Parachute training for teachers

Parachute jumper descending on cloudy day

Photo taken from http://www.flickr.com/photos/horiavarlan/5247691488/ by hora varian, used under a CC Attribution licence, http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/

Have you ever learnt to sky-dive?

If you have, you may recall receiving this instruction…

“Immediately after you pull the rip cord, shout out at the top of your lungs ONE THOUSAND, TWO THOUSAND, THREE THOUSAND – CHECK!!!!

When you shout CHECK!, tilt your head back and look above your head.

If you see your parachute canopy opening, relax and enjoy the ride.

If you don’t, reach for your reserve rip cord and pull it.

Repeat.

If you see your parachute canopy opening, relax and enjoy the ride.

If you don’t, relax anyway, because it will all be over before you know it.”

Macabre as the punchline is, there is actually a great deal of sense in this short lesson – both for novice sky-divers and for teachers of all levels of experience.

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What makes a lesson GREAT? Part 1 (and a postscript)

The original question on IATEFL's Facebook page

This was the question posed by Mike Harrison on the IATEFL facebook page  recently. Considering the space constraints of commenting on a platform like that, and given my Faible for whimsical responses to serious questions, I replied thus:

My answer to mike's question

If you are familiar with acrostics, a form of poetry where the first letters in each line (or some other regular pattern) form a message, you will see what I have done here – my response to Mike’s question is hiding in plain sight.

But afterwards, amused and satisfied as I was at my minor achievement in melding pedagogy and poetry, I felt the need to expand on this collection of ideas, as I had contributed them with more than simply the intention of showing off my (questionably) witty way with words.

So lI thought I’d look at each of my criteria for what makes a lesson great in a bit more depth over the next few days. I’ll be taking them in order so let’s begin at the beginning with G for Group DynamicContinue reading

Cooking Unplugged (or: the roaring in the oven)

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about food recently. Granted, this soon after the festive excesses of the Christmas/New Year period, the last thing you may want to read about is food, but please bear with me for a while.

Recent debate over in Chia Suan Chong’s Devil’s Advocate blog series drew my attention back once more to an analogy which links teaching and food: the idea of lesson recipes.

“First, pre-heat the oven to 220°c”

The metaphor of a recipe pervades discussion of lesson structure both at pre-service level and beyond.  There was even a highly popular book based on this analogy.

Recipes for Tired Teachers by Chris Sion

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A Different Kind Of Scaffolding in ELT

Acknowledgement: Photo by Kim Traynor (hosted at Wikipedia)

Thanks to Kim Traynor for this image

There was a trainee teacher on my last CELTA course who had come to us without any academic background to speak of but with a wealth of life experience; in the end, he turned out to be one of the most interesting trainees I’ve worked with.

I would like to share a particular story involving him which raises some questions about our profession and professional training.

Scene: the training centre kitchen

Time: a break between sessions
Characters: Me (silent, listening), The trainee (D) and another trainee (T)

T: So you were a sailor, then?
D: Yeah, I’ve done all sorts, me, sailor, scaffolder…
T: Scaffolder, you mean you put up scaffolding?
D: Yeah
T: I saw them doing that down the road here, it went up so fast!
D: Ah monkeys could put up the stuff they use here – it’s all pre-fitted, you just snap it together. Back home we use what you call tube and fit, just plain piping and nuts, much more flexible.
T: Uh huh
D: Yeah, here, you just use these kits, y’know?
T: But what’s wrong with that?
D: You can’t do anything special with it. OK, it’s easy, but you can’t, for example, if you’ve got something round, like a chimney, you can’t build a circular scaffold with that stuff, it’s rubbish.
T: So what do they do?
D: Best they can – you end up with big gaps between the sections, blokes throwing stuff over, jumping across. It’s not safe.
T: No..
D: And it’s just… it’s not elegant, there’s no art to it…
T: Art?
D: Yeah, I mean, a scaffold – a real scaffold, tube and fit, it’s,… I mean, it’s beautiful to look at, it’s art. Inside a huge tower, for example, with a proper fitting scaffold going all the way round inside. Perfect, no gaps, smooth. That’s beautiful, that is.
T: I suppose…
D: Yeah, this stuff you get over here, well, like I said, monkeys could put it up. There’s no skill to it, no art. Anyway, gotta go…

That conversation got me thinking.

(Raw) Material(s) and scaffolding

D is here making a case against using materials for scaffolding that are too specific. He argues that, to be flexible and to be able to fit the local circumstances – literally, to adapt to the contours of its environment – scaffolding needs instead to be as raw as possible. Tube and fit – two elements with which an almost infinite variety of needs can be met, given ingenuity and skill.

The other, superficially more refined kit system, while being faster and easier to work with under certain conditions, quickly reaches its limits when needs become more than basic.

Might this also be the case in our field? Mass-produced courseware, no matter how well-intentioned and no matter how well-designed, cannot possibly claim to be tailored to any given learner or even class. Therefore, any class using mass-produced courseware is necessarily engaged in a compromise – in terms of linguistic content, topical relevance and theory of learning.

Recent blog posts criticising teaching unplugged have suggested – amongst other things – that asking teachers to custom-build material for their learners or respond flexibly to emerging circumstances is unreasonable: that may be.

However, that is only because of a flawed concept of education and how it is acceptable to go about it.

If we take an industrial model to education, it will lead to perceiving such individualising effort as either inefficiency or unjustifiable strain. This reveals only the inadequacy – the lack of fitness for purpose – of the industrial model of education, because education must always be a tailor-made solution, or as close as we can get to one. Education theorists like Ken Robinson have been pointing out the inadequacy of the industrial model of education for some time now, and they haven’t been the first.

Decrying efforts to move in this direction (as teaching unplugged tries to move) as inefficient or unreasonable in the light of current “realities” does not actually stop those efforts from being nevertheless right.

Truth stands, even if there be no public support. It is self-sustained.
M. Gandhi

Further, the criticism that expecting teachers to be(come) adept and practised in using raw materials rather more than in maneuvering pre-fabricated materials is expecting too much of them – could be said to stem from or lead to an impoverished view of what a teacher actually is.

Teacher artistry and scaffolding

Ingenuity and skill are what using raw material well requires – in scaffolding buildings and in scaffolding learning. Skilled professionals take time to develop and are expensive to maintain. It is therefore economically easier to economise work processes by making them “idiot-proof”. This can be observed in the fast-food industry, where the process of creating a meal, once the preserve of skilled chefs, has been reduced to an industrial, production line process so simple and mechanistic that the worker is completely replaceable.

This leads (indeed, is designed to lead) to downward pressure on pay and this leads, in turn, to a downward pressure on the felt and perceived level of professionalism of the job: a fast-food worker does not enjoy the same professional respect or benefits of a well-skilled chef.

Might the same be true of our profession? Might the widespread use of pre-fabricated course materials, whatever their short-term pragmatic benefits and the potential for using them in a principled manner notwithstanding, still inevitably lead to just this kind of de-skilling and de-professionalisation in our field?

You pay peanuts, you get monkeys
- saying -

Scaffolding and scaffolding

The metaphor of scaffolding has found a place in Western education theory since the discovery of Vygotsky; this much is old hat. The question is: how much focus is there really on initial teacher training courses on how to scaffold – really scaffold – learner talk and learner learning?

D’s criticism of “scaffolding kits” which appear to offer quick and convenient support for workers often leave alarming gaps which have to be dangerously bridged. At best, there is an awkward fit between the structure in progress and the scaffold ostensibly there to serve it; at worst, the scaffold presents a danger to those using it.

Are there parallels to be drawn here to a teacher’s attempts to scaffold their learner’s discourse when the teacher has a only superficial grasp of what scaffolding actually is and what it requires in order to be supportive and effective?

Do popular training courses spend sufficient time not only on discussing the notion of scaffolding, but also on working intensely on developing competence in doing it?

A little Learning is a dangerous thing
- Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism -

In short: do ELT professionals have some lessons to learn from a different kind of scaffolder?

Powerful beyond measure

This is to the teachers I am working with on our current CELTA course.

We have come a long way since the beginning, two weeks ago.  Through your journals I have had the privilege of following your developmental and emotional journey.

Of all the ideas, thoughts, questions and wishes that keep recurring, one of the most frequent is that of fear.

This has been expressed by each of you, each in your own way, at some point up to now in the course. Here are two comments that caught my attention:

I’m scared to take risks because I’m being assessed.

I didn’t feel confident enough to do something new.

I can understand where you are coming from, but I would like to tell you now that the time for fear is over.

I’m scared to take risks because I’m being assessed

I know that I can seem like a very dark cloud on your horizon when I am sitting in your classroom, watching you at work, scrutinising every action you take. Many people feel frightened by the simple fact of observation.  It is easy to be paralysed by this fear.  However, if you are to grow and develop, you need to see this fear for what it is: just your reaction to a circumstance – no more, no less.

What is it that you are afraid of? If you are anything like me, it is the fear of failure, however that is defined.

I have spent years wrestling with this fear: every time I work with you, every time you watch me at work wth other students, every time I post something on this blog, every time I give a conference talk.  I am scared of the judgement of others, scared that I will be found wanting.

Such fear may always be with you, and I suspect it will always be with me, but these days I have found ways to put this fear in its place, move it aside and enable myself to take those new steps forward into unknown territory.  One thing that has helped me is a question.  Perhaps you have even heard this question before.

“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

Spencer Johnson

As Ken Robinson has said, you will never create anything of value if you are not prepared to be wrong; and teaching – above all else – is the business of creating something of value.  So as teachers (and you and I aspire to be such), we cannot afford to be limited in the choices we make for our learners or for ourselves by fear of someone else’s opinion.

I didn’t feel confident enough to do something new.

On the other hand, you may not feel intimidated by forces from the outside; instead, you may be stopped from development by your own sense of inadequacy.  You may have felt doubt in your own capacity, your own competence – and for this reason, when faced with an opportunity to take a new path in your professional practice, you baulked and shied away.

This leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, one that I also know well.  I have shied away from certain things in the classroom (not to mention in life) because I doubted my ability to measure up to them.  The terrible thing is not that I was “cowardly” or any such thing; the terrible thing is that, in not trying to take the hurdle, I will never know if I would have made it or not.

The worst failures are the ones that we deny ourselves the chance to make.

I told some of you, and I will repeat it now, that I have an unshakable confidence in your capacity for greatness, in your potential for professional mastery.  I may well have more confidence in this than you do yourselves.  I would ask you to meet me half-way.  The next time you are planning a lesson or are in the middle of one, and you are faced with an opportunity to take a risk, move beyond your limits, and enter the arena of potential failure, recall this following statement, and afterwards, make your move:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate; our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure”

Marianne Williamson

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References

Johnson, S (1998) Who Moved My Cheese?, London, Vermilion

Robinson, K. (2006) Are Schools Killing Creativity?”, TED Talk retrieved from http://www.ted.com/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity.html on Sunday 13 November 2011 at 16:18hrs GMT

Williamson, M. (1992) A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of “A Course in Miracles”, Harper Collins