In the post just prior to this one ("Just When Should Those Readings Become Connected?"), I wrote about the timing of Interconnected Readings.
When to introduce them?
My take: two or three months into a Latin course.
Not from day one?
No.
Why?
Students know little or nothing about their own language, let alone Latin.
They need to stretch out those muscles, take a few short runs, limber up.
You must train for a marathon before you run it.
And that marathon will not be on flat ground.
But doesn't everybody like a story?
Yes.
A good one.
Students have little patience for unchallenging stories, or ones that talk down to them.
I have my own difficulties with courses that emphasize the acquisition of historical, cultural, and societal informational tid-bits at the expense of the real learning of real Latin. The implicit (though - hopefully - unintended) message: mastering Latin in specific and language in general is not a primary concern.
Oh, to shoot myself in the foot before I learn to walk.
I'm not against honey on the rim of the cup - provided that the medicine within is the real deal.
What then should be the precursor to Interconnected Readings?
Sentences designed to highlight and drill syntax, morphology, and vocabulary.
What about those sentences?
Do they have to be pristine models of both grammar and logic?
Should they always make perfect sense?
Why?
It's a good thing to remember that sentences can be grammatically correct and still be sensically warped. Take, for instance, the expression "Give me a break." You could grammatically rewrite it as "Give a break to me." But it doesn't have the same punch.
How about the following?
"The computer was so overloaded, it went haywire."
"I was so overwhelmed, I went haywire."
Both sentences are grammatical. The second is odd. Why? Because "haywire" is generally used of machines, not people.
Now look at the following:
You can close a door.
You can slam a door.
You can close a case.
You can't slam a case.
You can speak of an open and shut case.
Although a door opens and shuts, you would not speak of an open and shut door.
A man reaching for his dress jacket exclaimed,
"Oh, no! The left pocket is ripped!"
"You're putting me on," replied the jacket.
I hit the pavement.
It hit me back.
I hit the pavement running.
I hit the running pavement.
Running, I hit the pavement.
Then I hit the deck.
It was not a happy camper.
An Invaluable Lesson:
Never underestimate the power of the Absurd.
The Absurd in a sentence presents students with three options: 1. they can dismiss the sentence because it is meaningless; 2. they can manufacture a context wherein the sentence in fact does make sense, thus making the meaningless meaningful; 3. they can accept the sentence on its own terms. It is a sign of real linguistic understanding if students can move beyond option #1 to #2 and then on to #3. The progression shows that they recognize that a sentence can simultaneously be grammatical and absurd.
The point?
In translating unconnected or limitedly connected sentences, students build, flex, and strengthen their understanding of both Latin and English. A sentence from the realm of the Absurd fortifies their linguistic suppleness. Then when the real story comes along, they will be ready.
And the language of the story need not be sacrificed on the altar of culture.
Tomorrow - The Roman Empire Strikes Back.