My Guiding Pedagogical Questions

I have some questions that guide my assessment of a language (and by extension any) teacher. One quick question I find that reveals the appropriateness of a language teaching method is this:

"Could this same method work with parrots and achieve close to the same results?"

Another question I often ask is this:

"Would this teacher rather work with robots (instead of human students)?"

The answer to both these questions in many classes and programs is a resounding 'Yes!' I find these questions useful in assessing my own teaching, and the approaches of other teachers. They also provide a good rough basis for describing recurring problems in teaching. For example, to describe my frustrations with an aspect of my teaching, I could say: "My main problem with this teaching is that it's not clear that it would differ if you were teaching parrots." Or "My main issue with this teaching is that it seems you would rather work with robots--you seem to get frustrated at just the moments when robots would perform better."

Well, those are my guiding pedagogical questions--what are yours?

My Genealogy of Instruction

My resume says very little about the most powerful influences in my thoughts about teaching and learning. I have loved graduate school, my program in philosophy and education has been enlightening and broadening, and I have loved my association with excellent colleagues and professors. I feel blessed to have studied with some of the most thoughtful, dedicated and renowned contemporary educational scholars. (I say this both to brag and to make the case for what I have learned through formal education strong.) But graduate school pales in comparison to the influence of my family upbringing, and my Dad in particular in how I think about teaching and learning.

My father, Robert Blair, is a linguist. He has spent his career learning languages and teaching languages. His approach was always results oriented. The results he sought were usually more broad than most: does the method give a student a meaningful "in" to the language community? Does it help a student become a robust language learner (i.e. not strictly dependent on the teacher) ? Is it based on a workable understanding of how humans learn? Our home was always somewhat of a laboratory, and all my brothers and sisters (8 in all) were taught at least some basics in several different languages and cultures.

We are probably not the most desirable students in most language classes. Our Dad raised us with a healthy dose of skepticism when it comes to language teaching. I remember being in a class with my brother, (I think it was my oldest brother, Dell). The teacher was basically reciting phrases and motioning the class to repeat. Most of the class seemed to be excited, as if to say, "Can you believe this? We're really learning Russian!". My brother and I looked at each other as if to say, "kak skazat: Are you kidding me?"

On the other hand, if a language teacher is doing something that appreciates that people are more capable than say, parrots, I can be a devoted if not enthusiastic student. Our upbringing (in the realm of language learning) was both skeptical about "traditional" language teaching, and optimistic--even perhaps overly excited about the possibility of transcending such efforts. One mantra infused in us (seemingly from birth) is that people were built to learn languages. Given good methods, success is all but inevitable.

On exposure to target language

A respectable language learning program must expose students to a rich target-language environment. It shouldn't be so rich that the student is overwhelmed and "turns off", nor should it be so simple as to either not push the student, or be reducible to a list of words to master. Proper abundant exposure to the target language is, or ought to be a fundamental consideration of any (language) learning program. Swap 'discipline to be learned' for 'target language' in the previous sentence, and the same holds true for any educational program. The ideal level is perhaps best expressed by the popular 2nd language acquisition notion of "i+1". 'i' represents the linguistic level of the student (in the target language), and '+1' suggests that the program is a small push beyond that (too small or too big and students turn off). Noted language acquisition scholar Stephen Krashen says it like this: "[Language][a]cquisition is brought about when you talk to acquirers so that they understand the message, and when the input includes a little language that is somewhat beyond them." Comprehensible input, my esteemed associates, is a (if not the) holy grail of language learning.

There are numerous ways to make language comprehensible. A couple examples are diglot weaves and demonstration lectures. In diglot weaves, a student's native language is weaved together with the target language so as to provide a comprehensible context. The "stuff" that can be weaved ranges from individual words (When the boy was younger, he would often pick his nariz. This disturbed his parents, who told him it was bad manners for a boy his age to pick his nariz in public ) to language structures--so if a student is a native English speaker learning Spanish, the teacher speaks mostly English but according to a Spanish structure (the hombre no has the desire to eat the sandwich) Another example is a demonstration lecture. The idea is a lecture whose meaning is at the same time demonstrated, the meaning is clear because of the context, and the language simply accompanies. For example, imagine I have a white paper, a yellow paper, a white pencil, and a yellow pencil. I could say something like this (all in the target language): "This is a sheet of paper. This is also a sheet of paper. This is a pencil. This is another pencil. This paper is yellow. This pencil is also yellow. This paper is white. It is not yellow. These two are pencils. These two are papers..." In both of these examples, the underlying principle is bridging from familiar to unfamiliar. In diglot weaves we bridge from the familiar native language vocabulary and structure to the target language. In demonstration lectures, we bridge from familiar objects and descriptions to their expressions in the target language. We also avoid drilling vocabulary and phrases outside of a meaningful context. A more traditional approach would be to give students a list of words and phrases and demand that they memorize them. By being deliberate about making a rich "i+1" situation, we can delve into a richer linguistic environment, retain a comprehensible experience, and avoid the drudgery that typifies most language learning programs.

On Learning and Plateaus

I don't think it is much of a stretch to say that the problem of education is the problem of 'plateau-ing'. Here is what I mean: unless pushed, or moved in some way, we tend to settle. In most endeavors, we experience tremendous rapid growth or development, and then, for a variety of reasons, we taper off. I lived in Russia for 6 months as part of a pioneering English-teaching effort by my college, Brigham Young University. I lived with a Russian family and taught their son, 4-year old Andrei, English. I was also learning Russian, and this account will focus on my efforts, triumphs, and obstacles in learning Russian, and highlight my 'plateaus'. This account is typical of language learning for most people. I will divide it into a few phases.

Phase 1: Freshly arrived in Russia. I landed in Moscow, and was overwhelmed by the speed with which people spoke. I thought I had no chance to ever be able to communicate with these people. There was too much to learn!

Phase 2: A month or so later: I had now grown accustomed to some routine language used in the house and in my routine schedule: "Come for breakfast!" "Good morning!" "Good night!" "Do you want some more?" "Be careful, the doors are closing, next station...Shabolovskaya" etc. I could also use simple phrases to make my way around. I had come a very long way in a short time.

Phase 3: A month or so later: I could now engage in simple conversations with my host family, taxi drivers, and strangers. I could get around and handle most any problem that confronted me. I could on my own order Chambourgers (hamburgers), and buy fresh chleb (bread) and moroshna (ice cream). Again, I had come a very long way in a short time.

Phase 4: At the end of the 6 months: I certainly could engage in conversations more easily than I could during phase 3, but my perceived "pace" in learning Russian had slowed down significantly. From phase 3 on, I could get around; learning, or improving my Russian, was no longer a priority, I could function as is. I could add a word or expression here and there, but by and large, I was independent and could express myself with what I had. I had, in a word, plateaued.

It is possible that I had not really slowed down, but that my learning was not as apparent as it had been in the earlier phases. I think that it is surely the case that I was learning in less apparent ways, but I'm also convinced that my learning had slowed down. I did not need to listen as carefully now that I could get around. I did not feel the need to push myself to express what I could and continually expand my available language. I did not push myself to more and more fluidly speak, and closer approximate the understandings and utterances of native Russians. I was satisfied with what I could do, it worked for me.

We get accustomed to a certain standard and mode of communication, and close our eyes to its shortcomings. Occasionally, we have a conversation, or read something, and become aware that we still have far to go, but this sensation typically passes, and we find a comfort zone and pursue a path of least resistance to communicate 'adequately'. We find few people who can sustain a long-term apprenticeship to a language (or discipline). It requires a child-like attitude, humility, an eagerness to learn rather than show-off, a willingness to make mistakes and look foolish. In general, it requires a conviction that the issue is not to demonstrate how you can function as is, or that you can often pass off as a native, but rather the issue is to never be satisfied until you understand and speak as a native--which may never happen, but it is the appropriate course.

On opportunity to speak

In an earlier post, I mentioned that a basic component of learning a language is opportunity to use the language. How does a program allow students to meaningfully use the language? The first tendency seems to be listen and repeat:

1. (teacher) Yia sou!
2. (student) Yia sou!
1. Yia sou!
2. Yia sou!
1. Hello!
2. Yia sou!
1. Hello!
2. Yia sou!

(You said 'hello' in Greek! That means that you are using the language!)

Another default approach in my experience (slightly better than the listen and repeat) is a series of memorized dialogues (students would memorize this dialogue and role-play with the teacher or other students):

1. How can I help you?
2. I would like a round-trip ticket to Paris.
Is it necessary to get a reservation?
1. No sir/madame.
2. How much is it?
1. 50 francs sir/madame.
2. Thank you.

(You just engaged in a fairly involved conversation that could actually take place--that means you are using the language!)

Or a limited set of questions with a relatively fixed set of appropriate answers:
1. What is your name?
2. My name is _______

1. How are you?
2. Fine/OK/Very well, thank you

(You can ask and appropriately respond to several frequent exchanges, that means you are using the language!)

The common flaw for each of these is that once you have learned what's there, you're done, you passed it off, and the encouragement and motiviation to continue usually resides in the teacher. In general, the methods suffer because they treat language learning as so many words and phrases to master. In contrast, I think that the Silent Way offers a promising route, and a principle behind it (i.e. much communication with limited means) offers the best answer to date.

I participated in a Silent Way workshop with Shakti Gattegno (President of the company that owns the rights to the Silent Way, and the wife of the late Caleb Gattegno, author of The Silent Way) and was impressed with the amount of language (Hindi) that I could generate after a short time. I met with Ms. Gattegno not long ago and she gave perhaps the best definition of The Silent Way, or the best crystallization of how to encourage meaningful use of a language. She said: "The 'silent' in Silent Way is this, that you don't tell learners what they already know, and you don't tell learners what they can figure out on their own." This is a pretty good mantra.

The Silent Way is famous for using cuisinaire rods, but teachers simply refer to them as 'rods'. A Silent Way module might work like this:

(The students have learned the colors: red, yellow, and blue. The teacher places a few rods of each color on the table in front of the students.)
1. (teacher(motioning to a student): take a blue rod.
2. (student points to a blue rod)
1. (motioning to a student): take a blue rod.(Teacher takes hand of student and grasps it over a blue rod.)
(motioning to a student): take a red rod.
2. student takes a red rod
1. (motioning to a student): take a yellow rod.
2. student takes a yellow rod
1. (motions to student to call out commands)
2. (student)Take a red rod.
1. teacher takes a red rod.
(motions to student to call out commands to another student)
2. Take a yellow rod.
1. another student takes a yellow rod.

And on it goes. After 20-30 minutes--having had no prior exposure to the language--a group of 6-10 students can each give and respond appropriately to an exchange like the following:
Take a yellow rod. (appropriate response)
Take two blue rods, and a red rod. (appropriate response)
Take a yellow rod, and give me a red rod.(appropriate response)
Take two red rods and two yellow rods.(appropriate response)
Give me two yellow rods and one blue rod.(appropriate response)
Take a blue rod and give me a yellow rod.(appropriate response)

Some highlights: There is no listen and repeat here. The language is first figured out, then generated by the students. The students also have a sense that this is like a puzzle, they are 'playing around' in the language. The natural inclination for the students is to further explore the situation, to learn other colors, and in other ways to express novel language. The situation is inherently expandible, and a good teacher sees to it that it is expanded. This is in contrast to the more "traditional" approaches mentioned earlier where the situation is narrow and more or less fixed.

Other activities share in the basic thrust of "much communication with limited means" An example is to take a set of icons representing: a, the, king, man, servant, is, and, (and) is not. From this limited set, students can and do generate in a very short time phrases like:
1. A king is a man.
2. The man is the king and the king is the man.
3. The king is a servant and a man.
4. The servant is not a man.
5. A king is not a servant.
etc.

And like the activity with the rods, the set is easily expandible, some terms usually introduced at the same time are or shortly after include: this, that, queen, woman. Again, the students can 'play around' in the language, and get comfortable with things like language structure, syntax and grammar as they playfully manipulate phrases generated on their own.

The question on the minds of many teachers (judging from popular methods) is this: "What are some good words and phrases to know that I can tell the students?" I think this is in large measure the wrong question if opportunity to use the language is the aim. A better question suggested by the activities outlined is this: "How can I help students get the most mileage out of the limited language they know?" and "How can I most efficiently help students genuinely cope in and with the language?"