How literacy makes us more human
David Lewis Brooks, Retiring Associate Professor, English Language Unit
College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, Kitasato University
Article for October 2018 Kitasato Library News
[ The photo collage above is a composite of various old family photographs from the family picture albums of the author's parents: Jerry and Rebecca Brooks]
Mr. Brooks first joined the teaching staff at Kitasato’s Sagamihara
campus in April, 1996, as a emergency teacher recruited by Prof. Yukio Seya in
March of that year to fill a sudden part-time English teacher vacancy. Mr. Brooks was subsequently employed as a
full-time teacher member of the English Language Unit the following year, and has continued in the
position of Associate Professor until his mandatory retirement in March 2019.
(LAST PLANS in the above paragraph DID NOT MATERIALIZE, and then COVID-19 hit the world. Third Life Career is now on hold and being reconsidered.)
The role that books have the power to play
in and on one’s life can be as varied as the influences that he or she gains
from the people one knows and meet throughout, as impressive as the places
where a person has lived or traveled, or as significant as the experiences that
a person encounters throughout the span of his or her lifetime. I should say ‘can play’ because it really
depends on what relationship literacy plays in a person’s life. As best as we
know, humans appear to be the only animal species on our planet that encodes
and records thoughts and stories in order to communicate across time and space
what it means to be a human, and to express both his or her awe for the natural
world, including for human civilization itself, and to be able record for the
edification of fellow citizens of this planet the impact that human activity
has on these domains.
Without
any permanent way to leave a decipherable record of their thoughts or
experiences, animals simply exist in all their glory and then die anonymously.
But humans can leave a written record of their own or collective histories, and
also their unique personal philosophies which can inspire both present and
future generations.
With this definition in mind, I would
like to take this opportunity to recall how reading and writing have impacted my
own life, and to hopefully stimulate my fellow humans: the students, teachers, and staff at this
institution, to become advocates and practitioners of effective literary communication.
Just as learning to ride a bicycle is only useful as a physical skill if:
- The person actually has a bicycle that he or she can ride when they need it.
- The person knows how to ride the bicycle to actually go some place that he or she wants or needs to go.
- The person knows exactly or approximately where they want to go on the bike.
- And lastly, the person described above actually rides the bicycle somewhere from time to time.
Reading and writing are literacy skills that function similarly to the cognitive, physical and affective skills necessary for riding a bicycle. Let me explain this analogy in more detail, as it may not be obvious how the two behaviors relate.
The literacy
skills of reading and writing are highly interrelated to the total human
communication skills encompassed in language acquisition, whether it’s with your
own native tongue, or with a highly utilitarian international language, of
which English is the single, most striking example in human history, or with one
of the many major and minor world languages
that are learned by people around the globe, the most popular ones being Spanish, Chinese,
French, German, or Russian. If learning a language is a tool, as well as a
skill — like riding a bike, then we first need to know that language in order
to communicate what we need and want, and to understand what it is others are
asking us to know, say, and do. That’s just basic communication.
Further, like
a bicycle, simply owning or possessing a set of foreign language vocabulary and
being able to string them together in a reasonably correct way in order to make
meaningful and effective sentences is inadequate if a person doesn’t actually
do that. That would be like being a “paper driver” for a bicycle. We don’t need
a driver’s license to ride a bike in any country because basic mobility on a
two-wheeled vehicle is a fundamental human capacity. So too are the skills of
reading and writing in any language. You simply don’t need a license to
communicate—it is as fundamental to human existence as breathing, eating or
walking. Learning to use a language like English should be as fun, as natural,
and as uncomplicated as learning to swim, to ride a bike, or to play a musical instrument.
Instead, in Japan’s fundamentally antiquated educational
system, learning English has long been turned into a difficult mentally-challenging
endurance competition and a social marathon race, whose ultimate prize is
attaining admission to the hallowed halls of revered academic institutions. The
negative effects of this educational institution rat race, which many students barely
survive as independent, strong-willed participants, has far-reaching effects on
the Japanese psyche.
To
prevent this essay from concluding its premise by sounding like the bitter murmurings
of a disgruntled and unfulfilled language educator, let’s return to its central
goal:
Write it down. Keep a diary. Let your words and ideas remain in print -- even after you're gone or have moved away because the goal is:
To challenge everyone to give
meaning to their lives by sharing, through reading and writing in English and
in Japanese, in the joys and sorrows of the human condition, to gain valuable
insights and wisdom in dealing with life through the recorded experiences and
thoughts of our fellow human beings, and to add one’s own voice to the stream
of billions of other human voices.
In so doing, we enrich our own lives and add
something of value to the legacy of the human experience.
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