Imprisoned by
textbooks: They can be memorized but can they be liked?
My neighbour in the air craft is
ploughing determinedly through a fat textbook with a title both simple and
definitive--chemistry. As is quite normal with textbooks, this one too is full
of some passages that are underlined, others that are highlighted and still
others with scribbled notes around them. His lips are moving as he reads,
quasi-aloud, in an attempt to freeze the waves of transient knowledge that come
with difficulty and depart quite easily.
A textbook
can be memorised, it can occasionally be understood, but can it be liked? Can
it ever inspire one to read more? Can it foster an abiding curiosity in the
subject it covers, and make one a seeker of knowledge? Such questions seem out
of place when we talk of textbooks for clearly they are designed for a much
more limited purpose. Textbooks deliver knowledge in a capsule form; they
present information deemed important in an organised way, one that is amenable
to being tested. The attempt is to eliminate any bias that the writer might
have and focus as far as possible on what can be objectively described. They use language functionally, removing any
vestige of emotion, perspective or character--dryness of textbooks is
deliberately manufactured as all could be considered `juice' is carefully
extracted from it.
The
textbook regards knowledge as an affliction that one must strive to get
infected by. Neither the process of acquiring knowledge nor the outcome of
possessing it has the slightest residue of pleasure in it. The underlying
worldview is clear--studying is work, and knowledge is pain. The textbook
treats the world as a knowable place that can be summed up in a series of
chapters, with questions at the end of each. Knowledge is imparted, received, studied,
revised and tested. By imagining learning as a closed system with distinct and
separate boxes that do not come together as a whole, the world is presented as
collection of loosely related facts--dates, names, formulae, equations,
theories of some people and so on.
We
rarely pause to think about the incredible conceit that textbooks carry off so
casually--of being able to provide a single window to a complex subject. Bear
in mind that the idea of a `subject' itself is hardly the self-evident and singular
category it professes to be. Can, for instance, geography be separated that
cleanly from history, physics or geology? By drawing sharp boundaries and
creating elaborate categories of knowledge and then col lapsing this complexity
into a narrative that is fragmented and sequential, the typical textbook makes
knowledge independent of the questions that gave rise to it in the first place.
The subject and the material are transmitted for their own sake, rather than as
an outcome of an enquiry.
This
is further complicated by the idea of the syllabus. The syllabus accords an
arbitrary slash of unbeing to vast sectors of a subject. For students, the glee
of finding that something is not in the syllabuses is matched only by the haste
with which that little patch of knowledge is deleted from memory, if at all
such an event had accidentally occurred. Working backwards from what is needed
at examination, the student is interested in what she needs to know, how much
she needs to study , what chapters in which books she needs to remember--in
others words how much knowledge is sufficient for her to escape more knowledge.
If
we detach ourselves a little by from the naturalness with which were gard the
idea of education and the way we are taught, we would be horrified at the
scandal that education is. We have all read textbooks of many subjects for many
years and yet even 10 years after having learnt all this, few could claim to
having retained anything meaningful from most of the textbooks we pored so
assiduously over. Apart from the other benefits of formal education, and those
are of many kinds, in its central and most basic premise -of imparting a
certain minimum amount of knowledge to those studying it, is almost always a
failure. We tend to live uneducated li ves in spite of our education, for education
is something we pass through rat her than gather.
Why
should we use textbooks at all?
Given
that information is now freely available to most, what is the value of a primitive
compendium of generic information? Admittedly, by sacrificing nuance and
eliminating perspective, text books represent an efficient way o transmitting
information in a standardized way, but the process of doing so effectively
kills many of the benefits tha education is meant to provide.
Multiple
texts that offer diverse perspectives, reading lists that correspond with the
questions in one's head, the use of other forms of media that bring alive
aspects of a subject, the telling of stories about the great debates in any
field, the application of concepts and ideas in our everyday lives--those are
some of the things that would help us radically reimagine the idea of the
textbook. The textbook has served its purpose; it is ti me to close the book on
it.
Source | Times of India | 4 April 2016
Regards
Pralhad
Jadhav
Senior
Manager @ Library
Khaitan
& Co
Upcoming
Event | National Conference on Future Librarianship: Innovation for Excellence
(NCFL 2016) during April 22-23, 2016.
Note
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