Month: March 2011

The Burden of Choice

If there is one word that would sum up the pressure that my participants feel, it’s this one: burden.

This is the word they most commonly use to describe how they feel about the performance expectations placed on them at school, and also to describe their sense towards the work they have to accomplish during our training program. Ask any other teacher trainer in Korea, and they’ll probably agree that this is one of the the most used words among their participants.

Burden of Choice

Wanting to help alleviate some of that burden, I’ve recently been introducing the element of choice. On two occasions this semester, some participants didn’t complete in-class writing tasks, and so I told them that if they wanted, they could finish it at home, but emphasized it was their choice. From my point of view, the writing task didn’t need to be finalized (published) in order for learning to happen. The writing process was the center of my objective, not the final product. However, I could appreciate that some may have liked to finish it to feel a sense of completion, so I gave them the option. No matter how the task ended, I asked them to add it to their progress portfolio. By giving them the choice I thought I was fostering a sense of autonomy, and control over the end result of their portfolio.

What I never realized was that by giving them the choice to finish a task at home, I may have been inflicting more pressure. This was brought home when I heard,

“I feel more burden now that it’s a choice.”

It is at this point that I decided to examine this word  more closely. When I say that I feel burdened, is this actually a feeling or is it a pseudo-feeling? A pseudo-feeling, or faux-feeling, is actually a judgment about what others are doing to us. Another example of a pseudo-feeling is ignored or abandoned. I cannot feel these without the action of another. The actual feeling behind ignored, or abandoned might be lonely or sad. Another honest feeling behind ignored could be relief. If someone ignored us, we would feel relief if we needed time alone (p. 43, Rosenberg). When I hear someone say they feel burdened, this is the sense I get. It seems like they are blaming the person behind the action instead of taking responsibility for how they are really feeling.

I bring this up is because I noticed how some participants welcomed my decision to make homework an option. What this told me was that the element of choice was not seen as bad by all. Some felt relief, and even cheered for the choice. They could go home knowing they didn’t have more work to do.

Others, however, felt confused, and sighed with irritation. I can appreciate this confusion. The participant who felt burdened by the choice probably felt more like this, “I feel annoyed because I’d like some clarity. I want to know, if I don’t do this task, will I look bad? I need assurance that I am doing my best work.”

What this has taught me is that choice may work for some and not for others. It is clear that some people need strict support and guidance, whereas others feel just as safe when set free. My job is to understand these two sides. My job is to see beyond the burden.

Rosenberg, Marshall B. 2005. Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life. 2nd ed. Encinitas, CA: PuddleDancer Press.

Personal Disclosure in the Korean Classroom: Do You or Don’t You?

Looking back on most of my blog entries, I realize that I rarely write explicitly about my cultural experience in relation to teaching Korean teachers. It may be because I’ve been here for a while, and I take our cultural roles for granted. Maybe I’ve become so comfortable with “the Korean way” that I have forgotten a bit of what “the Canadian way” used to mean for me. I tale for granted the little details about what it means to teach in Korea.

However, after having spent last night with my Korean family-in-law — it was my husband’s uncle’s 70th birthday (cultural-linguistic note: my adopted “Korean way” is now naturally prompting me to say “our uncle”.) – I remembered what makes many interactions in Korea so specifically Korean; it’s their need to try to make everyone feel comfortable in a social situation. Of course this will vary from group to group, but in my experience when it comes to hanging out with family or instructing a group of teachers, the moment will run much more smoothly if everyone feels comfortable.

So what does this cultural comfort look like? In Korea it’s all about knowing your position in a group, and behaving according to the rules if that position. I have to say this is one of the biggest challenges when I’m with a bunch of elder family members. Although they may have thought I was comfortable last night, I was a tad ill at ease. My Canadianess naturally inhibits me to know how I stack up on the totem pole, especially when it comes to Korean table manners. But I digress.

Most of my Korean family

When it comes to meeting people in a closer circle of interest or age, the rules may seem uncomfortable to the unknowing Westerner (linguistic note: in Korea the foreign English teacher’s nationality is quickly replaced by the status of our perceived hemisphere; therefore, we simply become known as Westerner instead of Canadian or Australian.) Questions about age, marital status, and your personal experience of Korean culture can come within the hour of your first meeting. I know the Canadian in me used to be shocked by the seemingly personal invasion.

This kind of probing doesn’t stop in my classroom. Within the first week the teachers find out if I’m married. Then they ask if my husband is Korean. When I say yes, there is a hush over the crowd. They quickly want to know how we met. I must admit that my “love story” gets better with each semester. Each semester it is dubbed as our “love story”. Throughout the next five months, similar questions persist, but they usually connect to my experiences in Korea and Canada. I hardly bat an eyelid to these kind of questions anymore.

Most of my colleagues follow the same disclosure rules. They have lived in Korea for much longer than me, and probably have also realized that this is one of the ways we can create a comfortable atmosphere in our classrooms. By accepting the questions instead of opposing them, we become part of their way of doing. This is how we have adapted to the “Korean way”.

I have heard of “Western” teachers refusing to talk about their personal lives. They exclaim that it isn’t professional. They say students/trainees don’t need to know this kind of information since they are here to learn, and not to become friends. I don’t connect with this reasoning. However, I also realize that some Korean teachers are not ready to hear about the “unique” lifestyles of their Western colleagues. For this reason I can understand their need to protect their privacy. Maybe part of cultural dance is knowing what to disclose and how to disclose it.

I don’t share my stories to become friends, although I welcome such an evolution in our relationship. I have become close with many of my past trainees, would feel sad to miss out on such connections.

KIETT Trainees and Trainers at KOTESOL

KIETT Trainees and Trainers at KOTESOL

From my perspective, by refusing to open up about myself, trainees will feel less inclined to do the same. I know how important this kind of connection is when it comes to learning in general, but more specifically when it comes to learning language. When we communicate, we express who we are and what is important to us. If we feel that we aren’t among instructors that can take gentle care of our story, then we clam up. We feel more apt to learn and share when we feel that we are in a safe environment.

Within each culture the boundaries of safety and comfort will vary. I doubt Canadian teachers would feel the need to know about my “love story” in order to learn something from my classroom. When I juxtapose my experience with training teachers in Korea, to my own experience in teacher training at SIT, I shudder at the thought of asking for such information from my professors. I can just imagine myself asking Pat Moran during Approaches to Teaching Second Languages, “So Pat, how did you and the Mrs. Moran meet?” Not cool.

But we aren’t in the same context. The teachers I teach value this kind of information because it helps them connect to me on an intimate level. When they come to our program, they feel extremely vulnerable. They have huge doubts about their language ability and how that reflects on their ability to teach English. They lack confidence, and I believe it is my job to do what I can to connect with their fears in order to improve their confidence. When I see and empathize with their fears, they learn that it’s okay to expose them because they are in a safe environment. Sharing tidbits about myself is part of this process, because that’s part of the “Korean way”. It offers them some familiarity in an environment that can feel so foreign.

There are other ways that I work with the concept of safety and comfort in the classroom, but I’ll save that for another posting. For the moment I have explored this cultural reflection to the fullest. I now leave the debate up to you:

What are your boundaries of personal disclosure in Korea? Why do you, or don’t you expose your personal life to your students/trainees/participants? How have you learned to disclose your personal stories to your Korean students/trainees/participants?

Tell me and I forget; show me and I remember; involve me and I understand.

A past teacher-trainee (participant) of mine wrote this Chinese proverb (see title) as her Facebook status yesterday. I am grateful to Youkyung for posting this — not only because she gave me a title for this entry — but also because she reminded me that many other teachers share this teaching belief: we learn from our experiences. Why did I need this reminder? Well, it has to do with a question a participant asked me during yesterday’s class focused on reflective learning: he questioned the purpose behind reflective writing. I realized two points from his simple question, and I’ll begin my reflective quest from the observation stage of the experiential learning cycle.

(click here to see a fun flash depiction of the cycle)

Kolb’s experiential learning cycle. Graphic by Clara Davies/Tony Lowe, Leeds University LDU/SSDU.

Reflective Observation – What?

A significant moment always begins as a concrete experience. My significant moment has a background story. Here it is:

Yesterday was the fourth writing lesson of the semester. During the first class of the week (lesson plan 2), I asked the participants to do the 2 Truths & 1 Lie ice-breaker activity. The catch was that in order to make their truths and lies, they would have to use either of the conjunctions or, so, but or and. They then wrote their sentences on a sheet of paper, and posted them all over the classroom for a gallery walk. During the gallery walk they circled the sentence they thought was a lie for each participant. Once this was done, they each presented their truths and lies, and in this way, we got a little glimpse of their lives.

From this point we went into a lesson on the use of conjunctions and their relationship with commas. Wanting to avoid a lecture on these punctuation rules (see inductive approach), I asked the participants to scan an article for FANBOYS, and then in pairs they compared sentences that combined comma with conjunctions, and those that didn’t. They came up with their own hypothesis for these rules, and then I gave them an explanation

The next day (lesson plan 3), after asking them for some basic feedback on their interests and concerns for my writing course, we reviewed the comma/conjunction rules. I then asked them to take out their Truth & Lie sentences to edit them according to what they learned. They also added 3-5 sentences to one of the sentences they wrote, elaborating their story, and practiced the new rules. After peer checking their work, I did my best to offer one-to-one feedback.

Now back to yesterday. My plan was for the participants to reflect on the week’s previous two lessons in a reflective writing activity. To help them remember what they did, we reviewed the week’s lessons. I then I wrote this on the board:

Choose one significant moment/event that happened this week in writing class. Describe this event. The event could be related to learning or teaching.

We had a whole class discussion about the definition of the word significant. We concluded that it can be something important and meaningful, and that it is neither good nor bad; it is simply something that strikes us as a point of exploration.

In pairs they discussed their significant moment. Once they were done they described their significant moment (reflective observation) in writing. After that they answered:

Why was this moment significant for you? (abstract conceptualization).

I explained that at this point they could explore their feelings and ideas behind the event.

The final point of reflection focused on this:

Explain how this will impact your studies in this program, your future role as a language learner, or your future role as a language teacher. (Active experimentation)

While they wrote I saw some eyes roll and heard some hesitant sighs. One of my participants asked me what this activity was helping them practice: fluency or accuracy? I told him that this isn’t a writing activity focused on fluency or accuracy. It is an activity focused on helping them learn. I saw confusion in his eyes. This was my significant moment.

Abstract Conceptualization – So what?

Why did I ask them to do all this reflection? I wanted them to do this because I believe learning happens once it is reflected upon. This is such a strong teaching belief for me. Without reflection, a learning moment risks getting lost in the content of the day or week. While we reflect on a moment, we unlock realizations that we may not have been able to make conscious otherwise. Reflection brings the learner back to understanding his/her involvement in an experience. This is what the Chinese proverb reminds me of. So by looking back on their week, and by writing about one moment that impacted them, I believed that their writing would help them integrate this learning.

But what the participant helped me realize was that there is another purpose to reflective writing that I had not made explicit.  What was this reflective writing helping them practice? From a skills perspective, this is an activity that asks them to work with their thinking skills.  Via his simple inquiry, and through my own reflection, I realized that reflective writing will do more than help them learn from their experience. From their writing they will learn to develop their ability to be critical and creative thinkers. These are essential skills for all writers. These are skills that help the writer create content and meaning.

Active Experimentation – Now what?

I began this entry thinking I was going to write about the importance of reflective writing. I thought I was going to validate my belief that reflection is essential for learning, and that by asking them to reflect I was increasing their learning. After yesterday’s class I had a small doubt that the participants would also be able to understand this value. I was worried that they would somehow rebel against the idea of reflective writing because they wouldn’t be able to see a clear link to the traditional 4 skills. I wondered how I would help them understand that learning is the ultimate goal, and that how we learn isn’t only via tests, but also via experience and reflection on experience. I thought that by writing this entry, and by reflecting on my week’s lessons, I would justify my belief that teachers need to understand that learning is the most important outcome for their students.

I still believe this, and will also teach my participants from this point of view when I ask them to write reflectively. However, now I realize that I can also come to reflective writing from a different perspective.  I can help participants understand that reflective writing will also help them be better writers thanks to their developed thinking skills. At a time when the content of the Korean standardized achievement tests will be asking their students to be more critical, these are essential skills for their teachers to develop and understand. So in the end, I learned that reflective writing is a way to develop language skills, as well as to help increase their learning.

I’ve learned a lot from my participant’s question, and without reflection I may not have come to this realization. His question helped me realize that even our most fundamental beliefs should be questioned. From this realization, I believe we can add another element to the ancient proverb:

Tell me and I forget; show me and I remember; involve me and I understand; question me and I become aware.

Ploughing through the First Day

Why do I feel exhausted? It was my first day back, I only had three, 50 minute classes and I covered the same material in each of them! So if it was such an easy day, where does the strain behind my eyes come from?

The exhaustion comes from my snowplough imitation. With a quick and steady advance, I made my way through the participants’ attentiveness. I can just imagine how my big, round, fully animated eyes must have seemed to them: like looking into blinding blue headlights with too much self-powered energy. I speculate I have a teacher’s gaze that could cause my participants to topple over with either giggles or confusion. But with their cultural composure, they listened and held back on any social slip ups.

My eyes were saying this, “I REALLY want you to understand what I’m saying. Do you understand that this is important?”, and with the strength of a plough, I pushed through the course expectations, trying to pack all the information onto the snow banks of my participants’ minds.

“This folder is for your writing portfolio. You keep your writing tasks here, but don’t keep your classroom notes in this portfolio. Your portfolio is a learning tool, and it will help you see your writing progress. You also keep your reflective dialogue journal entries here. These entries are written at home.”

“What is an entry? An entry is a single written item. For example when you write something in your diary, this is an entry. You have to write two entries per week. If you look at the handout I gave you, I ask you to answer these questions. They are reflective questions. Reflective implies thinking about yourself, and your experiences, and then writing about it. You answer the reflective question and then give it to me. At this point I will read the entry and comment. When you write your entry you can also ask me a question. I will answer this question. This is a private written conversation between you and I.”

“You use the yellow notepad that I’ve given you for your in-class writing tasks. When you are done with the tasks, you rip the paper and put it in your portfolio.”

“…blah blah blah.”

Some instructions went over their heads like the last bits of snow trying to make it to the top of that snow bank.  I was giving them information I knew some of them weren’t understanding. I feel exhausted because I spent too much time talking. What’s embarrassing is that I always encourage participants to decrease TTT (teacher talking time), and here I was using it as my only teaching tool.

I tried to convey information I know will only be understood when it is experienced. This is the beauty. Teachers just don’t need to talk for their message to get across. Being understood is all about action. I know this is true when it comes to giving instructions for a language activity.

So my question is, do I really need to go through this again next semester? Is there a more fun and less tiring way to let them know what their responsibilities are for the semester?

I could have asked them to get in groups to discuss the syllabus and instructions on their handout. I could have given them the folder and notepad, and ask them to imagine what they might be for. Any other suggestions? How can I refrain from acting like a snowplough on the first day of class?