Speaking rather generally, I think it is reasonable to suggest that almost every adult literacy student failed to achieve fluent literacy right at the beginning of the process. At this point they were between the ages of nought and, say, eight. This is far too young to accept blame; it is one of those rare instances where it really is everyone else’s fault. This issue can be explored productively, if care is taken, in written work. Considering their history from a new, adult perspective helps to lift some of the preposterous guilt from many students. Exploring their literacy history can also be the start of understanding meta-affect; becoming more emotionally aware and better equipped. As this new perspective develops literacy tends to become less overpowering. Its capacity to cripple with rage or disable with fear will reduce. The balance will tilt in favour of the student, who will become less a passive and intimidated victim and more an empowered and adult learner. Literacy can begin to be seen as a tool rather than an accusation and lack of fluency in it as a problem rather than an indictment. A controlled exploration of these more realistic perspectives should be deliberately offered to any student who seems intimidated, enraged, anxious or depressed by their condition. The goal is always confident autonomy and empowerment. Students may, of course, begin to feel anger, once they discard some of their guilt; as the true origins of their literacy difficulties emerge. This anger may be profound, but it is truer, and healthier, than the appalling guilt which is so common among students, and if it be focused onto their learning it can be a fiery propellant.

Students can set unrealistic standards, and have unrealistic expectations. They often imagine that fluently literate people never get anything wrong; that they invariably write perfectly at the first attempt. Such misapprehensions mean that an error of their own tends to loom large and to confirm their own feelings of ineptitude. The student may feel there is a wider chasm between their condition and that of a fluent literate (for example, their probably rather passionately literate tutor) than there really is. Strongly destructive feelings may abruptly develop. These feelings are usually baseless but they are no less painfully disabling for that. Indeed, baseless feelings are often the worst of all, as we all know. Panic and/or self-disgust may well up, blocking appropriate, or even adult, response. Belief may drain away, and take ability and motivation with it. This tends to confirm, of course, panic and self-disgust. We may suddenly have an evil spiral on our hands.

The only antidote is meta-affect. Students need to understand how difficult writing is and how we all find it so; that literacy is a continuum on which we are all struggling to improve, and that none of us is really satisfied with our own efforts. Writing, with its attendant meta-linguistic thinking, may be modelled. In this process errors should be openly made, admitted, corrected and discussed. The notion of error-free tutors who write perfectly must be enthusiastically eroded. We must also erode students’ distaste for, and fear of, error. Errors are extremely valuable. They are highly personal, targeted feedback, a perfect source of raw material for writing and spelling tuition. They enable us to learn the skill of autonomous writing. Mistakes are highly desirable. They just need to be dealt with in reasonable and regulated doses. Not every error needs to be either pointed out or dealt immediately with. All this must be made clear to students right from the start. (And see notes to chapter seven.)

It is a truism that the only person who makes no errors is the person who does nothing. It is also a truism that nothing can be achieved without action. To act is to risk, and inevitably produce, occasional error. Error, though, is where learning begins, in literacy and in life. Error ought to be precious to us as a result. All students urgently need to know that every writer produces errors all the time. Teachers in ABE must, to this end, make all theirs right out in the open. All writing of any importance goes through several drafts, the best writing goes through the most. It really must be made clear to students that we all inch forward over a trail of error and failure and we all use the delete key and waste paper basket assiduously. The clearer, simpler and more lively the writing, the more likely this is to be true. Writing is work, and not work which succeeds easily. As Samuel Johnson said: ‘What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure’, and in the words of J.K. Galbraith, that scintillating performer on the English language:

First I produce a draft and then I leave it alone for a day or two. Then I go back to it and decide that it has been written by an ignoramus, so I throw it away. Then I produce a second draft and leave it alone for a few days. I read it and decide that there are the germs of a few good ideas there but it is so badly written that it is not worth keeping, so I throw it away. After a few days I write the third draft. I leave it alone for a while and when I read it again I discover that the ideas are developing, that there is some coherence to my arguments and that the grammar is not too bad. I correct this draft, change paragraphs around, insert new thoughts, remove overlapping passages and begin to feel quite pleased with myself. After a few days I read through this fourth draft, make final corrections and hand over the fifth draft to the typist. At that stage, I find I have usually achieved the degree of spontaneity for which I have been striving.