As I sort through my folders of old e-mails, I occasionally come across something that I said pretty well and that stands alone like a little essay without a lot of the context of the correspondence. Much of it is either union stuff or English teacher stuff or just general school stuff . Here is something to a former colleague, now at another school. I decided not to publish this one in From the Files, although I suppose I could have:
I am sure you have encountered the problem of what constitutes a reasonable reading of a literary text. It took me over 40 years to get away from handing down my own interpretation, or some critic’s, as a pre-packaged received meaning. It seems to me, more and more, that meaning is a construct; to say that there is only one legitimate interpretation – the writer’s original authorial intent, whatever that is – seems to me increasingly dubious. I guess I can thank the likes of Louise Rosenblatt, Wayne Booth, and Kenneth Burke for this sorry state of affairs, as well as Driek Zirinsky and Gene Garver. As teachers of literature, it is our job to broaden the horizons and cultivate the tastes of young readers, and most fundamentally to guide them in the process of constructing meaning from text. The problem begins when the wise (guy) student says, “So it can mean just anything at all, then?” and you say, “Not quite!” From there, it gets really complicated to explain. The things that we do naturally, every day, and take for granted, are often the most difficult to explain. [But explain it we must, for that is the heart of the matter and a “teachable moment.”] Among all the many negotiable variables, there is one constant: the text itself – ink on paper – words, words, words. And so, keep in mind this simple precept, borrowed (with liberties) from one of my favorite movies: The text abides, Dude!