Category: The Classroom

TEFL Tips #4: The accuracy/fluency dilemma

“You can’t let errors like that go uncorrected!”

“You can’t destroy students’ confidence by constantly interrupting them!”

I’ve got either one of these distressed voices bleating in my head at any given point during any given lesson. It’s a quandary.

One approach worth a look is creating a accuracy/fluency scale somewhere in the room, then positioning an arrow somewhere on that scale according to the task being attempted. A pendulum works, as does an approximation of a car speedo or even a straightforward slider drawn on a whiteboard. 

Quickly, groups will learn to look over at the slider before they attempt a communicative task; actively deciding where to put that arrow will become part of their thinking. Group discussions on how to balance accuracy/fluency for different scenarios are a fascinating gateway for intercultural communication topics. And there’s nothing stopping you explaining your dilemma as a teacher, and putting the power to determine the right balance of fluency and accuracy in the hands of your learners.

Try it.

TEFL Tips #3: Copy Eno’s Oblique Strategies

For me, lateral thinking has always been a term I half understood. Something to do with solving riddles right? It tended to crop up after the fact: Someone who had already determined a solution would implore you to ‘come on, do some lateral thinking’ until you thought what he or she thought. Hmmm. File with ‘thinking outside the box’ and do some proper work.

But a reappraisal is necessary, and in my case it was triggered by trying to work out how to teach English for Academic Purposes. With EAP more than any other specific purpose language teaching I’ve done, a learner’s capability to grasp the discourse of academic enquiry is utterly dependent on his/her ability to actually think in empirical terms. You just can’t bolt it on afterwards, because if you try to, you get bizarre paragraphs in which students dutifully avoid personal pronouns and deploy passives while being fundamentally unscientific in the way they develop and link ideas. OK, I suppose in an ideal world only students with a solid grasp of academic methodology would be grappling with EAP. Pffffft, as the steam escaping from a stoppered flask above a bunsen burner might say.

But it is in tackling this problem that I have come to enjoy a fascinating rediscovery of scientific method and discourse, always the dark side of the moon for a post-GCSE humanities graduate. Big Google sessions on formulating hypotheses, reasoning inductively and deductively and applying logic have provided great lesson material. And my students seem to be appreciating the knock-on effects of this back-to-basics approach on their other modules.

I should point out here that I teach students of international business. They are not scientists, but they do have to conduct an extended piece of academic research to get their Bachelor’s degree (they’d call it a dissertation in the UK). And clearly the German university system expects them to have somehow acquired the requisite skills to achieve this, despite the fact that these are simply not embedded in a curriculum explicitly geared towards the applied skills of accounting, business law, business maths and statistics.

So there’s a painful shortfall to be dealt with here, and it is cruelly exposed in our EAP lessons.

To come to the point and the title of this post: one Google session led me to lateral thinking and Edward de Bono, and that triggered a memory of an interview I’d read with Brian Eno about some sort of cards he used which displayed abstract messages designed to spur creativity in the various era-defining artists he’s worked with (and Coldplay). The details are all here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oblique_Strategies and a quick read will instantly highlight for you the potential of creating your own set of cards for your learners. Just to get the gist, here are mine:

Is that it?
Where are the hidden gems?
Is this the start or the end?
Can you feel it?
Why so blurred?
Heart or head?
Better safe? Or better sorry?
Who’s not being honest?
Where is the love?
Is it a man thing?
What’s the point?
What aren’t we seeing?
Who is (really) in control?
Is this a con?
What would the parents think?
Why so serious?
Where’s the catch?
Where did it all go wrong?
What if it’s a trap?
Bit boring?
Should we just start again?
What’s taking so long?
Is this the time?
Why did we stop believing?
Smoke or fire?
Are there walls?
Who has the key?
Do words matter?
Would you touch it?
A dime or a dollar?
Whose round is it?
Why are the gates locked?

Now, I’m guessing this isn’t for everyone, but maybe it is sparking off ideas with some teachers. I printed off a few sets of cards, put one deck on each table, and just asked students to turn over a card whenever they felt they were getting stuck. At the very least, that moment of disassociation as your brain tries to make the question fit snaps the group out of a discursive dead end. In some cases the cards opened up whole new aspects which hadn’t been considered. And the cards are reusable and pretty flexible for use in stimulating discussions or analysis on a range of topics. They also seem to have a positive differentiating effect built in: More capable students will think farther in order to find meaning in the questions and this offers useful and in my experience relatively unforced modelling of abstract thinking patterns to students who may not be quite there yet. So, if you dig it then go create some cards, or feel free to use and amend mine.

Now, if only I had an oblique strategy for bringing these TEFL tips in at under 800 words …

TEFL Tips #2: Use dynamic manager/consultant groupings

This really stretches the definition of a ‘tip’ and it’s only the second one … But never mind, maybe someone will find it useful. I use this method every week and can’t really remember how I managed without it.

So the basic idea is you have four groups, each representing a different organisation, all of which have some kind of problem that needs solving. Each group needs between 3 and 6 students; the groups don’t have to be exactly equal.

Within each group, you nominate or self-select between 2 and 4 people to be consultants. The remaining group members automatically become managers. Throughout the activities, managers always stay in their home group while consultants travel to other groups.

Over the course of the next 2 – 3 hours, students are confronted with repeated high-level genuine communication scenarios requiring them to analyse, explain and persuade.

Phase 1: Analysis

Initially, materials are distributed and each group learns its individual identity. This should be some kind of organisation with some kind of problem(s). Students can use SWOT/Porter/PESTEL/rich picturing/any other analysis to explore their situation, though at this stage they are not looking for solutions – that comes later. The emphasis here is on the managers being able to explain the issues, as this is what happens in stage 2. Depending on the learner level/time constraints/expectations the materials can be brief or highly complex.

Phase 2: Briefing

This is where it gets slightly complicated; a visualisation of the required classroom movement is useful here. Basically, each group needs to send consultants to 2 other groups in such a manner that each group now contains the original managers plus consultants from 2 other groups. Depending on the overall group size, the consultants will be travelling alone or in pairs, it doesn’t matter. The managers now have to explain their group’s organisational identity and problem to the visiting consultants. The more clarity, depth and detail they bring to this the better. Depending on the nature of the organisation + problem, it may also be appropriate for the managers to give the consultants materials to take away, or even to have prepared their own materials detailing the problem(s).

Phase 3: Development

The idea is that the consultants now return to their home groups and, together with the managers (who for this period forget their original role and help the consultants), develop some kind of solution to the problem/s they have been hearing about. The first challenge is for the consultants to relate what they have discovered (don’t forget that the managers are entirely out of the loop on this, having just been explaining an entirely different problem to entirely different consultants). And lest we forget: each group has two solutions to develop, as their two consultants visited two different respective groups. The groups would now normally split in two, with managers joining consultants to work on the potential solutions.

Phase 4: Pitch

It’s action time again as the consultants head back out on the road to pitch their solutions to the organisations. Theoretically one could now swap roles so that those students who were previously managers now become consultants and get to travel, but in practice I prefer to keep the roles static so that the students who received the briefing are the same students who make the pitch. Now comes the climax of the activity: each group contains two consultants who are making two different pitches to the organisation against each other, having no idea what the other consultants may have created. This creates genuine tension as one consultant has to listen to the other’s pitch and then try to better it. The natural and unforced competitive element is undeniable. Ideally the consultants have also produced some written materials which they can leave with the managers.

Phase 5: Debrief

Ok, back to the home groups for the debrief. This time it is the managers doing the explaining as they outline the two pitches they have just heard to the returning group members. Some kind of scoring system can be developed (with basic criteria referencing if possible) and the whole team should then evaluate the competing solutions and allocate points. Finally, each group can give feedback to the whole group level explaining their scoring while the teacher notes down the overall points and awarding the winning team with a prize (the team whose consultants collectively accrued the most points).

I’m not sure how this reads – maybe it sounds like duh, that’s group work, big deal. Maybe I’m not explaining it clearly, maybe the communicative implications of the various group constellations aren’t immediately obvious. But I’m telling you: it works, and it is almost entirely self-organising. As a teacher you’re at liberty to walk around offering intervention and differentiating without having to dash to the front and engage in teacher talk. Keep each section timed tightly and you’ll have some of the most relaxed lessons ever.

TEFL Tips #1: Hand out sheets face down

Even in the age of blended learning and smartphone-based classroom management apps we’re still rocking the photocopies. There’s something immediate about working on paper and I guess it remains a kind of ‘media franca’ for the language learning space. So like it or not: we’re all handing out sheets.

Here’s the downside: the time spent handing out sheets kills energy and opens up an irresistible vacuum for learners to jump on their social media. If you’ve just spent time foregrounding a task and building a sense of anticipation, then it’s annoying to feel that dissipate as you squeeze round the room, repeatedly dead-legging yourself on desks as you try to prise one sheet off a stack of 25.

The solution seems obvious: get those sheets out early before the class starts or by discretely distributing them during a previous activity. Problem solved!

Yes … but now we have another problem: You can’t ‘foreground a task and build a sense of anticipation’ if the group have already looked at the sheet and decided (before you could engage in any anticipation building) that it doesn’t look very interesting. Not so much dead-legging as shooting yourself in the foot – now your foregrounding feels to them more like a desperate attempt to make your mundane task seem interesting. In an effort to plan ahead, you’ve ended up putting yourself on the defensive from the start.

So here it is: distribute the sheets early, but always FACE DOWN. The first few times learners will automatically turn them over, but with a little shocked play-acting you can indicate that they are not supposed to do this. The pattern is established very quickly and by the third time no-one will touch those sheets.

It is surprising how intriguing a face-down sheet of A4 can be – for learners it is redolent of exams or similar high-stakes scenarios – and by starting your task build with the phrase, ‘You all have a downturned sheet of A4 in front of you. Do not turn it over’, you have imbued the upcoming task with a palpable sense of intrigue. OK maybe that’s going too far, but at least the learners are not actively shutting down on you having reached their own conclusions with insufficient information. You remain in the driving seat.

And once the teacher talk is over and it’s time to begin, then the instruction: ‘OK, turn over the sheets’ has a nice snappiness to it, and you get the added energy boost of all learners engaging in a synchronised action which lends an important kick of impetus to the activity.

No upper-thigh bruising, no paper cuts: just a crisp and focused intro into the learning.

The rise of the Superteachers© (and the rumours of their imminent demise …)

The SuperteacherTM is not just a really good teacher. He or she is something altogether unique and instantly identifiable. The Superteacher exhibits levels of energy normally observed in the substance-gobbling patrons of illicit raves who’ve downed four Red Bulls with an espresso for the road. Despite maintaining levels of activity more usually associated with career-fixated worker bees, Superteachers exude the healthy iridescence of the newly promoted (they probably are), the newly in love (maybe not), or the newly intoxicated. Typical behaviours of the Superteacher include: complaining loudly of hangovers from mid-week nights out (enjoyed while non-Superteachers are safely tucked away) as they stand fresh-faced by the photocopier at 7.30am; pointing out how well they relate to certain pupils who, lacking the drive and ambition you’d expect from the spawn of Satan himself, are probably the offspring of a lower-ranking, middle-management demon; and inducing soporific levels of calm obedience in children generally more happy exploring what they perceive to be the classroom’s untapped potential as an arena of gladiatorial combat. It is perhaps unsurprising to note that the relationship between teachers and Superteachers is one typified by peculiar inconsistencies. While face-to-face interaction fluctuates between warm camaraderie and reverent diffidence, the Superteacher may often be the focus of uncharitable and generally unsubstantiated staffroom speculation. Interestingly, this speculation subsides each and every time the Superteacher in question enters.

The fact that the Superteacherhas emerged at all says a lot about how teaching is changing. It is nowadays possible to quantify a teacher’s skill according to a four point scale: we’re all either “unsatisfactory”, “satisfactory”, “good” or “outstanding”. Incidentally, whole schools are ranked using the same criteria. These incrementations of quality are directly related to the effective utilisation of a raft of teaching and learning strategies which, when mastered, constitute “outstanding practice”. Thus a teacher who delivers a lesson which differentiates content to ensure it is accessible to all learners, which sets a clear objective and then effectively tests the extent to which learning has been achieved and which keeps all pupils actively engaged throughout may well be judged as “good” rather than “outstanding”. Why not top marks? Well, for a start, the lesson has apparently failed to incorporate “kinaesthetic” learning (i.e. some sort of physical movement) and has as such failed to take into consideration the optimum learning style of probably 70% of the pupils in the class. Moreover, the lesson’s assessment of learning has seemingly made no reference to established criteria. Eh? Well, as learning and the assessment of learning are now expected to form a continuous loop which is understood and driven by pupils themselves, it is necessary to equip these pupils with the language necessary to conceptualise and vocalise this understanding. That means devising specific criteria for each grade or level using “pupil-friendly” (i.e. simple) language. If a teacher praises a pupil’s work without using this terminology, that teacher is making it difficult for pupils to understand – and thus ultimately control – their own learning. Not good, and, therefore, in no way “outstanding”.

In an environment with so many complexities, potential pitfalls and – lest we forget them – extremely unruly youngsters, it’s not surprising that most of us just about hang on and manage to deliver a combination of “good” or “satisfactory” lessons, pulling the odd “outstanding” out of the bag as occasion demands. Anything more is superhuman, and this is where the Superteachers come into the picture.

However, their reign of terror is reaching an end. Whisper it only, but we’re on the Superteachers’ case. Non-Superteachers the country over are quietly supplying unbelievable, awe-inspiring teaching with none of the tiresome self-promotion and staggeringly insincere self-deprecation of their superhumen brethren. Wielding kryptonite white-board markers, the non-Supers are the John McEnroes of pedagogy: the Superteachers may be James Bond, but we’re John McClane; and (reaching as always to football as the only really effective metaphor for life) if their flair, talent and consistency makes them Brazil … well, we’re probably England. And on our day, no-one can touch us …

A full day …

I remember catching a glimpse of my teacher’s timetable when I was at school and being amazed at how little he actually taught. There were mysterious free periods all over the place, sometimes two or three in one day. It made me quite indignant when I compared it with my own non-negotiable full-time commitments as a pupil. Now, on the other side of the teacher’s desk, I see things differently. Once a week I teach a full day and it is a back-breaking enterprise. For a start, six hours of teaching means probably two hours of planning and maybe an hour of marking (if you’re lucky). Plus there are all the things you don’t get done – responding to emails, keeping up with admin, liaising with colleagues, planning the other 15-odd lessons to be taught that week. These things impinge upon the days before and after the big sixer like tremors indicating the approach of an earthquake and the aftershocks experienced in its wake. Nevertheless, in the middle of a six period day, you actually tend to feel pretty good. The body’s adrenaline pump is on permanent full throttle, and you know that behaviour incidents cannot be allowed to happen, as the necessary administrative follow-up would have to be put off until the following day, which will undoubtedly bring its own fresh challenges. So I think many teachers produce their best work on these hectic full days. When it’s all over however, you hit the ground like a stone. After accompanying 7B down to the main gates at the end of the day (they’re still brilliant, God love ’em) I found myself slumped at my desk desperately trying to put together lessons for tomorrow, and unable to complete the most basic tasks. And this will affect the quality of my teaching tomorrow, making it more strenuous, making me more tired, and so on. The key is to approach these full days with an unflinching acceptance of one’s fate, together with an acceptance that they must be planned well in advance. It’s too easy not to think about them until the night before, and therein lies the trap. Of course, I would have done that on Friday had I not been sat with colleagues moderating media coursework for over five hours. As one newly qualified colleague who used to work in advertising has confirmed, the notion that teaching is an easy option is one you believe at your peril.

Some helpful advice?

The summer holidays, now a distant memory, have already taken on the patina of old, worn film in my head. The sepia-tinted, yellow haziness lends the memories a nostalgic air (though surely nostalgia normally takes more than a fortnight to kick in?) Now we’re back to weekends as islands of slightly bewildered calm in an ocean of action, reaction, planning, evaluation, communication and all the things that make a teacher’s week what it is.

After a honeymoon period of two and a half days, what teachers euphemistically term ‘behaviour’ has returned with a vengeance. For the three newly qualified teachers (a term universally shortened to ‘NQT’) in my department, it came as a shock. And I found myself in a situation I’d privately (and embarrassingly) been looking forward to for some time: finally NOT being the least experienced in the department, and being approached for advice rather than desperately seeking it. Having awaited this moment with some anticipation, and having myself so often sought the advice I was about to dole out, I was disappointed that the stuff I heard myself saying was all deeply pedestrian. Anyone with any teaching experience will know the drill: “Clearly state your expectations!” “Consistently apply sanctions!” “Chunk up lesson content so the kids don’t have time to misbehave!” And the old chestnut: “Catch them being good!” All effective strategies of course. But at the moment of truth, embattled NQTs will often discover to their horror that these supposedly devastating pedagogic weapons are just plastic toy replicas of the real thing. As the experienced teacher down the corridor blasts any ‘behaviour’ firmly into submission with a dazzling array of measures designed to shock and awe, the NQT rolls out the big guns only to find that though they produce vaguely realistic gun sounds, they only actually fire elastic bands. And there’ll probably be plenty of those flying around already. Shock and awe? More like duck and cover.

I think that our advice to new teachers should focus less on what to do, and more on how to do it. The most effective managers of behaviour at our school do exactly the same things as the NQTs. They just do them with a level of confidence, conviction and belief that is simply undeniable, and that is what makes the difference. Unfortunately, as a piece of advice: “You need more confidence, conviction and belief!” is not particularly helpful. But emphasising that there is no silver bullet, and that inexperienced teachers are doing exactly the right things, and that these things will work if the teacher believes in and cares about the children … well, let’s face it: that’s pretty useless too.

So in the end, the advice I gave was no better than the advice I received: keep trying; it’s going to be OK. It’s not often that the modern, emotionally literate person gets to deliver a platitude of quite such inexcusable meaninglessness, but as I turned and felt the heat of the NQTs’ baleful stares gently drying the back of my shirt (let it be noted that I’m no behaviour hot-shot myself), I didn’t feel that bad. Even in the most supportive department with the best colleagues in the world, you’re on your own as an NQT. Time to sink or swim.