What Is a Theory Good For?

Before I expound on the title of this editorial, let me relate a story from my youth (yes, another one. . .). During my formative years, whenever I would say something that was impolite, imprudent, or perhaps a little obnoxious, my mother would come over and look me straight in the eyes. It was enough to remind me that I had said something that was not acceptable. No further explanation was needed for her action, especially after she had done this a number of times, accompanied by stern words and my apologies only in the beginning stages. (Pavlov's experiment with his dog was big in our household at that time.) Then, my mother would place her hands on my cheeks, one on each side of my face, and plant a kiss in the middle of my forehead. Most likely, I did not repeat the fiasco—at least, not in her presence.

I perform the same activity—sans the hands and peck on the forehead—whenever any of my graduate students regurgitate a litany of questions or comments in the following manner:

What is a theory good for?! What theory?! There are so many of them! Can't one teach or do research without knowing the theory or theories behind it? Does teaching or research really need to follow a theory? Why do we need to study these theories on ________ (pick any: reading, writing, language, etc.)? Why do we need to study theories for hearing children? I just want to know how to understand or develop ________ (fill in the blank with any content area: science, mathematics, social studies, etc.) for deaf children. I want to know the best methods for working with deaf children.

Initially, I respond with a profound—albeit mostly nice—riposte that I think is apt for most of the above remarks: Theory without research/practice is lame; research/practice without theory is blind. This is a variation on a line by Einstein involving science and religion (in the same order as above). Not only do the students not laugh at my offering, they don't even understand or appreciate Einstein's version. I suspect that a few of these students consider the relationship between theory and research, or, most likely, between theory and practice, to be an illicit liaison. Furthermore, I surmise that several of them believe that practice (à la teaching) should be mostly, predominately, or even solely a trial-by-error endeavor driven by what works best (via this trial-and-error process) for this or that particular child in the classroom. Thus, some of these university students have concluded that theory (or research) does not really tell them much about teaching d/Deaf and hard of hearing children in their classrooms (via field experiences, preservice student teaching, or inservice teaching scenarios).

Holy cow. Well, I sympathize with the notion that theory and, sometimes, research may not offer much for teachers in their classrooms on a typical Monday morning. And I understand the power and necessity of individualizing instruction and curriculum to fit the needs, interests, and capacities of children and adolescents who are d/Deaf and hard of hearing. Granted, the interrelations among theories, research, and practice are so incredibly complex, controversial, and contentious—as evidenced by the preponderant number of books and other publications in the literature on these liaisons. My hope is to convince most of my students and others that theory can inform research, and that theory—with the assistance of research—can inform practice. Then, we can proceed in the other direction with this informing process. No doubt, the manner in which this process works is convoluted and, in many cases, not as straightforward as some researchers and practitioners seem to believe.

Of course, there are interesting characters such as the pioneering social psychologist Kurt Lewin and others who argue that there is nothing more practical than a good theory. Indeed, this strong emphasis on the practical or the given situation or context has influenced a theoretical model of action science, which provides the conceptual background for action research, among other approaches to research (for starters, see...