Examine This

2 November 2008, 8:35 PM

The time of the mid-semester madness is upon us, and has left none untouched. The teaching profession is beset by one of the most pernicious vices of traditional education: the pattern that emerges around written examinations. Exams tend to send students and educators alike in a counter-educational tailspin that puts us all to shame. And the worst thing is, we never seem to learn.

I should admit that I always loved exams, because I have an irrepressible urge to be applauded and was able to get straight As on reams of exams of which I now remember nothing. Yet as a teacher I have found that exams are endured as a necessary (or even unnecessary) evil by most students, who do not feel that results reflect anything of consequence. In many cases they are right.

Yet much of the educational system, certainly in the developing world, still glorifies the traditional written exam. Where I teach, we are gradually catching on to ongoing assessments, some of them alternative. Yet most of the ongoing assessment still consists of quizzes. While this system has certain virtues, they are not a reflection of students’ real ability to use their learning, particularly in language skills. It is certainly not a reflection of an ability to cope in the 21st century.

But here we are, halfway into the semester, with half our teaching corps on their haunches like performing poodles, and the rest simply on their knees. The next three weeks will be laid on the altar of the traditional written exam, accomplish nothing, upset students and provoke a torrent of flattery, negotiation and attempted bribery.

It is times like these that I truly think we, the educators, are the ones who have a great deal to learn.

Future Present

With a view to the e-learning module of my MA programme next year, I have been gradually edging my way into the fast and frenzied parallel universe of technology-enabled learning. Much as I love certain aspects of technology, I have never been quite so painfully aware of what an old-fashioned milkmaid of a girl a really am. The more I commit myself to the inevitability of e-learning in the global classroom of the near future, the more apparent it is that I have a great deal to learn.

This week, Oman’s Sultan Qaboos University is hosting the “Moodle Majlis”, the first event in the region dedicated to the Moodle Open Source e-learning software. My adamant insistence on attending this event has set me on a steep learning curve over the past weeks, and the rarefied air of this future vision is dizzying. Today, in the first heady sessions, some staggering ideas surfaced. The implications for the educator are profound.

And yet, e-learning is still a pipe dream in my college, as in so many other educational environments. The question for us will be, what can we learn from e-learning that will benefit our students now; how do we prepare our students for lifelong, autonomous trad- and e-learning; and how do we begin to educate our educators in this brave new literacy for a sometimes daunting new world?

The People vs. The Papers

Papers have their value. To be honest, paperwork is what I am naturally inclined towards and effortlessly pretty good at. Papers you can control, shuffle, organize and file away, and in this miraculous era you can even keep digital copies. Papers, and their virtual alter egos, can come in extremely handy when we can refer back to them, modify them and, of course, gloat over their meticulous organization. Papers you can always depend on. Yes, papers are the part of my job that I am completely comfortable with.

And then there are people. While papers are valuable, people are invaluable- not without value but of immeasurable value. Priceless. There is simply no way to estimate what people, when they have vision, motivation and ability, can accomplish. But, to be honest, peoplework is something I am not naturally inclined towards, and have had to train myself in with stoic selflessness. Oddly enough, I have learnt to enjoy aspects of it, and it heartens me that my colleagues discuss their questions and quandaries, problems and plans with me. People, though, unlike papers, cannot be controlled, timed, filed away for later or, in extreme cases, sent to the Recycle Bin. (Not to mention the shredder.) Thus follows, as night the day, that the long-term investment of taking care of people can sometimes get in the way of the essential short-term paying of the paperwork piper.

Time is precious. Priceless. And certain paperwork needs to be done because that is the tangible measure of my job done. But the measure of my job well done is that the peoplework is taken care of. The price to pay is, quite often, paperwork in my free time. A high price. Priceless.

But so are people.

Academia X-Rated

There are certain essential things that nobody ever teaches you. You just have to figure them out for yourself, because somehow the details are just too taboo to spell out.

Take academic writing, for instance. Yes, there is a plethora of information on how to write research papers. Yet somehow there is just nothing out there on how one goes from that intricate conceptual house of cards balanced on one’s little finger amidst the hurricane of daily life to a coherent academic text.

Perhaps this is because, when it comes to the proverbial crunch, writing is such a profoundly personal endeavour. Or perhaps it is because nobody dares to admit how much of this supposedly scientific process is, in the end, left to a feverish tango between a fickle, fickle muse and the unpredictable Duke of Hazard. The surrealist in me does not object to that fact. And the baker in me insists that the most important step in baking bread is turning away and leaving it to rise. Writing may be very similar.

All this is why today’s entry goes behind the curtain to expose the drafting process: frank and unadorned. Since writing is such a personal and lonely affair, I will not venture to call this the “right” way, (after all, there seems no evidence of any way whatsoever). But I do offer it as one route that can lead from the blank page to the printed manuscript. I will include my entire preparation process, current drafting procedure and remaining steps. The assignment is for a module that was taught in June, with a deadline on 30 November.

1. May: Preparatory reading and key concept summary of selected recommended textbooks, starting with the more general titles. Contact tutors for specific preparatory reading assignments, access and read.
2. June: Intensive summer school (2 weeks.) Daily review and assigned readings where viable and discussion with classmates. Receive assignment. After the summer school, review and file handouts and class notes. Remaining readings.
3. July: More specific readings gradually geared more to assignment. Two weeks of complete decadent rest.
4. August: Collect journal articles relevant to assignment. Categorize and read, making brief summaries of key concepts. Compile master bibliography of all resources, which can be taken away from rather than added to. (Bibliographies are the downfall of many a last-minute project: with foresight, that problem can be avoided.) Plot out a basic mindmap showing areas of interest.
5. September: Email rough outline with recommendations for tailoring to tutors. Complete final readings. (At this point I should interject: life goes to pieces in the throes of unwanted and impossible new job description, local religious customs and social meltdown. That’s the beauty of planning this process: even meltdown is not a catastrophe.) Transfer mindmap to a larger sheet of paper and expand with details and proposed word count. Pepper work area with post-its containing new discoveries and ideas. Stop at nothing.
6. October: Scan class notes again to ascertain tutors’ points of view. Re-examine assignment wording and ensure all aspects are addressed in proposed outline. Re-examine grading criteria and post in work area if possible, re-reading frequently. Transfer headings from outline to individual pages of an A4 notebook, including proposed word count for each section. SIT DOWN AT DESK AND BEGIN TO WRITE, LEAVING ALTERNATE LINES BLANK. Start with the easy bits and watch the magic happen. Mark uncertain references or facts in the margin with asterisks and keep writing. Take breaks as needed, getting away from the desk completely every few hours. Make time for the good life. When the text is complete, leave it for a day and celebrate. Return to the text, count the words and perform academic liposuction on the fluff. Make each word count with dense, rich meaning and eliminate what is not needed. Set up a formatted word processing document and transfer the edited text to computer. When complete, leave to sit. Return with a fresh mind and fresh eyes, editing where necessary. Double-check the word count. Ensure all footnotes, appendices and bibliography entries are complete. Leave to sit. Check again. Turn over to a trusted friend for proofreading. Check again.
7. November. Leave to sit. Check again. Print out final copy and hard copies and deliver to administrators by 7 November. If all else fails, there are three more weeks before the deadline. Celebrate and take a few days off. Begin preparatory reading for January module.

Perhaps not the most efficient of techniques, but it certainly covers most bases. By naming the steps and setting a time frame to them, the terrifying mysterious taboo is lifted. And that leaves us with academic writing: exposed.

A Sense of Plausibility

As English teaching gained increasing prominence in the late 20th century, the focus shifted from the search for the best teaching method to a deeper evaluation. The quasi-scientific obsession with method gradually began to give way to the voice of common sense, if not reason. It was finally acknowledged that the appropriateness- and hence the success- of any teaching method depends upon the context in which it is applied.

A thoughtful analysis- and a conclusion I personally find extremely relevant- is offered by N.S. Prabhu in his article There is no Best Method- Why? (1990). This was a true lightbulb article for me, and while I wished I had had earlier access to it, I also value it more because I had to draw similar conclusions for myself, and only then was I given the luxury of having my vague, fluffy ideas formulated in Prabhu’s sleek, streamlined words. (A little adventure of my own in discovery learning, which I so often foist upon my unsuspecting students.)

Prabhu’s conclusion is that while there is no ideal method, teachers need a sense of plausibility regarding the methodologies they use. In plain language, they need to believe in what they are doing. This faith can be seated in one specific method, but is more likely to be a secret recipe of received wisdom, personal experience and experiment.

In terms of professional development, the idea of plausibility also encourages teachers to continue their quest, never resting on laurels and never considering the race to be already run. The continuing enquiry, in my humble opinion, is an essential part of that very sense of plausibility. This is related to Hubermann’s finding (1993, In Tsui 2007) that teachers who continue to “tinker” within their own classrooms are more satisfied than those who take on hierarchical battles. (Hence it is especially important to me, since the inevitable defeats on the hierarchical battlefield have been bruising my faith recently.)

When it comes to the training of young teachers, which is an important part of what I am (by sheer accident) doing at the moment, this idea strikes me as invaluable. Every method is another colour in a teacher trainee’s paintbox (see Larsen-Freeman 2001), but they already have enough of those. I want to discover, with them, what can actually be done with those colours.

Work, Study and Where the Twain Shall Meet

In the words every child of the eighties remembers from The A-Team, I love it when a plan comes together.

When I started my masters’ studies, the relevance of what I was learning seemed extremely remote to my actual day-to-day work. As my grasp of the field has grown over time, I have come around to seeing how this growing knowledge benefits my teaching. While I am opposed to academic snobbery, especially when it comes to teaching English, the depth and scope of the strengthening theory that underlies my every lesson is proving invaluable. The question of what to do with my students if there is time left has transformed into a new question: how do I best use my time in class and give students the opportunity to develop more outside the class?

What my studies did not seem to cater for, however, is the growing responsibilities of my job. The primary focus of the course thus far has been from the teacher’s perspective. This would have been fine, except that my responsibilities have recently been extended to overseeing other teachers, students and courses within a new academic programme. If the “Peter Principle” applies, well, I have risen to my highest level of incompetence, and boy, am I feeling it. My modest studies simply do not cover what I need to know. And need to know fast.

In a former post I mentioned the idea of being the master of one’s fate, and I thought I’d give it a go. My current assignment was set to cover a week’s worth of lesson plans for one class, with a theoretical justification. While this is valid and valuable, I am juggling lesson plans across the curriculum at work. In a flash of inspiration flared by the midnight oil, I decided to contact my tutors for permission to use the cross-curricular lesson plans I have been drafting at work in the assignment. The first tutor had no objections, and I felt quite optimistic. Today I received a response from the second tutor: he actually endorsed the adaptation to my actual practical needs. Positive feedback AND I get to kill two birds with one stone: my work is actually feeding my studies and vice versa.

I love it when a plan comes together.

A Meeting of Minds. Great Ones.

While the prospect of a meeting seldom inspires confidence, this week I attended a rare specimen of meeting where there was not only universal participation, but also agreement and, I dare say, results.

The many concerns of the Oman General Foundation Programme stakeholders were honestly discussed and boldly confronted at a two-day meeting this Tuesday and Wednesday. Programme coordinators, heads of department, the programme director and deputy were all present for a session to plan the year ahead- and those to come.

Meeting other programme coordinators was a revelation. What struck me most was the remarkable effort of these heroes in the face of undeniable challenges. The fact that we all managed to agree came almost as a shock to me! Perhaps the fact that we all share a common interest far larger than our egos was a factor. The cherry on top was an agreement to collaborate voluntarily on materials and assessment development. This means we will all contribute some resources, lightening the load on all of us.

This was a promising experience. And a heartening one. When we come down from this lofty mountain, back at work next week, we are going to need all the heart we can get.

Answered Prayers

The English teaching industry suffers from a severe identity crisis. In my first English teaching incarnation in Taiwan, it was an environment filled with fresh-faced young adventurers. On this second incarnation in Oman it has, until now, been one mostly of academics slightly disillusioned to be language teachers. These experiences in just two of the environments where English is taught internationally demonstrate the professional schizophrenia of my current vocation.

But change is afoot, both in the industry and in my workplace. Within the industry there is a gradual professionalization process at work, both through experiential and academic developments in the field, creating a fusion of informed theory and passionate practice. Within my workplace, the dry and dusty academic approach has been closed in on year by year by more eager, hands-on teachers. This past week, the pillars of the old guard were officially toppled.

Our English department, which had grown from a dozen to thirty teachers in the past three years, has had to expand to fifty-three this year to meet the demand for English instruction. The arrival of so many new people has completely changed the chemistry of the department- all that within five days of their arrival. Where the response to additional work had been a grumble before, it has suddenly transformed into eager acceptance. On this fifth day of what can only be a new era, newcomers actually found things to do that would lighten the load of the head of department, improve the functioning of the department and generally make our work lives better. All this despite the obvious “challenges” (Oprahspeak for massive problems) that cannot be concealed within the department.

Two weeks ago I was job-hunting, ready to leave the country. Now I am bubbling over with excitement to see what this new era will bring.

People Power

I am all for challenge. In the past I have blogged a few times about what seeemed, each time, the most challenging event of my (very modest) working life. The fact that I can add yet another entry claiming so is something I both thrilled and daunted with. They just keep getting bigger. Fast. (My biggest ever yesterday was an introductory speech at the new students’ welcoming ceremony. My biggest today was overseeing the placement test for new students.)

A recent entry explained my acceptance of a position as coordinator of a new flagship programme at Rustaq College. The job came my way, mainly because nobody wants it, and because I am remarkably good at organizing papers and other rectangular objects. People, however, are not rectangular, and dealing with them has always been difficult for me- in a small, unsociable and downright weird family social skills are just not one of the things you learn, and I still feel I have a deficit. Thing is, being good with papers is just not enough. The quest for me this past week has been balancing the people with the papers. Sometimes this has involved seeming diversions in order to maintain a connection with people, even if it means I will have to work considerably overtime on my beloved papers that always behave exactly the way I want them to, never argue, and are always present and punctual. Neglecting the people is a recipe for disaster, and at a very deep level I believe I am here to serve.

The balance is important when the quality of your work affects other people. I have worked in industries where the work is with papers and words. When you work hard there, it is for yourself. When a teacher works hard, it is for students. But now I work hard, harder than I ever have before, teetering over the precipice of this peoplework thing that scares me stiff, because a dozen people depend on me and 150 students will depend upon them. One might even argue that the future of the nation, and even the planet, depends on them. The brutal truth is that when any job becomes too much, we do only what is necessary. But it is how we define what is necessary that is the true test of our endeavours.

Then there is the undeniable fact that no organization is really governed from the “top”: if things are to work and develop to expanding potential, the initiative has to come from grass-roots level. In education, there is the concept of the autonomous learner that guides many of the best teachers. Is it not possible to set in place an infrastructure that fosters autonomous diligence, development and drive in the workplace?

My line, in this position, is that this programme is a great initiative in a great organization. In objective terms, this may be a blatant lie. But in terms of potential, it is completely true. And as I look at what is suddenly happening in our department with the arrival of 26 new staff members overhauling our workplace chemistry, there is a hint of the possibility that this lie will beget truth.

Today, as the placement tests and their time-crunched marking went off without a hitch, I saw cooperation in this department that is unrivalled by anything I have come across here before. It may be the chemistry of new brooms sweeping cleanest, yes. It may be the effects of a long summer holiday. It may be reasonably solid organization, all or none of the above. One thing is certain: although I have a responsibility to fulfil, it does not come down to one person: it comes down to every single person.

In Which She Finds A Snake In The Bookstore. Seriously.

On my way out of the office this evening, I quickly stopped by one of the three rooms used for storing books, since I had to drop off a few new copies. The door creaked open reluctantly, but along with it there was another sound I could not place until I saw the agile slither across the floor. The snake and I had scared each other silly, and as he retreated, hissing, into one of the boxes of newly delivered books, I was in awe of the persistence of nature. Granted, the campus is surrounded by wild land, but to venture into such unnatural territory is something he deserves credit for.

What do I do now? Keep quiet and his surprise reappearance could wreak havoc. Mention it and put him in danger. I am seriously considering sneaking in early with a flute tomorrow morning. Could I charm him to an abode that is more suitable for him- and us two-footed folk?

Although this did take place in consensual reality, the symbolism of this creature is not lost on me. My first thoughts were of the Naga snake deity in Hindu mythology, the paradaisical serpent, the Chinese horoscope’s year of the snake (also known as the little dragon; I am a dragon), the mythological ouroboros of alchemy, the caduceus and kundalini…

A treasure-house of serpent symbolism exists. And a messenger to remind me.

MindMapping the Next Frontier: An X-Ray of Assignment 2.0

Among the advice on my studies I hear most frequently is “don’t read too much”. Considering how much there is to read, and how much there is to KNOW, even in the little subspecialist niche of TESOL, this seems counter-intuitive. Yet it is valid in the sense that at a certain point the information starts to drown out one’s own ideas, and that sinking feeling of not knowing what it was you actually wanted to say often only hits after the assignment is handed in. Trust me: I know.

Well, this evening I had one of those rare and precious flashes of insight where I knew exactly what I want to say in my next assignment, and how I want to say it. (To perfectly honest, it happened while I was gazing into my fridge. When you live in a desert, the fridge is a place to keep things like printer ink cartridges, vitamins, eye liner- just ask Robert Smith- and fully loaded water pistols. I have been known to follow up fridge-gazing with far more destructive activities than assignment planning, so this is a doubly fortuitous event.)

For the record, the reading I have done has been quite general, and I fully intend to continue reading up on more specific areas of relevance. But my ideas are clear now. That’s the beauty of a MindMap: it can organically grow without any disruption. Although mine may have to do its growing on a new page…

The Decision Making Matrix

Since I am in the throes of a major decision, I would like to offer a practical lifeskill that has served me well, but also serves as a great activity for students. In a language class, it works as a top-notch “third-generation task”- that is, a learning task that involves communication in the target language, higher-order thinking skills and personal development (Nunan 2005: 135). The matrix can be used with students in pairs, groups or pyramids, on a prescribed or self-selected topic. Much of the language value lies in the actual process of negotiating meaning while compiling and weighting criteria for decision-making. Take a look how it works.


Making a major life decision (a new job, a home, a pet, a spouse etc.) can be extremely traumatic for anyone as notoriously fickle as me. (I do know I am fickle enough not even to consider a spouse- or even a pet!- in the first place, incidentally.) In my dazed and confused student days, one professor of logic kindly introduced me to the Decision-Making Matrix. It is a foolproof formula for making a rational decision with your head- and you can even build in a vote for your heart. Observe.


Allow me to demonstrate with the major life decision that has been haunting me of late: do I stay in Oman or do I leave for greener (but less lucrative) pastures? The procedure is to draw up a column for each option and a row for each criterion. (In class, students will negotiate these.) To make this even more precise, the criteria can be weighted. Then rate each option according to the criteria scores. In my matrix below, for example, I have rated Oman 20 out of a possible 20 for income, but 0 out of a possible 10 for social and cultural life. India (my wildcard option) is almost the opposite.

Option 1: Oman Option 2: Taiwan Option 3: SAfrica Option 4: Wildcard - India
Income (20) 20 15 10 5
Stability, Career (20) 15 10 10 5
Lifestyle, Time,
Holidays,
Environment(20) 10 10 15 20
Studies (20) 15 18 15 20
Social, Cultural (10) 0 5 10 10
Happiness (10) 2 5 7 10
Total % 62 63 67 70

To make sure that reason doesn’t outweigh emotion, I add an emotional criterion, in this case, happiness. (Since I have already provided for lifestyle, social, cultural and career factors, which already make me happy, I am only weighting happiness at 10.) Before adding up the totals, I also ask myself which option I really wish for. If the instinct is strong enough, it may not even be necessary to do the math! This is a trick I learnt from a dear friend who was always willing to flip a coin, but before unveiling the “heads or tails” would always ask; “What would you like it to be?” We seldom found out how the coin had really landed, following that gut feeling instead.


My decision-making matrix reveals some home truths about my motivations, perceptions and priorities (which appear to be utterly twisted). Rather than discuss them, I hope this will demonstrate how much discussion value students can get out of such an activity.


Best of all, there is always the option of not making a decision. If a change is as good as a holiday, considering your options is almost as good as relocating… and it’s completely risk-free.


Reference: Nunan, D. 2005. Task-Based Language Teaching. Cambridge: CUP.

Love, Duty and the Small Matter of Choice (Or: Masters of Fate, Captains of Souls and Architects of Fortune)

Disclaimer: This entire entry is based on personal opinion and interpretation rather than indisputable facts, and any quoted facts may well be interpreted differently.

Perhaps one of the most profound cultural differences I have experienced over the past years as an expatriate centres around the matter of free will. Although individuals ultimately make up their minds about whether they believe their actions are predetermined or borne of free will (the philosophical debate of determinism/indeterminism), I am convinced that cultural conditioning plays a considerable part. (Whether we actually do have a choice in our opinion is, of course, open to infinite dabate!)

Although it was the “American Dream” of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness that turned free will into a national mantra, even this New World-dictum had its roots in the philosophies that came to full fruition in the Europe of the 1800s. The concept is a hallmark of a broad (though not all-pervasive) stream of Western thought, and is reflected in statements such as Henley’s “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul” and the disputed “Each man is the architect of his own fortune”.

This is not to say that the entire “West” embraces the idea of free choice. The Henley hyperlink above, for instance, leads to a page showing a religious determinist reply to the poet. Even the popular novelist Paolo Coelho, loved by many for his book The Alchemist, implies that although humans make choices, these are woven into destiny- even the so-called mistakes. Generally, though, there is a strong focus on personal responsibility- thus, indeterminism- in cultural products of the West.

Tomorrow it will be eight years to the day that I left for the ‘exotic” East, and I have repeatedly been struck by the leaning in the other direction- determinism- in my host countries. Once again, this is not absolute but rather a general inclination that manifests in the way major life choices are made by (or imposed upon?) individuals: studies, life partners, careers, domestic situation and so forth are frequently chosen by elders, or even the state.

But it is in actually doing the work that one has chosen (or not) that the difference becomes fascinating. Theoretically I am inclined object to determinism because it would seem to kill motivation: if I had no choice in my job and my professional success depended on fickle fate, I personally would make no special effort. But since I have both the conditioning and the will to believe that my actions, words and thoughts are the threads that weave my destiny, I am motivated to do my best- at least under the circumstances. What has surprised me is how a determinist worldview can also push people to do their best for very different reasons, one of which is the rather cumbersome concept of duty. To be perfectly frank, the idea of duty puts my system on instant hibernate. Yet when I have seen truly exemplary initiative and dedication in the ever-mysterious East, the explanation has consistently been: “It is my duty.”

Then again… is that a choice, too?

Crime and Punishment (For They Know Not What They Do)

There is that wonderful staying about the last straw that breaks the camel’s back. Today this camel is examining the most recent straw on its back and wondering if this will finally be the last. Perhaps it will just be yet another straw that makes the camel’s back stronger. There have been so many of those.

That last straw, a tiny little thing. A material object the size of the dinner plate that represents a conflict the size of a galaxy. It is the second time a hubcap is stolen off my car, and although it is simply a practical annoyance, the sense of violation ripped through the very core of me. In a small town like this one, this is no anonymous petty crime and no surreptitious sin.

Religion has been criticised as the opiate of the masses, but I have occasion to wonder if the criticism should not rather fall on the masses themselves, who are so much less harmless when “doped with religion and sex and TV”, as John Lennon so eloquently spat. “Masses” who have not evolved the understanding that a sin against another is a sin against oneself, are perhaps better off inebriated with the fear of a wrathful deity than in their jaded, sober confidence that God cannot see what they do under cover of darkness.

I very specifically set out to dedicate this blog to my studies and teaching, which are inextricably linked. Yet the third link, the shadow of the two, keeps creeping in, uninvited: an environment where chaos and conflict are the only constants. To remain in this country appears to be a sensible move for many reasons: I would have relative stability, a stable income and a fair bit of paid leave while I complete my studies. But in other respects, it would be insane: a toxic work environment where I am at the hub of activity, yet have minimal power, a neighbourhood where I cannot leave my house without being harassed and people have no qualms about vandalising what is mine, and a country where, by virtue of living alone, I will forever be considered sharmouta- a prostitute.

And until I leave this Hades which I endure just for money, that won’t be far from the truth.

Value

Being a student again has made me acutely aware of the fragile relationship between cost, benefit and value. Especially when it comes to books. While I have been as resourceful as is academically viable, there are a few textbooks that I do feel are essential, and I have been simply agog at what they can cost. Academic books get the short end of the law of supply and demand, and even an Amazon addict like me staggers at the prices. Knowing what those books cost, I treat them like gold.

Is that what it takes to value something?

At the state-funded institution where I work, textbooks are provided to students and staff for the duration of each semester, free of charge. As the English department has mushroomed, the storage area has spread almost virally from one small room to three, without rhyme or reason. The overflowing rooms are separated by hundreds of meters, two of them on the second floors of separate buildings. Nobody is personally accountable for the hydra-like book collection, but the head of department holds the only keys. There is no record of which books- or how many- the college has, or in which of the three rooms they are. Since the stores are in such disarray, books are often damaged or lost in storage.

When the annual ministerial textbook order arrived yesterday, the bill came to 67 000 Omani rials- over GBP 90 000. Over the past two days I have been making an Olympic sport of inventorying both the existing books and the new delivery, making space for the newcomers and trying to ensure some kind of system that will soften the coming storm- which is as much as I am able to do until other staff return. It turns our huge numbers of books in the storerooms have never, ever been used in courses, even when 200 copies have been ordered. They have just been sitting there. Why? No information flow. There is no line of communication to inform staff what books have been ordered, far less in which of the stores they are. But there’s more. Many of the new orders are for books of which there are more than enough copies in store to cover the remaining students- but nobody knew it, because the storerooms are so disorderly that the books have been out of sight.

All those books, laden with knowledge ripe for the picking. Underutilised. Undervalued. Free of charge. Perhaps it is better to pay.

Big Strategies, Little Tactics

I have heard strategies defined as the big picture plan, and tactics as the small steps that make it happen. The definition is debatable, but it suits me.

What I am trying to do at the moment is break down my own strategy in three separate but overlapping areas: study, work and life at large. It is all looking very big from where I stand right now, and to take it all on, I need to break things down into bite-sized chunks.

This means calendars with lots of space for lots of plans. It means backward mapping, starting with deadlines and working them back to where I am now. It means a whole week of parachute time before that deadline, in case things go all pear-shaped. Things have a way of doing that. It means blocking out one day a week for R&R, come hell, high water or head of department.

And most importantly, it means dealing with today’s little bite-size chunk. Today. Every day.

Small Steps and Giant Leaps (Or: I am Not a Potted Plant)

Two great statements come to mind when I think of steps. No. Three.

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” – Chinese proverb

“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” – Neil Armstrong

“Make your stumbling block your stepping stone.”- Motivational catchphrase/ cliché

Yesterday I took a step that may prove incredibly foolish or incredibly wise in the perpetual casino that is the scheme of things. I agreed to bite off far more than I can chew, evacuate my comfort zone and boldly go where I had certainly never contemplated going before. I accepted a proposal to coordinate the English foundation year programme for the college’s brand new faculty of business. There is no monetary compensation. I will still have a full teaching load. This is uncharted territory. The parallel programme in other national colleges has been fraught with frustrations. Students, whose studies and living expenses are funded by the state, are notoriously unmotivated and not academically inclined. Most of the teachers will be new to the college- and the cultural enigma of the Arabian Gulf.

So am I OUT of my friggin’ TREE?

Quite possibly. This is guaranteed to be the toughest thing I have done in my life. Ever. And for the next year, there will be no turning back.

So why’dya do it?

Comfort zones are all good and well, but I am not a potted plant. My work environment offers very few opportunities for personal and/or professional growth, and though my studies are an important step, MAs in English teaching are not particularly rare flowers. The experience is reward in itself- and the better I do the job, the more rewarding.

And that brings me to the point that probably won’t show up on a CV. Education in Oman has been developing phenomenally, but it has been a tumultuous process fraught by pendulum swings in policy, frustrated students banging their heads against brick walls and frustrated teachers who take the money and run after one contract. In a bureaucracy, there will always be mysterious forces beyond one’s control. But I think- I think- I can take the reins of those few things that will be within my control and let the teachers and students get on with what they are there for. I can help them see that they are allies, not enemies. I can put logic and simplicity to the test in a workplace that has been torn apart by their opposites. And hey, I can let this terrifying cup pass my colleagues by if I dare to drink it for them. Being the boss holds no charm for me. But serving people does. That, I know, I can do.

(And I am writing this partially because I know there will be days when I wonder whatever in the world I could possibly have been thinking. So I’m bookmarking this page to help me remember. )

A Fortnight of Organic Sloth

I love work. In the years of semi- or unemployment that hounded me after my graduation, a close friend always told me that work is to the soul what food is to the body. In those dark days, food for the body was a more urgent priority. But as I settled into the gracious luxury of enough that comes with a steady income, I discovered just how nourishing work can be to the soul. Work is purpose, connection, service. Work is active prayer answered in results.

And so, after another year of pouring my soul into my job, and squeezing just a little harder to wring out every remaining drop into my studies, I am delighted to have worked so hard, and accomplished a thing or two along the way. But now it is time to go underground ground and germinate new energy and new ideas. A fortnight of organic, chaotic sloth has begun: a chance to do exactly as I please in a last-ditch bout of belated adolescence, overhaul my routine, habitat, wardrobe and the spidery empire below the kitchen sink at whatever ungodly hour is my wont; watches and the whip of obligation packed far away.

Just for fourteen days and fourteen nights. After that, a return to the saltmines will be welcome.


I love work. In the years of semi- or unemployment that hounded me after my graduation, a close friend always told me that work is to the soul what food is to the body. In those dark days, food for the body was a more urgent priority. But as I settled into the gracious luxury of enough that comes with a steady income, I discovered just how nourishing work can be to the soul. Work is purpose, connection, service. Work is active prayer answered in results.

And so, after another year of pouring my soul into my job, and squeezing just a little harder to wring out every remaining drop into my studies, I am delighted to have worked so hard, and accomplished a thing or two along the way. But now it is time to go underground ground and germinate new energy and new ideas. A fortnight of organic, chaotic sloth has begun: a chance to do exactly as I please in a last-ditch bout of belated adolescence, overhaul my routine, habitat, wardrobe and the spidery empire below the kitchen sink at whatever ungodly hour is my wont; watches and the whip of obligation packed far away.

Just for fourteen days and fourteen nights. After that, a return to the saltmines will be welcome.

Freedom

Freedom has been on my mind a lot lately. Although I am not in any literal prison, I have been acutely aware, recently, that I am not free. Of course, we are all free to different degrees. We have free will, whatever the circumstances. We have the freedom to determine our attitude. We have the freedom to make a multitude of choices with the hand we are dealt. But within those parameters, I am aware that, through the response I freely chose to the circumstances I did not, I have established myself in an environment where, no, I am not free. Although there are no legal constraints on my freedom of movement, it is astounding how strong social constraints can be. I step outside my flat and dozens of eyes on me. Much as I long and ache and burn to take a walk, every step is marred by hateful comments, car horns, sometimes stones thrown or spitting. I knew before I came here three years ago, that this is a conservative society and there would be sacrifices. So I dressed to defy the merciless desert weather, covered from neck to foot. It was not enough. Later I also began to wear a headscarf, dark glasses, anything to preserve some modicum of anonymity. But it doesn’t change things much. There are still knocks at the door at night, because I am a woman on my own, and everybody knows what that supposedly means. And whatever they think it means, here I am, alone. I now only leave home for work and urgent errands. Because I have freedom of choice, and I choose not to put myself in harm’s way. I freely choose not to provoke a situation that will let people act in a way that tempts me to hatred. And so, I freely choose captivity.

But everything is relative. During six and a half years of being held hostage, Ingrid Betancourt believed beyond belief that she would be released, long after the world had forgotten, or given up. In the spate of interviews she has given since her miraculous release last week, it is clear that she used her freedom to choose to continue to believe, for all those years. Finally, it was belief that won.

And then there is the insidious captivity of material things. Some are held captive by wealth: Affluenza is the term coined by UK psychologist Oliver James for the malaise of the middle classes and above. At the other end of the spectrum, much of the world is still marching along, meagerly fuelled by under a dollar a day. Escape from Luanda is a bold film documenting the lives of students at a music school in Angola’s capital, currently airing on BBCWorldNews. Rather than narration, the students tell their tales in subtitled Portuguese to the soundtrack of their heavenly music. The wistful melody of Africa has a mesmerizing rhythm, and therein lies the escape. Music, art, dreams transport us beyond poverty of the body and the soul, beyond the fragile human form, beyond captivity.

And therein lies freedom.

Graduation!

For those of us who can still barely make out our graduation on the distant horizon, this year's ceremonies might provide some inspiration. The videocast links can be found here. Be inspired!

Sound Reasoning (A letter to The Times of Oman)

A few weeks back I noticed advertisements for a courseq1 promising amazing results in English learning in just one month in The Times of Oman. Except for the liberal use of interactive DVDs, it had all the makings of the charismatic language learning methods of the 70s, right down to the balding visionary guru. Advertising is one thing, but today the company’s press release was placed as an article in the paper. (With a limited readership in its media infancy, this is common practice here. PR paradise, I tell you.) I could not let this pass unchallenged. Here is what I hope to be a balanced viewpoint, sent to the Times’ Readers’ Forum.

In response to the article New English Learning Course Promises to Improve Skills (Times, 5 July 2008), I would like to welcome “The Sound Way” programme to the English Education field in Oman. I also believe your readers should know the facts about the state of the art of language learning, which this programme claims to embody.

Like in many human sciences, the jury is still out on the mysterious process of language acquisition. Yet even the feuding experts agree on one fact: the One-Size-Fits-All Silver Bullet Method for language learning does not exist. Mastery of a language, like that of any skill, takes passion, persistence and personalisation. Mastery of the English language does not cost RO 165 over one month: it costs true, fiery commitment over a lifetime.

I am certain that “The Sound Way” can provide a solid grounding in English learning for keen learners and will benefit many clients. However, they should know that mastery does not derive from a cutting-edge method or a charismatic expert teacher, but from the ongoing, reflective process of language learners themselves. And that is not for sale.

On "The Last Lecture"

I have always felt that the gravity of the message of death is what it tells us about life. This morning I finally read The Last Lecture, the book based on the lecture by computer science professor Randy Pausch at Carnegie Mellon University. A month before the lecture, he was told that he had no more than six months to live after the return of spreading pancreatic cancer, and he took on the lecture in part as a legacy for his three young children. Word got around of the lecture on Youtube, leading eventually to the book, where the ideas are extended with the help of co-author Jeffrey Zaslow.

It is impossible to read the book without rethinking the importance of how we spend our time, and what imprint we can leave. It struck me that a terminal disease has inspired the author to ensure that he leaves his children with a tangible sense of who he was. Yet we all know that life is terminal: not having a deadline we easily neglect the value of the moment. The Last Lecture is a great read, but I take two things away from it: first, to make the most of the moment, and second, to leave some evidence of who we are and will have been.

I-Search Myself

Today we received the assignment for our second module, and I think I am finally over the trauma that has withheld me from putting down my thoughts on the process of the first. So before I plunge into the next one, here are a few issues that came up in the first assignment. Writing about this rather resembles a procedure called “I-Search”, which came up in our assigned reading yesterday. An I-Search is a student’s analysis of the experience of a writing assignment, designed to develop self-awareness and improve writing and research abilities. Since I would rather be described as “self-aware” than “self-conscious” (whatever the truth may be!), I’ll give it a go. For the sake of convenience, I will loosely follow the questions proposed in said reading by Ann M. Johns (2006:170-1), which is reproduced in italics. In the spirit of the I-Search, I am writing this before receiving my grade. I am posting this in my online blog (which feeds to four different sites) for the benefit of reference, but also for other students in similar positions and instructors investigating the I-Search procedure and reflective meta-skills.

1. The opening
a) Have you ever completed papers like [this] before? If so, how is this alike… or different…?

I have never done anything on this scale before, either in depth or breadth. My last academic writing was at BA level, and I rarely consulted more than a handful of sources. At a length of 6 000 words, I had no idea how much this would even involve, and ended up drafting way, way too much. I think this was much more different from my past writing experience than it was the same.

b) What was the research question you selected? Did you revise it as you completed your search?

There were six suggested questions to choose from, and a seventh which allowed for a self-designed question. I chose the seventh, and formulated my question as: Discuss the potential influences of context on learning style among students in your context. Although my approach was modified several times, the question was not.

c) Why did you choose this question?

Because I was an overzealous, arrogant clod! The question required discussion of four different areas of the module, whereas another question would simply have required discussion of one area as applied to my own context. I also had some misgivings about the concept of learning styles and had no idea how nebulous and convoluted that area is. However, I am extremely interested in learning styles: what I didn’t know, though, is that learning strategies lie closer to my heart. This points out a big issue in working in such a completely new area: my knowledge of my field of study was still limited, and the three-odd months between my first day of class and the deadline was too short to amplify my awareness sufficiently. Since the hand-in I have learnt so much, simply because I am free to read more widely!

2. The Search:
a) What steps did you take in completing your research? Be as specific and detailed as possible.

Again, overzealousness was my downfall. I decided to triangulate (in fact, quadrangulate, with four sets of data!), although in fact no research is required at this stage. I used essays students had written about their learning styles, focus group interviews, a diagram students had filled in about their learning styles and extracts from my teaching journal.

b) What roadblocks did you encounter…?

The shortage of resources at my host college has been an obvious problem. We also did not receive student numbers, etc. required to use the university’s online library, until six weeks before the deadline. The terminology problem really made searches difficult.

c) What success did you experience?

I was completely obsessed with the assignment and ate, slept and dreamt it for weeks. Many of the best ideas about structuring it came to me in sleep. I felt I was able to connect the topic to wider reality by using a spectrum of sources beyond the subject area.

d) Whom did you ask for help?

Minimal correspondence with tutors, since I didn’t want to make a nuisance of myself. Was this a mistake? Also discussed ideas with colleagues and students. By the end I was feeling so compromised by all the constraints that I was too embarrassed to ask anyone to proofread, although I had had several offers.

e) Was the classroom feedback… helpful? Why?

The instructor’s feedback was exceptionally detailed, focusing on exact word choice in most cases. There were no structural pointers, and I am wondering if that will prove to be my downfall? I appreciated the encouragement, but felt the feedback didn’t make a very big difference to the final product.

3. My growth as a reasearcher
a) How do you feel about your paper…? Do you think it is well-written? Thoughtful? Worthy of a good grade? Why?

I am extremely proud of my paper and feel I did my very best under the circumstances. However, I know the paper demands better. Writing in academic style did make me feel that I’d somewhat lost my voice, and developing a personal academic writing style is something I still feel I need to work on. A great weakness is the fact that I had so many areas to draw on that I had to skim over all of them, leaving some of the more detailed information for the appendices. I feel this was solidly done, but some readers may really dislike this and it may even discredit the academic value of the work. There was no comment on this when I submitted the draft, so I am hoping it won’t be a major problem. It is thoughtful and academically mature in many ways, overall, but no doubt my novice status shows.

b) Are you satisfied with your writing and search process? What went well? What would you change?

I honestly do believe that I did the best I could under the circumstances. A major factor was the shortage of resources, and the limited time compared to later assignments. (Almost six months are allocated for the next module’s assignment, and this after we have already covered much of the reading and already have a broader overview of the field.) I used backward mapping to plan my time, and it worked very well: including contingency time and off days really paid off. Under those circumstances, there is nothing I could change, but I am sure to deliberately prevent some of the manageable problems that did come up this time around, although many of them are not relevant in future assignments. On second thoughts, the things I urgently need to change were in my life beyond studies: because of the time crunch I single-mindedly pursued the assignment and abandoned other important things. Chief among these was my formerly stringent health regimen, which went straight to the dogs, and I am now paying the price for that. If I have to choose between my health and an MA, Father Academe comes second.

4. My growth as a writer
a) How did you grow as a writer?

I have learnt the need for archiving my resources as the amount of reading I have covered continues to grow. I have learnt many tricks for keeping thing more organized, especially using the computer. I think I have improved my ability to strategise.

b) What will you do differently…?

I really do think the things that I was able to control were fine, the processes might just need some tweaking. I would not jump into a postgraduate program again without having done prior reading, but if there had been an option I wouldn’t have done so in the first place. I will keep in mind that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

5. My suggestions for future assignments
a) … what else helped you to complete this assignment?

Caffeine. Self-talk. Positive reinforcement from instructors and classmates, and especially the strong group feeling created by the tutors in our first module sessions. The hefty deposit I had to pay to enroll. Without this, I would most certainly have quit.

b) What might your instructors have done to enhance your writing processes and improve your written product?

Access to reading materials before the course is important: I am not sure how much of this was provided, since I only heard of the program after it had started. Considering that students are new to the field, I feel more of an introduction is needed, and more time should be allocated for reading before narrowing down to focus on the assignment. The Virtual Learning Environment is being overhauled, and I found remnants of former courses but apparently this facility is not used any more. Our group has been given a Ning page for networking online, but it has mostly been used as a social networking site. I have tried to initiate some higher-order discussion, but so far this has run into dead ends very quickly, and I am beginning to feel embarrassed about “dominating” the page, so I may stop trying. It would be really helpful to share a page with students from the same course in other countries.


Johns, A.M. 2006. Students and feedback: reflective feedback for I-Search papers. In Hyland & Hyland (Eds.) Feedback in Second Language Writing. Cambridge: CUP.

A Life More Mediated

One of the assignments in preparation of our upcoming intensive course next week is to keep a reading and writing diary. The observer effect aside (did I read and write more because I was more aware of it?), there seems to be good reason to believe that I lead a completely mediated existence. There is slightly more reading and quite a bit more writing here than usual, because I am preparing for the classes, but on any weekend day I spend several hours reading, at least half an hour writing and at least an hour reading and writing online or by mobile phone. Without literacy I would most certainly be doomed. Illiteracy is a considerable issue here in Oman, where public education was only initiated in 1970. I have mentioned elsewhere that students are often surprised to hear that I correspond with my folks by email, not because they can use a computer but because they can both actually read and write.

Below is a quick rundown of my mediated day. Do note, though, that the sociocultural values of my country of residence severely restrict my freedom of movement: when living elsewhere I would usually pop out for some unmediated social contact at least once and go for a walk. Here, this is not a smart option for an unaccompanied woman. (In the town where I am based, there really isn’t anywhere to go anyway.) It’s the perfect place to live if you don’t want distractions, though that’s a double-edged sword of course.

06:15-06-45 Read textbook chapter (English)
06:45-07:30 Wrote up notes (English)
08:15-08:25 Read news ticker on BBCW while watching random news events (English)
08:40-08:45 SMS friends (English)
08:45-08:55 Read textbook chapter (English)
08:55-09:15 Wrote up notes (English)
09:15-09:20 SMS pingpong (English
09:20-09:40 Online: read available podcasts and select downloads, registered product, read article abstracts to select downloads for later reading. (English)
09:40-0:45 SMS pingpong (English)
10:10-11:00 Read downloaded articles (English)
11:10-11:20 Read transcripts to confirm French listening activity just completed (French)
11:30-11:45 Read news tickers while watching BBCW (English)
11:45-11:55 Read chapter of textbook (English)
11:55-12:15 Wrote up notes (English)
1:00-3:00 Read and wrote up 3 textbook chapters (English)
3:15-3:30 Read podcast directory to choose downloads (English)
6:00-6:01 Read SMS. Did not reply. (English)
7:00-8:00 Skimmed and outlined coming chapters of textbook (English)
8:00-??? Online: read and write messages on networking sites (English and Afrikaans), Read and write email (English and Afrikaans)
Later… some recreational reading, maybe…?

Broken English?

Just finished reading David Crystal’s The Stories of English (2004, Penguin) and wound up, as one often does after a good book, with more questions than answers. Crystal’s take on the English language, in this and other publications of note, has been descriptive, rather than prescriptive. In other words, rather than prescribing what the language should look like, as grammarians are often wont to, he describes what it actually does look like. Crystal revels in the possibilities of Modern Standard English, not as the Holy Grail of usage, but as a unifying alternative in a multidialectal and multilingual world. In his English as a Global Language (2003, CUP), the author explored the value of English uniting speakers of other languages, encouraging bilingualism in both a mother tongue and English. Here, the praises of multidialectism are sung: while Modern Standard English ensures that all English speakers can understand each other, the unique flavours of dialect diffuse meaning, atmosphere and linguistic wealth into the language. The thorough and incisive account of the history of English also shows that dialect is nothing new. Truth be told, English itself sprung from that fertile spring of the accursed bastard dialect- a fact readily under rug swept by its purist-prescriptivist proponents. We see that if language is a living entity, it can not be treated like some lifeless object.

I really want to agree with the author. As a native speaker of a minority language who later learned what even the generous David Crystal refers to as a creole of English, I feel he has championed my (not-so-rare) cause. And yet, as a teacher of English, I am not sure what this leaves me to teach. If non-standard usage is not “wrong”, and my students’ usage is common enough to be considered a dialect (though abhorrent to the prescriptive grammarian and even to my dastardly bastardly dialectical sensibilities), does that make it “right”? If dialect is so vibrant and expressive and wrapped up in cultural identity, do I have a right to nip “errors” in the bud? And most of all, if the Modern Standard English-speaking world remains prejudiced- as it does- towards “broken English”, do I have a right not to?

I don’t have a final answer, but my evolving policy at the moment is this. To encourage awareness of non-standard English use- local and others- by contrastive analysis. To conduct error analysis where the local dialect use can cause misunderstanding of offense. And most definitely, to encourage informed and informative use of the local dialect where appropriate, using strategies such as paraphrasing and footnotes for explanation.

(Broken English was the title of a 1979 song by Marianne Faithfull. See the video here.)

We Emerge Victorious

A rare moment today. The sense of having helped to launch that hand-made raft of learning that is the only possible transport from the desolate island of ignorance to the abundant continents of knowledge. However hard we try, no teacher can do this for our students- we can only stand by, guide, assist and share what we know. We can assist the launch, but we can never remain for the whole journey. We can equip our brave voyagers with instructions, with tools, with supplies, but we can never be sure what adventures await them. What we can do, in the ever-too-short time that we have with our students, is simply to impart what we know, and if we are lucky, the ways to find out more for oneself on the oceans of uncertainty. Learning is the only weapon we can provide, but learning how to learn is the power to forge one’s own weapons, tools; swords or ploughshares. Have I succeeded? There is never a simple answer. But that little spot on the sun-shimmering horizon there, that is the raft I helped to launch today.

All this after incidentally sitting in on the Speaking exams of a group of Foundation Year students that were under my wing for Study Skills in the first semester and Writing in this second semester. As one student after another made the required presentation, I was awed to see how clearly every single one of them had structured the task. Having examined this course twice before, I know that this is unusual at Foundation level, and even beyond, since it is never explicitly taught. The fact that the students have transferred what they have learnt in other courses to making speeches is remarkable, since a very segmented view of different courses is common. It also eliminated two of the common problems found in presentations: blind memorisation of the student’s own text and, even worse, blind memorisation of a copied text. It was very clear that every student had created, structured and intellectually digested the presentation, and every piece displayed both intellect and heart. Of course there were little stumbles and bumbles and the usual light garnish of errors, but there was structure. Errors can be addressed later, but structure- that is what Foundation Year is all about.

BUT WAIT, in true Shopping Channel fashion, THERE’S MORE. These students had their Writing exam yesterday, and while invigilating the same exam with another group I was horrified to see students scribble down several pages, frantically counting words, and filling in the mandatory outline as a half-hearted afterthought. As those students handed in their papers, page after page of disorganised gobbledegook spilled out. I had to wonder if I would be subjected to the same torture as their poor examiner. But no. The work I received was crisp, clear and to the point. Using the outline, students were able to plan their arguments and anticipate their word count without being side-tracked. Even those who struggle with the language made very clear what they would be discussing and what their main arguments were. There will always be different levels within a language class, but at least in one thing every single one of these students is equal: every one of them can structure an essay. When you can structure an essay, as they have proved, you can structure a speech. When you can structure your own essays and speeches, you can extract the key ideas from others’ discourse. When you can do that, you have a steady foundation to work from.

Although I share in the satisfaction, the credit goes to my students when I confidently declare that the foundation- the Foundation- has been laid.

Good Language, Bad Language

There’s nothing that will knock you off your high horse quite like a spot of proofreading. A section of a colleague’s doctoral thesis has been sitting on my desk for an amount of time that is about to become critically embarrassing, and I simply had to start tackling it this evening. There is a reason why I had procrastinated! Not a walk in the park at the best of times, academic texts develop a life of their own when their fate is in your hands. The pages teem with pernickety little things that tug at the seams of your consciousness… a malapropism here, a stray preposition there, a phantom faux ami everywhere. Suffice it to say that there is no longer a film of dust on my dictionary.

It’s a funny thing, the English-speaking hierarchy. Whose language is it anyway? In his book The Struggle to Teach English as an International Language (OUP 2005), Adrian Holliday identifies two streams of English speakers: BANA (those from Britain, Australasia and North America) and TESEP (those who are taught English in Tertiary, Secondary and Primary School). Robert Phillipson, in turn, distinguishes between “core” and “periphery” circles, which respectively represent the haves and have-nots of the English language. The most nuanced picture is painted by Braj Kachru, who proposes an “inner circle”, representing the traditionally English-speaking developed world, the “outer” circle, representing the former English colonies, and the “expanding” circle”, representing, well, everybody else.

This gives us a nice little multi-faceted paradigm for a spot of good, old-fashioned pigeonholing. Let’s see where my students, my thesis-writing colleague and, of course, I, fit onto all this.

What all this means, is that my TESEP, outer/expanding circle colleague whose third language is English, is depending on TESEP/Inner/Core-or-maybe-periphery me, whose second language is English, to ensure that his writing will be palatable within the BANA/Inner/Core inner sanctum of his international university.

No wonder I am using my dictionary.

Digitally Dumbfounded

The link on one of the LeedsBlogs really set me thinking. About a lot of stuff.

It is about a website showing a stupendous project: a collection of Polaroids that were taken every single day by one man over the course of eighteen years- right up to the date of his death in 1997.

The first thing I had to think about was the dedication and perseverance required for such a project.

The second is the inspiration.

The third is the richness of life that the photographs reflect.

The fourth is what constitutes suitable subject matter for a photograph.

The fifth is how easy such a project is today- yet how many who try it throw in the towel.

The sixth is, considering the resources available today, how much is being put to meaningful use? User-generated content is getting so much airtime at the moment (Time Magazine’s Person of the Year 2007 was, after all “YOU”), but what is the quality that users are generating? After eight years of “generating content” myself, I think I am entitled to ask such a question.

The seventh, and final thing I had to think about is whether such a collection matters more once a life is no longer a work in progress.

Fair Play

The only way to ensure a fair opportunity for all is that everyone plays by the same rules. As the accreditation process of our college draws near, the contradictions are becoming clearer. National policy (and international standards) suggest that certain standards should apply to everyone. But tradition is a powerful force, and it does not agree.

During today’s invigilation of a final year exam, seven students (whom I have taught) asked me to bend the rules for them- one of them even asked to use her mobile phone in session. All this after the exam rules had been written on the whiteboard and repeated verbally at the beginning of the session. (The same rules that have been in place throughout their degree programme.) Interestingly, none of these requests were directed at my co-invigilator, who does not know these students. Knowing people is, after all, the major currency in this culture. At one point, their teacher came in and initiated discussion, which naturally led to side-talk. Nipping this in the bud, I was rewarded with the dirtiest of looks from students, and the teacher’s reprimand that this was the best group he had ever taught (suggesting I had no right to chastise them). When the allotted time was over, my colleague and I announced that students were to put pens down. Over half of them did not stop writing after our second instruction, and we had to physically take the papers from them, once again accompanied by dirty looks and tongue-clucking. “Not fair.”

Ah, but the tale does not end there. As it turned out, the teacher was with another group, and allowed “flexibility” for the hand-in… for fifteen more minutes.

Now the students are on the case of the teachers who followed the rules to ensure fair play, singing the praises of their teacher who bent the rules to the authorities- who are sympathetic. Needless to spell out whose actions they consider fair. Allegiance comes before standards in this part of the world. And I have to question whether it is to my credit- whatever the financial or professional benefit- to work in a system where the unfair is deemed fair, while following the standards of fair play is deemed high treason.

(Re-reading what I have written this seems like a paranoid nightmare, and I can well understand that it may be interpreted as such. Surely no establishment would tolerate such absurdity? Anyone tempted to test the reality of these statements is welcome to apply for a job here: of the fifteen people recruited at the beginning of this academic year, only ONE is re-signing his contract. The others have chosen to wake up. I have to wonder if I should do the same.)

Linguistic Levity

Classes are over and exams have started. This is a mixed joy: without classes to teach and prepare for, there is suddenly time to do all those little things that were simply not a high enough priority in the sink-or-swim semester days. On the other hand, it also means eight sets of invigilation for each teacher- enough to send the most fearless of Zen masters running.

Today’s preparatory reading was on a topic I had been putting off for a long time: Second Language Acquisition. It’s an area that intrigues me, not least because of my own chequered history with language learning. That is a story for another day, though. What really lightened up the reading, and had me in (vociferous!) stitches, was one of the activities at the end of the chapter. Written by Nina Spada and Patsy Lightbown, authorities in the field and authors of their own influential book on SLA, the chapter in Schmitt’s Introduction to Applied Linguistics (2002, Hodder Arnold) is a useful overview.

The activity shows the responses form three students to a question asking them to guess what people in a picture of an airport are saying. Two of the students’ responses are unremarkable, but one was spiked with mischievous humour. Here are the madcap student’s responses, evidently heavily influenced by The Godfather. (Incidentally, the Godfather seems to boost English ability remarkably.)

Flight attendant to passenger: Do you need something?
Customs officer to passenger waiting to board: Why did you bring this bomb?
Man in coat and hat on telephone: Where do I put the money, boss?
Man to woman: Hey, short stuff. What time is it?
Woman to crying child: Why are you crying little boy?
Boy to woman, while pointing: Hey mom! It looks like your ugly skirt!
Female officer to man: What did you find on this terrorist, agent 007?
Woman to car rental clerk: Do you have a big uncomfortable car, Mrs.?
Man at luggage desk, pointing at a mountain of suitcases, to old man: Dad, are you sure you can bring this alone?

I laughed until the tears ran, especially at “Why did you bring this bomb?”

It is extremely good for the heart to know that there is levity in a field that can be known for seriousness. And it is even better to see that the student who learnt with humour is using the target language better than those who are seriously suffering along. There is a lesson in all this….

The image is from Lightbown, P.M. and Spada, N. 2002 Second Language Acquisition, in Schmitt, N. (Ed.) 2002 Introduction to Applied Linguistics. New York: Hodder Arnold.

The Quest For Resources Begins Again

As I sit at my desk, I hear the imam in the nearby mosque tap the microphone before sounding the call to prayer. Six months ago this microphone tap was not even audible to me. Then I started studying again, and the calls to prayer became the punctuation of my day. Somehow, my study time coincides with the dawn, dusk and evening prayers, and the microphone tap has become my Pavlovian signal for a shift in activity. Today, it marked the beginning (at 12.30) and the end (at 3:40) of my quest for online resources.

My former lamentations have recorded the woes of students in Oman who struggle for access to resources for their international courses. The political implications are myriad and won’t be discussed here, but I, along with my fellow students, have come to accept the fact that we are on our own in this battle. The question is no longer whether we will receive assistance, but rather what we can do, under the circumstances, to help ourselves.

It turns out that, to misquote Benjamin Franklin, Google Books helps those who helps themselves. Though the university library offers access to a single full text of one of the recommended books, Google Books offers limited views of seventeen of them. This is not nearly what one needs for readings at postgraduate level, but it does at least give us a chance to familiarise ourselves with the field before our classes start in three weeks’ time.

And we take whatever we can get.

The Real World

The single most popular criticism levelled towards the academic world is the Ivory Tower Argument: the academic world is said to be removed from the Real World. Since I do not really belong to the academic world, that is not my battle to fight. I can, however, emphasise that when it comes to teacher education, educational institutes do work hand in hand with the end users: real schools in the real world.

Student teachers at our college spend two days per week teaching under observation for their entire final year. I have not really been involved this Practicum course before. Now that my own theoretical base is expanding, I will be one of the observers in the coming semester. I have had one trip to the schools, simply as a chaperone (see the entry for 15 March 2008). Today I had another, to present a workshop for teachers at an open day arranged entirely by our college’s graduating students.

Of course, some things went wrong- they always do. Yet the students were so capable and competent, had such wonderful ideas and gave the teachers a lovely day off while inspiring the students about this new language they are learning. (One has to give them credit: out in the rocky hills where this particular school is located, there seems very little reason to learn this language- or anything much at all.) The staff gave us a warm welcome and the kids surrounded me (foreigner!) in a squealing throng, piping up in brave snatches of grammarless English spiced with rolling r’s.

When I think in terms of preparing my students for the real world, I think New York London Paris Shanghai Sydney. But in this context, the real world is Suwaiq, Sur, Salalah… little brown towns where nothing much happens- except for the revolution that is brewing in Oman’s schools.

And that is very real.

Wednesday, 7 May 2008, 7:28 PM

Closure

Call me a victim of Oprahfication but when something is over I need closure. In a tertiary setting, the end of the academic year is often a gradual process of incoherent dissolution. Last year I remarked on this, and was told by a colleague I greatly admire that this is normal.

Well, I object. This year, I have insisted that my students attend the last lecture, with blackmail and bribery ranging from exam tips and test results to awards, movie clips and good old chocolate cake. Not every one fell for it, but the majority of students attended and I got my closure, thank you.

Having taught at the college for three years now, I have a strong bond with all these students, and saying goodbye is quite emotionally loaded. My Foundation Year students were the keystone of my recent research, and the force that got me through many a tough day. My fourth year teaching students have studied two very liberal courses with me and are on the precipice of the real world beyond graduation, armed, hopefully, with some of the educational ammunition I have passed on.

Although it sometimes seems that a teacher’s world is quite small, it is these times of closure when one realises that it is, in fact, exponential.

THE FIRST EVER RUSTAQ STUDENT FILM FESTIVAL

The Rustaq Student Film Festival was one of those wonderful ideas that I dreamt up during a momentary lapse of reason commonly known as course design. Reality has a nasty habit of getting in the way of the best-laid plans of mice, men and English teachers, but my students and I have persevered. The first ever Rustaq Student Film Festival debuts tomorrow. I am sincerely hoping that the method in this madness will be the highlight of the Language Through Arts course for final year teaching students.

The Language Through Arts course arrived on my desk as a skeletal outline of very practical arts activities from the Ministry, along with a very theoretical and utterly unrelated, if fascinating, reading list. Fortunately I have had freedom in implementing the course, except for the edict from on high that there must be a final written examination. Along with the theoretical component, which I found thrilling and my students found dull, we have explored different arts activities that can support language learning each week. Rather than a string of unrelated projects, I planned to encourage students to put all their work together in a summative “gesamtkunstwerk” (the term is attributed to opera composer Richard Wagner): a spectrum of art forms combined in a performance. Ambitiously (and perhaps foolishly!) I suggested that this be done in a short educational film, although students may opt for a live performance. Naturally, they all chose film, taxing the college’s already overloaded tech resources the limit.

This is a massive project, which is why I announced it three months ago, held ongoing planning and scriptwriting workshops and provided in-class preparation time. Naturally, most students didn’t do much before last week. I am a little grouchy about this, but the experience will teach them far more about time management than my workshop ever could. The work that students have shown me so far is extremely encouraging. I have checked their screenplays for viability and language accuracy, and some work is truly excellent. Several groups have thrown themselves into the project. Some invited me to their hostel rooms to see their meticulous preparation of scenery, props and puppets, while others have trained younger actors to bring their ideas to life. One classroom is filled with palm tree props and I have seen students abstractedly muttering their lines around campus. Any language teacher is thrilled to see students taking their learning beyond the classroom walls… if students are also being creative and enjoying themselves, I am simply over the moon.

A hefty part of students’ grades depends on this project, but more importantly, a hefty part of their learning does, too. I would like to give my students some recognition beyond the numbers, and will have certificates ready for non-evaluative categories: most humorous, most educational, most resourceful, most tech-savvy and so on, and of course, a People’s Choice Award, voted for by the students themselves. It is important to break away from the numbers game: once they are teaching, my protégés will find that sustained quality is not about the grades.

Since these students are about to graduate, I also hope to compile all their films on a commemorative DVD, a copy of which can be distributed to other colleges, and a few of the big cheeses at the college and Ministry, as well as, of course, my film crews themselves. Hopefully the students will agree to distribution of their work for educational purposes. These are our first English Degree Programme graduates, and it would be wonderful to help them make their mark. Although I can’t distribute their work online, I do hold the rights to the short film I made as an example. Mine is exceedingly amateurish, although it does meet the demands of the brief: a short film illustrating the use of a language point. With a film crew of one and a deadline that was early in the semester, I make no apologies for the film’s weaknesses, though I certainly admit them. (Of the rest is too excruciating, the last 100 seconds are well worth it.) If it is any consolation, I am sure the students will far exceed their teacher

CONFERENCE JUNKIE!

At last my “big” presentation has come and gone, and with it, a whole new world of experience. This year, Oman’s ELT conference graduated to being “International”, and featured 88 sessions and near a thousand participants. It was so popular that on-site registrations could not be allowed, causing considerable disappointment for some. This is a pity, but as it was, the facilities were stretched to capacity.

What really impressed me was the atmosphere, which was friendly and collegial, even with such staggering numbers. This distinguishes Oman’s ELT conference from others in the region, and I hope it will remain this way.

Of course nothing makes you as aware of how nice people are, as actually presenting. Although I have taught every working day of my life for almost a decade and have presented before, it was my first time at such a big conference. (not to mention “international”…), and I was a little uneasy. Even so, the participants in the audience were so wonderfully welcoming that I soon forgot about this. I was caught somewhat unawares by the local tradition of poster presentations. At other conferences I have attended, poster presentations are more like an exhibition where you can have a discussion with the presenter. The poster remains on display throughout the event, but the presenter is only available for a limited time. Here, I was a little stunned to find that an actual presentation was the plan. I have lived and worked with the beginnings of this poster over several years, and have a great deal to say about it, but felt a little tongue-tied when suddenly confronted with it. I did have a structure PowerPoint presentation and handouts to use as a structure, but basically I wanted the poster to be the star of the show, not me. Having had far more attention than I had bargained for, I was relieved to hear that people did enjoy the presentation and really liked the poster. Which is nice, because in retrospective it is actually outrageously avant-garde for an esteemed conference.

The PowerPoint slides are (hopefully) attached here, with a picture of the poster in the background.

In the Name of Science

The wonderful thing about a scientific experiment is that it never fails. It simply shows you, by trail and error, that this trial did not work. That is not failure but success of the most Polyannaesque sort. Though it doesn’t necessarily feel like success.

The study that has absorbed the past three months of my life appears to be firmly on Polyanna’s Success Steamboat. With the data now gathered, triangulated and meticulously analysed, I am discovering that I am not conclusively able to prove that which I so confidently set out to: that context exerts a significant influence over students’ learning styles. It seems so obvious, looking at the shared strengths and weaknesses, the common behaviours, the same mistakes made year after year… and yet my data refuse to confirm it in three out of four categories. So what I have been able to prove is simply that although there are some shared preferences among Omani Foundation Year program students, the influence of context on learning style appears to be limited, and moreover, years of observation do not necessarily yield the same truth as a triangulated study of students’ own views.

So basically, my whole conceptual apple-cart is overturned, and while bravely preparing the first draft of my study for submission, I fluctuate between certainty that it is gold and conviction that it is garbage, secretly doubting the measurability of the unfathomable human mind.

ILLUMINATION

With a pressing deadline, it is tempting to work right through the weekend. I have resisted, taking off yesterday evening to have a little bit of a life. This morning I rose early and started fatiguing the “ancient” poster I will present at the national ELT conference on 23 April, and put together with a Powerpoint presentation for the less lateral thinkers in the audience. Then I chilled flat-out.

Is relaxation justified? According to Wallace ( reference not found), genius works in five stages: the first are concerned with gathering information, and the final with “illumination”. While no step should be underestimated, the fourth is the one that fuels the revelation: “incubation”. Stepping away.

There was an area of my literature review that simply seemed labyrinthine: the myriad typologies of learning styles make them difficult to pin down. After my afternoon of sloth, I sat down with my distilled notes and a few coloured pens to find direction. Suddenly, it all fell into place: those many typologies can be boiled down to four continua represented as spokes of a wheel. A person’s learning style can be represented as four points on the axes, and connected to a kite. To verify my loosely structured interview data, I can ask students to use the wheel to represent their perceived styles, and use the resulting kites for analysis.

Is there time, in modern life, for a full-time professional studying part time to take a day of rest? I believe the day lost is more than compensated for in the efficiency gained every other day, and in the insights gained from stepping back to see the forest and the trees.

"Maktub"

“Maktub”

During a conversation with a dear colleague today, she kindly pointed out that my career (to use the term very loosely) is not the field my heart is in. That is stating the obvious, I replied. So why was I following a course with such marginal relevance to my interests and, more importantly, my abilities?

Her question was an important one. Yet the paradox it presents led me back to an inspiration and sense of purpose that I had lost in the past few weeks. How can that be, if this is not my vocation?

The prosaic answer is that in the brick wall of no options that so many third worlders like myself are presented with, this is the only door I have found. Many have found nothing, and I am well aware of the grace I have had.

The poetic answer is that every leap I have taken into the unknown has led me to steadier ground. My decisions have, each time, been sped along by wind in their sails. They have been so clear and obvious that there was barely a decision to make: the current swept me to safer waters time after time. And this was one of those decisions.

The Arabic word “maktub” means “it is written”. It is often used to refer to destiny. I do not think that matters are pre-determined. But I do believe that the right route is one that takes advantage of the prevailing winds. That, and casting the sails for all you are worth.

The Middle of Nowhere Seminar

Today was something of a milestone. It was the first time I made a presentation at an industry event for professionals in education. To be honest, it was probably the first presentation I have made on one and a half decades, so it was good to know I am not completely rusty. Funny thing is, I expected to be a little nervous: since I started teaching seven years ago, my stomach has perennially been in knots before class. Surprisingly, this was remarkably easy. Having an interested audience did help, and they needed no encouragement to participate. I was quite surprised by their attentiveness: audiences in other sessions were quite rowdy, but these seemed riveted (were they in shock?!? I have been known to be quite, er kinetic…?) Of course, it helps when the material is interesting and has potential: my session was about integrating language skills through the arts to address different learning styles. The rest of the event also showed that people really are giving thought to what is happening in their classrooms and taking it on with innovative projects. Even in the middle of nowhere- almost four hours’ drive from the capital, in the rugged mountainous areas.

Not Quite Elementary

Much delayed by all the little melodramas and upheavals in the department, I finally started focus group interviews with my students today. The students really surprised me with their eloquence and quick answers, and capable handling of what can be quite a challenging situation for a lower-intermediate language learner. Although this is not intended as professional data gathering, I will have to mention that students might have been excessively eager to please, which may compromise the accuracy of the data. Still, some very useful insights are coming through, and the size of the group was very bonding. This kind of inquest might be worthwhile, even when there isn’t an assignment at stake.

As to the assignment, I am working on one section at a time by fleshing out the outline with all the relevant references first, then attacking the paperstorm at the keyboard. It is taking considerable discipline to keep writing first and foremost, so that I can later return and make improvements (and cuts!) in a second draft. Right now the objective is simply to keep going during the week, and make improvements over weekends when I have more mental bandwidth. My late registration in the course really compromised my background reading, and I am feeling the effects now. The next modules will be a breeze, with a whole month to read up before even attending the lectures!

Finally contacted all the big hitters at the helm of our MA program, both at Leeds and the local host college. My arguments have been purged of all emotion and distilled to pure and- I hope- compelling- reason. Since it is now 2:17 AM I just hope my judgement can be trusted. Here it is.

I deeply appreciate the fact that you have listened, and continue to listen despite your many other commitments. Indeed, my respect for the department staff continues to grow as I discover more about instructors' thought in books, articles and excavations of the VLE. Your own feedback has been most helpful, and the article by Coleman which you provided on my request (email of 2/1/2008) illuminated "Society and the Language Classroom" (under Coleman's editorship) beautifully. The digital resources offered by the Leeds University website, library and staff are phenomenal and abundant beyond necessity. The resourcefulness and mutual support of co-students are also of inestimable value.

So why am I making such a fuss? I am privileged to have obtained plenty of resources (although several books on our reading list are unavailable) and access to a fast internet connection. My reading is done and my writing has begun. While I deeply appreciate all the kind offers made, I must emphasise that this is not about me. (If it were, I would be silently soldiering away at my assignment armed with what resources I could muster.) The stakes are far higher than that, as I will proceed to explain.

A more complete set of textbooks from the reading list should be supplied to this group at Majan College Library for four compelling reasons which affect all stakeholders.

The first reason why students need access to the recommended books is the structure of the course itself. While other books, journal articles and online resources are invaluable in deepening and updating students' understanding of the core module material, the foundation stones are found in the central collection of textbooks which underpin the compilation of the course. According to the MA TESOL (Oman) handbook (p.31), the course is "relatively lightly taught" and "assumes... a lot of... independent reading." Understanding the fundamentals of the course, then, depends on independent reading of the books that receive cursory mention in lectures. Furthermore, the vital place of the core texts is reflected in the taught postgraduate assessment criteria listed in the handbook (p.35). Both the "Coverage" and "Support" sections refer to "coverage of major sources". This implies the foundational role of "major sources", which may admittedly lie beyond the scope of the recommended readings, but are likely to include at least a viewing of these texts. In short, books on the recommended reading list appear to play a central part, both in the learning and the assessment process. These books are, therefore, vital if students are to understand and produce assignments that do this excellent programme and its tutors justice.

The second is the outcome of this programme. Oman's education system is in serious need of teaching professionals who not only personally identify with the nation but also have deepened, broadened expertise in their field. If this country is to benefit from the postgraduate education of the Omani and other educators in this course, it is imperative that every possible means for the enrichment of their learning be provided. Recommended textbooks are the keystone: a large chunk of it is missing.

The third argument involves the cost of tuition in this course. It struck me that a full-time foreign student at the University of Leeds pays GBP 9700 for a spectrum of modules and access to the multitude of facilities, academic and otherwise, offered by the university. Students in this course have paid the equivalent of GBP 9000 each. The costs of flying faculty, teaching materials and administration considered, the total earnings from 21 students (over GBP 180 000) surely do justify a more complete collection of books from each module's reading list.

Finally, and significantly to every one of us, is the matter of reputation. As has been pointed out, high standards are the pride of both Leeds University and Majan University College. I believe this also holds true for every student in this course, and for the country that is so graciously hosting us. As educators, the students in this course have a significant and lasting effect on our environment. Like pebbles flung into water, our work inevitably creates ever-expanding ripples in our classrooms, organisations, communities and society at large. The quality of these effects will reflect on our value as professionals, but also on the establishments that formed us professionally. The more opportunities we receive to learn, thoroughly, deeply and broadly, the better we are able to represent you.

To sum up, the structure of the course, the societal requirements of future graduates, the expectations set by tuition fees and the reputation of all the stakeholders demand the provision of a more complete set of textbooks to the MA TESOL (Oman) students. The long and the short of it is that with more complete provision of the recommended textbooks, we all win. That, I believe, is worth making a fuss for, and I thank all the staff at both establishments who have patiently heeded my call. I hope I have convinced you that it is a call worth heeding, not on behalf of one rabble rouser, but on behalf of every student, instructor and administrator involved in this promising endeavour.