The final Chapter in PLLT addresses models of Second Language Acquisition. Four different models are presented, from three different schools of thought. We have Stephen Krashen representing the Innatist school, Barry McLaughlin and Ellen Bialystok for the Cognitivists, and Michael Long as the not so token Constructivist.

The first, and easiest to beat up on, is Stephen Krashen’s Input Hypothesis. Krashen sets up a dichotomy between acquisition and learning. He says that acquisition is subconscious and learning is conscious. They are mutually exclusive: what is learned cannot be acquired. Our fluency in a second language is dependent upon what we acquire, not what we consciously attend to. He claims very little place for self monitoring, believes that there is a natural order in which we acquire the forms of a language, and that low anxiety in the learning environment is important. He also states that it is important to provide input to students that is slightly beyond the student’s ability (i+1). This provides a challenge without becoming too overwhelming. If these conditions are met, he contends, speech will “emerge.”

Some of the parts of Krashen’s theory are great, (though not necessarily original)and are incorporated into other people’s theories as well. The idea that there is a natural order in which we acquire language rules is well substantiated. Nobody seems to deny that having the input level be slightly beyond the current capacity of the learner is a good idea. PLLT repeatedly pushes the concept of the low affective filter (low anxiety in the classroom makes for better learning).

However, Other aspects of Krashen’s theory are not so easy to accept. Krashen’s learning/acquisition dichotomy denies the value of any sort of form focused instruction and pretty much denies the idea that learning can be subsumed (see PLLT Chapter 4 for a discussion of human learning). He seems to deny the value of cognitive and meta-cognitive learning strategies altogether. People should simply soak up language like a sponge, and when they’re full to capacity it will start to dribble out in meaningful ways.

I can’t agree with that. My own experience, as well as quite a bit of research indicates that people learn what you teach them. If you don’t teach them anything, SURPRISE, they don’t learn much. Obviously if you immerse someone in a language and culture full time for a long time, they’ll learn to get by with little or no instruction, but you can’t expect someone to learn a language in an hour a day without a little bit of actual instruction. The theory does not take into account the limitations of the classroom experience. It’s important to note that theories of language learning really apply to all skill learning. You can’t hand someone a violin, seat them in the front row of the orchestra and expect them to learn to play just by watching and listening to others. You have to teach them.

McLaughlin’s Attention Processing model looks at how people process information or tasks, and how much attention is dedicated to that processing. Our violin player progresses from having to focus on learning how to read music and learning the techniques of the instrument (controlled processing, focal attention) to being able to automatically play the next note written on the page (automatic processing, focal attention). As the player continues learning, reading sheet music may require only peripheral attention, but a new song still requires controlled processing. Eventually, the learner is able to play by automatically translating the sheet music to physical movements, paying only peripheral attention to this process. At this point the focus of attention can shift to the conductor, and other aspects of playing can be deliberately controlled. And the cycle goes on.

In addition to being a grad student in Linguistics, I’m also studying Choy Lay Fut Kung Fu. McLaughlin’s model works well in this situation too. When you begin learning Kung Fu, you have to pay very close attention to the input you’re getting from your sifu (instructor), and what your own body is doing. You have to deliberately control every movement you make. Eventually, most of the basic movements become automatic, but you still pay close attention to them to make sure that everything is just right. You may even get sloppy if you let your attention slip. After a lot more practice, you can pay peripheral attention to the moves themselves, and focus on the applications or the ways in which you are combining the moves. You will come to a point where you can perform a long series of related movements (a form) without really thinking about it. You can then focus your attention on subtleties and control tiny little variables (Is my thumb tucked? Is my stance low enough?), while still performing at a high level.

I’ve presented this in a linear way, but an individual’s level of attention to and control of a given task can vary considerably from moment to moment. The general progression though is from focal and controlled to peripheral and automatic. This fits in well with David Ausubel’s meaningful learning theory. As knowledge is acquired in bits and pieces (through focus and control) it becomes subsumed. Assembling the new knowledge in meaningful ways, digesting it, allows use of the knowledge to become automatic. It becomes part of you. Your focus and control can be dedicated to the next new thing.