Part One: Summary
Cazden first offers a brief comparison of Hymes and Bakhtin's
perspectives on language use. This is followed by a discussion of some
of the educational implications that follow from a (primarily)
Bakhtinian perspective.
As a preface to the comparison, Cazden notes Vygotsky's claim that
mind is socioculturally mediated by the use of semiotic systems - most
especially language - which themselves are sociohistorically
constituted. Unfortunately, she points out, Vygotsky does not provide
units of analysis that are in Vygotsky's words "at one and the same time
units of mind and units of social interaction"(p.198 from Minick, 1986,
p. 122). In attempt to define such a unit Cazden looks to the work of
Bakhtin and offers his term 'voice' as a possibility. 'Voice', Cazden
explains, is "the person acting-that is, speaking or writing in a
particular time and place to known or unknown others" (p. 198). She
draws upon and compares the work of Hymes and Bakhtin (hereafter H and
B) in further developing this concept.
Among the similarities , Cazden notes:
1. Both are fundamentally interested in language variation. For H it is
contained in his Ethnography of Speaking paradigm and for B in his focus
on speech genres and 'heteroglossia.'
2. Both argue against essentialism. They each see speech as being both
structured and emergent, and the language user as being in a continual
state of tension between constraint and choice.
3. Both view the process of language acquisition similarly, as a
process of becoming (multi)voiced. For H we learn to appropriate and
use 'ways of speaking' and for B, we take on 'utterances' which
themselves are part of 'speech genres.'
Among the differences, Cazden notes:
1. While both acknowledge differential communicative competence, for H
it is an issue of commanding more repertoires than others. B, in
contrast, makes more visible the differential voice and competence
within repertoires (that some may command more powerful voices _within_
speech genres).
2. Relatedly, for H, the process of using language in a valued community
practice is seen to be consensual and relatively painless. The
impossibility of assuming a voice is generally explained as the denial
of access to the resources. B's notion of heteroglossia, on the other
hand, makes visible the conflict involved in language use, i.e., the
intrapersonal struggle one undergoes in using language and attempting to
create one's own voice.
Cazden discusses several educational implications stemming from
B's work. She states, for example, that his notions of voice and
heteroglossia can make visible the tensions in students' use of
language, and she provides several examples of their struggles in
coming to terms with written academic discourse. One story tells of a
student's struggle with the word 'discourse', the initial use of which
for this person was like having to speak a different language. According
to this student, until she felt like she bought into the meaning
embedded in the word, until she owned it, she felt inhibited in her use
of it.
This and other similar examples, argues Cazden, force us to
confront some significant issues in teaching. If, as B claims, all
language comes to us already imbued with voice, for example, and if
learning another way of speaking is explained as appropriating others'
discourse, i.e., making another's words our own, then what sense are we
to make of the concept of "plagiarism?"
While acknowledging the tension and struggles that are inherent in
language use, and in this particular case, writing academic discourse,
in the end Cazden leaves the reader with optimistic belief in the individual's
ability to create her own voice from the myriad possibilities. She
concludes with the voice of a black woman writer who, while
acknowledging the pain that taking on academic language has had for her,
emphasizes the promise: "...Writing and rewriting...I came to comprehend
more fully the generative power of language. I discovered...that through
writing one can continually bring new selves into being, each with new
responsibilities and difficulties, but also with new possibilities.
Remarkable power indeed. I write to continually give birth to myself"
(pp. 209-210).
Part Two: Commentary
Being an avid fan of both Hymes and Bakhtin, I read this piece
with great interest and enjoyment. And while I found that much of what
Cazden wrote closely paralleled my own thinking, there are a few places
where we differ. I offer some very brief comments on these here in hopes
of building upon and expanding the discussion she's begun.
First, I find it interesting that the concept of 'voice' was
offered as a unit of analysis. In my own readings of B, I have come to
favor the term 'utterance' the understanding of which includes, for me,
taking into account its history (conventional meaning, typical contexts
of use etc.), the locally occasioned moment of its use, and the users'
social identities. The choice between 'utterance' and 'voice' is
perhaps predicated by our personal and/or investigatory interests. My
primary preoccupation is with understanding moments, the words by which
they are created, and the consequences these have for those involved.
Cazden's focus on voice seems to make the understanding of people and
their personal development a more central concern.
A second comment deals with the claim made by Cazden that writing
is a more self-conscious activity than speaking (p. 205). Although
Cazden's statement is clearly peripheral to the purpose of the article,
the claim made is of great sociopolitical importance, at least to me, as
it reasserts the differential positioning of the activities of writing
and talking. This is certainly not the place to go into a prolonged
discussion on the sociocognitive complexities of engaging in f2f
interaction. However, I suggest that it would be fruitful at some point
to do so.
A final reflection centers on Cazden's underlying optimism about
the individual's ability and power to revoice and thus change herself
and her world through writing. Two concerns: whether and how words are
made one's own is not always just a matter of individual intention or
motivation. In a discussion on these matters, a doctoral student -- an
'older' black male -- pointed out to me that discourse ownership at
least in the world of academics is a far more sociopolitically powerful
enterprise than we sometimes let on. He said something like (I quote
liberally) "Just wanting to use their words isn't enough. You have to be
invited into the discourse, and if they don't want you talking their
talk, you aren't going to be able to, no matter how hard you try." I
agree. There are other similar concerns related to the malleability of
words that are not brought up in the article. For example, some words
and discourses are easier to appropriate and remake into one's own than
others are, not so much due to the (un)willingness of those whose words they
are, but more because of the history -- what B refers to as
'authoritative meaning' -- of use embedded within them. In talking about
voicing and repositioning, these ought to given some consideration.
Secondly, as Lensmire so eloquently points out in his book _When
Children Write_ (and recently reviewed here by Angel Lin), language use
and discourse appropriation have an equally powerful dark side, which
Cazden does not address. But Bakhtin's work does, or at least it allows
us to consider it, and it may be useful for us to do so.
Postscript: As a child I used to smugly taunt my neighborhood
adversaries who attempted to call me names: "sticks and stones may break
my bones, but words can never hurt me." Now an adult, having lived -
and still living - through several wars of words, I'm struck by how
naive my world view was. These days, my stance is far more cautious -- I
am continually reminded (with the help of Bakhtin) that while "sticks
and stones may break my bones"...words can (re)create me.