Wednesday 17 April 2013

Strange logic (London)



The students on the MA Bilingual Translation course that I was teaching in the late 90s had to do a few linguistics modules as well.  This course was for native-speakers of Chinese, so they struggled a bit with the English language, and certainly with essays in linguistics a subject that, like legalese, can confound even those for whom English is the first language.

The students would come to me as module leader with any problems they might encounter in their studies.  One of them turned up one day, saying she was really struggling to get her linguistics essay written.  

I don’t usually dole out advice just like that.  I tend to try and make them see for themselves where the roots of the problems might lie, so that they can perhaps come up with the solution themselves.  This way, I train them to be independent and not rush off to the teacher every time they encounter a problem.  

So, I took her through the usual check-list:  what did the brief say; what could she say about the subject matter; what was the mental block over; had she done all the reading required; how was she to structure her essay; etc.  Then, I sent her away to have a go.  

She came back a few days later, saying she’d managed to struggle up to 300 words, out of the total 1,000 word count specified.  I said, “That’s only one third of the word count, which is way too low.  You’re usually allowed a 10% leeway either way, so you’ll have to get up to at least 900 words.  Go and do more work on it.”  

She was most unhappy about it and complained, “But I can’t think of what else to say!!  Besides, the teacher knows it all anyway!”  I said, “Well then, if that’s the case, why bother writing the essay at all.  After all, the teacher knows it all.”

It never fails to amaze me the kind of strange logic some people come up with.  

(See also blog entry Communcations: non sequiturs.)

(London 1998)

No comments:

Post a Comment