time, they must remember that the potential audience for a student going to Greece is not just undifferentiated 'Greeks.' Potential audiences for different trainees interested in the same country will be partly alike and partly different, even within a series of programs sponsored by a single sending agency.
All this uncertainity, instead of filling writers with diffidence and godly fear, seems to send them forth to sin all the more bravely. The result has been publication of much that is idiosyncratic, some of which is good, some of which is useful to others, and some of which is neither. In the 1960's, when money for such enterprises was more freely available, this profusion was either inspiring, amusing or annoying, depending on one's point of view. In the 1970's, however, we can no longer afford to invest many thousands of dollars in a course which embodies the theories, needs or prejudices of its own writers, but which may then be rejected by most other prospective users. This is particularly true for the less-frequently taught languages.
The problem, then, is how to minimize the likelihood that a set of materials will be rejected by new programs operating with different aims, different kinds of students, different theoretical convictions, and different prejudices. The solution that is proposed here depends on building into the materials a number of clearly-defined options relating to the choice of material, its possible replacement, and the ways in which it may be used. On the other hand, too much flexibility may be just as disastrous as too little. For those who want to follow, materials must give firm guidance; for those who want to tamper, there must be clear indications of how to select, rearrange, and complement without destroying.
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