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Zachariah Pippin

MTW Portfolio

Drs. Shannon Howard and Lilian Mina

April 27, 2021

Landing in the Vacuum: A Warning Against the Aggressive Pursuit of a Translingual Pedagogy

Introduction
When I was eight years old, I sat in a third-grade classroom in Alabama, a classroom

about which I remember very little. I cannot recall what books we read or what type of

mathematics we studied or what words we learned to spell, nor can I recall much about the daily

social goings on: who hated whom, which pairs of students were friends, or who was the most

athletic. The one thing that I recall vividly was a long, thin poster that ran atop my teacher’s

blackboard which had a picture of a rocket ship and an adage: “Shoot for the moon! Even if you

miss, you’ll land among the stars.” This phrase serves as an endorsement of tenacity in the

pursuit of excellence if one is willing to make a charitable interpretation and naked, reckless

ambition if one is not. Perhaps I am speaking too harshly. Whether or not this phrase has any

potential for action guiding in a positive sense is entirely contingent on the goal and aim of one’s

work. It’s certainly not inherently negative. However, the judicious application of this phrase to

any setting in which there is a high potential for risk makes it ring all the more unnerving, as

there are as high potential losses as gains. We must take care when shooting for the moon,

because we don’t always land among the stars. Sometimes we don’t get off the ground at all, and

sometimes we land in the vacuum.

The move toward a translingual pedagogy represents a symbolic “moon” in the sense that

it is a widely desired but rarely touched theoretical benchmark designed with an eye toward a
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type of pedagogical paradigm shift into which the composition classroom ought to be eased

gradually, rather than thrown all at once. This topic interests me because of the near-unanimous,

thunderous applause with which translingualism as an idea was received by the students in our

class this semester, that is, the future teachers of English in America. To have enthusiasm for a

move toward a translingual pedagogy is not a negative thing, of course. I personally find

translingualism very interesting as a theory to potentially inform pedagogy, but to jump into it

wholeheartedly because of the niceties promised by its proponents is reckless. The potential risk

of this leap is high, and we ought to be more concerned about the possibility of landing in the

vacuum.

In the substance of this paper, I will address the terms offered by the authors of the

translingual approach, and discuss the reason why instructors invested in the development and

enfranchisement of multilingual students in the composition classroom might be drawn to

incorporate it into their pedagogy. I will then outline some potential problems that others have

raised with the translingual approach as well as some of my own issues with it. Finally, I will

submit three major steps that we can take before introducing translingualism into our pedagogy

in order to make sure that we do not inadvertently make mistakes which could be detrimental to

our students. Before we can properly address why an overcommitment to translingualism is a

potential negative, we must first establish definitions of terms so that we are not arguing across

purposes. Without definitions being set in stone and certain distinctions being drawn, I do not

think it will be possible for us to have a productive discussion on translingualism.

Definitions of Terms
The first term that I wish to define is “multilingual student.” This term will refer to any

student who speaks more than one language with a degree of proficiency. The context for this
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discussion revolves around theory and practice for first-year composition instructors at English-

speaking universities, therefore one of the languages which the student speaks must be English.

Furthermore, for our purposes “multilingual students,” as I will use the term are enrolled in an

undergraduate or graduate-level program at a primarily English-speaking university.

“Multilingual students” may or may not have a country of origin different form the country in

which the university of their enrollment is located, but it is reasonable to assume that heritage

language differs between “multilingual students” and a majority of their peers and instructors.

“Monolingual students” are to be considered students who are only proficient in English

while enrolled in an undergraduate or graduate-level program at a primarily English-speaking

university. All students are to either be considered multilingual or monolingual, and the terms are

mutually exclusive.

With these things in mind, it would probably also do us well to define the term

“proficiency,” as the term itself is ambiguous, not to mention loaded. For our definition of

“proficient,” we will look to a Language Difference in Writing: Toward a Translingual

Approach” by Bruce Horner, Min-Zhan Lu, Jacqueline Jones Royster, and John Trimbur, as it is

their work which defines the translingual approach, and to use their terminology will prevent us

from talking across purposes. When we refer to “proficiency” in a single language, we will refer

to the ability of a person to draw on the “abstracted set of conventional forms” that comprise that

language, which is the traditional definition that Horner et al. argue against, but when we refer to

“translingual proficiency,” we refer to “deftness in a broad and diverse repertoire of language

resources and responsiveness to the diverse range of readers’ social positions and ideological

perspectives” and “openness to linguistic differences and the ability to construct useful meanings

from perceptions of them.” (308) It is expedient to use a definition for “proficiency” so that we
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might draw a clearer distinction between multilingual and monolingual students, which is

essential to a discussion of translingualism. The definition used here is not to be taken as an

asserted single-formula definition for “proficiency” or an endorsement of the concept the term

represents.

“Translingualism” is the key term for this paper, and as such it is the one that we must

show the utmost care when defining. We return to “Language Difference in Writing: Toward a

Translingual Approach” for our definition, as it is the authors’ own term. Horner, et al. define

“translingualism” as “see[ing] difference in language not as a barrier to overcome or as a

problem to manage, but as a resource for producing meaning in writing, speaking, reading, and

listening.” (303) When boiled down to the rue, translingualism is that paradigm of writing

education which views the diversity of language proficiency between multilingual and

monolingual students (as well as that between multilingual students and other multilingual

students) as a boon, rather than a hindrance to the act of teaching writing. The translingualism

put forth by Horner, et al. also calls for a redefinition of concepts providing a rough

measurement of linguistic ability like “fluency” to go outside of the traditional definition to a

broader definition in which these words would be defined by the writer’s ability to express their

ideas creatively across a wide variety of languages by employing linguistic conventions common

to a broad array of different languages in their work.

Translingualism and Its Appeal

There are a variety of different ways to apply the notion of translingualism in the

composition classroom, because considering translingualism as in informant principle of

pedagogy makes it inherently a pure object of theory. Approaches to both pedagogy and general

academic work that incorporate translingualism as part of their theory have garnered significant
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popularity in recent years. Popular expansions on the original concept translingualism are

enumerated in a subsequent paper by Min-Zhan Lu and Bruce Horner, “Introduction:

Translingual Work,” which serves as a survey of contemporary scholarship on translingualism.

The ultimate goal of translingualism to make the classroom more fluid, more dynamic,

and freer from a set of conventions that might stifle or make uncomfortable marginalized

individuals, or any individual who does not sit at the top of the social dominance hierarchy. For

our purposes, is specifically targeted toward the first-year English composition classroom.

However, while it certainly isn’t inaccurate to characterize translingualism as having its roots in

creating a more equitable classroom space for multilingual students, it is also worth noting that

the translingual approach invites all students to compose across language, not only those who

would explicitly identify themselves as multilingual. In short, it is a movement against the

rigidity of linguistic convention and for the fluidity of language and dialect across a single piece

of composition.

The translingual approach has grown to such a height fo popularity that a group of self-

described “L2 writing experts” felt the need to address an open letter to the academic community

to draw a distinction between themselves and translingual writing experts. (Atkinson, et al. 383)

Before we can even begin to ask ourselves the question of whether an aggressive pursuit of a

translingual pedagogy is warranted, we must ask ourselves what exactly it was that made

translingualism such a popular topic of academic theory in the first place.

The inclusion of translingualism in one’s pedagogy is an obvious way to enfranchise

multilingual students who have traditionally been disenfranchised in the monolingual classroom.

Moreover, it accomplishes this move toward a more socially just and democratic classroom by

working within a framework that pushes the goal of multilingual pedagogy beyond the dilemma
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of how to teach multilingual students to utilize the conventions of, not only written English, but

western liberal academia as a whole. Opting instead to step forward into the idea of allowing

those same multilingual students to not only feel comfortable expressing themselves through

their writing but to incorporate the conventions of other languages which they are comfortable.

This type of enfranchisement into the academy is preferable to the old form of

bridge-building which encouraged ways to assimilate multilingual students into the western

liberal mold. Rather, the translingual movement encourages institutional change, which both

simultaneously challenges the entrenched notions of the academy, pushing it forward on toward

the next stage of its development (which cannot be emphasized enough in a globalizing world),

and allows multilingual students to feel more comfortable composing in class. It works against

standardization, which is an inherently exclusive practice, and towards openness, a more

inclusive view of assessment, both in the sense of actual grades assigned to students and in the

sense of how a teacher might view his or her students’ work (and encourage other students to

view that same work). In the most broadly liberal sense of the word, translingualism, when

implemented properly, makes the classroom more democratic and takes away the stratification

between multilingual and monolingual students, or at least heavily reduces it. It further reduces

inherent classroom power-gap between instructor and pupil, as without a set of clearly defined

standards, a multilingual student will not be penalized for utilizing their own familiar linguistic

structures when it comes to assessment.

Furthermore, the translingualism encourages mutual cross-cultural adjustment, rather

than simply expecting it from multilingual students. Previous theories and the pedagogies that

they informed were, as I said, exercises in bridge-building which encouraged heavy adjustments

on the part of multilingual students to the surroundings of a primarily

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English-speaking campus, or at worst, incentivized multilingual students to outright assimilate to

the pre-existing standards of the English language. Translingualism, by contrast, not only

demands less adjustment of multilngual students, but demands more adjustment from

monolingual students by actively encouraging the use of systems like code-meshing or

code-switching, between dialects if not entirely between languages. As such, students are

encouraged to meet in the middle, rather than disadvantaged students being forced to do the

lion’s share of the legwork. In many ways, it not only posits that this power-gap between

multilingual and monolingual students should not exist, but that it, in fact, cannot exist, as it

views the notion of monolingualism as inherently impossible in contemporary society.

“[T]eachers of writing self-identified as monolingual regularly use a mix of varieties of any one

language,” say Horner, et al. when discussing the notion of monolingualism. (310) It is not

difficult to extrapolate this idea further into the ultimate inutility of the terms “monolingual” and

“multilingual” in an academic sense, reserving the terms as modes of preferred self-identity for

individuals. Ultimately, the goal is the same: the translingual approach eschews the building of

bridges for the breaking of perceived barriers.

The use of the translingual approach has another effect, which is simultaneously both

more obvious and less so: it simply produces interesting writing. In his article, “Codemeshing in

Academic Writing: Identifying Teachable Strategies of Translanguaging,” Suresh Canagarajah

brings up an example of translingual writing from one of his graduate students in which she

incorporates traditional English along with Arabic and the use of text emoticons. It’s this type of

envelope-pushing that makes the idea of translingualism so appealing to those within the

academy, and it is not difficult to understand the appeal. It is easy for the academic to become

jaded with the preponderance of derivativeness on display. “Nihil sub sole novum,” becomes not
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so much a point of comfort as consternation in an ivory tower which seems to familiar eyes to

have become far too clean. Something like Canagrajah’s student’s work is absolutely sure to

satiate not only the desire for novelty, but the desire to see something truly inspired. This

interpretation may seem cynical on its face, but Paul Kei Matsuda points out this very fixation in

“The Lure of Translingual Writing,” in which he characterizes part of the appeal of

translingualism as a self-perpetuating desire within academia for more, more boundary-pushing,

and more singular examples of translingual writing.

While examples like Canagarajah’s student are the most eye-catching, other, significantly

more mundane examples have been published as well, for example, in Min-Zhan Lu’s

“Professing Multiculturalism: The Politics of Style in the Contact Zone,” Lu teaches her students

using the example of the linguistic structure “can able to.” While “can able to” is not a functional

structure in conventional English (or edited American English), the driving force of Lu’s

exercise is that one can derive meaning from “can able to” that one cannot derive from its most

closely associated, “more correct” linguistic partners (the verb, “can” and the phrase, “to be able

to.” The phrase “can able to” can carry with it specific subtexts that separate it from the

conventional English variants, which might convey a different meaning about the events upon

which the text is commentating than the conventionally correct phrasing or even express themes

about the author’s through his or her linguistic practices. (Lu 451-453)

Criticisms for Translingualism

Even critics of translingualism would likely be loath to assert that the core of the

approach presented by Horner et al. is born from anything less than a place of genuine desire to

help increase the volume of disadvantaged voices erstwhile muted beneath the suffocating

weight of imperious standardization, which is certainly an admirable goal. To simply condemn

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the translingual approach as inherently bad and completely without utility would be shortsighted.

That having been said, something being “not completely without utility” doesn’t make it beyond

reproach, and such things are very rarely a question of intent. More often they reduce to what is

or is not practical, and translingualism, when the strands of noble intent are boiled away, seems

to be a very difficult thing to get a proper hold on.

I will quote again the definition that Horner, et al. gave for the translingual approach

when they defined it: “see[ing] difference in language not as a barrier to overcome or as a

problem to manage, but as a resource for producing meaning in writing, speaking, reading, and

listening.” (303) This is obviously meant to be a statement of theory not of pedagogy, but from a

philosophical perspective, does it even work as a piece of theory? It seems more a vague

statement of purpose than a piece of cogent philosophy. To begin, what qualifies a “difference in

language?” We can tell when we see that there is a difference in language between, say, English

and Latin, but what about English and something like Jamaican Creole? Portuguese and

Brazilian Portuguese? The question of where one language ends and another begins is not always

so clear as to be able to establish a thing called “difference in language.”

The other and perhaps more problematically vague portion of the definition is the

statement, “a resource for producing meaning.” In a somewhat ironical fashion, this phrase

obfuscates the meaning of the translingualism. Surely, all language is “a resource for producing

meaning,” written language being the communication of ideas from one consciousness to another

through a set of commonly understood symbols. The idea that “a difference in language” could

be a more effective “resource for producing meaning” is intriguing, but we are left without an

example of this phenomenon, adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

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On the one hand, vagueness can be a positive attribute, as it can mean that instructors are

at liberty to interpret the theory for their own purposes. On the opposite hand, it means that

instructors can be left rudderless. Matsuda’s “Lure of Translingual Writing” was published in

2014, three full years after the publication of “Language Difference in Writing: Toward a

Translingual Approach” when the term was first defined, and even in his paper, he cannot

provide a single-formula definition for the translingual approach and instead has to resort to

listing common attributes among translingualists.

A failure to provide a solid definition may seem like a comparatively minor

inconvenience, especially in the realm of something as theoretical as translingualism, but it truly

is not. One of the most important aspects of theory over practice is our ability to practice

specificity. When we work with theory, we are working on the cognitive equivalent of a

frictionless plane. It should be easier to work with theory than with practice, because a piece of

theory is not necessarily made to negotiate the various concerns of reality. Uncertainty should

ideally be introduced to any action guiding bit of theory during the practical stage, not when that

bit of theory is still wholly theoretical. In brief, the difficulty inherent in translating the

translingual approach from a theory into a practical pedagogical framework is more than

understandable.

Creating a coherent and functional pedagogy around a theory takes time and a lot of trial

and error, but when a theory itself lacks sufficient specificity that even the experts debating it at

the level of peer-reviewed publication can potentially be caught talking across purposes because

they have different ideas of what a true translingual approach might look like, the theory ought to

be considered underdeveloped enough to need significant changes before it can begin to be

applied in a practical way, especially when we are talking about classroom teaching. Remember,
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what we are talking about are the things we are teaching our students. We want to avoid the

unfortunate potential of missing the mark and “landing in the vacuum” in any way that we can. A

slower, more considered approach in which we ensure that our theory is ready for practical

application before we simply throw it at a difficult situation is likely more prudent.

It is also worth noting that translingualism is not only slippery and difficult to pin down,

but it’s extremely complex. Understanding the ideas and implications behind ideas like

code-meshing requires a background in the humanities that many students simply will not have,

depending on their level and field of study. Canagarajah’s student managed to do something very

interesting with the idea of a translingual paper, incorporating different aspects of her identity,

but she was a graduate student, and an exceptionally bright one. There is a difference between

integrating translingual ideas into a classroom full of humanities graduates or third-year English

majors and integrating them into a first-year composition classroom. First-year college students

may have difficulty with what exactly it is that they are expected to do and how to do it,

especially if they are coming from working-class environments or lower-income school districts.

Some students will almost certainly go from a surface-level literary analysis of The Great Gatsby

to a personal narrative assignment to being expected to compose their work across languages. As

gently as it can be suggested that one tries to experiment with code-meshing, it is difficult to

imagine a situation in which moving into something so advanced so quickly causes the average

first-year student anything but desperate anxiety. It is, at very best, tremendously ambitious to

expect this kind of writing from a first-year student, who is likely still attempting to find his or

her voice as a writer. By contrast, an exercise like Lu performs in “Professing Multiculturalism”

in which students are asked to begin thinking about error in a new light without needing to jump
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two-footed into translingual composition seems as though it might be a more effective approach

for first-time learners.

The criticism of the translingual approach does not end with it merely being an

underdeveloped or complicated theory. There is also a potential worry that the more socially

aware motivations for translingualism can potentially lead down a route that could place value in

the wrong areas and even cause significant blowback to multilingual students. One of the

foremost thrusts of Matsuda’s critique was a problem endemic to translingualism that he called

“linguistic tourism.” Essentially, the idea was that, far from a healthy appreciation for one

another’s writing conventions or an interest in them that allows us to more effectively expand

our creative identity across cultures, it would instead create an environment where students’

essays utilizing translingual ideas would become exoticized among academics. It is needless to

say that this way of viewing multilingual student writing is inherently negative. To be viewed as

desirable for one’s rareness and exoticism is every bit as othering as to be viewed as undesirable

for one’s deviations from the dominant social stratum. The former is patronizing and the latter is

demonizing, but they both serve to do the same thing at the end of the day: shine a spotlight on

the otherness of the multilingual student, who may already be feeling alienated from a majority-

monolingual classroom. This is precisely how we risk alienating our multilingual students

according to Jeroen Gevers, who says, in a 2018 article that “educators should avoid uncritically

embracing translingual approaches as these may ultimately obscure processes of cultural and

linguistic negotiation by valuing difference for its own sake.” (74) I also consider this to be one

of the largest risks of the translingual approach: replacing one harmful bias with an equally

harmful bias.
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Conclusion: Toward a Solution

Even ardent critics of the translingual approach admit that there are good ideas to be

found within it. The issue is not with the approach itself, but with whether the academic

community may be embracing the idea before it has had its day in court. The translingual ideal

may very well, like the moon, be a goal worth shooting for, but it we risk landing in the vacuum

if we do not moderate the pace with which we attempt to reach it. There are three main issues

which need to be addressed before translingualism can be safely and effectively adopeted into

pedagogy.

First, and most importantly, the translingual approach needs to be more clearly defined.

This is crucial for any object of theory in any field. Without an agreed-upon definition for the

object which satisfies the necessary and sufficient logical conditions, the object may have any

meaning assigned to it, so long as that meaning “sounds about right,” or worse yet, it could end

up with no meaning at all. As long as the definition is as fluid as it is now, any old thing can be

considered a facet of translingualism so long as someone who sounds convincing enough says

that it can. Agreeing upon a single-formula definition is critical for the creation of a working

theory that can begin the transition into a proper practice or set of practices.

Secondly, a path of translingual progression must be established. I am aware that students

do not necessarily need to be exposed to the raw theory behind the things that they are practicing,

but to teach something to students without making them aware of the implications that drive the

things they are learning is irresponsible. First-year students may be asked to try translingual

projects, and those who find those projects rewarding and interesting may be given options

pursue translingualism and learn more about the theory surrounding it as they go further along in

their academic careers. Ensuring that students have a comfortable path to follow to develop their

code-meshing skills and their ability to write across languages without overwhelming them is
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critical, for the same reason that we do not teach students calculus immediately after

multiplication tables.

Finally, the idea of exoticizing students’ translingual writing must be always in our minds

so that it may be avoided at all cost. It is a negative reflection on the instructor and has a negative

impact on the student. We must take good care to let our care for our student supersede

intellectual curiosity. Rather than seeking ever-more unique samples of writing, we must help

our students’ translingual writing express what the student wants to express. I have no doubt that

if given sufficient time and liberty to explore translingual composition strategies, students like

Canagarajah’s will create ever more unique and interesting works.

If we work on these issues, the path toward the full realization a translingual model of

pedagogy will make itself clear to us, with time. It will not be today, and it will, in all likelihood

not be tomorrow or even five years from now. But it will eventually make itself clear. We ought

not to shoot for the moon, hoping to land among the stars but instead landing in the vacuum.

Instead, if we patiently build toward the moon, taking our time and laying each bit of brick with

care, we have a better chance of arriving there in a safe, organized, and timely fashion. It is with

passion and fervor, but also diligence and caution that we can ultimately work toward creating a

better, more democratic, and more productive classroom for ourselves and our multilingual

students.
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Works Cited

Atkinson, Dwight, et al. “Clarifying the Relationship between L2 Writing and Translingual

Writing: An Open Letter to Writing Studies Editors and Organization Leaders.” College

English, vol. 77, no. 4, Mar. 2015, pp. 383–386.

Canagarajah, Suresh. “Codemeshing in Academic Writing: Identifying Teachable Strategies of

Translanguaging.” Modern Language Journal, vol. 95, no. 3, 2011, pp. 401–417.

Gevers, Jeroen. “Translingualism Revisited: Language Difference and Hybridity in L2

Writing.” Journal of Second Language Writing, vol. 40, 2018, pp. 73–83.

Horner, Bruce, et al. “Language Difference in Writing: Toward a Translingual

Approach.” College English, vol. 73, no. 3, 2011, pp. 303–321.

Lu, Min-Zhan. “Professing Multiculturalism: The Politics of Style in the Contact Zone.” College

Composition and Communication, vol. 45, no. 4, 1994, p. 442.

Lu, Min-Zhan, and Bruce Horner. “Introduction: Translingual Work.” College English, vol. 78,

no. 3, 2016, pp. 258–264.

Matsuda, Paul Kei. “The Lure of Translingual Writing.” PMLA, vol. 129, no. 3, 2014, pp. 478–

483.