I’ve now finished the third of my observations with Elka. She raised some interesting points, and some that were moot under my circumstances. I’ve outlined key takeaways in the memos posted here. More about how I’ve applied them:

1. She said I needed to intervene in correction both earlier and more often, especially with high-frequency or often repeated errors. We had a long discussion about that. I’d told her that I don’t want to be interrupting all the time because I believe it raises the affective filter and also churns up the flow of the class. If a student is reading his paper, for example, I feel very uncomfortable interrupting. It puts him on the spot. Instead, what I’d done was to wait till the end of everyone’s speech and then go over some of the errors.I could see that wasn’t effective for two reasons: first, feedback was so delayed as to be irrelevant. Second, I didn’t play with each error, digging into it, coming up with lots of examples, and letting them explore the usage: maximizing, as Elka would say.It’s difficult, when there are so many errors, to decide when to correct and when not to. Beyond the human factor — the affect of ill-timed or too frequent correction — I continually have run into the problem of time, especially for my two lower level classes for which I have to adhere to a text. I have to get through this stuff by a certain deadline, and though Elka says it takes only thirty seconds to expand (I think it takes more often), you multiply that times the number of frequently occurring errors and that’s the whole class.Interestingly, after Kim came to my 4-hour conversation class yesterday, she offered some feedback that went against Elka’s advice. In my attempt to try to address issues Elka had raised, I tried certain strategies to correct errors more: pretend I didn’t hear so they would repeat and I’d correct, let them finish their statement and then stop and address an issue, and just plain interrupt right smack in the middle of an exchange. It was way beyond what I felt was right, but about where I believe Elka suggested it should be. The dance of deciding which errors to  pick on when there are so many is very difficult. I’d often correct something — for example, people’s frequent use of the simple present for the simple past — and they would continue to make the mistake, and I would continue to correct them.

So back to Kim: she had two main criticisms of my teaching, the first being that she thought I corrected too often: that it was disruptive to the flow and annoying. Elka talks about the need to triangulate, and this was a beautiful example of how important that is. I have high regard for Elka’s advice, yet in my gut [I just typo’d “butt”] I wasn’t feeling true to myself in doing that correction. Perhaps I went from zero to sixty in my correction patterns, from one extreme to the other, but I don’t think so. It felt like I edged my corrections up maybe one or two notches.

There are so many factors at play, and it got me to thinking about not only triangulation, but what Parker Palmer has written about “you teach what you are.” I was trying to teach what I wasn’t. So how do I balance the importance of early intervention without compromising my sense of what is right? There are some specific things about addressing errors that I can learn: splitting the difference between correcting in the moment and correcting ten minutes later: perhaps interrupt an individual infrequently, but address the problems when they’ve finished speaking. And I will have to let some high-frequency errors slide, particularly at this level where everything is a high frequency error: Juan has made statements like “Yesterday I go to store for buy of sugar.” We’ve got problems with tense, prepositions, articles and pronunciation. All are common in the group. All are frequent. I often recast as unobtrusively as possible. But it’s impossible to address even only the highest frequency issues in the moment. Not only that, it’s not sufficient to address them once or ten times.

Additionally, I have another objective in addition to correct grammar, particularly in my conversation group: to help them feel more comfortable taking risks in speaking. I’ve noticed a marked difference between how they were in the first class — very quiet and shy — to how they are now. Most of them will venture attempts I don’t think they would have before. And I think that’s because I had been doing my corrections gracefully. After this last class, my first attempt at Elkazation, I feel that I’ve done some damage to their level of confidence, not to mention to the rhythm of the class.

2. Elka said I need to speak more loudly. I feel like I’m shouting. It’s a simple thing: speak louder — in theory. But I have a hard time knowing how to modulate my voice. Maybe I’m going deaf.

3. Another major point Elka noted was my need to expand: provide more examples, engage the students, give tons of evidence so they can make their own rules. I like that concept (although, again, time and textbook work against me) and it’s also a relief, in that I don’t have to be explaining complicated grammar rules, in her theory, but that they can be inferred by abundant evidence.

The textbook for the adults (which I dislike on many fronts, not the least of which is that it’s boring, outdated [a unit on Gone with the Wind? Give me a break] and talks down to its intended audience) seems oblivious to the complexity of the information it’s trying to convey. One example. There was a chart which I’ll replicate here. In one small box and one poor cartoon, it introduced the usage of at, in and to, and the definite and zero article, as well as a key exception.

There was nothing more than this matrix and a comic strip. A set of rules with one or two examples for each. Nothing in the teacher’s manual to help with presenting this material. This was their first official introduction to these complex ideas. I had no idea how to explain them. So I researched online and got further confused, but came up with a general way to explain as best I could. It didn’t occur to me to come up with a million examples for each, an approach Elka later confirmed the validity of. By the way the lesson plan was laid out in the text, the teacher was required to explain rules, rather than model. I’m so new at this that I was confounded. As we began this phase of the lesson, I could almost see their brains shift gears, from the participatory, practical learning I’d been striving for to cognitive, rule-based learning. I didn’t feel I could handle the task. Because of the way the textbook presented the material, they moved from a fluid kind of learning to one that required they have the security of tangible explanations. I don’t believe that English has a single unbroken rule, so — particularly for new learners who are just beginning to experiment with the simple past tense — I think this approach is all wrong.

Here’s what the textbook (Spectrum 1: A Course in Communicative English, Diane Warshawsky with Donald R. H. Byrd, Regents/Prentice Hall, 1993. p 119) said:

Study the frame and look at the pictures.

[an illustration of a woman going to the hospital (opening the door), being at the hospital (walking down a hallway) and being in the hospital as a patient]

To, at and in with the definite article
She went	to	the office. the hospital.	She was	at	the office. the hospital.
		work. school. class.			work. school. home.
				in	the office. the hospital.
	home.				class.

It was clear my students were confused, even with my attempt to explain rationally as when as to come up with as many examples as I could. Were I to do it over again … well, I don’t know. Because this brings me to my next major issue related to teaching at ABC Escuela de Inglés.

I have no problem with the general idea of following a curriculum. However, the more time passes the more frustrated I’ve become with this model. The first problem is the textbook itself: it’s dull and is hostile to creative adaptions. Second, there’s the timeline imposed by the school’s director: I need to get students through a unit in a maximum of five sessions. I barely made it with the adults, just finishing our Gone with the Bloody Wind unit during the last class. Because of these time constraints, it is difficult even to maximize the material that’s there, leave alone develop related exercises that allow the students to practice and produce. But the material is dense and requires much more PPU. There’s no way that I know of that the students can actually truly comprehend the material. Sometimes they can handle the practice. But there’s no way that can accurately produce it. That takes time, examples, interactive exercises and more. And since I’m not given the time, it all seems like a waste of theirs. Finally, the testing mechanism is a total crock. When I first began teaching I asked Magdalena if I needed to use the canned audio tapes. Since I’m a native speaker I thought it might be as effective or more so if I read them myself. I changed my tune after a class or two, when I realized the students took comfort from hearing the recordings. Why? Because that’s what they’re tested on. The exact words read by those exact people. They know the drill. So hearing material in my voice, I later realized, was understandably rocking their world. I also asked Magdalena if I could substitute a reading selection of my own for one in the book, provided that they addressed the same grammatical issues and structures and sequence as in the text. I never did that because of the time issue. Later I told Magda that I’d decided to use the tape and the book’s attempt at literature. “Yes, that’s better. But I wanted you to find out for yourself.” I was annoyed, because it’s one thing to find out something for yourself that enhances your teaching, but another to find out the hard way that if you deviate from the book, you will hurt your students at test time. That’s because the test is taken directly from the book. Comprehension exercises require that they’ve read everything in the book, and done every exercise. Now I know why my students are not at the level the book implies they are. I believe they’ve understood very little of what they’ve been “taught.”

Finally, I’d like to say a word about my wee ones, ages nine through eleven. I have only five students yet have a hard time managing my classroom. It didn’t take me long to figure out why. First, I didn’t get them enough breaks because I was told not to. I changed that quickly. Second, even though I tried to make my activities as engaging as possible, the kids squirmed and giggled and tossed things. I acknowledge that a significant part of that is my lack of experience in teaching, and my lack of experience in teaching you children. In fact, I’d specifically wanted NOT to teach kids on my internship, but what are you gonna do.

They’re sweet kids and I love them, but. There’s Ricardo, who understands the most but is afraid to talk. There’s Raquel who also has decent comprehension and is more engaged. They’re both pretty respectful and well behaved. Lupita, in the middle, is often bored and not paying attention. And Sharon and Luz, with practically no English comprehension or production skill at all, are downright disruptive. Not one of them is at the level of the book they’re using (Backpack 4 by Diane Pinkley and Mario Herrera, Longman, 2005). This means they’ve been through three entire books before this, yet they can barely say “my name is…” In many ways this book is far superior to the one I just described. It allows for creativity and its philosophy, as described in the introduction, seems sound. For example, they write on page vii about their …

“Learner-centered Approach: Backpack ensures that all learners become active participants in every lesson by activating their prior knowledge of topics and concepts and by encouraging them to share and express their personal experiences, ideas and opinions of English. Students engage in activities that allow them to find out more about themselves, each other, and the world beyond.”

Well, it sounds good. However, so far I’ve found the book deficient in having them express their personal experiences, unless you count that exercise they did in which they interviewed family members about how many glasses of water they drank and how much exercise they got each day. And I haven’t yet seen an invitation to comment on English.

I’m being a bit unfair about this book, however, because all that philosophy is moot when the kids aren’t remotely at a level when they can comprehend, leave alone make inferences about, the material. And that chapter on Health & Safety almost put ME to sleep. I’m excited about the dinosaurs chapter we’re just beginning, but how can kids who can’t say more than a stray noun or two understand about the extinction of dinosaurs due possibly to an asteroid, or Komodo dragons in Indonesia being endangered because they’re losing their habitat and being hunted. In what I just wrote, all of those are vocabulary words for the unit, along with bamboo, overhunt, islands, die out, in trouble, wild about, Pyrenean ibex, Asian lion, Przewalski’s horse, survive, provide and the like. And I’m not kidding. And in three weeks they will be tested on these words and expected to know them…

Which brings me to my final point for the night. Not only are these kids nowhere near ready for this material — which makes it painful and frustrating to teach — and not only is there not time for expansion and genuine comprehension, but everything is driven by testing. They are pushed through a system and learn nothing. It must be horrible for the self-esteem of those like little Luz, who drives me crazy and of whom I’m very fond. She doesn’t understand a word of what I say, what’s in the book, what’s on the tape — no matter how much I fly around the room demonstrating, or drag them up front for a role play, or draw stuff on the board. It breaks my heart. I identify with Luz, because I, too, was always the “stupid” and clueless one in class. Why do they do this to her. How has she gotten stuck in a class that is years beyond what she can do? What’s the point? I can’t see a single benefit to her, but only damage. Her pint-sized self-esteem must plummet as she hears these strange words and doesn’t understand, yet sees everyone around her understanding something. She doesn’t even know how to put together a simple subject verb object sentence in English. It’s wrong, it’s unfair, and it’s agonizing to try to teach to something that you don’t believe in.

So a weird thing happened with this class. Magdalena had told me I’d have five sessions to get through the unit. After the third, the night before the fourth (after I’d spent literally all day lesson-planning) she informed me that the kids would be pre-tested on the unit the next day. I politely balked, telling her we weren’t finished yet. She seemed surprised. I pointed out that she’d told me I’d have two more classes. She was unmoved, but finally agreed to give me one more class. Well, in one class, even with students at the level the book expects, I couldn’t do all that. But I did the best I could, because that’s all I could do. Elka later said I should talk to her. But I did and it didn’t help. She knows I don’t have a lot of experience and I have a strong feeling — based on things she’s said — that she doesn’t have faith in my ability to teach. I don’t have experience, it’s true. But I’m finding that (after 55 years of beebopping around the planet) a lot of my “unrelated” experience is coming into play, as I suspected it would. Interviewing skills transfer directly into my ability to listen and discuss and guide. Mothering skills make it easy for me to recast gently. I find that my radio production skills surprisingly useful as I write a lesson plan. It’s a similar process, I’m finding: you have an objective … a story to tell, a language lesson to be taught … and a sequence of creative vignettes to get from the beginning to the end. And being an imaginative, spontaneous person with passable intelligence, a sense of humor and high sensitivity has been essential — though I admit my sense of humor has been threatened on numerous occasions.

I keep veering off in different directions because I haven’t written for so long. I am going somewhere with this, and I’m almost there.

So back to the kids and the rushed final class: having no option, I raced the kids through the last unit, skipping some sections that they wouldn’t have understood and trying to reinforce comprehension of what seemed to be the essentials in the unit: the meaning and usage of “should” and “shouldn’t,” some boring health vocabulary, and a slew of kinds of body problems (headaches, earaches) and their solutions, and a selection of -self pronouns. I used their drawings and mine, movement songs (body parts), play-acting, concentration games and more — none of which were in the book. I hoped I was getting the message across.

I didn’t. Again, I acknowledge that my level of skill might have had something (or even a lot) to do with it. But I don’t think the most skilled teacher could have drummed that crap into their poor, weary heads in that amount of time, particularly that they are way below that level, and of course the span between “lowest” and “highest” level student is panoramic.

So the students had their pretest. It was horrible. Magdalena gets them all in booths, separated from one another. In Spanglish she barks commands, very quickly. Write you names, write your booth numbers. Some kids clearly didn’t understand what she was saying (even in Spanish, and even though they must have been through this drill many times). Before two of the kids had finished that, she was onto the explanation of the first exercise. I had taught the whole unit, and I didn’t understand what she was asking them (even though I had a copy of the pretest in front of me). In front of me I saw five obedient and thoroughly baffled children. Luz was often on the wrong page of her test because she didn’t know where she was supposed to be, or she was trying to fill in answers from two sections previously, while the rest of the students were charging ahead. So instructions were barked, and unclear, and misunderstood (as I could see from some of the answers; it was more than lack of comprehension of the material, but misunderstanding the task). “Hurry up,” she kept telling them. The first part of the testing involved listening to a tape and marking answers that parroted the text, rather than requiring interpretation. Her methodology for grading that was completely obscured to me. She randomly clicked into one and another and the next kid’s audio track, and put a check or an x based on something she did or didn’t hear. Her favoritism showed through. She listened more to the star students and barely listened to Luz. So there would be 7 marks (checks and x’s) next to Luz’ name yet 9 by Ricardo’s. But in the final reckoning, they were graded on how many right they got out of nine. So Luz lost two points out the gate.

The rest of the test was equally disturbing to me. Rapid-fire instructions, “hurry up and finish” and finally, after 1.25 hours of this, the end of the test.

I graded those. The kids did terribly. Of course. It was then that Magda strongly implied that the kids did much worse on this test, since I had been the teacher. About a different class — my conversation class, for which I have total free rein on the content: a joy — she had another negative comment. I’d told her how excited I and the students are about a project I developed, in which each will report on a facet of Mexico that most interested them. She was not impressed. She said (I paraphrase, but not much):”You should just be talking with them. You’re here so they can hear your accent.” Oh, I hadn’t realized that was the goal of my internship. Silly me.

So again I identified with Luz. She’s setting up the students to fail. The class is an exercise in futility. She has already decided Luz is a lost cause, and pays her no heed. And she’s done the same with me. She doesn’t respect me or my ability, and just wants to push me through the system with her agenda. As with the kids, she doesn’t care if I learn. She has me typecast and that’s that. I told her yesterday that I was bringing Kim with me to class to do an exercise I’d developed, with input from Kim. She was excited. “Oh, I’ve heard Kim is a really good teacher.” It doesn’t take much to wear down the self-esteem or the enthusiasm of a student OR a teacher.