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There are times when I consider myself very lucky to do the job I’m in.  I love technology and have the chance to teach it, but my main role is that of English coach and every now and again I get the chance to combine the two.  This week is Cebit in Hanover which, according to the organisers, is the largest IT trade fair in the world.  Of course, the linguist in me wants to know if largest refers to area, exhibitors, or visitors, but hey, who cares?  It’s a big show and there is more than enough to keep you occupied for a day.

Now some of my colleagues are a bit suspicious of my motives for taking my English class to the show.  In the eyes of many of them I’m a geek, so it smacks of self-interest.  (OK, I know half a dozen command line orders in Linux, and I’ve got a fluffy Tux on my desk. If that makes me a geek… )

The real reason I take the English class to Cebit is that it gives them the chance to practice their English skills in a real-world environment – something which isn’t all that easy to simulate in the middle of Germany!  The more you can get the subject out of the classroom and into the real world, the more chance you have of getting the kids to connect with it.  Course books are full of trips to adventure parks and stories of crimes solved by kids which is all well and good, but doesn’t necessarily present the learners with the lexis they will need after they leave school.  In a world where cleaning ladies learn English because the handbooks for their machines are only issued in that language, we have to look more at the subject material of what we teach and ask ourselves if it is really relevant.

The great thing about Cebit, from the English point-of-view, is that there are a huge number of exhibitors (often from the Far East) who don’t speak German.  If you can talk to them in English you have a distinct advantage when it comes to getting information.  In addition, all the companies have English advertising materials which alone provides enough content for months of teaching.  The kids are confronted with different accents and sometimes the exhibitors are not very good at English.  This gives them a real communication challenge.  They see at first hand, classic intercultural competence situations, from handshaking to personal space issues, to eye-contact, to small talk.  They experience that English isn’t a neatly packaged subject which comes in 45 minute blocks, but rather a dynamic issue where knowledge acquired two years ago is suddenly needed now.

The kids have to do presentations on what they found that was interesting or just plain incredible.  Given my reputation for being “technology-aware” they know they will have to search well to find a good subject.  In the past, some groups have even videoed conversations with exhibitors – proof, if I needed it, that they really were using their language skills.  Of course, I don’t expect the kids to go around all day talking English – that’s not the point of the exercise, but they come away seeing that English skills are relevant today and that the requirements go a lot further than ordering a beer and a hamburger on holiday.

What tactics do you have for getting English out into the real world?

(c) Michael Sarver, via Flickr

I listened to a disturbing conversation last week.  I was standing at a buffet table with two experienced teachers who I’ve known for some time were discussing the relative merits of the English curriculum in their respective states in Germany.  Quickly it broadened out into a debate as to which of the major publishers produced the most curriculum-oriented course book.  One major publisher apparently only focuses on competences, another is slavish in following the prescribed pedagogy.  Part of my job is to know what’s on the market, so the opinions on the books were interesting.  However, as the conversation went on my irritation grew and eventually I felt forced to add an opinion.  The two teachers stared at me as if I had suddenly grown another nose on my face and ignored my question completely and continued discussing which publisher taught Shakespeare better.  What had I said, that was so totally unimportant?

“Don’t you think it would be better to focus on the kids being able to communicate in good English?  If they can do that then they’ll fulfil the requirements of any school curriculum.”

In some subjects a curriculum is a relatively straightforward list of topics and standards that should be met by certain stages and will be tested at some point in the school program.   In language it is, I feel, a lot more complicated.

Take the example of a learner with relatively little experience or knowledge.  However, this learner can really use the limited grammar and lexis well.  She doesn’t need passive forms or mixed conditionals, because she can apply what she knows and can explain what she wants to explain.  The second learner has far more experience and knowledge, but hasn’t really internalised it.  The result is that the less-experienced learner gives the impression of being better in English than the higher level learner.  I’ll go further – the less experienced learner is better in English.  I see this on a daily basis and it has very little to do with talent in the subject.  In the majority of cases, I can trace the lack of communicative skills back to the teaching style that the learner has been subjected to.

Now this isn’t a communication v. grammar rant – both are needed and a balance has to be struck between them, depending on the circumstances.  This is far more important.

Publishers are obsessed with curriculum and many teachers are obsessed with the course book.  The problem is that curriculum writers are often more concerned with filling up the timetable than producing a modern, progressive course.  Milestones are arbitrary, and stage tests need to prove that the curriculum is a success.  Just about all the stage tests I’ve seen are pitched well below the level of the learned content.  The only reason for this is grade inflation (which is then used as proof that everyone is doing a good job).

Obsession with the curriculum dramatically increases the pressure to teach to the test.  If the curriculum states that at the end of Year 7 a child should be able to write an email on a given topic, then this will be practised. It will, of course, be a handwritten exercise.  Can’t ever remember getting a handwritten email, but I’m sure Professor Doctor Soandso knows better.  If the noble Professor had read Michael Lewis’s The Lexical Approach, he’s know that reported speech is incredibly rare among native English speakers, but that doesn’t stop it taking up several weeks of teaching time. (Could it be because it’s easy to correct?).  The present continuous is also a pretty rare form in English – around 5% of usage if I remember rightly – so why is it a major part of the first book in nearly every course?  In one course book it is even taught before the present simple.

This is what I found so disturbing about the conversation I mentioned at the beginning.  Two highly qualified teachers, who both speak impeccable English, have been conned into thinking that the curriculum is more important than the mastery of the subject.  For me this is putting the cart before the horse.  The system has become the more important than the people it is supposed to be serving.  How do I know this is a bad thing?  It’s because I conduct far too many interviews for companies where the school-leaver has good marks in English, but basically can’t hold a simple conversation.  In many cases they have excellent marks, and they perform well in written diagnostic tests, but are orally incompetent.  On the other hand, I meet very few candidates with good oral skills but unacceptable written skills.

I called this article, “Keeping on top of the game.”  The problem is that many teachers are playing the wrong game – they are competing with the curriculum instead of taking on the language.  Keeping on top of the language game requires stronger nerves that doing battle with the curriculum.  You might need to ignore the book for several weeks, you will certainly need to do things in a different order, and you will get more bad marks in the stage tests.  But when it’s all over and the final whistle is blown, you’ll have learners that are far better equipped to deal with communication than those who have simply collected points along the way.

I tell my young learners this:

“It’s not about getting good marks in the next test.  It’s about being able to speak good English in 5 years’ time.”

That’s often hard for them to grasp at first, but once they develop the trust, progress comes in leaps and bounds.

For teachers I have another message:

“If your learners can speak good English, they will do well in any fair test.”

This article was originally published as a guest blog in Betty Ray’s edutopia.org blog.

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(c) trix0r, Flickr

To put it bluntly, teachers have a major image problem. Seen from the outside, teachers have excellent job security, long holidays, they aren’t accountable for their performance and then to cap it all, they are constantly complaining about their pay and conditions.

It gets worse. Although teachers may be great at presenting information, they are not usually skilled at defending themselves against adversaries in the same way that politicians, journalists and business managers are. This means the teacher is holding a really bad hand when getting involved in emotive arguments like how to reform education.

Because reform is an emotive word. If you put it together with education, you have a heady mixture. At the same time reform is an elusive thing. It’s like quality. Everyone wants it, but no-one can agree what it is. So when the #edchat discussion last Tuesday took on the issue of education reform and the role of the teacher in it, I knew it would be a dynamic discussion. Six-hundred ninety-one posts in an hour from 83 different contributors around the world confirmed my expectations. Continue reading »

(c) Gary Hayes, via Flickr

If you’re a Twitter user and you’re looking for great, thought-provoking ideas on education then a good place to start is @spedteacher.  His blog, Education On The Plate is a must-read for anyone looking for stimulating input on the subject of education.  I saw through Twitter that he’d blogged on the subject of running schools like a business – something which I feel has great advantages.  One thing that Deven did was to identify that this is not only controversial, it is also not simple.  Teachers are almost naturally resistant to the factory model for a school, recognising that students are individuals in their formative years and have differing needs and skills.  I’ve even heard a teacher use Pink Floyd’s, The Wall as an example of how school can be too focused on creating drones.  Sadly when it comes to this piece of music, I can’t forgive the band for the first line – We don’t need no education.  Countless kids know this line without understanding or even having heard the rest of the piece. Continue reading »

(c) Mags_cat, Flickr

It’s been a hard week.  Today was the deadline for the half-year reports so I’ve been tied up with checking the marks for the English Department for the last few days.  As always the deadline took a few of my colleagues by surprise (but they often get caught out by Christmas too, so I’m prepared for that now!)  We have a standardised grading system which is centrally administered.  The aim is to balance out individual differences between teachers as much as possible and to make the results for the kids as fair as we can.  Actually, this is less work than it sounds and results in the English teachers having rather less to do than some of their colleagues at this time.  The computer takes over the drudgery, and I pass out the result sheets.

And, as always, there has been a stream of kids coming to my office to explain to me why they should get a better mark.  “You’ve calculated it wrong,” is very popular.  As is, “I’ve worked really hard.“  Sometimes the explanations are truly impressive – “You’re ruining my life,” crops up once or twice a year.

This is all par for the course.  It’s part of the job, and once in a while you hear something so good that it makes the job worthwhile.  My favourite this week was, “I need at least a C or I’ll get Mr X again and I hate him.“  I had some sympathy with this, but sadly couldn’t do anything about it.  Of course, it’s a bit annoying when colleagues pass the buck when it comes to handing out bad news and refer the kids to me to give them their marks.  It’s even more annoying when fruitless appeals are passed on to me on the grounds that I, as the Department Co-ordinator, can change marks because of tears, demands, begging or flattery.

But this is all part of the job.  I expect kids to try it on.  I did it myself on occasions.  They’re growing up and pushing their limits.  That’s fine.

What’s not fine is when colleagues come to me and beg.  Continue reading »

(c) daveknapik, Flickr

This is a favourite subject of mine.  There are lots of slogans in this world that deal with change management – “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” is the mantra of the cautious.  ”if you aren’t moving forwards, you’re going backwards” is innovator’s cry.  If you get to the point where you start hearing “stop flogging a dead horse” then it’s probably time to stop wondering which slogan holds more truth and to start doing something about your situation.

The trouble is, that’s when the real work starts.  Of course, you can delay the moment by setting up a work group, or issuing a draft proposal and asking for comments , but the day is going to come when you have to make the change.  It’s at that point you realise that your opponents (and whatever you believe, you do have them!) are well-armed and thoroughly trained in putting a brake on your campaign to conquer the brave new world at your doorstep.

The first weapon of choice for such people is, “what if…” and believe me, this is a potent enemy of the innovator.  It’s supporters proclaim the need for a thorough understanding of the new concept, including any possible issues that just might crop up somewhere along the line.  The what if game is, of course, a variation on the four-year-olds’ favourite game – “Why?”  A well-practised kid can bring otherwise stable parent close to a nervous breakdown with seven repetitions of this simple question.  The problem is that the parent’s final sanction, “because I say so,” doesn’t usually work in the adult world and even more rarely in a teachers’ staff meeting.

I watched a very skilled headmaster blow the what if tactic out of the water.  Having allowed the discussion to continue for a while, he asked the meeting, “Is anyone here actually against implementing the new system?”  This is playing hard ball.  Few professional delayers want to openly show dissension, they prefer to use “concern” as their motive.  No-one was prepared to oppose the idea outright.  The headmaster wrapped up the discussion.  ”Good, then we’ll phase in the new system starting on the 1st of next month and deal with any issues as they arise.”

In the same way that expecting to get all the kids in your class up to the pass standard is usually counter-productive, continuing the negotiations until everyone in a department agrees is a recipe for never changing anything.

What it really comes down to is, how much do you want the change you are advocating?  If it’s important to you, then unanimity, consensus and diplomacy are your enemies.  Harmonious staff rooms exist only in Utopia and the sooner you accept that the better.  Smoothing out arguments and negotiating is playing into the hands of your adversaries.  Before you know it, your plans are so watered down, they are rendered almost useless.  Failure is pre-programmed.

It all comes down to what sort of institution you want to work in.  You can accept the status quo and let the professional objectors have their comfortable life, of you can rattle a few cages and maybe reduce your own personal frustration levels.  And maybe, just maybe, a few of your colleagues will thank you for your efforts somewhere down the line.