Approach

I try to combine three things that I want my students to do, which are three forms of thinking: speak about complex ideas, read high-quality material, and write essays for which they will receive detailed feedback. For obvious reasons, lessons are weighted to speaking, and homework to reading and writing.

Speaking

Pedagogy’s holy grail is measuring progress, which is difficult in a classroom and impossible in a lecture. Happily, the tutorial system allows this to occur continuously and efficiently via dialogue. Can a student re-express an idea they have heard or read in their own words? If the answer is yes, they have probably understood the idea. Hence the constant questions!

As well as understanding the ideas of others, speaking is essential for students to develop their own. I love the quotation from the novelist E. M. Forster, ‘How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?’ We improve the quality of our ideas through the process of articulating them.

For my part, a fair amount of what I say is explaining the meanings of texts. This might sound obvious, but great works of literature are complex, so, to understand their meaning, one’s own interpretation probably needs the support of others’ prior interpretations.

I sometimes like to break the question of a text’s meaning into two: What is it about? And what is it really about? Answering the first question is comprehension, a necessary first step. To answer the second question is to understand. In A Streetcar Named Desire, for example, Blanche goes to live with her sister in New Orleans. She expresses a strong dislike of her surroundings and is frequently associated with images of water. She declines mentally and is eventually taken away. So what’s the play really about? Blanche is a Romantic idealist who is disappointed with her life but still tends to imagine things in their perfect form. The play is about the human soul conceiving of things being as good as they could be (as if cleansed by water), reaching for the conception, and failing to grasp it – shuttling back and forth, in other words, on the streetcar named desire.

One thing I frequently encourage is making the link between those oft-cited elements of a good essay, themes and quotations. These are not unrelated ingredients, they are the text itself viewed from different distances. A theme (the desire to be cleansed) is a wide shot, and a quotation (‘the land of the sky blue water’) is a close-up. So the student of English has to practise their ability to zoom in and out.

Another way I try to support my students’ studies is by making connections between the texts they are reading, which in my experience doesn’t happen that much at school. Particularly at A-level, there are often many fruitful connections between the half-dozen or so texts being studied: the Romantics were devoted to Shakespeare and Milton, the Gothic is an aspect of the Romantic, the Aesthetic Movement drew on particular strains of Romanticism, etc. When these connections get made with reference to particular writers, they are no longer just isms. They make the material deeper and easier to understand at the same time. Towards the end of their school careers, students of the humanities should be able to get the sense of taking part in ‘the Great Conversation that began in the dawn of history and that continues to the present day’ (Robert M. Hutchins).

Reading

I regularly give my students PDFs of high-quality secondary material pitched at their level or just above it. Explanatory notes, commentaries, and essays can help with understanding, particularly when it comes to context. (And all exam boards have assessment objectives relating to historical context.) To know that a text was written during a particular period and what characterised that period is to have a mental scaffold that does not limit movement but frees it. In studying the humanities we are studying human culture, and no one can do that without a bit of structure. It also helps when thinking about texts in relation to each other – when writing a comparative essay, for example. I like to think of honing in from context to text, e.g. Romanticism (late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries) > William Blake (1757–1827) > Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1794) > ‘The Tyger’. (What’s ‘The Tyger’ about? There’s a question!)

In my experience, knowledge acquisition operates according to the Matthew principle, named after a verse in the Gospel of Matthew: ‘unto every one that hath shall be given’. In other words, the more you’ve got, the more you’ll get. Every time you learn something about Romanticism, the greater will be your understanding of the poetry of William Blake. Your internal bookshelves expand – more connections, greater understanding. Reading secondary material is obviously ‘extra’, but it works to enhance students’ understanding of set texts rather than crowd them out. Homer Simpson said, ‘every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain’, and we laugh because it’s not true. You can’t fill up a brain, so the cliché about people’s (particularly young people’s) limitless potential is true. Every time you learn something new, you enrich your contextual understanding of everything else you have ever learnt. ‘Every moment is a new and shocking / Valuation of all we have been’, as T. S. Eliot puts it in ‘East Coker’.

Writing

Speaking and reading are in a concrete way preparation for writing. If you think and make notes while speaking and reading, by the time it comes to writing an essay, the question should not be about what to say, but how to arrange the things you want to say. So annotation is an important skill. It’s a bit like getting ‘in the zone’ for a sportsperson – students must practise getting there and staying there. I model the annotation process something like the following.

Read with a pencil in your hand. What makes you underline? Something fires in your brain, so that you have a response – you spot a developing theme, you’re reminded of another book, you agree or disagree, there’s a word you don’t know and need to look up, you like the way a sentence sounds. It could be anything. Read until you’ve underlined twenty words or sentences. Work out the three or four connections between the things you have to say, and you’ve got a paragraph plan. Work out the main thing you have to say, and you have a thesis for your essay, which, as you aim your paragraphs at it, will accumulate force.

A lot of learning (and life) is about noticing connections, so getting into the habit of doing so is something like learning how to learn. If a student has developed this habit, they shouldn’t really have to think ‘What shall I write?’ in front of a blank sheet of paper or screen. The content of the essay will be a sort of emanation of prior thinking. When it comes to giving students feedback, I keep in mind one of the best incites I heard early in my PGCE: attend to your students’ writing as you would a piece of literature. This way, the marking progress becomes analogous to the writing process. What are all the things that could make this essay better? And is there a connection between them, i.e. what’s the main thing this student needs to focus on? (I usually give feedback using comments and ‘track changes’ in Microsoft Word.)

I am interested in the role of generative AI and large language models in education, not to write students’ essays for them, but as research assistants for students and teachers alike. It is of course important that students do not get the likes of ChatGPT to write their essays for them, among other reasons because they will not be able to do so in their exams. Tutoring is well placed to discourage this, since it has always been my practice to ask my students many questions about every essay they write.

Why study English?

It has been said that ‘If you can think, and speak, and write, you are absolutely deadly’, and I think that’s right. Learning how to construct and articulate good arguments is learning how to impose ideas on the world. To the extent that English is about feelings, it is about their articulation, and there is a great deal to learn about how feelings have been and can be articulated. Moreover, because English is the medium of instruction in all other subjects, command of it confers a freedom to range through the history of ideas and discriminate between reliable and unreliable, including online. Language is a prerequisite for thought – doing English properly is learning how to think better. Finally, it is possible that as we enter the AI age there will be a revaluing of the humanities as against STEM, since the one thing AI will never be, by definition, is human.