When Rob Sheppard (@robshpprd ) sent me a DM asking if accepted guest posts I jumped at the chance. I appreciate him taking the time to share the post! I was quite familiar with his writing from places like the New School’s Uncharted TESOL blog, TESOL International’s blog and TEFL Equity Advocates I knew about Rob’s work as founder of Ginseng English . I’ve since learned that Rob is co-chair of the Adult Ed Interest Section at TESOL. I think Rob really needs to get his own blog but for the meantime I am happy to share this thought-provoking post. Over to Rob…
There’s a brilliant scene in A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in which, after eons of computation, a city-sized supercomputer spits out the answer to Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. That answer is 42. This is a comedy joke.
Well, ELT is a microcosm of the galaxy itself, so it’s only fitting that we have our own answer to the Ultimate Question of ELT. Turns out it’s, eh, roughly an 80:20 ratio. Yeah, you can go ahead and cancel those conferences and call off the research studies, cuz we got it figured now. It’s, uh, roundabout 80:20.
“Is this not the most important question in ELT?” asks Geoffrey Jordan.
Y’all don’t worry: I can field this one: No. Fuck no.
No, this is most the fuck certainly not the most important question in the field of English language teaching. If the answer to the most important question in the field of English language teaching were a number, then Christ Almighty have we been doing it wrong.
End of blog post.
Oh, you want I should elaborate? No worries, I got you.
Firstly of all, this question of a specific ratio of student talking time to explicit instruction is entirely meaningless until you specify the learners and the context. Let me share a few learner profiles from my experience to illustrate.
Profile 1: Me. I spent a year in Taiwan, surrounded by Mandarin. My motivation was high. I had plenty of free time to study and a background in languages. I read a grammar textbook, talked with my coworkers every day, paid careful attention to text in subway signs and advertisements. By the end of a year, I could use the language to meet all my daily needs and could make complex sentences, though my vocabulary was limited. If you’ve got a classroom full of students like me, in an ideal context like that, the proportion of explicit instruction that the classroom full of mes need is asymptotically approaching 0. What students like that need is as much interaction and comprehensible input as you can give them.
Profile 2: In a recent job, I ran a program serving adult immigrants, most of whom fit a very different (but much more common) profile. They mostly came from rural areas and had on average a 6th grade education. They worked 50+ hours per week, had kids, and our program was only 7.5 hours per week. Most had been in the US for several years before finally being admitted to our program (see The ESL Logjam) and in the interim most had learned enough English to easily meet their daily needs. They field your questions without trouble. They can tell you about their plans for this weekend or the problems they had with the clerk at the DMV two weeks ago, yet the English they use to express these ideas is riddled with errors, many of which are fossilized. When describing complex scenarios, they still manage to be highly communicative, using pidginization strategies to get their point across. These are talkative students. Give them the entire period to talk, and they’ll do so enthusiastically. In fact, when they have the chance, many to the free conversation sessions at the local library. Do these students—whose English already meets their communicative needs, who have ample access to CI outside of the class, who because of their shared linguistic backgrounds and learning contexts share mostly the same fossilized errors—do they need the same proportion of student talking time to explicit instruction as students with different backgrounds and learning contexts?
Profile 3: How about highly educated, low-motivation multilingual students in a 30-hour-per-week, target language-embedded academic IEP?
The conclusion that the Perspicacious Reader will no doubt come to is that, no, students of different backgrounds, in different learning contexts, do not have the same needs, and this most certainly applies also to the ratio of student language use to explicit instruction. Students with more L1 education, metalinguistic awareness, motivation, and study time outside of the classroom need less explicit instruction. Those with limited literacy, time, motivation, with lots of fossilized errors, need more explicit instruction. If those students have access to a teacher for only a few hours per week and access to comprehensible input every waking hour, that ratio might be dramatically different.
Now let me be clear: My beef is not with The Big Important Question itself. I’m familiar with the Question, as well as the proposed big important 80:20 answer. In fact, I have recommended this ratio to my teachers at times and used it as a benchmark for objective classroom observations. It’s not a bad question. But treating it as though it has some grand importance is just silly. A reasonable re-framing is this: the amount of student talking time should generally far exceed the amount of explicit instruction. The main import of this precept is that it can have a corrective effect on the novice teacher who fancies himself a lecturer.
The ratio itself is meaningless. A 10% difference in what you do during your teacher talking time or how you structure student talking time can be far more consequential than a 10% variance in the ratio of teacher talking time to student talking time. All other things being equal, a student in an 80:20 class 9 hours per week is still going to progress slower than a student in a 60:40 class 30 hours per week.
I’m not interested in positing my own Biggest Importantest Question; I’m not fishing for attention or keynote slots. But I’m guessing most of the big questions will be qualitative and situated: What should we be doing, how should we be doing it, how is it getting these learners from where they are to where they want to be?
I’m not sure if the meaning of the title of this post will be familiar to most readers. Our friends at the Urban Dictionary (in definition #2) explain it to mean, “Stop talking about things you don’t understand or know. Let experts do the talking. Don’t talk out of your ass.” That’s usually how I hear it used or imagine it to be used.
I expect this to be a very short post but it’s something I have been thinking about for quite a long time. The idea for the post came to me when I saw what was (at least in my view and most of the ELT nerds I spoke with at the time) a terrible presentation a while back. In order to protect the guilty, I don’t want to go into much detail about this presentation but I will share a few memories (and, yeah, emotions). The presenter showed what I’d consider to be contempt for and a complete lack of knowledge of the field of English Language Teaching. That is probably fine but he’d been working in the field and sucking off the teat of the “English Language Teaching Industrial Complex” for a number of years. There he was presenting at a TESOL meeting happily announcing and broadcasting his lack of knowledge and apathy towards a field he proudly knew nothing about. You see, he was (is) an academic in a completely different field and just taught English at certain times. I thought his contempt for haberdashers of pronouns was palpable and his view on those who prostituted themselves by selling language skills on the market was full of disdain. He is entitled to his opinion.
In the presentation, the good doctor made some interesting points about how fucked up the EFL industry in Korea is. He continually referred to it as ESL but we can let that slide, I believe. He offered a different perspective and I don’t for a moment begrudge those who invited him to speak. I think sharing and hearing various perspectives is a good thing and I applaud this endeavor even if I didn’t enjoy the presentation.
Rather than go on and on about this on individual and his presentation (and as you probably can guess, I could) I’d like to write about a certain attitude (I think) I’ve seen in South Korea. The attitude (usually from foreign men but that is sort of besides the point) is something like “Teachers shouldn’t talk about Korea unless they know enough about it” and “Those who can’t speak Korean or haven’t lived here for long can’t have perspectives about Korean politics or society.”
It seems like the threshold for having the right to express an opinion shifts and stays in line (and remains just below) the level of knowledge of and experience in Korea these “Stay your lane” folks have. That means they are always allowed to have an opinion but those less experienced Korea hands probably should just go ahead and stay quiet. I have heard (and given) some exceptionally terrible takes in pubs and other public settings so on some level I can appreciate the “Stay your lane” Brigade’s stance.
I guess what sort of gets my goat here is the hypocrisy of the Stay your Laners feeling no guilt to jump in and share thoughts on teaching (even when they admittedly don’t care or know much about it). It seems like the “Stay Your Lane” crew are the among most likely to opine on all matters teaching and learning even if they’ve chosen to eschew both formal and informal learning in the field. Maybe this is part of the issues that plague the field since anyone (particularly “native speakers” in a place like South Korea?) can feel just as expert as those who have put in the time and effort. For the record, I’m not saying people shouldn’t have opinions. I am simply saying that maybe those who would eagerly say “Stay your lane” to foreign English teachers in Korea talking about Korea-related topics could slow their roll before chucking stones around. This is especially true when their houses are clearly (but metaphorically) made of glass and this is something they could see if they’d crawl out of their own asses for a few minutes.
Besides jumbling a whole bunch of metaphors together what am I saying here? I’m not entirely sure but I feel better after writing. I’m not even sure if this a phenomenon only found in Korea or even only in my imagination.
Again, I don’t want to say that teachers (from all ranges of expertise) shouldn’t have and express opinions about all manner of things. I just want to say that those who earn their living in a particular field might acknowledge there is a whole field out there. There are books and journals and everything.
In other news, I aim to stray from my lanes a bit in the near future.
It’s with great pleasure that I share this guest post. I first became acquainted with Jeremy on Twitter (where he is @jdslagoski ) and I’ve enjoyed his wit and scholarship. His blogs offer a lot of food for thought. Sojourning English Language Teachers caught my attention with its name and kept my attention with the posts. In Dr. J’s Blog of ELT Praxis Jeremy shares his efforts “to bridge the research-practice gap in English language teaching with a focus on curriculum, instructional technology, and intercultural communication.” Jeremy has been in the field of English language teaching for over 20 years and has experience as a teacher, teacher educator, and administrator in Japan, Korea, Russia, and the United States. Jeremy earned his PhD in Teaching & Learning (Foreign Language & ESL Education) from the University of Iowa.
I was lucky enough to meet Jeremy at JALT in 2016 and we had dinner and a nice chat. We had some chances to talk about our shared interest in Behavioral Economics and the potential influence on English teacher.
Earlier this year on Facebook I saw Jeremy sharing some quotes from “The Upside of Irrationality” by Dan Ariely and we discussed the possibility of him writing a guest post on this very blog. What you can see below is the result of that discussion. I hope you enjoy it (and get as much out of it) as I did.
The Downside of Education Labor
“Why do you try so hard?” a coworker asked me in the spring of 2015. This question confirmed that I was making the right decision to leave a job that I both loved and hated. This scenario came to my mind while reading Dan Ariely’s 2010 book The Upside of Irrationality, specifically a passage on page 72:
“If you take people who love something and you place them in meaningful working conditions, the joy they derive from the activity is going to be a major driver in dictating their level of effort. However, if you take the same people with the same initial passion and desire and place them in meaningless working conditions, you can easily kill internal joy they might derive from the activity.”
This passage comes from the second chapter titled “The Meaning of Labor” in which the author describes why and how people find their work, their job, and their career meaningful. Ariely describes several meaningful and meaningless working conditions. The big difference between the two is that people witness your achievement for work to be meaningful. In the meaningless conditions, the work is put away or destroyed before anyone can see the results. There’s no acknowledgement. It’s like Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the mountain with nobody watching or caring.
I was beginning to feel like Sisyphus in a job I left a few years ago. Incidentally, during my last department meeting at that job, we were asked to write a word that describes our work on the board and I did indeed write “Sisyphus.” I spent the past two years on a faculty development initiative that was gaining momentum and traction across the college. I was meeting and exceeding the goals that we set for this initiative every year. When the project was small, I received ample praise which motivated me to work harder and better. When the project grew, the praise within my department ended and was replaced with either criticism or indifference, a stark contrast to the praise I was getting from the rest of the college.
When the project was beginning to make noticeable positive changes, I was told to remove my name from the project but encouraged to continue working on it. The rationale for this was that the project belonged to the college and not to me. This cut deep because it was implied that I was doing it for myself when in reality the project was completely collaborative and wouldn’t have been successful without the faculty and staff who volunteered their time to see it come to fruition. Finally, about a month after my coworker asked why I was trying so hard, the head of the department, my supervisor’s supervisor, strongly suggested that I move on to another project. A few weeks later I announced that I’d accepted a job elsewhere.
Those last few months at that employer were bleak because I felt my meaningful working condition become meaningless. My situation was becoming a lot like those experiments in the chapter where participants were asked to build something out of Legos. After completing their work, they had to watch their creations get disassembled before they left the room. To further illustrate, this project resulted in a task force that was asked to create a report for the college. After one year, the report was presented to top administrators of the college and then shelved with no further actions or reactions. I got to witness firsthand the frustration and disappointment of each member of the task force, including myself, before I left. The initiative died about six months after I left, leaving many faculty and staff demoralized concerning collaborations with my former department. Now I know what some people have warned me about: places that suck your soul.
This was not an English language teaching position. Fortunately for me, I have found most of my English language teaching jobs in meaningful working conditions. I have been able to witness the fruits of my labor as my students’ English proficiency improves. And for jobs in the United States, I also take pride in my students’ ability to integrate into the community and eventually matriculate into university. Thanks to social media, I have been able to witness my students succeed in their university courses and beyond.
The IKEA Effect in ELT
Unfortunately, this feeling of pride takes me to chapter three of Ariely’s book: the IKEA effect, in which he identifies four principles of human endeavor:
- “The effort that we put into something does not just change the object. It changes us and the way we evaluate that object.
- Greater labor leads to greater love.
- Our over-evaluation of the things we make runs so deep that we assume that others share our biased perspective.
- When we cannot complete something into which we have put great effort, we don’t feel so attached to it” (pp.104-105).
The object in this context must be external, so one can’t interpret it as your teaching because that is a part of you. Instead the object can be the lesson, a certain activity, or materials you developed for learning. As an experienced teacher and curriculum coordinator, I have often had the opportunities to create my own lessons, whole courses, and whole programs. If they positively affect student performance, then I love those lessons, courses, and programs forever. I used to assume others would too, but other teachers love their creations more.
As an ELT curriculum coordinator and project manager, I sometimes cannot enact the courses or activities I designed because I am not always the instructor or facilitator. When someone else gets to facilitate my design, I have learned to let it go and celebrate the collaborative effort when the project is successful. If the instructor follows my lesson plans exactly the way I designed them, I still feel attached to them. However, I’ve been in reversed roles where I had to follow a lesson plan strictly, and I do not feel attached to them unless I was able to tweak it to better meet the needs of the students. If I was given a little leeway to tweak, then I loved the lesson more.
I expect the facilitators or instructors of my curriculum to feel the same. Most of my lessons were designed for experienced teachers, so I purposely left a lot of wiggle room for teachers to make the lessons their own. I call this my “secret sauce” because I am able to accommodate for the strengths of my teachers, which is directly tied to assessing the day-to-day needs of the students. In this case, my labor of love is no longer the curriculum itself but the collaboration of curriculum development between me, the instructors, and the students. If the teachers and students are happy and successful with the outcomes, then I do not care if certain activities I designed were out of sequence or even dropped. This “greater labor” is shared and leads to a greater love of not only the curriculum but the relationships forged through the successful joint effort of designing and facilitating the courses.
The Not-Invented at Our School Bias
All that pride in teamwork takes me to the fourth chapter in The Upside of Irrationality, which is about the not-invented-here bias or “if we didn’t invent it, then it’s not worth much.” I recognize this as the rigidity of a school’s curriculum because it represents the hard work of the whole school. When I started my job as curriculum coordinator at another former job, I learned that I threatened this strong bias of the many of the teachers. Why would I want to change anything about this wonderful curriculum that has served us so well over two decades?
Two sentences stood out for me in chapter 4. The first captures my leadership philosophy very well: “If you understand the sense of ownership and pride that stems from investing time and energy in projects and ideas, you can inspire yourself and others to be more committed to and interested in the tasks at hand” (p.121). The second describes what I encountered in my last two working environments as a change agent: “Once we are addicted to our own ideas, it is less likely that they will be flexible when necessary. We run the risk of dismissing others’ ideas that might simply be better than our own” (p. 122). One of my greatest achievements as curriculum coordinator was not taking the dismissal of my ideas personally. As a leader of a team, my ideas work best when they are integrated with the ideas of the other team. Within the past few years, I have learned that it’s important for a leader to maintain his or her vision, but it’s not as important to have all or most of his or ideas enacted by others.
Finally, this bias is easily seen in the proprietary nature of English language programs, especially private ones, that have administrators and faculty who believe their curriculum is superior to others or they market it that way. It’s the “secret formula” of ELT that will never get shared on social media or published in any journal. As a curriculum designer, the key to a “most successful formula” is its transparency to all stakeholders involved (students, teachers, administrators, and parents) because a strong curriculum is flexible enough to use “evidence-based” approaches to an extent that meet the goals of the program and the needs of the students. A secret formula also suggests rigidity or a one-size-fits-all approach, which may be cheap and easy for the school but it does not serve the students. So I urge teachers and administrators to share your curriculum, lesson ideas, and activities. If your school or program successfully improves students’ language skills, the “magic” that is difficult to replicate is more likely to be the expertise and winning dispositions of your teachers who are able to make the curriculum accessible and meaningful to the students.
More recently, I have been able to incorporate many of Ariely’s ideas and suggestions in a program I designed for English language teachers in Brazil. First, I was put in a meaningful working condition both physically and mentally. The program was based in Chicago and Iowa City, two cities that I love and have a long history and strong familiarity with. Additionally, I set the standards of my working conditions, designing my schedule and workload, maximizing my time to learn about each teacher’s needs and strengths. Second, I put all my effort into this especially during their two-week visit when every waking minute was dedicated to the success of the program. My love for this project was amplified by the joy and excitement I saw expressed by many of these teachers. This project was purposefully collaborative with two non-profit organizations and the United States Embassy in Brasilia. Our collaboration helped the program run smoothly every single day. Lastly, to reduce the not-invented-here bias I posted the entire program publicly online. The nuts and bolts can be reproduced by any competent and coordinated group of international exchange and English language teaching experts. However, the “magic” was I loved this work and the participants and it took place in the backyard of at least my twenty years of my life.
Although opportunities are like this are rare, the upside of English language teaching is 1) working in meaningful conditions, where one can work in a school and/or culture that you cherish, 2) being able to complete and find closure to your great efforts, and 3) being able to find that the secret to success in teaching and learning is intangible, that your effort, expertise, and enthusiasm are worth more than the lesson plans and curriculum you create. The tangible parts of your work are the product and not the source of an enjoyable English language teaching career.
This is me trying on a curmudgeon suit.
On the grand scale of things it’s certainly not a huge deal but I sometimes feel uncomfortable reading about teachers pranking their students on April Fools’ Day. The specific type of prank that gives me this strange feeling is the old chestnut where the teacher gives a previously unannounced quiz/test/assignment.
Disclaimer: I have done this many times in the past.
This sort of prank bugs me because it’s such a flex. It feels like a power game, however unintentional. It reads to me like the teacher is saying something like:
“I have all this power over you and I’m in a position to use it as capriciously as I feel like. You are at my whim and you have do to whatever I tell you to.”
Maybe you don’t see it like this and consider it just a bit of fun but I wonder how students feel when the announcement is made. Education is often arbitrary enough and I’d rather not play up this aspect.
Here in Korea when grades are of such importance I can imagine students might freak out at first and that the big reveal that it’s April Fools’ Day would not really be worth it. Even if we (especially as EFL teachers) think we are sharing cultural aspects I have to wonder if it’s worthwhile trade off.
The other aspect of this fake quiz (or whatever) prank that catches my interest is that it seems to be teachers who might otherwise sing the praises of student autonomy or affective filter who do this type of prank. As above, I don’t think it’s a major issue but I do think it’s worth thinking about the impact such pranks might have on students’ psychology (even just for a moment) and the impact on group dynamics.
Anyway, the joke is on me because April Fools’ Day falls on a Sunday this year.
I’m not a complete curmudgeon as I can appreciate the comedy in this prank:
You are writing this to yourself on December 11, 2017 (and, let’s be honest, you wrote a little more on December 12th and edited a very little bit in January 2018). It’s the last class with one group. They were a nice group and it was an enjoyable time. You had a lot of laughs with this group.
Your students are currently writing a letter to “their juniors” offering advice and recollections. You decided it was too boring (and somewhat uncomfortable) to watch them write so you decided to do some writing yourself.
When faced with this “letter to a junior” task a few students were a bit reticent. One suggested that she didn’t have anything to say because she didn’t do well this term. You told her that is also valuable. Perhaps the next time you do this you can do a bit more in terms of a lead-in and intro. Similarly, one student (who it must be said didn’t benefit from reading “a letter to a senior” in the spring” sort of balked at the idea and thought it was unfair to be compelled to write something. You fully agreed. It was an interesting moment and a fun challenge to your beliefs. You might have overdone your lack of a desire to compel them to do anything and in the end she seemed very focused on the task and it looked like she did her best to pass along useful information.
The idea of this letter is to remind you of a few things that are on your mind as you finish the term in the hopes that it will be helpful when you start the new term. We can consider it something of a reminder but also perhaps a nudge to make some small changes.
Looking back on this term (and this class and the 2 other sections just like it) you believe you worked hard and did your best. Perhaps sometimes your classroom management in terms of timing was not the best as you raced against the clock to finish a few times during the second semester.
It is perhaps related but, this was also the class that you got a bit bogged down a few times with some esoteric questions. In retrospect you might have just said something like, “you don’t need to know that.. maybe let’s just move on.” You only got a bit pissy about this once but it felt like it was more of a bonding moment than anything.
If you are honest with yourself you can admit that this year was not super easy for you in terms of teaching. You can also say that they are some great students and people that you’d like to stay in touch with you. You can hold on to the idea you’ve impacted some people and helped them. Please remember the touching feedback you got from students as they left on the last day. You will remember what they said and it might serve you to remember that this positive and touching feedback was not exactly about pedagogical feelings and was more about affect and helping students be comfortable in the class and comfortable with who they are in the class. It is a good lesson to keep in mind and try to replicate although of course it will be different with different groups. Some good news is that you are already familiar with many of the students you will be having this term and they are a great bunch.
You are reading this post in the future through the miracles of modern WordPress post publishing technology. It’s March, 2018. It’s a new term. I am guessing you don’t really know what the new term will bring. I hope you are still excited. If I know you I know that you were thinking last night about the idea that if you don’t get butterflies in your stomach the night before a new term or class that means it’s time to hang it up.
I know you like and even love your job. I must admit I’m a bit concerned about you being a bit complacent or fat and happy in this job. I hope you will find some ways to keep things new and fresh. Remember how hard this all was back in 2010 when you started. You scraped and clawed to be decent at this and now you can confidently say you tend to do well. The learning curve was steep and now you feel comfortable and confident in the job. There is, of course, always room for improvement.
So, in terms of improving and keeping things fresh, what will you do? I was thinking about a few experiments you might try in your classes this term. You could even try different experiments in different groups and see how things go.
Another concern I have, which is surely connected to the above is that it’s perhaps too easy for you to fall into that “demand low” situations and attitude. You work hard and students surely improve and work hard but there are probably some areas where some more tension could be helpful for everyone.
You spend all this time writing notes for the students based on their mistakes/errors and successes. You know that students don’t read them or take them on so much. This is tough on both and emotionally and time-wise. You instituted the weekly quiz last year and it worked pretty well last year but this year a lot of students missed it. The way I see it now you have two options with this. You can stop doing the quizzes or you can be more strict about this. One crazy idea you had (and halfheartedly “threatened” was that students cannot participate in class without taking the previous week’s quiz. Another idea was to be explicit about students who take the quiz getting more chances to practice (in the interpreting booth) if they take the quiz.
Another example of a potential change might be in terms of the speeches and such that students bring in for material. I know you value your laissez-faire attitude to this, and ultimately you are right that it’s up to them but perhaps you could play a slightly more influential role in the selection process and help students make the most out of their time. It’s just something to think about. I know that want to be understanding and generous in the moment when a student doesn’t fulfill their duty but maybe there is such a thing as being too kind and it doesn’t serve them or the class. I don’t think you need to re-think all your beliefs about teaching necessarily but you could perhaps be a bit tougher and clear when students don’t meet their obligations. This kind of “Oh well, let’s do better” view might not be that helpful in the long term.
The other thought related to speech selection is that sometimes it seems like (some!) students spend a lot of time on this. While becoming an expert on such a Korean speech and thinking about potential pitfalls is surely helpful it seems like (most?) students view it more as drudgery and busywork and less as a potentially great learning experience. The suggestion here for this is to really emphasize it’s okay to borrow speeches from previous years and from other sections. This might help limit this issue.
I need not remind you about the conflict between students when one student felt their classmate was not doing enough in terms of speech prep and was not selecting appropriate speeches.
Well, that turned into a sour note to end upon. Let it be a reminder that you will want to keep working to improve. Thanks for reading and considering what the Mike of terms past has to say.
Best of luck,
December 2017 Mike
That is quite a long title for a blog post. I suppose it’s also a long title for a conference presentation. As luck would have it, that’s exactly the title of a presentation I’m doing at CAMTESOL very soon. My idea for the session is to just introduce some places, spaces and groups for those interested in dipping their toes into online professional development.
Here is the abstract: Are you interested in professional development online? Are you familiar with the term “PLN?” Do you know how to start one? Do you know the benefits of having one? Have you heard of iTDi? Do you know about all the great learning, mentorship and community building within this group? What about MOOCs? Are you aware of what they are and how they run? Do you know about the wide variety of MOOCs offered and which ones might be a good match for English teachers in the Mekong Valley? If you answered yes to any of these questions perhaps this interactive session will be a good fit for you. Participants can expect to hear some inspiring stories about teacher’s experiences with PLNs, MOOCs, and iTDi. Further, participants can expect some advice on how to get started with these and how to make the best use of the tools available in the digital era for professional development.
In addition to sharing some advice I mostly just wanted to let the audience know what is out there and give something of a taster of professional development opportunities online.
Here is my not at all fancy Powerpoint that contains a bunch of links:
MOOCS, PLNs, & iTDi
If you have any additional suggestions for MOOCS, or already made PLNs (think #ELTchat) you think would be of interest to the teachers who attend my session please leave them in the comments!
I wasn’t all that nervous. I guess I was something approaching confident. I felt quite prepared and had the sense I knew what I was talking about. I thought I had some good ways to catch the students’ attention and some interesting points to get them thinking. The topic was something I’d given a great deal of thought. I had not to that point delivered very many presentations (if you’re interested in presentations I’ve done since please click here) but I was ready to knock ’em dead and land what seemed at the time like a dream job.
There were some problems. A major one was how I’d completely misunderstood the task. I was not to deliver a sample lecture or presentation to a classroom full of interested and passionate undergraduate students enrolled in a teacher education program. Instead, I was apparently expected to deliver a “sample lesson” to a completely uninterested audience of two professors in the program.
Since that somewhat fateful day I’ve wondered how I managed to misunderstand the expectations. Actually, come to think of it, I know a few other people who participated in the interview process and they had different understandings of the task as well. Looking all the way back to the 2009 email I received from the university the outline of the interview process read (along with other components):
Mini-lecture for 15 minutes
Choose one of the following courses:
- TEE (Teaching English in English) in Primary
- TEE in Secondary
- Teaching English to Young Learners
I prepared was something of a lecture on the topic of teaching English in English to secondary students but it turns out they were looking for (or decided mid-way through the day they were looking for a lesson that incorporated one of the three categories above. I delivered a 10 minute talk (they sort of cut me off there at the end before I could power through the full 15 minutes) on something like pragmatic and thoughtful use of L1 in class and the reasons teachers might and might not use English in class. I think it was interesting enough and surely important back in the halcyon days of thoughtless TEE in Korea. It was the end of the day and I was the last presenter/demo giver. I think they’d probably heard enough by that point.
Interestingly, (or at least it seems so now with the benefit of a great deal of hindsight) I delivered the talk to these bored professors as though I was talking to a full room of curious and impressionable university students. I
walked paced around the room a bit. I made eye-contact with non-existent people in the corner. I tried to own the room in my then best impression of a TED-talk. My gestures were expressive (as is my wont) and surely ill-fitted to a room of two people fighting off apathy, boredom and an afternoon snooze.
I did not get the job. Neither did the Korean woman who’d just finished her PhD at Yale. Neither did two North American gents I know well. The person who got the job ended up running into problems and was relieved of his duties soon after he was hired. At least his demo matched the (unexpressed) expectations. I learned later through my sources he did a nice little sample lesson and got the interviewers/professors/judges/jury/pretend students to actively participate in a mini-English lesson designed for young learners.
There’s a reason I’m sharing this story 8 years and 3 months after it occurred (and I believe and hope for the first time on this blog). A Korea-based friend recently asked me, “Any sage advice for a guy giving a demo lesson for a job?” and I offered some thoughts. My off -the-cuff ideas (though probably more basic than sagacious) were:
- Have an objective.
- Meet said objective.
- Consider being explicit about said objective.
- Keep it simple.
- Maybe try to actually teach them something. Like something small.
- Try to teach them something while avoiding being condescending.
- Don’t be afraid to tell them something.
- Be careful with feedback.
- Mostly try to be friendly and approachable and match the image of what you think they are looking for in an English Teacha.
- Make your presence felt.
Of course, it’ s a bit of a challenge to offer tips without a sense of what the institution is looking for. That said, I wonder what advice (sage or otherwise) you’d offer, Dear Reader. I also wonder if this sort of demo lesson is a thing in other countries and what the process entails.
Finally, BTW, and FYI I called this part II because I previously wrote about demo lessons in job interviews here but that 2013 post was more about the process and an experience I had on the other side of the interviewer’s desk. I’d be very curious to hear about other’s experiences with this. One of my new year’s resolutions is to be
less rubbish better at responding to comments.