[Bev’s comments in blue and brackets]

I realize, both from experience and observation, that the Silent Way and Community Language Learning are much more complicated to teach than they appear; still, I found the Communicative Language Teaching the most difficult. I think the source was my attempt to attend to the concert of principles: the necessity to foster genuine communication through authentic materials, hands-on practice and the creation of information gaps. It felt like trying to navigate in an 18-wheel truck after driving a five-speed car all my life.

[I love the analogy!]

My primary objective was to try to make sure I touched upon each of the key aspects of CLT, and I decided to add two of my own challenges. First, I wanted to use no English. That’s tricky for me at my level, but (as I told my “students” at the start) I wanted their opinion of my teaching style in a language they don’t know, since this will be the situation during my internship in Mexico. Second, I chose to try a vocabulary experiment. Often, words are taught in logical sets: menu items, utensils and so on. Yet as a learner, I find this confusing. I still can’t distinguish between cuchara, cuchillo and cucharilla in Spanish. Moreover, I wanted to use true realia rather than representations, and the only way I could do it, with limited resources, was to bring an assortment of Mexican and Central American objects I had lying around.

In the end, I don’t think I succeeded in providing a complete and pure CLT experience, but I think I did grasp some of its strengths, and derived significant pleasure from the dynamic nature of the experience. The approach is rich and felt natural to me in many respects. Of the three approaches so far I believe it is the one from which I will draw the most inspiration. (But the other two will still play a part, as described earlier).

In brief, I set up a mercado where I was “selling” nine objects: a hat, a spoon, a scarf, a pen, etc. I laid them out one-by-one on the table, pronounced the words, and labeled the objects with index cards. Then we did a variety of repetition exercises: moving around and naming the objects, removing the cards and asking the “students” to place them back by the proper item, etc. Meanwhile, I was speaking in very simple sentences, such as: Where is the spoon? leading the students to reply “This is the spoon.” As mentioned in class, I made fake money, all of the same denomination, which happened to be the same price of each item. For a tiny bit of cultural context, I role-played a typical overzealous vendor: Un buen precio para ti! Then my students took turns buying items one at a time: I want a(n) _____ (in Spanish). I was just about finished when we ran out of time; my turn was last and we were running two or three minutes behind (though we had been monitoring time!).

What struck me in doing this exercise is how “on” I felt all the time: not as in the star of a show, but as a vigilant conductor. I had the sense that I needed to keep the action moving at all times. I don’t know if I was doing something wrong, or if that’s how this approach feels with students at this phase of learning. On some levels I enjoyed it, and when I asked my students afterwards how they evaluated my role, they said they liked my “energy” and enthusiasm.

[Working with beginners does demand focus, attention and facilitation. They have less to work with and therefore can go only so far without some input. The trick is to use what Stevick called technemes – slight variations of one technique to provide practice and consolidation, but with variety.]

But I learned, once again, that I need not to be afraid of lulls and silence. That’s an easier thing to accept with the other two approaches, which seem to have a slower pace naturally. From the feedback I got, I realized that I should have started more slowly, taking my time with each object and letting the “students” repeat each one more times (since the vocabulary was entirely new to them). I think I was so fixated on creating a “realistic” experience that the teaching aspect became compromised. And I don’t think — perhaps because of time and perhaps from my lack of command of the approach (and the language) — that I created enough of an information gap. It doesn’t seem that there was any real need for them to know the words I was teaching. A faux-mercado [oh, dear] doesn’t seem a strong enough gap in the simple way I’d set it up. Is it?

[You are the best one to gauge this – what do you think?]

I had the odd and not pleasant experience of spacing out during the lesson, despite having planned carefully. When I couldn’t find the “money” I’d made for their purchases, I had to “wing it” and move on to something else — only to discover I’d had the “money” in my hand. Again, I’m not sure why I was so addled. I was prepared and I’m comfortable with the peer group. My guess is that it was because, as mentioned, I was trying to include every aspect of this complex approach. Further, the “I,” “Thou” and “It” distinction seems particularly blurred and in constant motion with CLT — the “I” passes the “It” [object] to the “Thou” who becomes the “It” [context] as they complete a “transaction.” I suspect that what I just wrote makes no sense. I’m trying to say that I felt a stronger fluidity between the three points of the triangle, which kept me on my arthritic toes.

Still, as mentioned, my peers overall seemed to like the exercise, with the exception of having wished I’d started more slowly. They said they preferred having real objects to representations: enjoyed handling them. From my perspective, in retrospect, I see the inclusion of three-dimensional objects as a built-in way to slow the pace. After the exercise, I asked my peers’ opinion of my idea of introducing disparate rather than cohesive objects. (I hadn’t pointed it out my plan before.) They both liked the variety and experienced no extra memory challenges because of it. In fact, David said he has the same block that I do with mixing up similarly named objects belonging to the same “family” in German.

In summary, I learned that this approach, at least initially, requires more energy from me, and more spontaneity, than I needed with the others. Again, I’m not certain whether that’s because of the approach, my nature or the method itself. Like the other approaches, it requires a strong sense of mindfulness and self-assuredness. I recognize that my lack in these areas are due in part to my inexperience. Yet, I also found the demands of “keeping the show on the road” to be much more fun and stimulating than the previous two approaches (at least in their “strong” form).

I do need to slow down. I can get frenetic. Confidence would come to me more easily if a) I really knew my subject matter and b) was speaking in English. But I’m glad I challenged myself to conduct the exercise in Spanish, both because I’m going to Mexico and need the practice, and because the students believed the exercise worked despite hearing only Spanish and not their native (or fluent second) language. Also on the bright side, I think certain of my personality traits — including strong listening skills and flexibility — lend themselves well to this approach. Also, even when at loose ends, I realized I don’t lose my ability to monitor my students.

A question I still have, which I know we’ve discussed in class and previous papers, is: Is it truly possible at the very beginning of a class to utilize the approach at its fullest? For example, if the goal of CLT is communicative competence, am I failing by not being able to reach that point until later in the course? (Certainly it’s practically impossible in twenty minutes!) How much communication can actually happen in a beginner class? And how real can it be? But as Belchamber points out, a classroom is a valid fill-in for the Real World: “Before a nurse gives a real injection, they have punctured many a piece of fruit to hone their technique.”

[We can plan and structure with communication as the goal, but, as you point out, we need to provide practice along the way and there is nothing wrong with that. It can be in the form of games  or fun interactive activities. You’re still working with the principles of CLT.]

Another consideration that interests me is rooted in the article about CLT in China: in what settings is the approach culturally appropriate? (I hadn’t even considered how Western the approach is.) Such an observation is, of course, relevant with any approach in any location, but I appreciated having my eyes opened.

[I agree – context is important. You need to be sure of why you choose one practice over another. By working with your beliefs about learners and learning you can  do this more confidently.]

I think one of the most encouraging statements, in the wake of what felt like my ineptitude in getting a handle on this approach, came again from Belchamber: “Pull characteristics you want from CLT — they’re often compatible with other approaches — rather than throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”

[Ginna, your final statement says it all – you bring together what fits you, your beliefs and your students’ needs.  This is a rich, thoughtful paper  that does much to take you on the journey of personal theory and practice. We learn so much more from what doesn’t go as we think it will because we tend to analyze it more. This can lead to deeper understanding and/or open up new avenues of thought which can lead to new insights/changes in practice When things go well, we tend to take all for granted. Donald Freeman writes about tension or friction between what we’ve always believed or done and something that challenges that view or practice, as necessary for growth. So, if we don’t question, we don’t grow.

You pose a number of questions in this paper – most of them you already have answers for, I suspect. But for those that still hover on the edges – take the time to invite them in. Flesh them out, consider other possibilities. What you discover in the process will become the foundation of your  personal theory of teaching practice.

Thank you. Good work.]