A collection of quotes by jan Telakoman
Text is verbatim, bold formatting is mine
Spoken fluency in second languages is not taught directly. Rather, the ability to speak fluently and easily in a second language emerges by itself, after sufficient amount of competence has been acquired through input. It may take some time before any real spoken fluency develops. With many acquirers there is a silent period which may last from a few hours to several months, depending on the situation and the age of the acquirer. Initial production is typically not very accurate. Very early speech is quite flawed, with acquirers using mostly simple words and short phrases. It also contains few function words or grammatical markers. Gradually more complex constructions are acquired (as the acquirer obtains more comprehensible input) and th grammatical markers are "filled in."
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The second general principle of the Natural Approach is that production is allowed to emerge in stages. These stages typically consist of: (1) response by nonverbal communication, (2) response with a single word: yes, no, there, O.K., you, me, house, run, come, on, etc., (3) combinations of two or three words. paper on table, me no go, where book, don't go, etc., (4) phrases: I want to stay. Where you going? The boy running, etc. (5) sentences, and finally (6) more complex discourse. Grammatical accuracy is very low in early stages and increases slowly with increased opportunities for communicative interaction and acquisition.
The final part of the input hypothesis states that speaking fluency cannot be taught directly. Rather, it "emerges" over time, on its own. The best way, and perhaps the only way, to teach speaking, according to this view, is simply to provide comprehensible input. Early speech will come when the acquirer feels "ready"; this state of readiness arrives at somewhat different times for different people, however. Early speech, moreover, is typically not grammatically accurate. Accuracy develops over time as the acquirer hears and understands more input.
pg 4
”Understanding messages” and “speech emerges.” When you apply this to toddlers and Zambi, it’s obvious. But can we put it in the classroom? The classroom answer to the first part would appear to be “provide lots of understandable messages”. But what do we do with the second part? The answer really should be “nothing”—it’s the automatic result of the first part.
pg 6
Recall Zambi and Mary. Two things led to Zambi’s success: 1) tagging along for a year, and 2) without saying anything. Three things led to Mary’s failure: 1) “What does that mean?”, 2) “How do you say this?”, and 3) “How do you spell it?” It was easy to spot the ‘Marys’ in our classes. Not only were they trying to speak, but they were also asking questions, flipping through their pocket dictionaries, and taking notes. When we said ‘Don’t speak’, some of these Marys obeyed, but we still saw them flipping through dictionaries and taking notes.
pg 8
Now look again at the terrible four. “Don’t speak. Don’t ask. Don’t look up words. Don’t take notes.” I wasn’t doing any of those things. A new prohibition was needed. What? It seemed obvious. Don’t think!
But wait. ‘Don’t think’ covers them all not just the linguist’s meddling. Obviously you’ve got to think about the language for these three: asking questions, looking up words, and taking notes. But what about speaking? After the language has been built, you don’t have to think it up—it pops. But before the language has been built, it can’t pop—if you want it, you have to think it. “Don’t think about the language” covers all of the terrible four.
The terrible fifth then becomes “don’t analyze”, and the terrible five become one: “Don’t think about the language.”
When will I start to speak?
Without doubt, this is the most often asked question. This is also a question that the baby never asks. The easiest answer is, “When you’re ready.” Each person will be little different but overall, when a student has about 800 hours of listening with understanding, the phonemes of the Thai language are firmly implanted. After that, it is simply a question of whether or not the Thai word is ‘there’ when you need it or not. If it’s not, don’t worry about it. Use what’s there. You’ll be amazed at how well it will work for you. When a student begins speaking, it isn’t that the language will immediately come out perfect, but that he doesn’t have to ‘remember’ anything at all. He will simply think the thought and the words will be there. This is exactly how your native language works for you. The key is that because the student is drawing only from the input of Thai teachers, those things he says will correct themselves in just a short while. The important thing is that the correct image is what you are drawing the words from. In short, if you can put off the desire to speak, you wlll reap great benefits in your ability to use the language.
My next lesson that day was with a beginner named Paul who never had held a racket. I was determined to show him how to play using as few instructions as possible; I'd try to keep his mind uncluttered and see if it made a difference. So I started by telling Paul I was trying something new and I was going to skip my usual explanations entirely to beginning players about the proper grip, stroke, and footwork for the basic forehand. Instead, I was going to hit ten forehands myself, and I wanted him to observe, not thinking about what I was doing, but simply trying to grasp a visual image of the forehand. He was to repeat the image in his mind several times and then just let his body imitate. After I had hit ten forehands, Paul imagined himself doing the same. Then, as I put the racket into his hand, sliding it into the correct grip, he said to me, "I noticed that the first thing you did was to move your feet”. I replied with a noncommittal grunt and asked him to let his body imitate the forehand as well as it could. He dropped the ball, took a perfect backswing, swung forward, racket level, and with natural fluidity ended the swing at shoulder height, perfect for his first attempt! But wait, his feet; they hadn't moved an inch from the perfect ready position he had assumed before taking his racket back. They were nailed to the court. I pointed to them, and Paul said, "Oh yeah, I forgot about them!" The one element of the stroke Paul had tried to remember was the one thing he didn't do! Everything else had been absorbed and reproduced without a word being uttered or an instruction being given!
I was beginning to learn what all good pros and students of tennis must learn: that images are better than words, showing better than telling, too much instruction worse than none, and that conscious trying often produces negative results. One question perplexed me: What's wrong with trying? What does it mean to try too hard?