Some More Thoughts––Lots More––On Greek Pedagogy
Dave Black posted some invaluable comments on his blog at 10:54 am on Dec. 8th, 2016. To repeat the cries of Rod Decker, I can’t link to Dave’s post so I’m left with just reproducing his words here. Not a problem though. What Dave writes is really interesting when it comes to biblical language instruction. It’s something that I am very, very, very interested in. I think we have to rethink biblical language instruction, especially in seminary studies. First, let’s give you what Dave wrote on his blog. After that, I’ll offer some thoughts of my own.
[Begin Dave’s post]
The Greek teacher in me had to smile when I saw this quote today:
“Pupils don’t like ancient Greek classes. They think it’s tiresome and useless,” one high school teacher told AFP.
Now, should you be reflecting back on your seminary days and your own New Testament Greek classes, think again. The complaint actually comes from modern Greek-speaking students who are frustrated with their classes in ancient Greek. The essay is called Debate over Teaching of Ancient Greek. You see, in modern Greece, there are actually two kinds of Greek: Kathareveusa (ancient) and Demotike (modern). Reminds me of when I lived in Basel. We all spoke High German in the classroom, but as soon as you stepped into the hallway everyone began speaking their ancient dialect (Swiss German). Yes, things could get confusing in very short order. Which is why I eventually bought a Basel-German grammar and taught myself how to speak the local patois.
The late Rod Decker once had an interesting post about Greek pedagogy. Strangely enough, he quoted yours truly. Why, Dave Black actually thinks that the onus lies on the student as to whether or not they will master New Testament Greek! Nowadays, everything about teaching is up for grabs: pronunciation (The Great Pronunciation Debate), methodology, the use of electronic tools in the classroom, etc. As far as I'm concerned, all of this discussion is good and healthy for our discipline. I have no doubt we all have something to learn from each other. I'm no expert in Greek pedagogy, but if there's one thing I wish I could teach every fledging Greek professor it would be this: Connect. Orient your teaching to the students in the room.
We—and I say we because I am a teacher too—need to understand what expectations our students bring to the classroom. Somehow we need to learn how to connect the new to the familiar. Somehow we need to learn how to move beyond cramming facts into students' heads and instead turn them into independent learners and thinkers. All of this sounds like common sense, but it is so difficult to put into practice.
The usual step seminaries take is to hire “experts” in the field and then set them loose to display their deep knowledge of the subject—thus putting students to sleep and leaving them with nothing but a shallow acquaintance with the subject matter. What would happen if, instead of simply asking students to translate and parse on their final exam, we asked them to read a passage of New Testament Greek and then explain its contents in a way that normal people could understand it? How about making every exam cumulative, with only the last one counting? How about getting students involved from the get-go in discussing disputed texts from the New Testament?
(One example I use: when Paul says we all partake from “one loaf of bread” during the Lord's Supper [1 Cor. 10:16-17], was he serious? You mean the early church didn't have thumb-sized crackers when they observed “The Lord's Snack”?) There are three dimensions to learning—thought, behavior, and affect—and each is essential for meaningful teaching and learning. Sadly, most of us who teach Greek have had very little training in pedagogy. We simply default to the way our own Greek teachers taught us.
On the other hand, I must say that all of the best practices I use in my own teaching I saw modeled by one of my professors either at Biola or Talbot. In that sense, Christian education is likeness education: We become like our teacher (for good or for ill). But certainly we can all do better than simply asking our students to absorb information and then regurgitate it.
I for one am very excited about the current debate over Greek pedagogy. The focus is on how to obtain the most from our students. Somehow we need to learn to integrate our learning objectives into our students' lives and experiences. If you would, dear researcher, please show me (among other things):
How the best teachers connect content with real-world practice.
What the best teachers expect of their pupils.
How we teachers can learn more about teaching.
How we can write syllabi that emphasize what students can do and not merely know.
In the meantime, fellow teachers, we need to get focused on the right thing. In tennis, nobody looks at the net. In golf, nobody looks at the sand trap. Is it possible, do you think, that we teachers are so fixated on the problem that we are missing the goal we want to achieve?
[End Dave’s post]
Now you see why I posted it, right? There’s a lot here. It got my mind turning even more than it usually is (no wise cracks, please!).
Dave pointed out how he taught himself German. I can point to my own journey into Spanish. I had a lot of motivation, and that motivation was tied to real needs in ministry. I realized there was a Spanish-speaking community right down the street from where I lived and very few people were building relationships, meeting needs, and clearly communicating the gospel there. We had to change that. Literally 85 percent of the community was Hispanic. There were somewhere around three hundred apartments, and almost no consistent presence.
Later, when I moved to Honduras, that need intensified. Day-to-day life made language acquisition unavoidable: relationships, ministry, counseling conversations, basic logistics, and the constant opportunity to serve people well. I carried beginner textbooks, verb resources, and anything else that would help, and I practiced every chance I got. It was hours of reading, countless mistakes, plenty of chuckles at my expense, and more than a few unfortunate blunders (I have a hundred stories!). But it had to be worth it—and it was.
Had it been exclusively up to a class, the truth is I probably wouldn’t have learned Spanish. Classes don’t always supply the best motivations. For me, motivation came when a need arose, and when I became convinced that meeting that need was worth the cost.
I think this is one of the biggest failures in seminary language education. We can put some of this on the student, and in many cases we should. But as a professor I also have to do introspection. Do I show my students a need that is actually “worth it”? Almost every Greek professor can quote “kissing the bride through a veil” and the other familiar lines that get recycled each year in blogs and grammars. I like those quotes. They make sense. But for some reason, most people walk out of their Greek classes (and many more their Hebrew classes), hit play on their mental iPod, and crank up Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out,” figuratively speaking.
I’m surprised no one has rewritten the words yet. Maybe Weird Al can help those students out on his next album. Until then… here’s my best go at it:
“. . .
No more parsing, no more vocab,
No more Greek prof’s scolding looks,
We got no class, we got no grammars,
We ain’t got no morphology,
We can’t even think of a periphrastic imperfect,
. . .”
(Hey, it’s easier since even Alice Cooper doesn’t rhyme.)
Something happens, seriously. Something happens when most students finish their biblical language courses. I’m sure I don’t have a firm enough grasp of all that’s going on. I wish I did, but I don’t. Still, we’re trying to address it. Students ought to learn to use Greek and Hebrew despite having the worst language professor; and shame on students when they don’t learn to use the languages even when they do have a professor who is skilled and gifted.
When Dave says “connect,” I know exactly what he’s talking about—not because I connect better than anyone else, but because I sat in Dave’s classes. Dave connected with me. I was never challenged more in any other class—academically or spiritually. I was pushed, and I was corrected. Students do say incorrect things in class, and professors ought to point those things out. We learn more from what we get wrong than what we get right. I’ve sat through classes where it felt like students could say whatever they wanted without the slightest challenge to articulate how they arrived at a belief. That’s a recipe for a hollow education.
If learning Hebrew and Greek are truly invaluable to exegesis and expository teaching, then an onus lies on the student. But I must also ask: what onus lies on the professor? And heads of Bible departments must ask: what onus lies on our department? And those who lead seminaries must ask: what onus lies on our seminary? Everyone has some responsibility.
I’m now at the place where I think seminaries owe it to their students to measure outcomes, not just student perceptions of biblical languages or superficial markers like “Do you use Greek regularly in ministry?—Check yes or no.” Biblical language professors have an obligation to make a case for their method given the context of their courses within the scope, sequence, and number of required courses in their programs.
If the majority of students are required to take no more than two courses in a given language, then saying “we cover exegesis in third semester Hebrew” is unacceptable. The majority of students will not sign up for that third semester. Even that begs the question: why? One reason I have appreciated reading material from proponents of what’s called the Living Language Approach is that they at least acknowledge the retention issue. That’s a big first step. (That’s about the most I have in common with that approach.)
Most people—though we lack hard evidence to quantify it with precision—don’t use Greek or Hebrew after seminary… despite spending, in many cases, upwards of five, six, and even seven thousand dollars on language instruction. Incredible, isn’t it? Most language professors will admit this. Even James Romm, Professor of Classics at Bard College, lamented this in the New York Times.
My favorite line in Dave’s post is this: “Somehow we need to learn how to move beyond cramming facts into students’ heads and instead turn them into independent learners and thinkers.” He’s exactly right—and this extends far beyond biblical language instruction. Our seminaries would be exponentially better if we pursued that path in every course, in every department. And our churches would be better too. Churches are, in part, educational communities, and we need to teach people how to think—not merely what to repeat.
My hypothesis is that most people don’t use Greek after seminary because they never got past the “cramming facts” stage and the “producing from scratch an ambiguous translation” stage. They never came to see that it is worth it, and they were never shown that they could put Greek into practice even with an incomplete knowledge of Greek.
I’m hoping something can change. I want more people using Greek in their study of the New Testament. I want more people using Hebrew in their study of the Old Testament. I want more students to view language courses as invaluable—not merely because their professors told them so, but because they have truly tasted and seen.
To taste and see, I’m convinced, requires not only persistence and diligence on the part of the student, but also a shake-up in the world of biblical language instruction. Thirty-two weeks of memorizing vocab, paradigms, and categories while producing ambiguous translations for homework is not necessarily the best we can do. If there is a better way, we need to be on a quest to find it.