In Panama, they don’t want to learn English; they want to learn American (accent). They want jobs at a call center. High motivation.

Namibian: no standards on African vs. American vs. English English

That’s the end of the notes I took. I am very interested in this subject, having written a paper on it. Yet I wasn’t engaged at all in this discussion. Why not? Maybe because it’s a topic with so many layers: lingua franca, language of the oppressor, culture vs. language, EIL… all closely related yet distinct, each able to spiral deeply into subtopics — so I felt overwhelmed an intimidated, even though I know a tiny bit about it. Because of that, in fact, I felt a little pressure to speak, not because anyone else even knew I wrote the paper or cares to listen to me, but for myself: to feel like I got something externalizable from the reading and writing process of the research paper. But my brain dried up.

One reason may have been that the group was large. Another is that there were people I didn’t know in the room. Also, several of our teachers were there. And, again, the topic is very intellectual and I just feel stupid.

I’m writing this just as a little reflection on my own learning. The minute the group went quiet and Sarah began to speak, I thought, “There is no way I could survive at a “real” grad school where they have cerebral seminars. No way. Not for a second.” And here I am at a school I’ve spent the last almost-three months, with people I’ve known the whole time (most of them) and a topic that I’d researched.

The large group gave me a blessed anonymity and allowed me to disengage without being noticed. In fact, I was tapping away on my computer the whole time, downloading the Tanzanian national anthem and looking at books on Amazon about the subject the others were discussing, and even ordered a copy of Vanishing Voices, recommended to me by my teacher. At one point I started to speak, when the discussion edged toward culture. I tried to talk about the inseparability of language and culture, yet there are so many Englishes that how does one know which culture to teach, without assuming American culture is what everyone wants. I was interrupted — by Logan, in fact — before I could conclude about that I understood different contexts dictated different things, but I guess that doesn’t matter, because I felt I must not be making sense anyway if someone wanted to jump right in on top of what I was saying.

So a small group — though I’m totally sick of them — does have its advantages. After the session I spoke with Sarah and Genevieve about how the next meeting should run. Sarah said, “I should’ve done small groups.” G & I both said we actually liked the big group for a change and it allowed a different set of voices to speak — those who, ironically, get drowned out in small group. Like Yajuan, who speaks little, spoke more and longer than I’ve ever heard her: this, in front of 30+ people. But the small group is a safer place to formulate ideas about complex and mentally challenging concepts.

I guess I’m noticing this now because it’s the first time I’ve been in a large, seminar-style conversation about a dense academic topic since I’ve been here, and am amazed how, just by virtue of this setting, my old insecurities skyrocket in the big group.