Review of Toward Translingual Realities in Composition: (Re)Working Local Language Representations and Practices, by Nancy Bou Ayash

Language Ideologies

Overview

In Chapter 1, monolingual models, as Bou Ayash (2019) states, are "unidirectional" and perpetuate idealistic views of language. Unidirectional means one movement, such as the black box theory of language learning in Chomskyan linguistics where speakers or listeners receive input, it goes into a little black box, and then it comes out as output for that speaker or listener. The question in these kinds of models is: What happens in that little black box?

For generative linguists, it's the language acquisition device (LAD) that creates connections with our "innate" universal grammar, which is what generative linguists are still figuring out. For rhetoric and compositions folks who use monolingual ideologies and models, standard language does the LAD's job in that it sets a precedent for writers, and that precedent is worked towards, engaged, and practiced. It may even be shown as a linear arrow, progression going upwards if and only if a student takes feedback, improves habits, and conforms to said expectations and structures. There is also an emphasis on languages being separated by difference, and that this difference cannot be interfered with by other languages, situations, and more.

In this way, other languages are sacrificed for a single, standardized language, which is usually in the hands of those in power. A single, standardized language is an ideal; it can be an ideal that speaker-writers in power can force upon others; it can also be an ideal that speaker-writers must conform to to pass classes, to be considered a good student, to be considered a speaker of English (and I should add that race, gender, and socioeconomic status among other factors shape these ideals as well). This idealism leads to problematic steps in the writing classroom and beyond, and Bou Ayash shows how multilingual models do the same thing:

The focus should not be on the degree of adherence to or deviation from a fixed set of abstract language standards and conventional forms in student writing as much as on the rhetorical, material character of their practices, their chosen meanings, and complex decisions while negotiating, like all the rest of us, varied affordances and constraints in local writing ecologies. (p. 55)

Multilingual models see multiple languages as resources, but as separate resources that must be switched on and off depending on time, place, and other speaker–writers present. Bou Ayash compares the multilingual model to an archipelago, where different islands are languages, and you jump from one to another to respond to diverse rhetorical situations.

Such models privilege the concept of code-switching and condemn code-meshing or code-mixing; these models also reproduce notions that non-English languages cannot be academic, and specifically non-Western varieties of English (Canagarajah, 1999).

Translingual models, on the other hand, resolve some of these issues, according to Bou Ayash. They focus on interaction and negotiation. These models also bring attention to the multiple semiotic or meaning-making resources that are drawn upon throughout language use. Further, they embrace that experience is part and parcel of language interaction, and that as we interact with one another, we accomplish goals through language. Our ability to adapt, change, and understand our languaging situations is highlighted more than what is "innate" or what is "turned off and on." We do not have a switch, things are much blurrier than they seem; they are much more interconnected.

To further illustrate her point, Bou Ayash shares three models: the Banyan Tree Model, the Moving Traffic Model, and the Chaotic Arrangement of Overhead Electricity Cables Model. I actually find that these models resonate with me more, especially the Banyan Tree Model, since I have lived in Saipan and currently reside in Hawai'i.

The Banyan Model emphasizes the organic and interconnected ways that language emerges. Language is not bounded because it sprawls out, with the main trunk supporting the ever-growing roots. This description resonates with me because I think it shows not only the dynamic nature of language, but also that the history of a language gives it growth, and that growth is changing and constantly trying to fit itself into everyday practices, or spaces in the earth or up in the canopy of leaves.

The Traffic Model is less organic than the Banyan Model, and it is a model that pops up throughout Bou Ayash's text. I also find myself using this model when conceptualizing languaging because I feel it accounts for the expectations across multiple lanes of traffic, and that each vehicle waits, passes, or pulls off to the side depending on what is happening to the flow: Are people crossing? Is there an accident? Is there construction? I do feel that this model is much easier to visualize, too, because there are clearer boundaries, but decisions and negotiations for space, for moving are constant.

The Cables Model attempts to capture the organic, interconnecting nature of the Banyan Model, yet the model shows how power dynamics can impact who gets what cable and why. To contest these dynamics, this model also accounts for the agency of individuals arranging cables in certain ways, omitting other cables, avoiding dangerous cables (or not), and/or borrowing cables to support their own (electrical) needs. Borrowing here is not in a negative sense, but in a shared resources sense, which makes the Cables Model incredibly focused on speaker–writers' agency in comparison to the Traffic Model and the Banyan Model.

While all three models have their strengths and weaknesses, it is important to address that by innovating and building other ways of conceptualizing languaging; then we can start breaking down and resisting the ideologies presented in Chapter 1 that continue to persist in our classrooms, profession, and everyday lives.

Critique

My interpretations of Bou Ayash's arguments are twofold: I find her reconceptualizing of translingualism compelling and her critiques of the other models matching my own as a teacher–scholar. I do think that this kind of approach puts the onus on teacher–scholars to facilitate change. I am not saying that teacher–scholars should not be pushing for changes to how language is viewed at their institutions and within their classrooms, but the question of labor when many writing teachers are overworked and generally serving in adjunct roles makes the question of labor far more complicated.

Being in a tenure-track position, I can certainly vouch for this kind of approach and push for these kinds of changes to happen at the programmatic level, but there is always pushback because of financial concerns or standardization or language ideologies that are a result of colonialism and imperialism.

Bou Ayash does not, at least in these opening paragraphs, give me an idea of what I can do as a teacher–scholar within the bigger picture of the institution. She does touch on that later, but combating ideologies that are problematic can most certainly start in the classroom, or local spaces, but they do need to be carried through to global spaces, that is, institutional and administrative spaces. Further, those in positions of power can and should support these changes, but, again, that takes labor, funding, and time.

I am also always thinking about the question of "what happens beyond the classroom" in the back of my mind. These kinds of models are helpful in showing students how else they can think through languaging and what it accomplishes. For instance, one of my students responds to the alternative way of thinking through errors or problems in Bou Ayash's text (p. 37):

These "mistakes" that may be viewed by a person's own local language ideologies should be viewed as assets in your individual understanding. So maybe we should be focusing on intent? Maybe think about why the author chose to write a sentence in a certain way? Does it mean something else according to the writer's language ideologies? These are types of questions we should maybe be aware of when looking at different pieces of writing. (Anthony)

As Anthony shows, students in my course who are teachers step back and reevaluate their assumptions, how those assumptions came to be, and what to do about those assumptions with this new knowledge and/or new perspective. While some of my students have gone on to accomplish amazing things like asking students to translate between Pidgin and English in their classrooms and reflect on their steps for these translations, I wonder about other students who are not in the education sector? I wonder how these kinds of ideas could be put into action in other sectors—business, health sciences, aloha 'āina communities, technology, and more. How can we secure funding that treats languaging as something agentive rather than just a standard to compare and contrast students to? In the face of affirmative action falling apart (as well as its critiques from before), how can we ensure that there is a way to support changes like these?

Reflection

How to get students and administrators invested seems to be the touchstone I keep returning to, that is, how to make translingualism matter beyond the theoretical. How to present another perspective on language that allows other speaker–writers to make their own decisions? How to present translingualism in such a way that is accessible to the public and not just academics?

Perhaps: having a talk about definitions of languaging rather than this is the right or wrong language definition, which is what I think Bou Ayash accomplishes in naming the strengths and weaknesses of the mono- and multi- approaches to language. However, she does not provide any critiques of the translingual model, which was documented by Paul K. Matsuda (2013), as well as by other rhetoric and composition scholars. Why is a bigger question.

When thinking through these two chapters as a teacher of writing, I see that building discussions of languaging—including having students take ownership of knowing what these different perspectives on languaging are and encouraging them to make language decisions for themselves—is a pathway that supports critical pedagogy. Translingualism is slowly becoming what is considered the norm; however, the critiques of its catch-all-ness catch up quickly (Gilyard, 2016).

For me, then, I think presenting this information in my courses has been successful, and students' investment in learning how each other positions themselves towards languaging supports them in making decisions as they move beyond the classroom. What is missing, for me, is data from students who are not English or education majors. What do they think? How might they use this knowledge in other sectors?

For administrators, creating opportunities to have these kinds of discussions can emerge in talks of assessment and course design and in building opportunities for underrepresented students and languages and voices. In my own experience, with the help of colleagues, we are building a scholarly journal for undergraduate students who come from Indigenous and mixed-race backgrounds. In this way, we're drafting a language statement, and the process in and of itself involves multiple drafts, feedbacking stages, and approval.

Notes