistic sufficiency and cognitive competence do not always lead to desirable L2 learning outcomes. These need to be complemented with a positive attitude toward the target language and its production. Reporting from a Turkish language learning context, Karahan investigates primary-school language learners, concluding that positive language attitudes lead to a positive orientation toward learning English (2007: 12). Learners’ attitudes to their own abilities and the perceptions that formulate them are thus of great significance to language teachers, when making decisions about introducing learning tasks to be carried out in and outside the language classroom. Most often teachers need to identify, approve, and respect their learners’ attitudes, wants and beliefs, making efforts to help them remove any inimical perceptions and barriers (MantleBromley, 1995). Cotterall (1995) exemplifies one such situation as: Imagine that a learner believes errors in her second/foreign [my addition and emphasis] language (L2) production will impede her language learning progress. This belief may discourage the learner from participating in fluency-focused activities and may create an expectation that all errors must be corrected by the teacher. If these beliefs are not challenged, the learner’s progress may be hindered.

Learners need to be informed that making mistakes while producing genuine chunks of L2 is an inevitable part of language learning. This is the teacher’s responsibility. Provision of opportunities that facilitate learners’ engagement in meaningful language production is an effective way to root out such beliefs, and prevent them from taking root in learners’ active learning behaviours. Modification of these attitudes and beliefs may not be too difficult, unless they are already radical and inflexible. The teacher needs to take measures for enhancing learners’ self-awareness of their own role in progressing with their language learning. This calls for individual or pair counseling sessions with learners to inform them about the importance of developing “autonomous attitudes” (Finch, 2004), and letting go of the mistaken and harmful beliefs about language learning. However, “counseling procedures depend on the student, her degree of autonomy and her willingness to receive counseling” (Victori and Lockhart, 1995). Inclusion of numerous plans and designs in the language learning process, which reduce malignant learning attitudes, must be on teachers’ teaching agenda (Mantle-Bromley, 1995). Learners’ attitudes concerning language (in this case, English) and language learning can also determine their degree of risk-taking and their willingness to take learning initiatives whose outcome is unpredictable. Risk-taking has been identified

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as fundamental in L2 learning since long ago (Rubin, 1975; Beebe, 1983). Providing a “non-threatening environment” (Finch, 2001) may help learners feel able to take risks, and try out possible ways of improving their skills in language learning. Still, it goes without saying that most instructional contexts across the globe discourage learners from taking risks in their education by placing unnecessary emphasis on correctness and right answers (Brown, 2001). A recent study with Iranian EFL learners showed a statistically significant relationship between grammatical accuracy and risk-taking in speaking (Ghoorchaie and Kassaian, 2009). The present study attempted to examine learners’ views toward a more active learning environment, where they were furnished with encouragement to take more control over their writing skills. The researcher opted for familiarising learners with a different mode of writing than those recommended by the textbook selected by the concerned institution (Passage 2, Second Edition, Jack C. Richards and Chuck Sandy).

Foreign language learning in Iran The English language is learnt and taught as a foreign language in Iran, where learners have little or no contact with native speakers, or with English language speakers in general. Use of the linguistic properties they learn in the language classroom is limited to the communications they might have with one another. It almost never happens that they encounter oral and written English discourse on the street or in media. Most frequently, it remains a matter of ambiguity to learners, how a native speaker of English would talk or behave in reality. They are, indeed, practicing a code exclusive to themselves as EFL learners, as there is no other chance to use English outside the language classroom. Presumably, the process of learning English at school has not been satisfactory to learners, teachers and language administrators in general. In school contexts English is an obligatory subject from beginning of secondary school to the end of high school, though the method used to teach the language is a Grammar-Translation one. In their seminal paper on language assessment policy in Iran, Farhady and Hedayati (2009) argue that, “despite continuous efforts, there have not been considerable improvements in either teaching or assessing the English language ability of the students and traditional methods and materials are still in practice”. Learners do not learn much from tedious school classes, as these are teacher-centred, and the activities involved restricted to practicing the ‘usage’ of the language and not its ‘use’. Learners face no need to engage

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with the language, or to produce personally meaningful messages, since the focus of language education rests upon other goals such as knowing words and grammar to be able to render written texts into the mother tongue, but not creating daily conversations and meanings. In addition, language assessment is carried out via the final exam taken at the end of each semester. Learners are not evaluated continuously for improvements in their speaking, writing, reading or listening skills. Most class time is devoted to reading and translating a very small number of texts offered in a core textbook, edited and published by the Ministry of Education. The content of textbooks is bilingual for the most part, with added traditional drilling exercises which discourage learners from being creative and critical in recombining language elements. Learners might learn some principles, structures and rules of basic grammar, word order and preliminary translation skills. But these will not be useful for using English in the global English-speaking community. This has prompted a great number of students to seek expansion of their language abilities and skills outside school, at private language institutes. Each of these language centres has their own set of regulations for language teaching, depending on their approach to the nature of language, language teaching and language learning. However, as a common theme, teaching and learning in such language centres takes a more communicative orientation. Thus, students find more realistic opportunities to actively engage with practicing communicative language activities. The programs offered at these language teaching institutes are claimed to enable learners to gain control over all language skills, with greater emphasis placed upon productive skills, i.e. writing and speaking. Learners are expected to become more competent in creating and conveying idiosyncratic messages, as they move forward with their courses. A focal goal at private language teaching centres is to have learners understand that they are not only language learners, but they also are language users at the same time. These classes are interactive. There are more opportunities for teacherlearner and learner-learner communication, as learners are frequently required to carry out activities in pair or group format. Learners are repeatedly asked to apply what they have learned, and the teacher will act as a facilitator of communication, and a language director. In fact, the teacher is regarded as a speaking model to learners. In institutional contexts, a teacher’s creativity in bringing new materials to class is not encouraged, teacher autonomy is not fulfilled, as they require teachers to work in a rather fixed, defined framework (Abednia, 2012). Teachers need to be committed to core textbooks,

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gauging the progress of learners in accordance with institute regulations. A semi-intensive course takes approximately two and a half months to finish, involving three ninety-minute sessions per week. Language learners are routinely required to review what has been taught by doing the sparse activities the textbook offers in addition to workbook exercises. This leaves few opportunities for teachers to assign or introduce ancillary tasks for learners either during class time or outside the classroom. Consequently, learners are left to their own devices, to find other learning activities. Within institutional contexts learners face various impedances, which usually are beyond their ability to modify. For instance, learners often have difficulties connecting what they learn inside the language classroom to their everyday life situations, largely because they see no use of English language beyond the classroom. These circumstances prevent learning, as learners perceive themselves as learners of abstract stuff which is somewhat useless. Describing the education his participants received in Iranian schools and universities, Abednia writes: They all had come from a heavily transmission-oriented and memorization-based schooling background, as they had fallen into such habits as passive reception of ideas from their teachers and regurgitation of ‘right’ knowledge presented to them. Also, content of instruction both in school and university was predetermined rather than negotiated, hence striking them as unrelated to their real life concerns. The main consequences of this background, they argued, were their mainly aiming at passing courses rather than learning, lack of willingness to unlearn traditional habits of learning and develop critical thinking skills, and lack of critical awareness of their surroundings. (2012: 3)

This description fits the education offered within our context, where learners are not for critically engaged with the information imparted to them. Such an education, of course, creates uncritical learners whose ability to create novel ideas is pre-framed and inadequate even to the formal requirements for adjusting to certain sets of rules imposed on them in academic situations.

Statement of the problem This action study was prompted by four learners’ contradictory attitudes and behaviours in learning the English language, in a class I taught at a private language learning institute, in Kashan, in March through May, 2012. Despite learners’ sufficient command of the English language, their participation in discussions was not voluntary, as they

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waited for the teacher to call upon them to speak, despite being encouraged to discuss without permission, and interrupt each other and even the teacher. It rarely happened that learners ventured to express and explain their opinions. But when the teacher asked them, they usually had an idea or an experience to share with the class. They relied, then, on the teacher, to initiate their spoken English. Monitoring their pair and group work also revealed a reluctance to communicate with peers. They needed a ‘push’ to start speaking, as they had become accustomed to the teacher offering trigger sentences to initiate their communication. The unwillingness to communicate their experiences and personal feelings was also reflected in learners’ attitudes regarding writing practice. Writing tasks appeared to be so unappetising to the learners in this study that some chose not to produce written texts. It was observed many times that learners fabricated alibis to avoid writing activities. Despite being intrinsically motivated to learn English (as they had signed up at a private language institute), these learners did not show much interest in writing about the topics the textbook offered, though the topics were practical, everyday issues. They seemed to believe the writing exercises were foisted on them, rather than looking at them as a means of improving proficiency. Though it was explained in various sessions, how to include a thesis statement in the first and last paragraphs of compositions, they produced single-paragraph work, reiterating lexical items and grammatical structures chosen from a fixed linguistic repertoire, rather than including newly taught linguistic material. They preferred to restrict themselves to a static use of their previously gained English vocabulary and grammar, and produce already “known meanings” (Tin, 2011). In view of this situation, the practitioner asked learners to fill out a language learning attitudes questionnaire (Appendix A). It was clearly explained to the participants that there was no right or wrong answer and the practitioner was simply interested in their personal opinions about the statements. They filled in the questionnaire at home. The questionnaire consisted of twenty-seven items, using an 8-point Likert scale ranging from ‘Strongly Agree = 8’ to ‘Strongly Disagree = 0’. It assessed learners’ views in five areas, namely, self-image, inhibition, risk-taking, egopermeability and ambiguity tolerance. Data for learners’ perceptions of their own inner selves was likely to provide an indication of the reasons why they displayed a lack of interest in communicating in the L2. Data for inhibition was likely to reveal adverse effects on learners’ sense of ability to competently communicate in the L2. Data for risk-taking highlights responses in situations where learners are not fully confident about their L2 utterances, revealing their degree of willingness-to-communicate. Data

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for developing ideas of the self and applying them to real-life L2 communication manifests learners’ propensity for clear and meaningful expression of their personalised messages. As a sign of cognitive processing and positive attitude toward learning, ambiguity-tolerance reveals learners’ inclination to better communicate in the L2. Since a number of statements on this questionnaire evaluated attitudinal components jointly (8 items for each area), the total score of all areas totalled 64. Calculated via SPSS, the Cronbach’s Alpha for the questionnaire was found to be 0.68. The results are presented in Table 1. Table 1: Results from Language Learning Attitudes Questionnaire Participants Ali Amin Armin Arash

Selfimage 32 (A)

Inhibition

Egopermeability 46 (AA)

Ambiguitytolerance 42 (AA)

28 (A)

Risktaking 36 (AA) 50 (H)

36 (AA) 12 (L) 30 (A)

42 (AA)

42 (AA)

16 (A) 20 (A)

34 (A) 34 (A)

36 (AA) 36 (AA)

36 (AA) 36 (AA)

16 (A)

Low (L), Average (A), Above Average (AA), High (H). As may be seen, results revealed that all learners were averagely inhibited. They had fairly similar ego-permeability and ambiguitytolerance (above average), but the other two constructs, self-image and risk-taking in foreign language learning, were shown to be variable across learners’ replies to the questionnaire items. Armin with a low self-image and average index of risk-taking, and Arash with an average self-image and risk-taking, were the most challenged learners. Amin had an aboveaverage self-image with a high degree of risk-taking, a great condition for foreign language learning. Ali’s perception of his own self-image was also only average, though he was an above-average risk-taker in L2 learning.

Objectives of the study Second-language writing outside of an educational setting is usually done on a limited scale, compared to other language skills. Learners’ lack of interest in practicing and producing authentic, personal pieces of discourse (oral and written) was the primary concern that triggered this action research. In response to the data above, the researcher attempted to foster their positive attitudes toward learning and practicing English effectively and meaningfully, by familiarising them with creative writing

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(CW), as a different mode of writing. I predicted that ‘creative writing’ could help learners open up and manifest parts of themselves in their imaginatively developed stories, and concurrently expand their linguistic knowledge through the construction of original stories. The practitioner struggled to help learners become familiar with creative writing, a mode of writing through which EFL learners can express their feelings, opinions, reactions and ideas in a literary style (Ibnian, 2010). CW offers a flexible frame which accommodates different sorts of incidents. Learners find a way to express their inner selves by developing seemingly imaginary characters and scenes that in fact resemble the ones they know from real life. Therefore, a number of CW options were discussed in class, with the researcher emphasising the aesthetic aspect of CW, and inspiring learners to use their imagination to produce texts which were not “purely informative or instrumental” (Maley, 2009). Three CW prompts were presented in class, along with CW guidelines, which elicited learners’ curiosity, as they could see a story developing and experience an enjoyable element of language learning. A description and comparison of creative (non-expository) and expository modes of writing followed each session, allowing learners’ questions to emerge about these activities, and allowing the teacher to clarify them. One session was allotted to an introduction of the elements of story and fiction, including developing characters, plot, theme and setting. The research also asked learners to briefly analyse stories they had read before, to prepare them for the writing exercises. Stories were gathered, analysed, and returned to learners every other session, with constructive and detailed feedback, motivating learners to reflect on their experience of CW and story development. Ten writing samples were gathered from each learner in a forty-five-day time span. The main and mere research question of this study was as follows: Does creative writing practice positively influence Iranian EFL learners’ attitudes toward learning English language? It was hypothesised that CW practice would positively influence Iranian EFL learners’ attitudes toward learning English language.

Method This study involved four English language learners, at the upperintermediate level, in an institutional context. They came from various educational backgrounds, and were of various ages, though they shared the same gender and ethnic background, Kashani. Ali was 21, registered in an undergraduate program in computer engineering at the University of

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Kashan. Amin, 18, was a high-school student. Armin, 29, was a bank accountant, and Arash, 14, was a secondary-school student (not their real names). All had successfully passed beginner and intermediate language learning courses at the same language institute, and were concurrently learning English for a variety of purposes ranging from being able to communicate with native speakers (Arash and Amin), to taking an MA university entrance exam (Armin). Ali liked to learn English because he wanted to surf the Internet with an informed knowledge of English and read English books related to his university major. The researcher’s prior observations had indicated that learners were not motivated enough to deal with a variety of language exercises, despite being registered at the institute, apparently to improve their English language skills. As this seemed contradictory, the researcher used the attitude questionnaire mentioned. Data can categorise learners, via their perceived self-image, inhibition, risk-taking, ego-permeability and ambiguity-tolerance in foreign language learning, as low (0-15), average (16-35), above average (36-47) and high (48-64). Although SPSS has been the most frequently used tool for quantitative data analysis (Dörnyei, 2007), due to the small number of participants, a one-by-one item analysis was done manually for this study. Following the CW intervention activity and the termination of the course, a group discussion was held in a friendly separate session to evaluate learners’ perspectives about their CW experience. The researcher asked questions, including “what did you find rewarding/challenging about the CW activities”, “what are the advantages of writing creatively” and “how do you feel about more writing in future, now that the course is over”. Individual replies were expected from each learner, unless they said they had no idea. They were also asked to endorse their friends’ comments in case they had similar experiences. Learners were told they could speak either in English or Persian to express their feelings, but were asked to speak one at a time for ease of transcription. The researcher remained silent for most of the interview, which took fortyfive minutes and was audio-recorded. The audio file of the focus group interview was transcribed by the researcher. Through open coding of the discussion themes, the researcher sought for attitude change hints in participants’ expressions about CW. The parts articulated in learners’ mother tongue were translated into English by the researcher, and then peer-reviewed by a colleague at the institute. There were a number of themes in common among the four learners’ comments on their CW experience, and there were also comments peculiar to each individual pointing to their personal life experiences. Attention was paid to the ways CW had altered learners’ attitudes toward available

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self-expression methods they could employ in their practice of English writing.

Findings and discussion The following statements were made by learners made during the focus group discussion (parts translated from Persian are italicised). Amin said, “Playing with words to [find a linguistic] match [for] what you have in your mind helps you review the many other words you know for [that] situation.” Comparing with his prior experience writing diaries in Persian, he added, “I found English a better means to express myself … because it flows more steadily.” Indicating the initial difficulty of CW, Ali said, “It is very hard in beginning … but then suddenly you realise your mind gets unlocked.” Ali and Amin both stated, “When you start writing [stories] creatively, you find out there are lots of untold stories you can talk about.” Amin endorsed CW as second-language writing practice, saying, “Now I feel I can convey my message far better in English. Before these, you know, I always thought why I can’t have others clearly understand what I mean.” He further noted, “I always thought of writing in English as a multi-horn ghoul!” Arash, the youngest, endorsed CW as a method of learning grammar, saying “By doing this, I can understand where you should use past or present or future [tenses].” Armin noted his decreased inhibition, saying, “You don’t need to be complicated when saying something [in English].” Ali noted an increase in ambiguity-tolerance, saying, “storybooks seem clearer to me now as I can see more clearly why one thing leads to another”. Endorsing this, Amin said, “reading stories without knowing how a writer thinks was not as enjoyable as now”. Referencing a Persian story he had read some years ago, Armin stated that “I was encouraged to read it again […] because I’m sure I don’t look at the story the same way I did [then].” All participants agreed that, “The sense that your writing will be read and you have an audience, teaches you how to organise your thoughts [in writing].” Below are excerpts of the interview session, where learners are trying to explain in detail about their CW experiences: Amin: I learnt you can narrate your story from different points of view with the opportunity to delete or add anything you want […] For example, when I was writing about an imaginary Persian king in ancient times, I could feel a strange power within myself for inclusion and exclusion of certain events, details, places and everything in my story. (28’–29’)

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An indispensable part of CW is language play. The four learners in this study strongly agreed that they were amused by the attractive component of imagining the development of stories. As learners write their stories creatively, they confront an unknown number of situations in which they are granted a freedom to create whatever they think best fits their stories. They can describe a scene in their preferred style and taste by taking advantage of their English language knowledge. Since there are always some similar terms that, more or less, can capture the meaning of the same concept (or situation), learners as creative writers need to review their repertoire to select a term among many other linguistic counterparts. This implies a cognitive process of comparison of the semantic features that different terms have to offer, and the subsequent selection of the most correct word for the specific circumstance they wish to describe. Thus, constant assessment of the scenarios they have in mind, and the linguistic and pragmatic equivalents best fit to describe those scenarios, are part of developing stories creatively. Taking into consideration the tips given to learners during CW instruction sessions, and their ability to deploy their linguistic repertoire to produce texts from their original ideas, they came to believe that they could competently utilise the vocabulary, structures, idioms and collocations they already possessed. Through these, they believed they could create stories and memoirs about their own personal beliefs and life experiences. This evidences improved positive attitudes and increased risk-taking, which can have powerful impacts on learners. It

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suggests the value of CW in helping learners conceive of writing as a process whereby they can use their linguistic ability to create texts unique to themselves. Findings also provide evidence for the powerful impact CW offers for learner metacognition in contemplating the many literary schemes they are able to build up out of imagination. Indeed, learners often know more than they may realise. CW is most useful in offering opportunities for learners to practice speaking their minds. In particular, as learners continue to write more, they begin to discover their own capabilities for conveying meaning in a more regulated fashion. Thus, CW helps them become more selfregulated in writing and English communication in general. In Armin’s report of his CW experience, he had gained a self-perceived improvement in his confidence for transmission of his ideas in English language, and a more assertive, buoyant and reliable self-image. CW increased his selfconfidence in being intelligible. Doing the CW activities significantly altered his misconceptions about a dearth of clear points in his communication, and showed him that simple sentences and statements can be effective. He had attained a new view: that English correspondence does not need to be ‘complicated’ to express novel ideas. Although Arash had sufficient grammatical knowledge, he had never before experimented with his grammatical ability. The CW activities worked as an impetus for putting his grammar knowledge into practice to produce genuine pieces of discourse. This suggests improved confidence for taking risks, through wanting to develop new and exotic notions, when building up different narrations. Finally, the connections between learners’ real-life experiences and the CW activities were not greater than they could manage syntactically. For example, when they wished to narrate a story from their own lives, and connect it to the present world or an imaginary future, this necessitated understanding different tenses of the English language, leading to research into English grammar in a self-instructed manner. Learners reported seeking desired sentence structures in various sources including previous courses’ textbooks, self-study grammar books and reference books, as well as other learners and even the teacher. Another worthwhile finding emerging from learners’ accounts with regard to their CW experience has to do with reading skill. Participants indicated that doing CW activities heightened their self-confidence in understanding the various components at work in stories, fiction and the literary works of famous authors. This suggests CW is potentially an effective tool for fostering EFL learners’ active engagement with reading literary works, through deepening their understanding of the mechanics of short stories, fiction and novels. Participants reported feeling more

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enthusiastic, and taking a more active approach to reading, in striving to understand stories and texts in different ways. This included guessing the meaning, guessing the writer’s intention, and anticipating events, which will enhance their awareness of the audiences for their own writing, as they can understand how it feels to write a story that other people would read. Orchestration of the details and nuances of CW story elements encouraged these learners to pay great attention to the details of writing, when reading other literary works. They thus found themselves more competent in forming different meanings in their own writing, and attributed a high competence to themselves in the analysis of stories. CW activities proved to be much more appealing to learners than the expository writing tasks offered by their textbook. Although it was explained to them developing stories based on only one of the CW prompts would suffice, they tended to be more active than expected, occasionally developing more than one topic. Learners’ uniquely narrated stories nourished the desire to write more. By contrast, they had not been interested in writing expository texts. CW increased these learners’ willingness to communicate in English. They often initiated communication, to discuss their ideas and mental images for stories, and actively exploring related experiential areas of their own interest. Finding their own voice in order to express personally meaningful concepts and stories, and improving their attitude toward learning English, were the major outcomes of the CW intervention. Learners agreed that they would continue writing innovative stories on their own. That suggests an improved attitude toward language learning, consonant with “selfdetermination theory” (Deci and Ryan, 1985) in language pedagogy research. The results of this study may also be consonant with theories proposed by other researchers claiming a strong connection between playful engagement with language and language learning/acquisition (Carter, 2004; Cook, 2000). To sum up, the CW program proved to be a positive means of eliciting personal expression for EFL learners. It impacted learners’ views regarding communication in English in three major dimensions. First, it improved learners’ self-confidence. CW calls for a deep form of language processing on the learner’s part. These learners’ self-confidence in their own creativity was fueled by telling original stories they had never seen elsewhere. Learners could see themselves as free creators who merely needed to apply their existing linguistic repertoire to weld personal ideas and experiences together in producing a text. They came to believe that they could access any nuance of information, whether exclusive to themselves or retrieved from the surrounding world, to enrich their stories.

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The perception of the inner ability to narrate unique stories armed these learners with a greater self-confidence to share the many untold tales they had. In other words, the CW exercises sparked the sense of regular success in these learners. Second, CW improved learners’ self-image. Writing stories caused these learners’ identities to undergo changes, by providing them with a means to sketch out scenes and express meanings already vivid to them internally. They would weave a piece of their own real life into their stories, in distinct incidents and dialogues. Thus, CW consolidated their personal voice, and motivated them to analyse their lives from perspectives they had not considered before. This impacted learners’ critical thinking skills, which were increased by looking at phenomena around them from different points of view. Third, CW improved learners’ risk-taking, by offering freedom to create an unpreconceived kind of textual product. This proved to be attractive; learners discussed their hypotheses about story developments, and imagined these from the perspectives of various characters, becoming able to express their mental fantasies. As CW entails language play, and playing with linguistic items is inherently interesting, learners had to risk adding unknown elements to their stories. A set of prompts, which initially served as a starter, was continued and developed in great detail among many into short stories, through which they could enjoy incidental learning while researching the best term to use in their tale.

Conclusion This study has some limitations. As this was a classroom action research the number of participants was low, but it was not possible to add more participants, as the participant class was at the top grade. Results from a similar study, with more participants at a lower level, or from different ethnic backgrounds and genders, might result in different findings, offering valuable comparisons with the present study’s results. To further test the use of CW in EFL classrooms, pre- and post-tests on learners’ attitudes could be used to support the design and implementation of CW programs. As motivation plays a key role in foreign language learning, motivational strategies for keeping learners interested in the language activities have become important in L2 pedagogy. CW is potentially a useful solution for removing the boredom from activities, boredom which prevents learners from approaching language learning with energy, attention and interest. By introducing elements of flexibility, innovation, and “freedom and choice” (Tin, 2011) into writing activities, CW supports

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learners in developing a personal voice, through writing unique and meaningful pieces of discourse in the form of stories. From a psycholinguistic point of view, this achievement enhances learners’ selfimage as “good language learners” and may act as an incentive for their further progress in “taking control” of their language learning (Benson, 2011). One implication emerging from this action study is the crucial need to mingle expository and non-expository writing activities, to provide opportunities to increase learner confidence in their L2 abilities and skills. CW is both writing and fun. This can touch learners’ sense of inventiveness and desire to share their worldview with others in the target language. Another significant indication is the importance of the teacher’s role in structuring class activities to elicit innovative ideas and production, in order to encourage learners’ positive attitudes (Cheng and Dornyei, 2007). Sadly, many learners have been discouraged from exploring their language abilities, because they have not been facilitated in this way. Providing learners with opportunities for active participation in their own learning process helps them see themselves as both language learners and language users. In the case of CW, learners can come to perceive themselves as creators with great power to design and develop fictional stories expressive of their own understanding of the world.

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Appendix A Language Learning Attitudes Questionnaire Fill out the following questionnaire, checking the box which best describes whether you agree or disagree with each statement. This is for yourself not for anyone else, so answer as honestly as you can. SA= Strongly Agree, A= Agree, N= Neither agree nor disagree, D= Disagree, SD= Strongly Disagree 1. I think I’m a pretty good language learner. 2. Learning a language may be important to my goals, but I don’t expect it to be much fun. 3. My language learning aptitude is probably pretty high. 4. I don’t have any idea about how to go about learning a language. 5. I think that I could learn pretty much any language I really put my mind to, given the right circumstances. 6. I worry a lot about making mistakes. 7. I’m afraid people will laugh at me if I don’t say things right. 8. I end up trembling and practically in a cold sweat when I have to talk in front of people. 9. I find it hard to make conversation even with people who speak my own language. 10. I feel a resistance from within when I try to speak in a foreign language, even if I’ve practiced. 11. It is a mark of respect to people to learn their language if you’re living in their country. 12. I like getting to know people from other countries, in general. 13. Speaking the language of the community where I’ll be living will let me help people more than I could otherwise. 14. I don’t like the idea of relying on speaking English (or my mother tongue) in another country. 15. I think the people of the country where I’ll be living would like for me to learn their language. 16. I won’t really be able to get to know people well if I don’t speak their language. 17. There is a right and a wrong way to do almost everything, and I think it’s my duty to figure out which is which and do it right. 18. It annoys me when people don’t give me a clear-cut answer, but just beat around the bush.

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19. You should say “yes” if you mean yes and “no” if you mean no. Not to do so is dishonest. 20. You have to understand people’s culture and value system before you can be sure whether some things are right or wrong. 21. I like to mimic other accents, and people say I do it well. 22. I can do impersonations of famous people. 23. I find it easy to “put myself in other people’s shoes” and imagine how they feel. 24. In school, if I didn’t know an answer for sure, I’d sometimes answer out loud in class anyway. 25. I often think out loud, trying out my ideas on other people. 26. I want to have everything worked out in my own head before I answer. 27. I’d call myself a risk-taker.

CHAPTER EIGHT THE USE OF VIDEO CLIPS IN THE TEACHING OF DRAMA SHILPAGAURI PRASAD GANPULE Introduction In today’s globalised world, technological progress has brought about a change in teaching and learning situations. Due to developments in educational technology over recent years, there is an increased use of audio-visual teaching aids in the teaching process (Jain and Sharma, 2005: 296). The increased availability of media products to second-language (L2) teachers interacts with the development and advancement of knowledge, and has brought about a transformation in teaching and learning situations. Catering to the diverse demands of the students, language teachers have to break the monologist traditional teaching style, and switch over to more participatory teaching learning situations. The significance of audio-visual aids in the management of teaching and learning is growing daily (Jain and Sharma, 2005). Among contemporary media aids to language teaching are video clips. The widespread use of technology in the second-language classroom is making the teaching learning situation a high-tech affair. The use of video clips in an ESL drama class facilitates teachers in presenting and contextualising language and culture in authentic ways, and enhances learners’ appreciation and understanding of English plays. Video clips give language learners meaningful, pleasurable and rewarding experiences (Paliwal, 1998). The linguistic and cultural understanding of the written text of a play is often enhanced by studying the play along with watching video clips. The teaching of an English play in the ESL classroom has been considered to be a hard nut to crack. The linguistic intricacies of the language and discourse, and the social, cultural and historical complexities involved in the design of the play hamper L2 learners’ understanding of

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English plays. Using video clips assists language teachers in conveying, visually and verbally, what these details mean, to L2 learners (Paliwal, 1998). Video clips are also used in contemporary language teaching to help sustain L2 learners’ intrinsic motivation, to remain invested in the length process of understanding of an English cultural ethos. Video clips “can be used effectively to capture and sustain the attention of a class” (Nagraj, 2006: 184). Video clips “make a strong impression on learners” (Kudchedkar, 2002: 214) as they have “a directness of appeal” (Yardi, 1994:182). Hence, it is advisable to integrate media materials like video clips into L2 classrooms and teaching practices (Nagraj, 2006). Although the use of video clips was neither popular nor widespread in India in the past, at this time they are more widely used (Sachdeva, 2003). Yet there has been little study of student reception of such methods, in the Indian context. The present paper attempts to explore Indian L2 learners’ reception of video clips, in learning about an English play. In doing so, it will demonstrate how video clips can be effective with Indian students, in teaching English plays. Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest has been chosen for this case study of thirty students at the tertiary level who were taught the play with the help of the video clips. They were then asked to fill in two questionnaires, and their responses were analysed. Results suggest that using video clips makes teaching and learning situations more attractive to Indian L2 students, creating an enriching experience for them which transfers in their approach to reading difficult English texts.

Literature Review Drama is not made of words alone, but of sights and sounds, stillness and motion, noise and silence, relationships and responses (Styan, 1975). Drama as a genre of literature includes both the written text and the performance text. Hence, while teaching a play to L2 learners the language teacher must teach the text, but the performance aspect should also be taken into account (Lazar, 2009). The sets, costumes, lighting, music, props and gestures are part and parcel of the performance text of the play. A play takes on “many more meanings in performance, by using gestures, movement, costumes, sets, etc.” (Lazar, 2009: 135). Through video clips, L2 learners can experience these parallel channels of communication, and through them gain a rich, sensory understanding of the basic elements of the drama, including character, plot and setting. That is, video clips bring out the “particular dramatic quality” of the performance text (Collie and Slater, 2009: 163). Where traditional classroom teaching has placed the L2

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student into the role of passive receiver of teacher talk, the use of video clips brings in, and coordinates, verbal and non-verbal aspects of communication, used in a play. The video clips bring to the foreground non-verbal aspects of language, namely, gestures, hesitations, and other forms of body language that play a part in real-life communication. (Kudchedkar, 2002: 213)

These are authentic elements of culture-learning, crucial to language learning, which many L2 students in India have little chance of learning other than through media. Video clips provide a simulated but authentic experience (Jain and Sharma, 2005). Direct, concrete, contrived, dramatised experience adds zest, interest and vitality to the teaching learning situation. It enables students to learn faster, remember longer … (Kocchar, 2003:134)

Video clips help learners in the comprehension of language material as the learners “can see the situation and also hear what is being said in that situation” (Sachdeva, 2003: 332). Video clips facilitate the teacher in teaching English plays. When used as instructional aids, video clips assist teachers in economically transmitting a great mass of culture-specific information. They also model native-speaker oral performance, contextualise varying social attitudes, offer multimodal examples of interactional norms, as well as enhance understanding and appreciation (Kocchar, 2003). Their lively visual and auditory content serves to motivate, dispelling classroom monotony and helping to make language memorable (Jain and Sharma, 2005). They arouse L2 learners’ curiosity, develop their interest in learning, stimulate their thinking, attract them towards the learning-tasks, facilitate their conceptual learning, and grant them a sense of participation and accomplishment (Paliwal, 1998). Some research indicates that the use of video clips facilitates the integration of the written and the spoken word in L2 learning (Yardi, 1994). Unlike the use of live broadcast television in the language classroom, the teacher can decide what video clips to play, when, and for how long. Since the control of the equipment is in the hands of the teacher, they “can be stopped, brought back or brought forward very much like the tape recorder” (Nagraj, 2006: 197). Thus the use of the video clips in language teaching augments teaching effectiveness, increasing the understanding of the learners, and improves their classroom experience. While teaching English plays, the use of video clips makes the teaching learning situation a more intense and engaging experience for both the teacher and learners.

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Method Participants in this study included thirty second-language English learners at tertiary level, from Akurdi, Pune, in Maharashtra State, India. Learners were English Specialist undergraduates. The text selected was Oscar Wilde’s comedy The Importance of Being Earnest. The play text was taught scene-wise and act-wise with the help of video clips, along with lecture input and extensive discussion between the teacher and learners. After the completion of the teaching task the learners were asked to complete questionnaires. The questionnaires had two sections. The first section collected quantitative data, using a 4-point Likert scale, offering ‘strongly disagree’, ‘disagree’, ‘agree’, and ‘strongly agree’. These responses were applied to ten questions, focused on costume, music and set. The second, qualitative section of the questionnaire included written prompt questions designed to elicit subjective, qualitative written feedback. The questionnaire was constructed for the purpose of giving learners an opportunity for feedback, and to allow the instructor to verify the extent to which, and in what areas, the use of the video clips helped learners in understanding and appreciating the play. Data collected in the instructional period was transcribed and analysed, and the results interpreted.

Data Quantitative data was tabulated, and the question-wise responses of the learners presented according to response category, as in Figure 1.

SA SD A D

Q1 59 41 -

Q2 23 72 5

Q3 47 2 45 6

Q4 72 28 -

Q5 52 5 28 15

Q6 72 3 23 12

Q7 68 2 26 4

Q8 72 28 -

Q9 69 31 -

Q10 63 37 -

(SA= Strongly Agree, SD=Strongly Disagree, A=Agree, D=Disagree) Figure 1: Questionnaire results by question (percentage)

The quantitative data provides insight into how learners respond to the use of video clips in learning drama. Questions 1, 2 and 3 elicited feedback about whether students had enjoyed seeing the costumes, whether they believed seeing the costumes helped them remember characters better, and whether they believed seeing the costumes helped

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them follow the overall plot. For these questions, significant majorities either strongly agreed or agreed. There was little strong disagreement or disagreement in response to the questions about costumes. These results suggest learners respond positively to visually attractive elements of video clips of plays. The response to Questions 2 and 3, the reported belief that seeing the costumes had helped them remember characters and plot, probably reflects their continued engagement with the play text as a result of this video encounter with the performance text. That is, the visual excitement of seeing the costumes carried over into a continued engagement with reading difficult texts in their second language. This further suggests that costume can be used in teaching activities, such as pre-reading, and in activities reporting on basics of understanding the play, for example character and plot mapping. Questions 4 through 7 focused on music, asking whether they enjoyed the music, and whether they believed it had helped them understand the plot, scene, characters of the play. There was strong agreement and agreement, with no disagreement, that students enjoyed the music. There was strong agreement, and agreement, that music functioned as a guide helping students understand the characters in the play. There was strong agreement, and agreement, with some disagreement and a small amount of strong diagreement, that music helped students understand the specific scene overall. These results suggest that learners attend to and enjoy music, and that they find connections between music can help them understand situations. Music in film tends to overcode the main emotional content of the scene. But plays are complex, weaving multiple ideas into a short linguistic space. Thus, music may be too simple a guide for understanding the complexity of ideas conveyed linguistically by the play text, as well as interactionally by the performance text. The overall lower levels of agreement that music helped them to understand the scene may indicate that language teachers can make more use of the visuals in video clips, but less use of music, in helping students understand scenes and situations. However, this is a productive result, as it is clear that music offers opportunities for teachers to prompt interpretive talk about the emotional content, and textual and ideational complexities, of specific scenes and situations. Questions 8 through 10 focused on set. Sets are composed of the physical elements of interiors shown, which are used in supporting the action of the play. They contain many cues which assist understanding of the play. For example, physical objects used by, and discussed by, characters can be immediately visually indexed by language learners to their corresponding vocabulary item, e.g. Miss Prism’s ‘handbag’, so

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crucial to proving Jack’s identity. Gestural codes used by actors may be co-interpreted with spoken English, to help second-language viewers understand statements made by characters, and ongoing action, for example when Jack tries to separate Lady Bracknell and Gwendoline in order to propose to Gwendoline. Physical movements are undertaken within specific contexts, all of which accompany verbal interactions, making the set an informational resource for language learners. Again, there was strong agreement, and agreement, that learners enjoyed seeing the set. Learners either strongly agreed or agreed that it helped them understand characters and story elements of the play. It is well understood in language learning, that verbal and interpersonal interactions take place within social contexts. Without understanding the social context, interpreting what people say can be hampered. This is an area of difficulty for L2 learners who cannot easily access media, and have no opportunity to travel to English-speaking countries, or study abroad. Learning an English play requires them to grasp the meanings of conversations, without any clear idea of the physical or social context. This suggests another area of teaching and learning value, in using video clips in the language classroom. For all three major questionaire subjects, costume, music and set, one of the Likert-scale questions asked students to give feedback on their enjoyment of these items, one question asked students to report on their views of how it helped them understand the characters, and another question asked them to report on how it helped them understand the action or plot and themes. The response for enjoyment was the strongest. The mean for enjoyment (Q1, Q4 and Q8) was strongest, for all three areas, with 67.66% reporting strong agreement, and 32.3% reporting agreement, with no disagreement or strong disagreement. Enjoyment is an important factor in motivating students to read and study complex texts such as literary dramas. Strong disagreement and disagreement were mainly found in the area of music. Overall, the first questionnaire also suggests that the costume and sets seen in the video clips were beneficial to the learners in their understanding of characters and story elements in the play. The use of video clips certainly enhanced the teaching learning experience. Data from the second section of the questionnaire can provide greater detail to the picture emerging from the quantitative data. The qualitative data also suggests that the video clips were beneficial to the learners in engaging with and understanding the play. Data from the second section of the questionnaire was transcribed, and segments categorised using open content analysis, as is appropriate to a small-scale study of this kind. These learners expressed their personal views and opinions when answering the

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questions of the second questionnaire. The answers to the four questions were analysed and the different responses of the learners are given below, according to the question. Question 1 was: “What did you enjoy the most about seeing the clips?” Responses frequently given by students as the basis of their enjoyment of the video clips were as follows. First, they could see the characters from the play and visualise them as individuals with specific personalities. Second, watching the characters interact helped them to make more sense of the dialogues in the play. Third, they enjoyed the gestures and facial expressions made by characters, finding that these functioned as guides to characters’ inner feelings and their relationships and dialogue with other characters. Fourth, learners noted that they understood little of the British cultural and social norms of etiquette and manners, and watching the video clips helped them understand these better. Fifth, they noted that the video clips made the scenes livelier than just reading them in the text, and helped them to appreciate the play better. Finally, they noted that the video clips functioned to integrate character, set, costume, and other details of the world of the play, with the words of the play, which was crucial to understanding. For example, one noted: The video clips present the scenes with live characters of flesh and blood who set forth the story line effectively through expressive gestures, significant facial expressions and meaningful body movements.

Question 2 was “How does sound help you understand the play?” Most learners stated that they could understand the play in a better way, as the video clips presented both the audio and the visual. The sound helped to cue them to the emotional content of specific speeches, and the feelings of characters in specific situations and interactions. Question 3 was “How do costume and set help you understand the play?” First, learners noted that the sets were of great help to them as they could imaginatively locate themselves within the events and locales of the dramatic story line. Video clips included the set of the first act, which was Algernon’s flat, and the set of the second and third acts, which was Jack’s country house. Students noted that they could see the actual sets and could visualise and grasp the story line much more easily after seeing the clips. Third, students noted that through the costumes they could better imagine nineteenth-century Victorian English society. Some students especially mentioned that the costumes helped them to observe British society. Through the costumes of Gwendoline, Lady Bracknell and Algernon, they could understand the fashionable dress and style of aristocratic London,

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where the simple and rustic costume of Cecily spoke volumes about the simple living standards of the gentry in the countryside. Question 4 was “Any other comments?” Learners opined that the video clips were very effective and expressive, and afforded great visual detail in representing the characters and plot sequences. Learners felt the clips helped them to distinguish different scenes within the overall plot of the play. Third, the clips increased their interest in studying the play. Fourth, they felt the clips enhanced their vocabulary, with props like Cecily’s diary, Jack’s cigarette case, the leather handbag in which Jack was found in the cloakroom of Victoria Railway Station, and the piano on which Algernon played an “insignificant” tune, being mentioned specifically. Fifth, learners noted that they enjoyed looking at the props. Sixth, learners noted that it was useful to be able to hear authentic British accents. For example, one learner commented: After watching the video clips I started pronouncing the word ‘Cecily’ correctly as /sésili/ and stopped saying /sisili/.

The results from the two questionnaires provide support for the view that video clips can play a significant role in the teaching and understanding of the English play in ESL classrooms.

Conclusion As seen above, both the quantitative and the qualitative data suggest that the video clips enhanced the learners’ understanding and enjoyment of, and engagement with, this English play text. The clips assisted learners in defining characters, and unraveling the complex structure of the play with all its idiosyncratic details, through visual and auditory input from sets, costumes, lighting, props, gestures, music, accents and so on. The use of video clips heightened their interest in the play. It enhanced their attention to the details of spoken performance, through listening, and the complexities of written texts through watching a performance text. It motivated them to focus on the characters and plot of the play, leading them to read more attentively and imaginatively. The video clips developed these learners’ interest in learning English. The clips provided an authentic experience of spoken English and cultural performance. They facilitated the enhancement of learners’ listening skills. The sensory input helped learners in comprehending the geographical setting of the play, and visualising locations such as Algernon’s flat, the garden in Jack’s house, and the dining room, and this will no doubt carry over into better retention of the related vocabulary and discourse patterns. The clips helped in

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learners’ understanding of both the written text and the spoken words. They gave these Indian learners the experience of relating accent, dress and social class in a British context, as well as an authentic experience of the mannerisms and customs of British society. While these are relevant to the nineteenth century, the clips developed learners’ awareness that these elements of L2 performance are connected, something which remains true across the English-speaking world. The costumes and props increased the learners’ interest in studying the play. Thus, video clips made a powerful appeal to the learners, heightened their interest, and assisted them in the retention of learned material (Pathak, 1991). Audio-visual aids not only promoted better understanding of the play on the part of the students but also made the teaching learning situation a fortifying and invigorating experience for both the teacher and students. In sum, it appears to be very worthwhile to use video clips in the teaching of English plays to Indian L2 learners.

References Aslam, M. 2009. Teaching of English: A Practical Course for B. Ed. Students. New Delhi, India: Foundation Books. Boudreault, C. 2010. The Benefits of Using Drama in the ESL/EFL Classroom. In The Internet TESL Journal 16(1). Retrieved 7 July 2012 from http:// iteslj.org/Articles/Boudreault-Drama.html. Collie, J. and S. Slater. 1987 [2009]. Literature in the Language Classroom. New Delhi, India: Cambridge University Press. Jain, R.K. and C.K. Sharma. 2005. Essentials of English Teaching. Agra, India: Vinod Pustak Mandir. ISBN 81-7457-280-5. Kocchar, S. 2003. Methods and Techniques of Teaching. New Delhi, India: Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd. Kudchedkar, S. 2002. Readings in English Language Teaching in India. Hyderabad, India: Orient Longman. Lazar, G. 2009. Literature and Language Teaching. New Delhi, India: Cambridge University Press. Nagraj, G. 1996. English Language Teaching Approaches Methods Techniques. Hyderabad, India: Orient Longman. Paliwal, A. 1998. English Language Teaching. Jaipur, India: Surabhi Publications. Pathak, P. 1991. Teaching English in India. Agra, India: Vinod Pustak Mandir. Saraswathi, V. 2004. English Language Teaching Principles and Practice. Chennai, India: Orient Longman.

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Styan, J.L. 1975. Drama, Stage and Audience. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yardi, V. 1994. Teaching English in India Today. Aurangabad, India: Parimal Prakashan.

PART III TEACHING CHINESE THROUGH LANGUAGE ARTS

CHAPTER NINE DUBBING AS A METHOD FOR LANGUAGE PRACTICE AND LEARNING JOHN C. WAKEFIELD Introduction Numerous authors have researched and discussed the SLA-related benefits of memorising and acting out dialogues (Stern, 1980, 1983; Kao and O’Neill, 1998; Kanagy, 1999; Stinson and Freebody, 2004; Fitzpatrick and Wray, 2006; Snarski, 2007; Evert, 2008; Wakefield, 2012). Memorising dialogue has its limitations (Fitzpatrick and Wray, 2006; Stone, 2012), but is nevertheless widely recognised as an effective way to develop language fluency and proficiency. Maley and Duff (2005: 1–2) explained that: By fully contextualising the language, [drama] brings the classroom interaction to life through an intense focus on meaning … [With drama] [t]here is a transfer of responsibility for learning from teacher to learners – which is where it belongs … [Drama techniques] draw on the natural ability of everyone to imitate, mimic and express themselves through gesture and facial expression.

The method of acting being proposed here retains all of these advantages of acting, but gesture and facial expressions are used only to the extent that language learners produce them instinctively as they perform. In addition to what Maley and Duff (2005) mentioned, there is one key aspect for which dubbing arguably has an advantage over traditional forms of acting. Davies (1990: 88) said that “above all [drama] should be a communicative activity where the student makes the choices”. Dubbing allows learners to make all of the choices regarding genre, vocabulary, proficiency level, because they can select from among the virtually limitless number of easily accessible online videos. Play scripts can also

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be adapted by students, but not all learners are able and willing to create or modify scripts. As far as I am aware, dubbing for the purpose of practicing and acquiring a second language has never been explicitly described and proposed in the SLA literature. The next section describes in detail the method of SLA dubbing, after which its advantages and disadvantages are discussed.

Method The first step is to select an appropriate video. These could be downloaded from YouTube, Google Videos, or other online sources. The selection of a video should take into consideration the learners’ language level, their language-learning needs and their interests. Based on this, one might choose anything from a Barney and Friends video for children to a talk-show clip or a political discussion for adult advanced learners. If the entire video is much longer than the portion to be dubbed, then the relevant portion should be extracted from the video. This is an optional step. All versions of video-playing computer software have a timeline cursor that moves along a line under the video as it plays. Instead of extracting a section from within a long video, the computer’s mouse cursor can be used to move the timeline cursor to the desired position along the timeline. The problem with doing this, however, is that short clips within long videos may be represented by an extremely small portion of the entire timeline (a centimeter or less), making it very difficult to move the timeline cursor to the exact position desired. Extracting the portion to be dubbed solves this problem. The next step is to blank out, or mute, the audio of the dialogue of the character(s) to be dubbed. This step is also optional because one can simply click and then unclick the mute button of the video software using the computer’s mouse cursor. This would be done whenever the targeted dialogue appears, that is, the dialogue to be spoken by the language learner. Although this resolves the issue of editing the video, it adds an additional step to the dubbing process, which may overwhelm the language learner if he or she is the one controlling the mute button. Videoediting software is required for extracting video clips and for blanking out the audio in the places where the targeted character speaks, or where two or more characters speak if more than one language learner plans to dub at the same time. Those who do not own or know how to use such software would need to acquire it and learn how to use it. It is possible to use Windows Movie Maker, but there are many versions of video-editing

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software to choose from, some of which are freely available for downloading from the internet. Before or after the video has been edited, the language learners listen to the unedited version of it in order to learn the dialogue. They may choose to write the dialogue down, and should look up any words they do not know. This may or may not require a native speaker’s help. Some language learners may not be at a high enough level to distinguish all the words well enough to be able to self-learn the words they do not know. Not only may they not know all the words, they may not be able to separate them all out from one another and hear them clearly enough to be able to look them up in a dictionary. Some words may also be used in a way that a dictionary does not explain. Another potential difficulty is that the language being learned may lack good dictionaries, making it difficult, if not impossible, for learners to self-learn the words they hear in the dialogue, but do not yet know. For example, in my case, my L2 is Cantonese, which lacks dictionaries with enough words to self-learn advanced dialogue in this way. Finally the students rehearse, and then act out the dialogue. This can be done with or without an audience. The dubbing can be done by a single learner or along with any other number of dubbers at once. If the dubbing is done in the classroom, teachers can use their discretion to decide whether or not it is appropriate to ‘direct’ a given student’s performance, commenting on things such as misspoken dialogue, or on problems with pronunciation and intonation. Over-correction may take the fun out of the activity, but more mature students and serious learners would probably want to have their performance commented on and corrected by a teacher. This method of dubbing the lines of an actor on the screen can be contrasted with traditional acting. There are advantages and disadvantages to using one vs. the other.

The advantages of dubbing vs. traditional acting Dialogue readings, where actors sit or stand still while reading the lines of a play, are well-recognised as a form of acting. For dialogue readings, actors normally use full facial expressions and some hand gestures, but little if any whole-body acting. Dubbing is very similar to a dialogue reading. In real life, most conversations take place among people who are sitting, standing still, or walking side-by-side. Naturally occurring conversations normally do not require speakers to make movements and facial gestures that are produced consciously and at pre-determined points within the discourse – such gestures and movements occur naturally and

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instinctively. Therefore, dialogue readings and dubbing are arguably more like typical conversation than is traditional acting. Dubbing allows teachers and/or students to choose any ready-made storyline and dialogue that they can access on video. Even naturally occurring conversations can be dubbed, such as a talk show, or a video of family or friends conversing. It is true that such videos could be written as scripts and then acted out as a play in traditional fashion, and this may even be preferred by teachers or language learners who feel that the body movements involved with traditional acting are important. Even when this is the case, however, dubbing, like dialogue readings, can be used as a preparatory step in the acting process. It has been demonstrated that watching L2 videos can help with both word acquisition and listening comprehension. Sydorenko (2010) found that watching videos with captions increases the acquisition of word meaning and the recognition of written vocabulary, while watching noncaptioned videos improves listening comprehension. The first stage of the dubbing method is to watch the selected video enough to learn the dialogue, which can optionally be written down. Unknown words can also be looked up in bilingual dictionaries. This process of repeatedly listening to the native speakers in the video act out their roles, and learning and memorising each line of one of the actor’s dialogue, will no doubt cause learners to learn the words and dialogue of the video to a much greater degree than they would through passive watching alone. As learners practice their dialogue, they are able to compare their own speech to that of the native speaker in the video. After the lines of the native speaker are muted out, learners will still hear and respond to the other native speakers in the video, and will be required to say their lines at the native-speaker pace of the video. This can provide a boost to their confidence because, even if only briefly and after much preparation, they will be participating in a conversation at native-level speed using nativelike dialogue. Dubbing allows learners to see elaborate sets, costumes and environmental contexts that must usually be imagined if performed in the classroom. Children can even take on the role of a cartoon character in an illustrated setting if they like. The language learners’ level of stage fright is reduced. Shy students and those who are low risk takers may be afraid to act in front of an audience. Dubbing allows a learner to act out his or her part, while the audience, if any, focus on the screen rather than on the language learner. Even for those who are not especially shy, dubbing may increase the degree and naturalness of learners’ facial gestures and expressions because they know that they are not being watched.

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One considerable advantage for dedicated and motivated individuals is that this method can be used for self-learning. It does not require more than a single actor at a time to dub his or her lines, and can be done at home.

The disadvantages of dubbing vs. traditional acting Dubbing has some disadvantages in comparison to traditional acting. One disadvantage is that some may consider the process of dubbing preparation to be difficult and time-consuming. It requires learners or teachers to have and know how to use video-editing software. However, once a video clip with blanked out dialogue is created, it can be saved for future use, either for the learner to practice with, or for the teacher to use in the classroom. An inventory of ready-to-dub videos can thus be collected. Although the time-consuming process of making a dubbing video is a disadvantage, the resulting product can be seen as yet another advantage over traditional acting. If editing is a major concern, then alternatively, as described in the method section above, the editing process can be skipped altogether and the sound can be muted wherever the targeted dialogue appears. The video plays at the same speed, regardless of how quickly or slowly language learners say their lines when dubbing. This means that dubbing cannot allow for students to stop and think about a particular line of dialogue, or even to hesitate very much. When acting in the traditional way, it is possible for language learners to take the time that they need to remember a particular line of dialogue, and they can be cued by the teacher or a classmate. For confident learners who want to push themselves, this could be seen as an advantage because it forces them to perform at a native-speaker pace – any failings in accuracy can be worked on with additional practice. However, less confident and less advanced learners benefit from being able to pause, which can only be done with dubbing if they are allowed to pause the video, and doing so will not be as natural as pausing while acting. Traditional acting allows for performers to give impromptu performances in a way that is impossible with dubbing. Such impromptu speech is pedagogically useful, whether it is for an entire performance or only a portion of a performance; it causes performers to speak and respond spontaneously, which is how language is used in real life. If that is the goal of the acting task, then dubbing is only appropriate for this to the extent that learners can make up lines which fit both the context and the timing of the video.

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Written scripts for traditional acting can be adapted. The lines of a Shakespearean play, for example, can be rewritten using simple, modern language, and the storyline of any play can be altered. Dubbing also allows for language to be simplified, but the length of each line must remain the same. The storyline of a video can only be modified to the extent that the environment, props and so on do not require changes, because the visuals within the video cannot be changed. However, this restraint can potentially make it fun to create new dialogue for a video. A teacher could present a ‘Tiger Lily’ award to the student who writes the most creative dialogue to replace the original dialogue of a video, inspired by Woody Allen’s 1996 movie What’s Up Tiger Lily? for which he bought the rights to a Japanese spy movie International Secret Police: Key of Keys and redubbed all of the lines to make its plot revolve around a secret egg-salad recipe. Teachers and learners who feel that full body movements and gestures are important will prefer traditional acting to dubbing. However, it should be noted that learners can makes such gestures while dubbing and/or use dubbing as preparatory step to traditional acting.

Conclusion In this article, I have proposed the use of dubbing as a languagelearning tool to be used in addition to traditional forms of acting. Dubbing arguably has some pedagogical advantages over acting, and at the very least can be used as a preparatory step in the acting process when a video of the play to be acted is available. Dubbing is particularly useful for advanced learners who want a tool for individual learning and practice. If the video-editing steps are skipped, any learner can immediately begin to learn, memorise, and then to dub the lines of any video of their choosing, simply by clicking the mute button whenever the actor they are dubbing speaks.

References Davies, P. 1990. The Use of Drama in English Language Teaching. TESL Canada Journal 8(1). 87–99. Evert, L.S. 2008. Drama as a tool for second-language English acquisition. MA mini-dissertation, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg. Fitzpatrick, T. and A. Wray. 2006. Breaking up is not so hard to do: Individual differences in L2 memorisation. Canadian Modern

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Language Review/ La Revue canadienne des langues vivantes 63(1). 35–57. Kanagy, R. 1999. Interactional routines as a mechanism for L2 acquisition and socialization in an immersion context. Journal of Pragmatics 31(11). 1467–1492. Kao, S.M. and C. O’Neill. 1998. Words LQWR:RUOGVࣟ/HDUQLQJD6HFRQG Language through Process Drama. Ablex Publishing Corporation. Maley, A. and A. Duff. 2005. Drama Techniques: A Resource Book of Communication Activities for Language Teachers. Cambridge University Press. Snarski, M. 2007. Using replacement performance role-plays in the language classroom. English Teaching Forum 45(4). 2–16. Stern, S.L. 1980. Drama in second-language learning from a psycholinguistic perspective. Language Learning 30(1). 77–100. Stern, S.L. 1983. Why drama works: A psycholinguistic perspective. In J.W. Oller Jr. and P.A. Richard-Amato (eds.), Methods that Work: A Smorgasbord of Ideas for Language Teachers, 207–226. Rowley, MA: Newbury House. Stinson, M. and K. Freebody. 2004. Modulating the mosaic: Drama and oral language. Presented at the 5th World Congress of the International Drama/Theatre and Education Association, Ottawa, Canada. Retrieved from http://repository.nie.edu.sg/jspui/handle/10497/2632. Stone, D.J. 2012. We only labor to stuff the memory: A response to John C. Wakefield. Language Arts in Asia: Literature and Drama in English, Putonghua and Cantonese, 329–343. Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars Press. Sydorenko, T. 2010. Modality of input and vocabulary acquisition. Language Learning & Technology 14(2). 50–73. Wakefield, J.C. 2012. Playing the part of a language learner. Language Arts in Asia: Literature and Drama in English, Putonghua and Cantonese, 318–329. Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars Press.

CHAPTER TEN LANGUAGE ARTS AND THE TEACHING OF CHINESE: LITERATURE AND FICTION RESOURCES CHRISTINA DECOURSEY Language Arts is a language teaching and learning paradigm which uses the attractive qualities of cultural materials such as literature, drama and popular culture to teach a variety of target language proficiency skills. Language Arts methods of using literature to teach language originally developed in western contexts, in relation to teaching English, and other western languages. However, this approach can be applied to the teaching of Chinese as a foreign language. Using literature in the Chinese language classroom offers specific opportunities to teachers who must teach both oral and written Chinese to students who are alphabetic mother tongue or first language (L1) learners. In particular, literature assists alphabetic L1 learners to learn character orthography. This is because literature offers learners a variety of ways to contextualise and appreciate Chinese characters’ different meanings. It also allows alphabetic L1 learners exposure to a text type, and to classroom activities which they are familiar with from their own past learning experiences. One of the challenges for Chinese teachers attempting to use literature in the Chinese language classroom is finding resources, both in terms of classic Chinese literature, but also more popular literary genres such as folk tales, children’s stories and popular fiction. This chapter briefly reviews the teaching and learning issues as they appear in current research, and then presents a list of Chinese-English resources for teachers intending to use Chinese literature in teaching Chinese as a foreign language. This chapter extends the bibliographic resources presented in the previous APELA volume (DeCoursey, 2012), but focuses exclusively on published works of Chinese literature. Some of these works are available either in bilingual

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Chinese-English editions, and others are translations for which the Chinese language version is easily available, in print or on the internet. There are significant challenges for alphabetic L1 learners in learning Chinese as a foreign language. Tonal languages are especially demanding for L1 students who learned a non-tonal mother tongue. Chinese is the hardest tonal language for native English speakers to learn, taking alphabetic L1 learners more than three times as long to learn than for Chinese speakers to learn English (Zhang and Li, 2010). Still, learning to speak Chinese is easier for alphabetic L1 learners than learning to listen to, read or write Chinese (Huang and Hanley, 1995). Reading presents a particular challenge. Reading different languages requires different ways of processing the input from the page, and processing can be visual and/or phonological (Katz and Frost, 1992). English is learned through the ear, with learners generally accessing meaning through the phonological elements of words. However, Chinese is learned through the eye, with specific meanings being associated with the specific brush-strokes as visual components (Chan and Siegel, 2001). Learners of Chinese report that learning to write characters is the most difficult element (Samimy and Lee, 1997). The challenge lies in characters’ uniqueness, and the number and order of brushstrokes, leading to more than thirty different learning strategies at different proficiency levels (Shen, 2005). Psycholinguistic studies offer various theories about alphabetic L1 learners’ cognitive processing and lexicon-building, when learning Chinese, including shape, pronunciation and meaning (Bassetti, 2009). That is, learners of the Chinese language must master the sound, meaning and symbol together (Swihart, 2004). While there are about 50,000 characters in total, only about 2,500 are required in daily life, and it is these that alphabetic L1 learners must master first, for everyday use (Lee-Thompson, 2008). Learning characters requires repeated copying for both Chinese mother tongue and alphabetic L1 learners (Haththotuwa, 2003). Rote memorisation remains a common learning strategy (Siok, 2001). Alphabetic L1 learners find it arduous to make sound-shape connections for orthographically complex characters, and the role of phonology in character recognition for native speakers remains unclear (Perfetti et al, 1992). These difficulties tend to demotivate alphabetic L1 learners, leading to high non-completion rates (Liu et al, 2009). This has led to debate among researchers and professionals about when to introduce characters, whether to switch entirely to computer composition for teaching alphabetic L1 learners Chinese writing, and whether to delay their introduction for alphabetic L1 learners (Allen, 2008). For teachers, teaching Chinese

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character recognition and retention to alphabetic L1 learners is the greatest challenge (Wan, 2004). Using a Romanised script postpones the problems, perhaps beneficially (McGinnis, 1999). But teaching the four skills together is the most common teaching approach (Hayashi, 2009). Visual imagery associations are known to assist learners (Wang and Thomas, 1992). Contextual cues and elements are also powerful (Mori and Nagy, 1999). There is also a role for culture, in shaping classroom teachers’ views about what students should be learning and how, and also students’ views of the same issues. Teachers and learners view learning orthography very differently, with native Chinese teachers tending to emphasise conformity to Chinese cultural norms of classroom styles and learning objectives (Everson, 1994). As yet, there is no common framework, standardised curriculum or teaching norms for Chinese language teaching (Zhang, 2009). Language teachers’ beliefs about teaching and learning are shaped by their own experiences of learning languages, which they tend to carry into their own teaching (Bernat and Gvozdenko, 2005). Chinese beliefs are similar to those of many Asian nations, but differ in certain respects from those of non-Asian learners, for example those from Europe and North America. There are significant differences between Chinese and western beliefs about the processes of teaching and learning (Tweed and Lehman, 2002). Pedagogy is at the heart of the differences (Chen and Uttal, 1988). Chinese teachers who grew up in Chinese contexts tend to reproduce culturally specific expectations about their own role and style in the classroom, and their expectations of students (Banks, 1994). Confucian societies and social values have been extensively studied, based in the foundational work of Hofstede, and growing into the Confucian Values Survey project (Hofstede, 1984, 1981). Chinese culture accords teachers an authoritative classroom role, meaning that they would generally not expect students to question classroom procedures, content or objectives (Yao, 2000). Chinese teachers normally expect disciplined hard work from their students (HallHalley and Ferro, 2011). The tendency is to teach to ensure that students pass standardised tests, meaning that language proficiency gains are not well connected to realistic contexts or communicative interactions (Cheng, 2005). Teachers coming from Chinese contexts usually view accuracy in translation as important, leading to assessment styles focused on information and factual knowledge (Linnell, 2001). Chinese teachers tend not to notice creative language use in lesson content or assessment (McGinnis, 1994). Students’ views about learning are similarly culturally constructed, with their beliefs and expectations about the language teaching/learning

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process influencing their motivation and learning outcomes (Horwitz, 1999). Learners’ beliefs about what is involved in language learning vitally impact their progress (Amuzie and Winke, 2009). Chinese-learning styles have been extensively studied (Cheng, 2002). Confucian society is collectivist, meaning students accept their identity as learners along with the teacher’s authority as guidance for their status and tasks (Tweed and Lehman, 2002). Confucian students adopt a long-term orientation, expecting to study deeply for character development and persistently over long periods of time, before gaining rewards (Cheng, 2002). Group solidarity is important, meaning that Chinese learners understand themselves and make choices as a collectivity more than as individuals (Bian et al, 2001; Shi, 2006). Personal virtue is not felt to be as much a matter of interiority or intention but is evaluated according to task fulfillment (Rawwas et al, 2007). Emoting or expressing personal opinions is discouraged (Chen et al, 2005). Long-term orientation integrates the processes of self-regulation (Li, 2002). These are the students Chinese language teachers from Chinese cultural contexts might expect to find in their classroom. They often find that teaching western students is a quite different experience (Cheng, 2000). Where Chinese learners tend to excel at the passive or receptive skills, western learners tend to focus on the productive skills (Zhang, 2009). Where Chinese students spend significant time daily on homework, western language students do much less preparation and revision (Duff and Li, 2004). Chinese learners accept the intake of much detail (Li, 2002), and are unlikely to challenge or question the pattern of study their teachers chart for them (Hau and Ding, 2002). Western students tend to be assertively individualist (Wang, 2005). Where Chinese students are taught not to express personal opinions and emotions (Chen et al, 2005), westerners are more likely to communicate personal views (Hu, 2002). Westerners will talk while the teacher is talking, and enact a generally less disciplined classroom manner (Chen, 1999). Their normal habits of questioning classroom practices and learning objectives can seem chaotic to Chinese teachers (Guo, 2002). Western students expect innovative and creative classroom materials and activities (Ushioda, 2001). They are accustomed to student-centred learning, focused on their needs, interests and learning styles (Littlewood, 2001). Repetitive drills are no longer widely used in western language pedagogy (Chan, 2006). It is widely appreciated that teaching a language involves teaching more than vocabulary and grammar. Learners must be exposed to a variety of discourse and text types, in order to assimilate and be able to reproduce cultural values and cultural performance appropriately (Kramsch, 2004).

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In the past, Chinese teachers have lacked understanding of western pedagogy, classroom management and interactions, and teaching materials, which tended to decrease motivation in learners of Chinese (Nguyen et al, 2005). These teachers tended to de-emphasise discourse and text types, and cultural understanding (Schrier, 1994). As the Chinese language has become more important globally, Chinese teaching cultures have been changing, adapting to worldwide language teaching practices (Bell, 2005). Chinese teachers are moving away from a self-concept as an authority, and towards being a facilitator (Montgomery and Cheng, 1997). As noted above, visual imagery and contextual cues are powerful aids to alphabetic L1 learners’ integration of Chinese character orthography, phonology and meaning. Over the past decade, in research work undertaken on the teaching of English and other languages, there has been a resurgence of interest in the use of literature in the second-language classroom (Scott and Huntington, 2007). Much research has explored the use of literature in teaching English as well as other, mainly European, languages. Literary texts promote effective engagement with both language and texts (Benton, 1996). They are useful in representing the lexical, registerial and contextual diversity of the target language in an authentic way (Paran, 2008). They tend to elicit more interactions between language learners because subjective responses are many and diverse (Meskill and Ranglova, 2000). They elicit interactions across a broader range of language types than the typical Initiation-Response-Evaluation patterns found in many language texts and activities (Weist, 2004). For example, they tend to elicit the use of a richer variety of tense structures, as required to discuss the development of characters and plot events (Donato and Brooks, 2004). The intertextual links between stories and other texts engage students’ subjective experiences, motivating their engagement in using the target language (Boyd and Maloof, 2000). Literature raises issues and situations which are matters of individual interpretation, requiring learners to use their existing knowledge of grammar and a variety of discourse types in discussion (Hanauer, 2001). Literature impacts the role of the teacher, in that classroom discussion is less often teacher-centred and more often textcentred (Mantero, 2002). Using literature in the language classroom offers opportunities to connect extensive reading to extended verbal interactions (Mantero, 2002). Literary texts can be used to scaffold a variety of types and extents of language outputs, across the four skills (Kim, 2004). Careful selection of passages is useful for constructing cloze and gap-fill exercises (Weston, 1996). Literature can also be used to teach sensitivity to shades of meaning through ‘deviant collocations’ (Badran, 2007: 180).

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Literary texts can be used to create multiple choice exercises to teach and assess contextual elements of meaning (Isaac, 2002). All of this tends to lead to faster and broader second-language improvement (Yang, 2002). Language Arts routinely uses literature, not only for its utility in teaching aspects of language, but also to teach critical and creative thinking, and to introduce and sensitise students to culture (DeCoursey, 2012). There is a need for similar studies to explore the use of literature in teaching Chinese to alphabetic L1 learners. Some aspects of learning Chinese are similar to learning other languages. For example, for students of Chinese, the culture of China is a major element attracting them to learning the language (Yang, 2003). Translations of Chinese literature, both classical and contemporary, can introduce second-language readers a nuanced view of Chinese cultures, identities and issues, in ways that the dialogues and drills found in ordinary textbooks cannot (Wang, 2010). Classical Chinese literature offers learners ways to appreciate traditional elements of culture which remain significant today. But teachers of Chinese need not restrict themselves to classical literature. Contemporary Chinese literature is currently undergoing a period of creative exchange with other cultures, literary modes and styles (Sun, 2008). Writers within China and among the diaspora are actively engaged with classical literary norms, problematising them at the same time as responding to and using them in their own writing (Dunick, 2006). Contemporary Chinese fiction and literary writing is marked by engaging and dynamic elements of post-totalitarian humour and pastiche (Tao, 2007). For Chinese learners, bilingual Chinese-English literature offers many ways to connect phonology, orthography and meanings in a variety of contexts. The following list contains works which are either bilingual ChineseEnglish editions, or contain substantial bilingual Chinese-English literary content, or in a few cases are translations into English of works for which the Chinese edition is easily available online. It is hoped that these will help to further research into Language Arts in the teaching of Chinese.

Works of Chinese literature and fiction with bilingual Chinese-English content Atangan, P. (2004). Silk Tapestry and Other Chinese Folktales (Songs of Our Ancestors, Vol 2). Nantier Beall Minoustchine. Ba Jin. (1988). Selected Works of Ba Jin (Vol 1). Cypress Books. —. (2008). Spring (with MP3). Sinolingua Publishing. —. (2008). Family (with MP3). Sinolingua Press.

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—. (2008). Autumn (with MP3). Sinolingua Press. Bai, Hua. (2012). Wind Says (Jintian) (Chinese and English Edition). (Fiona Sze-Lorrain, trans.). Zephyr Press. Bai, Li. (1999). Selected Poems by Li Bai (Pocket-sized Chinese-English Classic Poems). Chinese Literature Press. %DOi]V %HOD   The Cloak of Dreams: Chinese Fairy Tales (Oddly Modern Fairy Tales). (Jack Zipes, trans.). Princeton University Press. Gan, Bao. (2004) Anecdotes about Spirits and Immortals (Library of Chinese Classics, 2 Volumes). Foreign Languages Press. Blader, Susan (trans). (1997). Tales of Magistrate Bao and His Valiant Lieutenants. The Chinese University Press. Cao Xueqin. (1974). The Story of the Stone, or The Dream of the Red Chamber, Vol. 1: The Golden Days. (David Hawkes, trans.). Penguin Classics. Cao Yu. (2001). Lei yu (‘Thunderstorm’ in Simplified Chinese Characters/English). Foreign Languages Press. Casey, Dawn. (2006). Yeh-Hsien: A Chinese Cinderella. Mantra Lingua/Tsai Fong. Chen Guying. (2001). LaoZi. Foreign Language Press. Chen Qizh. (2006). Library of Chinese Classics. Hunan People Press. Chin, Pa. (1972). Family. Waveland Press. Confucius. (1999). Analects of Confucius – A New-Millennium Bilingual Edition. (David H. Li, trans.). Premier. —. (1999). The Analects (Library of Chinese Classics) (English and Chinese Edition). (Yang Bojun and Arthur Waley, trans.). Hunan Publishing House. Fu, Du. (1999). Selected Poems by Du Fu (Pocket-sized Chinese-English Classic Poems). Chinese Literature Press. Fu, Shelly. (2008). Treasury of Chinese Folk Tales: Beloved Myths and Legends from the Middle Kingdom. Patrick Yee (Illustrator). Tuttle Publishing. Gregory, Manjiu. (2001). The Dragon’s Tears – Bilingual Edition (Sylvia Denham, trans.). Mantra Lingua. Guan, Hanqing. (2004). Selected Plays of Guan Hanqing (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English Edition). Foreign Language Press. Hanshan. (1999). Selected Poems by Hanshan (Pocket-sized ChineseEnglish Classic Poems). Chinese Literature Press. Hock G. Tjoa. (2012). The Battle of Chibi (Red Cliffs): Selected and translated from The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Create Space Independent Publishing Platform.

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Hsia, C.T. (1996). The Classic Chinese Novel: A Critical Introduction (Cornell East Asia Series, Vol. 84). Cornell University East Asia Program. Irving, Washington (2010). The Legend of Sleepy Hollow – EnglishChinese Bilingual Edition / One CD included. (Huang nian-nian, trans.). Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Kang, Dai and Xie BaiKui. (2008). Chinese Prose Writing through the Ages – English-Chinese Bilingual Edition. China Intercontinental Press. Kang, Wen. (2003). The Tale of Heroic Sons and Daughters (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English edition, 2 Volumes). New World Press. Knoblick, John and Zhang Jue (trans.). (1999). Xunzi (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English edition: 2 Volumes) (English and Chinese Edition). Hunan Publishing House. Kuo, Yuan Hsi. (1976). Chinese Folk Tales. Celestial Arts. Kwa, Shiamin and Wilt L. Idema. (2010). Mulan: Five Versions of a Classic Chinese Legend, with Related Texts. (Shiamin Kwa and Wilt L. Idema, trans.). Hackett Publishing. Landau, Julie (trans.). (1997). Beyond Spring: T’Zu Poems of the Sung Dynasty. Columbia University Press. Lao She. (2005). Camel Xiangzi (Shi Xiangzi, trans.). The Chinese University Press. Lao Tzu. (1982). Tao Te Ching (D.C. Lau, trans.). The Chinese University Press. Liang Shih-chiu. (2006). From a Cottager’s Sketchbook II: ChineseEnglish Bilingual Edition (Ta-tsun Chen, trans.). The Chinese University Press. Lin, Marjorie and Leonard Schalk. (2012). Dictionary of 1,000 Chinese Proverbs: Revised Edition. Hippocrene Books. Ling Mengchu. (1998). Amazing Tales: First Series. China Literature Press. Luo Yinghua and Fu Junlian. (2007). The Classified Characters and Political Abilities(Library of Chinese Classics). (Luo Yinghua and Fu Junlian, trans.). Zhonghua Book Company. Macgowan, J.D. (2010). Chinese Folk-lore Tales. Nabu Press. Mair, Victor H. and Mark Bender (eds). (2011). The Columbia Anthology of Chinese Folk and Popular Literature (Translations from the Asian Classics). Columbia University Press. Mao Dun. (2003). The Shop of the Lin Family and Spring Silkworms. (Sidney Shapiro, trans.). The Chinese University Press.

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Minford, John (trans.). (1982). Favourite Folktales of China. New World Press. Minford, J. and Joseph S.M. Lau (eds). (2002). Classical Chinese Literature. Columbia University Press. Mulligan, Jean. (1999). The Lute: Kao Ming’s P’i-p’a chi. iUniverse. Niu, Q.G. (2012). 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No.4 (Bilingual). (M.F. Wang, ed. and trans.), M.T. Soper, (ed.). Pathsharers. Owen, Stephen (ed. and trans). (1997). An Anthology of Chinese Literature: Beginnings to 1911. W.W. Norton & Company. Pu Songling. (2006). Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (Penguin Classics). Penguin Classics. Qiao Cheling. (2007). Ancient Chinese Fables – English – Chinese Bilingual Edition. Chinese Intercontinental Press. —. (2007). Ancient Chinese Fables. Chinese Intercontinental Press. Qiu Xiaolong. (2003). Classic Chinese Love Poems (English and Chinese Edition). Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences Press. Rawwas, Mohammed, Ziad Swaidan, and Hans Isakson. “A comparative study of ethical beliefs of master of business administration students in the United States with those in Hong Kong.” Journal of Education for Business 82.3 (2007): 146-158. Red Pine (trans.). (2003). Poems of the Masters: China’s Classic Anthology of T’ang and Sung Dynasty Verse (Mandarin Chinese and English Edition). Copper Canyon Press. Roberts, Moss. (1980). Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library). Pantheon. Rong, R. et al. (2012). 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 3: Bilingual Chinese-English. Townsend, S. (ed.), (M.F. Wang, ed. and trans.). Pathsharers. Ruan Ji. (2006). The Poems of Ruan Ji (Library of Chinese Classics) (English and Chinese Edition). Zhonghua Book Company. Shi, Su. (1999). Selected Poems by Su Shi (Pocket-sized Chinese-English Classic Poems). Chinese Literature Press. Sinolingua Press. Ancient Chinese Literature Novels (Mandarin Chinese and English Edition). Sinolingua Press. (2008). Shen, Congwen and Jeffrey C. Kinkley (trans). (2004). Selected Short Stories of Shen Congwen (Bilingual Series in Modern Chinese Literature). Chinese University Press. Sinolingua. (2000). 100 Pearls of Chinese Wisdom (Gems of the Chinese Language through the Ages). China Books Periodical Press.

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Strassberg, Richard E. (ed.). (2002). A Chinese Bestiary: Strange Creatures from the Guideways through Mountains and Seas. University of California Press. Tang, Xianzu. (2000). The Peony Pavilion (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English Edition: 2 Volumes). (Wang Rongpei, trans.). Foreign Languages Press. Tsai, Irene Y. (2008). The Frog in the Well. CE Bilingual Books LLC. Wang, M.F., H.Q. Huang and S. Townsend (ed.). (2012). 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1: Bilingual Chinese-English. Pathsharers. Wang Shifu. (2000). Romance of the Western Bower (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English Edition). (Xu Yuanchong, trans.). Foreign Languages Press. Wang, Yinling. (2012). The Three Character Classic: (2nd ed.). A Bilingual Reader of China’s ABCs. (Phebe Xu Gray, trans.). Homa & Sekey. Wu Jingzi, Wu Ching-Tzu and Gladys Yang. (1999). The Scholars (Library of Chinese Classics Chinese-English edition: 3 Volumes). (Yang Xianyi, trans.). Hunan Publishing House. Xiao, Hong (2005). The Dyer’s Daughter: Selected Stories of Xiao Hong (Howard Goldblatt, trans.). The Chinese University Press. Xiao, Y. (2007). Tales and Traditions: Readings in Chinese Literature Series (Volume 1) (Reading in Chinese Literature). Cheng & Tsui. Xie Baikui. (trans.) (2010). Chinese Prose Writings through the Ages. (Chinese-English Bilingual Edition with Pin Yin). Chinese Intercontinental Press. Xu Yuanzhong. (2000). 300 Tang Poems (Bilingual Edition). Higher Education Press. Xu Yuanchong. (2009). Golden Treasury of Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing Poetry (English-Chinese Bilingual Edition). China Intercontinental Press. —. (2009). Golden Treasury of Yuan, Ming and Qing Poetry (EnglishChinese Bilingual Edition). Chinese Intercontinental Press. Xun, Lu. (2003). Wild Grass (Xianyi Yang and Gladys Yang, trans.). The Chinese University Press. —. (2000). Wild Grass (Chinese-English Edition). Foreign Languages Press. Yan, Zhitui. (2004). Admonitions for the Yan Clan (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English Edition). Foreign Language Press. Yang Xianyi. (2006). Selected tales of the Han Wei and Six Dynasties Periods (Library of Chinese Classics) (English and Chinese Edition). Foreign Language Press.

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—. (1996). Ancient Chinese Fables. Foreign Language Press. Yin bin yong bian zhu han hui fan yi. (1999). 100 Common Chinese Idioms and Set Phrases (Gems of the Chinese Language through the Ages) (Chinese Edition). Yin Bin Yong (ed.), Han Hui (trans). Sinolingua Press. Yip, Mingmei. (2005). Chinese Children’s Favorite Stories. Tuttle Publishing. You, Lu. (1999). Selected Poems by Lu You (Pocket-sized Chinese-English Classic Poems). Chinese Literature Press. Yu, Li. (1998). Tower for the Summer Heat. (Patrick Hanan, trans.). Columbia University Press. Yuan, Naiying and Hai-tao Tang (eds.). (2006). Geiss, James’s Classical Chinese (Supplement 4): Selections from Philosophical Texts. Princeton University Press. Yuan, Xingpei. (2006). Gems of Classical Chinese Poetry (English and Chinese Edition). Zhonghua Books. Zhang, Leping. (2010). The Wandering of Sanmao – Chinese Classic Colourful Comic Strip Book (Chinese-English Bilingual Language Edition). Zhang, Minjie and Gao Ming. (1999). The Story of the Lute (Chinese Edition). (Paul White, trans.). New World Press. Zhuang, L. et al. (2012). 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No.2: Bilingual Chinese-English. S. Townsend (ed.), (M.F. Wang, ed. and trans.). Pathsharers. Zhuangzi and Chuang-Tzu. (1999). Zhuangzi (Library of Chinese Classics: Chinese-English Edition: 2 Volumes) (Wang Rongpei, trans.). Hunan Publishing House.

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