Write me a summary of the text in a simple way (the text is from the book, principles of Language Teaching and learning)
CHAPTER 1 
LANGUAGE, LEARNING, AND TEACHING

Carson, a native Californian, took Spanish as a foreign language for two years in high school and then had two more years in college. As a twenty-year-old, he spent one summer month in Costa Rica helping to build affordable housing for the less fortunate in the city of San José. On arrival, his four years of classroom Spanish were self-described as “somewhat useful in giving me a head start, but for face to-face conversation, pretty useless.” After one month in Costa Rica, making an effort to speak Spanish as much and as often as he could with Costa Rican friends, and as little English as possible, he felt like he came back to the United States with enough Spanish to “get along quite well” in a conversation.  
Sonia, from Sao Paulo, Brazil, took German classes all the way through high school, at the prodding of her German-born parents. After two years of college German, reaching an advanced-intermediate level, she dropped the course the next year. She described feeling little sense of ability beyond a lot of “knowledge about German grammar,” and a lack of motivation to continue studying German “just to please my mother and father.” Ten years later, when asked how her German was, she reported “okay” reading ability (but no practical reason to read in German), “fair” listening ability (with grandparents), “poor” speaking ability (a few phrases with family), and “almost non-existent” writing ability.
What do these two learners tell you about learning a second language? Even without the “whole story” of each learner’s journey, can you see that language fluency doesn’t happen overnight? And that learning a second language also involves learning a second culture? And that it may mean a whole new way of thinking, feeling, and acting? And that commitment, motivation, and serious effort are involved? And finally, that language learning involves social interaction in a meaningful context? The two learners above may have benefited from their classroom instruction, but did those classrooms provide optimal communicative opportunities to use their second language (L2)?  This book is about both learning and teaching, and of course teaching is the facilitation of learning. And a major step in learning how to facilitate is understanding the intricate web of principles that are spun together to affect how and why people learn—or fail to learn—an L2.  To begin the process of understanding principles of language learning and teaching, let’s ponder some of the questions that you could ask.  
QUESTIONS ABOUT SLA  
Any complex set of skills brings with it a host of questions. As a means to guide an exploration of second language acquisition 2 (SLA), let’s look at some of the questions you might ask, sorted here into some commonly used topical categories.  
Learner Characteristics  
Who are the learners that you are teaching? What is their ethnic, linguistic, and religious heritage? What are their native languages, levels of education, and socioeconomic characteristics? What life experiences have they had that might affect their learning? What are their intellectual capacities, abilities, and strengths and weaknesses? How would you describe the personality of a student of yours? You can no doubt think of more questions, but these will suffice for starters.  
Linguistic Factors  
What is language? What is communication? What does it mean when we say someone knows how to use a language? What are the relevant differences (and similarities) between a learner’s first language (L1) and L2? What properties of the L2 might be difficult for a learner to master? These questions are, of course, central to the discipline of linguistics. Language teachers need to understand something about the linguistic system of the L2 and some of the possible difficulties a learner might encounter.  
Learning Processes  
How does learning take place? Are there specific steps to successful learning?  What mental or intellectual processes are involved in SLA? What kinds of strategies are available to a learner, and which ones are optimal? What is the optimal interrelationship of mental, emotional, and physical processes for successful SLA?  
Age and Acquisition  
One of the key issues in L2 research and teaching is a cluster of questions about differences between children and adults. Does the age of learning make a difference? Common observation tells us that children are “better” language learners than adults. Are they, really? What does the research show? How do developmental changes that occur between childhood and adulthood affect SLA?  
Classroom Instruction  
A good deal of SLA successfully takes place outside of any educational context or classroom. In such “natural” environments, do all people learn a language equally successfully? In what has come to be called “instructed” SLA, many questions arise. What are the effects of varying methodological approaches, textbooks, materials, teacher styles, and institutional factors? Is there an optimal length of time required for successful mastery? How can a student best put classroom instruction into action in the “real” world?  
Context  
Are the learners attempting to acquire the second language within the cultural and linguistic milieu of the second language, that is, in a “second” language situation in the technical sense of the term? Or are they focusing on a “foreign” language context in which the L2 is heard and spoken only in an artificial environment, such as in a language classroom, or an instructional video? How might the sociopolitical conditions of a particular country or its language policy affect the outcome of a learner’s mastery of a language? How do inter cultural contrasts and similarities affect the learning process?  
Purpose  
Finally, the most encompassing of all questions: Why are learners attempting to acquire the second language? Are they motivated by the achievement of a successful career, or by passing a foreign language requirement, or by wishing to identify closely with the culture and people of the target language?  
REJOICING IN OUR DEFEATS  
The above questions have been posed, in global terms, to give you an inkling of the diversity of issues involved in understanding the principles of language learning and teaching. By addressing such questions carefully and critically, you may actually achieve a surprising number of answers. And with the help of this book, you should be able to hone global questions into finer, subtler questions, which in itself is an important task, for often being able to ask the right questions is more valuable than possessing storehouses of knowledge.
At the same time, remember that you may not find final answers to all the questions. The field of SLA manifests all the methodological and theoretical problems that come with a developing discipline (Long, 2007; VanPatten & Williams, 2007 ; Hinkel, 2011 ; Gass, 2013 ). Therefore, many of these questions have somewhat tentative answers, or at best, answers that must begin with the phrase, “it depends.” Answers must be framed in a context that can vary from one learner to another, and from one moment to another.  
The wonderful intricacy of complex facets of human behavior will be very much with us for some time. Roger Brown’s (1966, p. 326 ) wry remark of five  decades ago still applies:  
Psychologists find it exciting when a complex mental phenomenon— something intelligent and slippery—seems about to be captured by a mechanical model. We yearn to see the model succeed. But when, at the last minute, the phenomenon proves too much for the model and darts off on some uncapturable tangent, there is something in us that rejoices at the defeat.  
We can rejoice in our defeats because we know that it’s the very elusive ness of the phenomenon of SLA that makes the quest for answers so exciting.  Our field of inquiry is no simple, unidimensional reality. It’s “slippery” in every way.  
The chapters of this book are designed to give you a picture of both the slipperiness of SLA and the systematic storehouse of reliable knowledge that is now available to us. As you consider the issues, chapter by chapter, you will develop an integrated understanding of how people learn—and sometimes fail to learn—an L2.  
That understanding must be eclectic: no single theory or hypothesis will provide a magic formula for all learners in all contexts. Your conclusions will need to be enlightened: you’ll be urged to be as critical as you can in considering the merit of various models and theories and research findings. And you’ll have to be a bit cautious: don’t accept every claim as truth just because someone fervently asserts it to be factual. By the end of the final chapter, with this cautious, enlightened, eclectic approach, you’ll no doubt surprise yourself on how many pieces of this giant puzzle you can actually put together!  
Thomas Kuhn (1970) referred to “normal science” as a process of puzzle solving in which part of the task of the scientist, in this case the teacher, is to discover the pieces and then to fit the pieces together. Some of the pieces of the SLA puzzle have been located and set in place. Others are not yet discovered, and the careful defining of questions will lead to finding those pieces. We can then undertake the task of fitting the pieces together into what Kuhn called a paradigm—an interlocking design, a model, or a theory of SLA.
In order to begin to ask further questions and to find answers to some of those questions, let’s first address a fundamental concern in problem-posing: defining the focus of our inquiry. Since this book is about language, learning, and teaching, let’s see what happens when we try to define those three terms
LANGUAGE  
A definition is a statement that captures the key features of a concept. Those features may vary, depending on your own understanding of the concept. And, most importantly, your understanding is essentially a “condensed” version of a theory that elaborates on all the facets of the concept. Conversely, a theory could be thought of as an “extended” definition. Defining, therefore, is serious business: it requires choices about which facets of a phenomenon are worthy of being included.  
Suppose you were stopped by a reporter on the street, and in the course of an interview about your field of study, you were asked, “Well, since you’re interested in second language acquisition, please tell me what language is, exactly.” You would no doubt probe your memory for a typical dictionary-type definition of language. What would such a definition look like?  
According to Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (2003, p. 699), language is “a systematic means of communicating ideas or feelings by the use of conventionalized signs, sounds, gestures, or marks having understood meanings.” If you had read Steven Pinker’s The Language Instinct (1994), you would find a little more elaboration:  
Language is a complex, specialized skill, which develops in the child spontaneously, without conscious effort or formal instruction, is deployed without awareness of its underlying logic, is qualitatively the same in every individual, and is distinct from more general abilities to process information or behave intelligently (p. 18 ).  
On the other hand, you might, with Ron Scollon (2004, p. 272 ), also have  included some mention of the creativity of language, the presumed primacy of speech over writing, and the universality of language among human beings.  
Careful research and extensive study of these eight topics have involved a complex journey through a labyrinth of linguistic science—a maze that continues to be negotiated as many controversies have arisen within these basic concepts. Your understanding of the components of language determines to a large extent how you teach a language. If, for example, you believe that nonverbal communication is a key to successful second language learning, you will devote some attention in your curriculum to nonverbal systems and cues. If you perceive language as a phenomenon that can be dismantled into thousands of discrete pieces—such as grammar points—and those pieces programmatically taught one by one, you will attend carefully to an understanding of the discrete forms of language. If you think language is essentially cultural and interactive, your classroom methodology will be imbued with sociolinguistic strategies and communicative tasks.  
LEARNING AND TEACHING  
We can also ask questions about constructs like learning and teaching.  Consider again some traditional definitions. A search in contemporary dictionaries reveals that learning is “acquiring knowledge of a subject or a skill by study, experience, or instruction.” Oddly, an educational psychologist would define learning even more succinctly as “a change in an individual caused by experience” (Slavin, 2003 , p. 138 ).  
Similarly, teaching, which is implied in the first definition of learning, may be defined as “showing or helping someone to learn how to do something, giving instructions, guiding in the study of something, providing with knowledge, causing to know or understand.” Isn’t it curious that lexicographers seem to have such difficulty in devising a definition of something as universal as teaching? More than perhaps anything else, such definitions reflect the difficulty of defining complex concepts.  
Breaking down the components of the definition of learning, we can extract, as we did with language, domains of research and inquiry. Learning is:  
 1. Acquisition or “adding”  
 2. The retention of information or skills  
 3. The involvement of storage systems, memory, and cognitive organization   
 4. The application of active, conscious focus, and subconscious attention   
 5. Relatively permanent but subject to forgetting  
 6. The result of practice, perhaps reinforced practice  
 7. A change in behavior  
These concepts can also give way to a number of subfields within the discipline of psychology: acquisition processes, perception, memory (storage) systems, short- and long-term memory, recall, motivation, conscious and sub conscious attention, learning styles and strategies, theories of forgetting, reinforcement, the role of practice. Very quickly the concept of learning becomes every bit as complex as the concept of language. Yet the second language learner brings all these (and more) variables into play in the learning of a second language.  
Teaching cannot be defined apart from learning. Teaching is guiding and facilitating learning, enabling a person to learn, and setting the conditions for learning. Your understanding of how people learn will determine your philosophy of education, your teaching style, approach, lesson design, and classroom techniques. If, like B. F. Skinner (1953), you look at learning as a process of operant conditioning through a carefully paced program of reinforcement, you will teach accordingly. If you view second language learning as a deductive rather than an inductive process, you will probably choose to present rules, lists, and charts to your students rather than let them “discover” those rules inductively.
An extended definition—or theory—of teaching will spell out governing principles for choosing certain methods and techniques. A theory of teaching, in harmony with your integrated understanding of the learner and of the language to be learned, will point the way to successful procedures on a given day for given learners under the various constraints of the particular context of learning. In other words, your theory of teaching is your theory of learning “stood on its head.”  
THREE PERSPECTIVES ON SECOND LANGUAGE ACQUISITION  
The general definitions of language, learning, and teaching offered frame a beginning of theory-building. However, points of disagreement become apparent after a little probing of details. For example, is L1 acquisition an innately determined process or much like the learning of many other skills?  Is language primarily a “system of formal units” or a “means for social inter action”? Can we attribute SLA success to, let’s say, simply a matter of comprehensible input, or exposure to meaningful communicative contexts? Differing viewpoints emerge from equally knowledgeable scholars, who usually differ over the extent to which one perspective is more accurate than another.  Yet with all the possible disagreements among applied linguists and SLA researchers, some historical patterns emerge that highlight trends in the study of SLA. These trends will be described here in the form of three different perspectives, or schools of thought in the fields of linguistics and psychology.  While each perspective shares historical chronology, bear in mind that such a sketch may risk some overgeneralization  
Structural Linguistics and Behavioral Psychology  
In the 1940s and 1950s, the structural, or descriptive, school of linguistics prided itself in a rigorous application of the scientific observation of human languages. Only “publicly observable responses” could be subject to investigation. The linguist’s task, according to the structuralist, was to describe human languages and to identify their structural characteristics. An important axiom of structural linguistics was that languages can differ from each other without limit, and that no preconceptions should apply across languages. Freeman Twaddell (1935), among others, underscored the mandate for the structural linguist to examine only overtly observable data, and to ignore any mentalistic theorizing that might entertain unobservable guesses, hunches, and intuition about language.  
Of further importance to the structural or descriptive linguist was the notion that language could be dismantled into small pieces or units and that these units could be described scientifically, contrasted, and added up again to form the whole. From this principle emerged an unchecked rush of linguists, in the 1940s and 1950s, to the far reaches of the earth to engage in the rigorous production of detailed descriptions of the world’s languages, many of them labeled as “exotic.”  
Similar perspectives were shared by psychologists of this era. For example, B.F. Skinner (1957), Charles Osgood (1957), and others insisted on the rigors of the scientific method in studying human behavior. In their behavioral paradigm, any notion of “idea” or “meaning” was “explanatory fiction,” and in both language and other behavior, the only legitimate “responses” were those that could be objectively perceived, recorded, and measured. The unreliability of observation of states of consciousness, thinking, concept formation, or the acquisition of knowledge made such topics impossible to examine in a behavioral framework.  
Generative Linguistics and Cognitive Psychology  
In the decade of the 1960s, generative-transformational linguistics emerged through the influence of Noam Chomsky and a number of his colleagues.  Chomsky was trying to show that human language cannot be scrutinized simply in terms of observable stimuli and responses or the volumes of raw data gathered by field linguists. The generative linguist was interested not only in describing language (achieving the level of descriptive adequacy) but also in arriving at an explanatory level of adequacy in the study of language, that is, a “principled basis, independent of any particular language, for the selection of the descriptively adequate grammar of each language” (Chomsky, 1964, p. 63 ).  
Early seeds of the generative-transformational revolution were planted near the beginning of the twentieth century. Ferdinand de Saussure (1916) claimed that there was a difference between parole (what Skinner “observes,” and what Chomsky called performance), on the one hand, and langue (akin to the concept of competence, or our underlying and unobservable language ability). A few decades later, however, descriptive linguists chose largely to ignore langue and to study parole. The revolution brought about by generative linguistics broke with the descriptivists’ preoccupation with performance—the outward manifestation of language—and focused on the importance of the underlying (and nonobservable) levels of meaning and thought that give birth to and generate observable linguistic performance.  
Similarly, cognitive psychologists asserted that meaning, understanding, and knowing were significant data for psychological study. Instead of focusing mechanistically on stimulus-response connections, cognitivists tried to discover psychological principles of organization and functioning. David Ausubel (1965, p. 4 ), for example, felt that behaviorists “dangerously oversimplified highly  complex psychological phenomena.” The growth of cognitivism in the 1960s and beyond signaled a distinct change in approaches to the study of human functioning, characterized by assertions that “the mind/brain is, for all intents and purposes, the necessary and sufficient locus of human thought and learning” (Atkinson, 2011b , p. 3 ).  
Cognitive psychologists, like generative linguists, sought to discover under lying motivations and deeper structures of human behavior by using a rational approach. That is, they freed themselves from the strictly empirical study typical of behaviorists and employed the tools of logic, reason, extrapolation, and inference in order to derive explanations for human behavior. For cognitive psychologists, going beyond merely descriptive adequacy to explanatory power took on the utmost importance.  
Both the structural linguist and the behavioral psychologist were interested in description, in answering what questions about human behavior by means of objective measurement in controlled circumstances. The generative linguist and cognitive psychologist were, to be sure, interested in the what question.  But they were far more interested in a more ultimate question: why? What underlying factors—innate, psychological, social, or environmental circumstances—caused a particular behavior in a human being?  
Suppose you’re blissfully enjoying a meal at a restaurant when another patron across the room starts screaming expletives, stands up from the table, throws his drink into the face of the waitperson, and stomps out of the restaurant. A friend later wants to know what happened, and asks various what questions. Which restaurant? What time of day was this? What did the person look like? What did the waiter do? What did the guy say as he walked quickly out of the restaurant? Another friend asks different questions, ones that require your inference about the incident. Was the guy angry? Was he mentally disturbed? Why did he throw his drink into the waitperson’s face? Were other people shocked? Was the waitperson embarrassed?  
The first friend asked objective questions, the answers to which were based on observable behavior. But did they probe ultimate answers? The second set of questions was richer, and obviously riskier. By daring to ask some difficult questions about the unobserved, we may lose some objectivity but gain more profound insight into human behavior.  
Constructivism: A Multidisciplinary Approach  
Constructivism is hardly a new school of thought. Piaget and Vygotsky, names often associated with constructivism, are not by any means new to the scene of language studies. Yet, in a variety of post-structuralist theoretical positions, constructivism emerged as a paradigm of intense interest in the last part of the twentieth century. A refreshing characteristic of constructivism is its integration of linguistic, psychological, and sociological paradigms, in contrast to the professional chasms that often divided those disciplines in the previous century. Now, with its emphasis on social interaction and the discovery, or construction, of meaning, the three disciplines have much more common ground.  
What is constructivism, and how does it differ from the other two viewpoints described above? First, it will be helpful to think of two branches of constructivism: cognitive and social. In cognitive constructivism, emphasis is placed on the importance of learners constructing their own representation of reality.  “Learners must individually discover and transform complex information if they are to make it their own, [suggesting] a more active role for students in their own learning than is typical in many classrooms” (Slavin, 2003 , pp. 257 – 258 ).  Such claims are rooted in Piaget’s seminal work in the middle of the twentieth century, (Piaget, 1954 , 1955, 1970; Piaget & Inhelder, 1969 ) but have taken a  long time to become widely accepted views. For Piaget, “learning is a developmental process that involves change, self-generation, and construction, each building on prior learning experiences” (Kaufman, 2004 , p. 304 ).  
Social constructivism emphasizes the importance of social interaction and cooperative learning in ultimate attainment. Spivey (1997, p. 24 ) noted  that constructivist research tends to focus on “individuals engaged in social  practices … on a collaborative group, [or] on a global community.” The cham 
pion of social constructivism is Lev Vygotsky (1978), who advocated the view that “children’s thinking and meaning-making is socially constructed and emerges out of their social interactions with their environment” (Kaufman, 2004 , p. 304 ). 
One of the most popular concepts advanced by Vygotsky was the notion of a zone of proximal development (ZPD): the distance between learners’ existing developmental state and their potential development. Put another way, the ZPD encompasses tasks that a learner has not yet learned but is capable of learning with appropriate stimuli. The ZPD is an important facet of social constructivism because it involves tasks “that a child cannot yet do alone but could do with the assistance of more competent peers or adults” (Slavin, 2003 , p. 44 ;  see also Karpov & Haywood, 1998 ). A number of applications of Vygotsky’s  ZPD have been made to foreign language instruction ( Lantolf, 2000 , 2011;  Nassaji & Cumming, 2000 ; Marchenkova, 2005 ) in both adult and child second  language learning contexts.  
Vygotsky’s concept of the ZPD contrasted rather sharply with Piaget’s theory of learning in that the former saw a unity of learning and development while the latter saw stages of development setting a precondition or readiness for learning (Dunn & Lantolf, 1998 ). Piaget stressed the importance of individual cognitive development as a relatively solitary act. Biological timetables and stages of development were basic; social interaction was claimed only to trigger development at the right moment in time. On the other hand, Vygotsky maintained that social interaction was foundational in cognitive development and rejected the notion of predetermined stages.  
Closely allied to a Vygotskian social constructivist perspective is that of Mikhail Bakhtin (1986, 1990), the Russian literary theorist who has now captured the attention of SLA researchers and practitioners ( Hall, Vitanova, &  Marchenkova, 2005 ). Bakhtin contended that language is “immersed in a social and cultural context, and its central function is to serve as a medium of communication.” In this spirit, the early years of the new millennium have seen increasing emphasis on sociocultural dimensions of SLA, or what Watson Gegeo (2004) described as a language socialization paradigm for SLA: a new synthesis that “involves a reconsideration of mind, language, and epistemology, and a recognition that cognition originates in social interaction and is shaped by cultural and sociopolitical processes” (Watson-Gegeo, 2004 , p. 331 ). 
We can see constructivist perspectives in the work of first and second language acquisition researchers who study conversational discourse, sociocultural factors in learning, and interactionist theories. In many ways, constructivist perspectives are a natural successor to cognitively based studies of universal grammar, information processing, memory, artificial intelligence, and interlanguage systematicity.  
All three of the historical perspectives described in this section—structural/ behavioral, generative/cognitive, and constructivist—must be seen as important in creating balanced descriptions of second language acquisition. Consider for a moment the analogy of a very high mountain, viewed from a distance. From one direction the mountain may have a sharp peak, easily identified glaciers, and jutting rock formations. From another direction, however, the same mountain might appear to have two peaks (the second formerly hidden from view) and different configurations of its slopes. From a slightly different direction but this time with binoculars, yet further characteristics emerge—a forested ravine, rounded rocks, a winding trail. The study of SLA is very much like the viewing of such a mountain: we need multiple vantage points and tools in order to ascertain the whole picture.  
NINETEEN CENTURIES OF LANGUAGE TEACHING  
A survey of research and theoretical trends in SLA could remain unfocused without its practical application to the language classroom. Since most readers of this book are ultimately interested in language pedagogy, I will offer occasional relevant historical commentaries on language teaching and link those descriptions to topics and issues being treated. In so doing, I hope to acquaint you progressively with some of the methodological trends and issues on the pedagogical side of the profession.  
So far in this chapter, the focus has been on research over the past century or so of linguistics and psychology. What do we know about language teaching in the two or three millennia prior? The answer is not very much.  
Louis Kelly’s (1969) informative survey of language teaching over “twenty five centuries,” to borrow from his title, revealed interesting anecdotal accounts of L2 instruction, but few if any research-based language teaching methods. In the Western world, foreign language learning in schools was synonymous with the learning of Latin or Greek. Latin, thought to promote intellectuality through “mental gymnastics,” was until relatively recently held to be indispensable to an adequate education. Latin was taught by means of what has been called the Classical Method: focus on grammatical rules, memorization of vocabulary and grammatical forms, translation of texts, and performance of written exercises.  
As other languages began to be taught in educational institutions in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the Classical Method was adopted as the chief means for teaching foreign languages. Little thought was given at the time to teaching oral use of languages; after all, languages were not being taught primarily to learn oral/aural communication, but to learn for the sake of being “scholarly” or, in some instances, for gaining a reading proficiency in a foreign language. Since there was little if any theoretical research on second language acquisition in general, or on the acquisition of reading proficiency, foreign languages were taught as any other skill was taught.  
Language teaching before the twentieth century is best depicted as a “tradition” that, in various manifestations and adaptations, has been practiced in language classrooms worldwide even up to the present time. Late in the nineteenth century, the Classical Method came to be known as the Grammar Translation Method. There was little to distinguish Grammar Translation from what had gone on in foreign language classrooms for centuries: explanations of grammar points, memorization of lists, and exercises in translation (Prator & Celce-Murcia, 1979). But the Grammar Translation Method remarkably withstood attempts at the outset of the twentieth century to “reform” language teaching methodology, and to this day it remains a standard methodology for language teaching in many educational institutions.
It is remarkable, in one sense, that this method has been so stalwart among many competing models. It does virtually nothing to enhance a student’s communicative ability in the language. It is, according to Jack Richards and Ted Rodgers, “remembered with distaste by thousands of school learners, for whom foreign language learning meant a tedious experience of memorizing endless lists of unusable grammar rules and vocabulary and attempting to produce perfect translations of stilted or literary prose” (Richards & Rodgers, 2001 , p. 4 ).  
In another sense, however, one can understand why Grammar Translation has been so popular. It requires few specialized skills on the part of teachers.  Tests of grammar rules and of translations are easy to construct and can be objectively scored. Many standardized tests of foreign languages still do not attempt to tap into communicative abilities, so students have little motivation to go beyond grammar analogies, translations, and rote exercises. And it is some 
times successful in leading a student toward a reading knowledge of an L2.  In the final analysis, as Richards and Rodgers (2001, p. 7) pointed out, “It is a method for which there is no theory. There is no literature that offers a rationale or justification for it or that attempts to relate it to issues in linguistics, psychology, or educational theory.” As you continue to examine theoretical principles in this book, I’m sure you will understand more fully the “theorylessness” of the Grammar Translation Method.  
LANGUAGE TEACHING IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY  
Against the backdrop of the previous nineteen centuries, a glance through the past century or so of language teaching gives us a refreshingly colorful picture of varied interpretations of the “best” way to teach a foreign language. Perhaps beginning with François Gouin’s (1880) Series Method, foreign language teaching witnessed some revolutionary trends, all of which in one way or another came under the scrutiny of scientific (or observational) research.  
As schools of thought have come and gone, so have language teaching trends waxed and waned in popularity. Albert Marckwardt (1972, p. 5 ) saw these “changing winds and shifting sands” as a cyclical pattern in which a new paradigm (to use Kuhn’s term) of teaching methodology emerged about every  quarter of a century, with each new method breaking from the old, but at the  same time taking with it some of the positive aspects of the previous paradigm.  We might also describe trends across the decades as swings in a pendulum: focus on accuracy vs. focus on fluency, separation of skills vs. integration of skills, and teacher-centered vs. learner-centered approaches. More vividly, we could adopt Mitchell and Vidal’s (2001, p. 27 ) metaphor to depict our journey across time as  “that of a major river, constantly flowing, fed by many sources of water—rivers,  streams, springs in remote territories, all fed by rain on wide expanses of land.”  
One of the best examples of both the cyclical (and fluvial) nature of methods is seen in the revolutionary Audiolingual Method (ALM) of the late 1940s and 1950s. The ALM, with its overemphasis on oral production drills, borrowed tenets from its predecessor by almost half a century, the Direct Method, but had essentially sprung from behavioral theories of learning of the time. The ALM rejected its classical predecessor, the Grammar Translation Method, by diminishing if not obliterating the need for metacognitive focus on the forms of language. Within a short time, however, with the increasing popularity of cognitive psychology, ALM critics were advocating more attention to rules and to the “cognitive code” of language, which, to some, smacked of a return to Grammar Translation. Shifting sands indeed, and the ebb and flow of paradigms!  
Since the early 1970s, the symbiotic relationship of theoretical disciplines and teaching methodology has continued to manifest itself (Thomas, 1998 ). The field of psychology (as noted in this chapter in outlining tenets of constructivism) has witnessed a growing interest in interpersonal relationships, the value of group work, and the use of numerous cooperative strategies for attaining desired goals. The same era has seen linguists searching ever more deeply for answers to the nature of communication and communicative competence and for explanations of the interactive, sociocultural process of language acquisition.  
The language teaching profession has mirrored these theoretical trends with approaches and techniques that have stressed the importance of self-efficacy, construction of identity, students cooperatively learning together, developing individual strategies for constructing meaning, and above all of focusing on the communicative process in language learning. Some of these methodological innovations will be described in subsequent chapters of this book.
Today, many of the pedagogical springs and rivers of the last few decades are appropriately captured in the term Communicative Language Teaching (CLT), now a catchphrase for language teachers. CLT, to be discussed further in Chapter 8 , is an eclectic blend of previous methods into the best of what a  teacher can provide in authentic uses of the L2 in the classroom. Indeed, the single greatest challenge in the profession is to move significantly beyond the teaching of rules, patterns, definitions, and other knowledge “about” language to the point that we are teaching our students to communicate genuinely, spontaneously, and meaningfully in the L2.  
A significant difference between current language teaching practices and those of, perhaps a half a century ago, is the absence of proclaimed “orthodoxies” and “best” methods. We are well aware that methods, as they were conceived of forty or fifty years ago, are too narrow and too constrictive to apply to a wide range of learners in an enormous number of situational contexts. There are no instant recipes. No quick and easy method is guaranteed to provide success.  
Brown (2001), Kumaravadivelu (2001), and Bell (2003) have all appropriately shown that pedagogical trends in language teaching now spur us to develop a principled basis on which teachers can choose particular designs and techniques for teaching an L2 in a specific context. Mellow (2002) calls this “principled eclecticism,” while Richards & Rodgers (2001) refer to an approach in which every learner, every teacher, and every context is unique. Your task as a teacher is to understand the properties of those contexts. Then, using a cautious, enlightened, eclectic approach, you can build a set of foundation stones—a theory, or set of coherent perspectives—based on principles of L2 learning and teaching.