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Grammar check theory: introduction
A is an international student in the computer lab who is fully aware of
the grammar-checker on his computer; every sentence he makes is a
compromise with the green line that reminds him when he has made too
many spaces, or a comma instead of a period. He doesn't alter the
settings of the grammar-checker because, like most students, he doesn't
know that he can. But he follows its suggestions the best he can, even
though he often doesn't understand them well.
B sits next to him, and knows a lot more about the grammar-checker, but
is afraid that if the teacher sees her altering its settings, the
teacher will be mad, or, she might get caught by the lab assistant.
Nevertheless, at home, she goes into its settings and tries altering
them, though she doesn't really understand what different settings do
for her papers. She has noticed that they sometimes change things her
teacher likes, into things the teacher doesn't, and vice-versa. She
often uses an entire machine-translator to translate entire articles
into her native language, and knows that they are jumbled messes
grammatically, but doesn't care; it's often easier to understand the
article using these jumbled sets of native-language words, than to
wrestle with them in her new language, English. In short, she uses every
kind of technology available to her, assumes that the teacher doesn't
approve, and hopes that somehow it helps her, though she isn't always
sure.
C uses the grammar-checker and spell-checker, but only after he has
written a whole paper. He goes back through it and addresses everything
the green and red lines point out. He likes to have time to check the
words; for example, if the red line shows a misspelling, he has to
choose the right option, and sometimes needs his dictionary. Sometimes,
in class, he doesn't have the time, but he doesn't worry about it; the
teacher doesn't worry that much about spelling anyway, and the grammar
doesn't make that much sense to him; one wrong form is the same as
another if you can't tell the difference. In other words, he is vaguely
aware that the grammar-checker is misleading him at times, but he
follows its suggestions or not, depending on how he feels.
D has no idea about the green and red lines. She has seen them, but in
her native language they didn't have anything like that, so she never
got in the habit of figuring out what they were or what they did. One
day recently she saw her friend using a grammar-checker when she was
watching her, idly, type a paper. She decided to look into it when she
had time. She didn't want other students to have an advantage she didn't
have.
This variety of students occupies a typical ESL/EFL writing class. It is
possible that there are no real people with the motives I have ascribed
to these people, but my guess is that there is a wide variety of both
motives and experiences in any given classroom. Each student writes on
essentially at least two computers; one at home, one favorite one in the
writing-class lab, and possibly another one or two, somewhere on the
college campus, or in a boyfriend/girlfriend's apartment. A student's
experience is a combination of what he/she writes naturally, in addition
to what any given spell-0heck/grammar-check combination (SCGC) does to
alter it, in addition to what he/she decides to do about the suggestions
it provides. It is possible, as in the case of D, that only the first
and second are relevant, and this could also be true due to time
constraints of any given assignment; the SCGC could routinely change
certain capitals and spaces, but the student either lives with it, or
consciously does nothing about it, assuming that these are changes for
the better. The paper we teachers see frequently has no non-words;
every redlined word has been changed into something, but not every one
has been changed to a correct alternative. Some have been changed into
what are recognizable as words, but are clearly the wrong word for the
sentence they are in. We can see from these, the fact that the student
is engaging with the lines in some way. We don't always know, unless we
have watched, what process the student has used.
The student's decision to engage with the green line, or wait until
he/she has finished the work, is crucial for several reasons. One, time
sometimes runs out before the assignment is over, thus, and entire
assignment can go unaltered, simply due to time constraints, for the one
who waits. On the other hand, the constant engager (like A)- the one who
is wrestling with the red and green lines with every step, has more
trouble thinking of the holistic paragraph or assignment, without
constantly being consumed in the details. This person may or may not be
aware of the consequences of constantly wrestling with the machine, but
nevertheless has chosen to work out grammar and spelling with every
step. The consequences unfold as his/her writing career unfolds.
And this last result is possibly the bottom line. We as teachers now
must deal with students who have come from any kind of past sets of
habits; we could call them "dependences"; but, the problem is not that
they can't change their habits (they in fact must change some things
with every new computer that they sit down at), but rather, that the
computers have altered their perception, to some degree, and we must now
deal with another presence in the room, one that reminds them that there
is no such word as the one they just used, or that they shouldn't use a
passive construction, just on general principle. Where did this
principle come from? It doesn't matter; it's a force to be reckoned
with, and it has already taught them considerably more grammar, in some
cases, than we have.
Now as a person who was attracted to the behaviorist/universalist split
in the field of linguistics, I am now wondering about the kind of
conditioning offered by these machines, and what they are doing to
people, with their relentless red and green lines. If somebody slaps the
cat every time it sits on their lap, it soon learns not to try, but is
that happening to a student who perpetually spells "modern" as "morden"?
Will she eventually get tired of addressing the red line and just spell
it right? (this, of course, would be a positive development, one we
teachers might appreciate) What I'm saying is that the study of
grammar-checkers and their influence on student learning is a case study
in whether there is really a behaviorist explanation for much of student
behavior, even if that behavior is sometimes misguided or due to
misinterpretation. It is my belief that there is an explanation for
virtually every behavior, but that it's not always as we'd like it, or
as we thought it should have developed, given what we wanted and/or what
we put in front of the student.
For example, a student who has spent the vast majority of his time on
Word programs with standard grammar-checkers has never had to capitalize
"I" as it has always been done for him; now he finds that when writing,
he never thinks about it, even when writing in a chat or blog
environment where no grammar-checker will fix it for him. Knowing that
it is necessary to capitalize the I in "I" is one thing; actually
programming it into his own behavior is another problem entirely. Now,
his performance doesn't reflect his knowledge, because he knows better,
but types quickly, and skips it, based on past experience. Will his
editing eye catch it, before he hands in the assignment? If not we will
assume that he doesn't know the difference; how wrong we are!
For me, some interesting principles come out of the entire study. One,
because of the vast variety in grammar-checkers in use, and variety of
settings within each one, it is not immediately apparent what is
happening in any given situation. I can watch over a student's shoulder
for a few minutes and determine whether that student is a
constant-engager, a use-when-finished or use-when-teacher-isn't-looking;
or an oblivious. But I can't always determine whether the settings have
been altered or even if they could be; I have no control over the
machine they use at home, or what they do to those settings. Should I
open the conversation? Make requirements? Not allow papers to leave the
lab, where they are under my watchful eye?
Second, we have here a fertile area of study; each learner is a
combination, now, of some amount of freely creative grammar, to start
with, and whatever alteration a machine makes, or gets made in the
process of writing. Are we paying attention to which is which? Are we
prepared to tell the student whether it was wise to engage with the
machines that were freely provided when Word was installed?
Third, I can guarantee that the relentless intervention provided by the
red and green lines has changed some things for some learners, if not
many things for many learners. Many of these are probably good, as the
case with "morden". Many are probably bad, or just neutral. Many are bad
by virtue of not pointing out what should have been pointed out; by
implying that something was ok, when in fact it was not; by changing an
errant word into a ridiculous alternative, when it would have been
better left unchanged. I have no idea of the odds of good things
happening, or even if they can be measured. My suspicion is that it's an
unholy mess to sort out.
The above is a journey of discovery, written before I really knew what was happening
in our class; written in order to help me lay out the process and figure out how
these machines changed what people do, what they appear to know and what they actually know
and produce. I am trying to put actual dates on these as I am in an active process of discovery,
and expect some of this to be rendered inaccurate by what I learn. Bear with me. -TL
bibliography
Leverett, T. (2008, Nov.). Grammar-check and
the esl/efl student: Introduction. Forthcoming, part of TESOL presentation,
Denver 2009. http://www.siu.edu/~cesl/teachers/pd/tech1.html.
Leverett, T. (2008, Nov. 4).
Grammar technology. thomas leverett weblog.
http://tomleveretts.blogspot.com/2008/11/grammar-technology.html.
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