The Uni-Files

First- a few people have commented on my Dec. 01st Yomiuri article (12 Tips for Culture Teaching) in the previous entry (which was actually about something entirely different- scroll down to see). If there are any more comments on the Yomiuri article you can add them to the comment section in this entry.

By the way, the email address provided with the article makes it looks like yahoo.ca ends with a dot- it doesn't. My email address is mikeguest59@yahoo.ca

I got a number of responses from Japanese teachers on the article, many of whom recounted similar situations with foreign friends who could speak/function well in Japanese but ran into the 'cultural differences' brick wall of non-comprendez. Actually, I thought that this type of situation (the nonplussed parking garage attendant in my case) was a little too well-established and standardized, even hackneyed, for the article- but it certainly seems to have hit home for many.

BTW- I'm presenting on the same topic this Sunday at the ETJ Expo in Fukuoka.

Anyway, speaking of standard and hackneyed, here is today's main theme:
My attraction to alt.alt and students who don't say the 'right' thing.

In my teenage years (the mid 70's) I was quite a fan of the Progressive Rock of that era. At that time it was a musical leap: fresh, new, challenging, complex, rich with new possibilities. Of course, after a time it became formulaic and mannered, gradually becoming less relevant, stale, the opposite of 'progressive'. For many years prog was probably the most uncool music in the universe and my interest faded too, although I still consistentlymaintained an interest in any new and challenging forms of music (ECM records stands out). Progressive rock sounded dated and static and could no longer be thought of 'progressive' per se.

Interestingly though prog is now making a comeback. Hipsters are name-dropping old prog influences and admirations.But what this also means is not just that people are sticking to the tired old formulas first hashed out in the 70's but making new, challenging music with an eclectic spirit of complexity, a rich musical tonal palette, and timbres and textures that both stimulate the cerebral corex and stir the heart (see Cuneiform Records, Tzadik, and Rune Grammofon as examples). It is certainly progressive, but it is not the old 'prog' (although yes, there are retro bands still churning out the old ELP/Yes sound, not to mention recent reformations of classic era prog groups- Vandergraf Generator anyone?).

So what does this have to do with teaching EFL you might well ask? Well, I think we can find the same phenomenon occuring with poltically progressive teachers (and a LOT of NJ teachers in Japan seem to paint themselves as politically 'progressive'). Many of these teachers are my age (one half-century) or older and spent their formative (impressionable?) years in a climate when it was still considered a bit left-field, a bit alt., to challenge the man. A time when, say, claiming equal rights for gay people, criticizing the excesses of corporate greed, or standing up for against environmental degradation were still marks of 'thinking outside the box', of challenging societal norms.

Except now this is pretty much de rigueur among the populace, which is not surprising since people of that generation are now in positions of power. These days the number one bad guys in Hollywood movies are big business financiers, the heroes in kids' cartoons are environmental protectors, and the subversive Simpsons is an American institution. Yes- the old alt. themes are regularly trumpeted in political offices, in the mainstream media, in the schools. 'Fighting the system' is now quite Quixotic pecisely because it's so mainstream. Hey, even Shell cares about maintaining the environment.

So, like the old prog, a lot of this weltenshauung has become passe and boring. Personally, I find very little that is morally, intellectually, or spiritually stimulating in the tired old flagbearing posture. Not that I am a conservative (I consider myself an issue-driven centrist politically). But I find its orthodoxy too confining, the old premises often unchallenged or unexamined, having become de facto dogma in many cases. Like rock bands churning out the old retro prog-by-numbers it is no longer truly 'progressive' but merely progressive-lite soundbiting and posturing.

It's not hard to find this in a number of ESL/EFL textbooks too. I've talked about how tiresome Global Warming is as an EFL subject here before (so much so that it is pretty much verboten as an entrance exam topic at universities since it has been done to death and is pretty much the default practice essay at jukus and the like). Bringing up social topics in a textbook is fine of course but let's try to put a few new spins on the old 'progressive' political rockinghorse. What I find most objectionable is the manner of talking down to students in many of these texts, assuming (often with great prejudice and hubris IMO) that students have never encountered these topics or views before and need to be told 'the truth' (I call this the Missionary Approach). It has all the hallmarks of indoctrination, except for the fact that the arguments presented are often so simplistic and viscerally self-righteous that they are actually more likely to backfire. I could link to the worst offenders but I'll let readers find their own.

Some good examples: John Spiri (Can't find a good link, sorry) has written a textbook on such issues, called 'Inspiring Stories' (Vols. 1 and 2) and even though John is an avowed progressive I like the approach he has taken- that is, not editorializing, but letting the stories and characters speak for themselves. I am in the process of writing a review of John's book so more on that at another time. Greg Goodmacher disagrees with me on the 'Global Warming' issue (see the link above for his comments) but his textbook is well-balanced and contains a few surprising twists and turns, displays a broader eye than many such textbooks, and (most importantly for me) offers a FRESH and more balanced perspective and critique of some of the old progressive-as-new-establishment positions.

A few years back The Language Teacher (or TLT) JALT's monthly English teacher's journal published an issue dedicated to 'Global Issues' that was, IMO, just a pathetic rehash of the tired old unexamined 'correct' viewpoints trying desperately to pose them and challenging and edgy. Several teachers including myself and Trevor Sargent of Tottori Univ. were disturbed by the idenfication of "teaching Global Issues" with tired, unexamined, status quo 'progressive' viewpoints masquerading as critical thinking. The world had moved on but these people hadn't- still thinking that they were radical underdogs ahead of the popular political curve.

Both Trevor and I threw out some strongly worded ripostes to this issue which in turn drew some caustic attempts at rebuttal (click on the links above to see all). The upshot of this little flurry was that TLT did seem to move away from that type of socio-political identification in subsequent issues, and a number of people have since told me privately that they were glad that the bubble had been pricked, if not burst (including some who were firmly in the progressive political camp).

Conversely, I really like what I call alt.alt, that is an alternative, questioning view of the old 'alternative' viewpoint (this, by the way, does not logically constitute a new conservativism). I am stimulated and intrigued when indigenous farmers in Uganda talk about the environmental and physical destruction caused by the policy of preserving elephants. I like it when scientists argue that forgoing the automobile might actually cause us to use more raw materials for energy consumption. This taking the old alt.and turning it on its head with another dose of alt.

What really hits home for me in all of this are students, especially university students, who parrot the 'progressive' things they are 'expected' to say, towing the teacher's line- except in such an unexamined way that it is more cognitively consistent not with university students but adolescents. Students who tell me in essays that "We have to protect the environment and save the earth", that "War is bad and people are being used by governments to kill each other. We should live as brothers, as a family" or that "We use too many things in our daily lives. Companies make us buy it just to make more money for themselves" simply bore me with these unexamined hippy cliches. I can't help but think that if they are not just writing to suit what they believe the teacher's political precepts to be, and really believe this to be insightful inquiry, then these people are more likely to be a part of the problem than the part of any future solution.

I really enjoy it when students challenge these conservativisms. "Having a fast car is a sign of freedom and tells me I'm not a farmer tied to the soil anymore". Good. "Wars will always happen because there is competition for food and because societies will always be divided into us vs. them ways of thinking". Nice. "We can't live in a natural state. Nature is full of brutality and disease". All right. I may not want to endorse these comments to their extreme socio-political conclusions myself but I appreciate the willingness and the ability to buck the mantras of old, noting the appeal of a truly alt. perspective. It seems to me that such people will be more likely to find alternatives to the problems that face us in the future than those who dutifully repeat (what they think are) the teacher's tired old formulas.

This is the new prog.

I've attended a few conference sessions on feedback (for EFL students' written assignments) recently and have found many comments, research and positions both interesting and useful.

In a nutshell, most EFL research seems to show that a lot of typical feedback given by teachers on student writing is ineffective and therefore largely a waste of the teacher's time (and if you have typically large HS or Uni. classes you know it takes a LOT of time).

Here's a summary of what I've come across recently, with some of my own observations included:

The type of feedback in which the teacher more or less corrects everything for the student doesn't work because the student hasn't engaged any challenging area of the language for themselves. Nothing much will be internalized. This type of correction should only be carried out when a pristine sample is needed soon for real-life purposes.

The type of feedback in which the teacher points out all grammar mistakes (even with the plan of having the students revise the draft, as in process writing) is ineffective. Not only can students feel overwhelmed, but internalizing a grammatical form is a delicate, lengthy, and often hierarchical, process. This is because learners absorb grammatical minutiae best when they are on the cusp of acquiring that form. It has to be reinforced around the time of internalization, often explicitly. In short, they'll learn it when they're ready to learn it, not when the teacher's red pen points it out. (This is why students can, and do, make the same mistakes over and over again, even within the same sentence).

If a student's essay is covered in grammatical correction notes they will unlikely to be able to focus on any one key form well enough to acquire or internalize it for future usage. In other words, any learning that occurs will be instrumental (meaning that fixing it will help them get through the present assignment) rather than instrinsic (meaning that it fits into their holistic understanding of English as a system). In short, correction categories should be limited and supported in the classroom outside of teacher notes on their papers.

Using a code to give corrections and feedback can run the same risk but at least forces the student to think about the type of mistake by themselves and thereby offers a slight improvement.

General 'suggestion-type' feedback, as opposed to discrete-point feedback, seems to be slightly more effective. Suggestions as to a preferred rhetorical approach, topic, organizational strategies, introductions/endings, and suitable content (relevance and even register) seem to have greater appeal to the student reviser.

Personally, I have always thought that holistic, organizational feedback should precede grammatical minutaie. Choices of content, style and purpose trump syntax. As many of you will know, you often can't really 'fix mistakes' until you've helped them organize a meaningful communicative goal or strategy. If the language and/or the communication point is convoluted and the communicative purpose unclear from the outset fixing syntactical details is not going to help. It may not even be possible to start. To me it's a bit like putting blemish ointment on someone suffering from 3rd degree burns.

Positive feedback seems to be more effective than a focus on the negatives (key point- one shouldn't identify feedback with 'correcting mistakes'). No surprise here. If you tell people what they are doing right the positive reinforcement creates a deeper memory synapse. When you tell small children that they are good boys/girls for getting the spoon into their mouths they are going to do it again willingly and thereby master it sooner.

Face to face feedback seems to be more effective than teacher notes (which students often can't read well anyway) precisely because it is more visceral and directly impacting. It also allows the student to respond in turn. Of course it is not always physically practical or possible.

Peer feedback seems to be more effective than teacher feedback. Further, providing models of successful peer work can be both motivating and allows students a clearer look at (high) standards. On the other hand, some peer feedback can be as goof as useless, being mere uncritical (and unhelpful) mutual congratulations. Peer feedback needs to be guided, monitored and formalized.

Asking students themselves what they feel they did well and what they think they could improve on before offering your ideas is more effective. Self-monitoring is a big part of developing learner autonomy so why not help get them on that road? Getting learners to reflect on their own work engages them more deeply and allows them to feel like they are in control of corrective changes- that they are not just crossing T's and dotting I's because of the pressure of an authority.

If you are looking for the research on this it's pretty easy to Google 'ELT feedback effective' or some such thing (there's too much stuff on the topic out there to post meaningful links here but I can point you to Ross, Robb, and Shortreed [1986] for starters) and you'll get dozens of interesting responses- many were in fact Japan-based studies. And it's very interesting how many deny or strongly question the efficacy of the more popular and common methods of writing feedback.

I'm interested in hearing your thoughts on all this in the comments section.

One of the more persistent and widespread beliefs about Japanese universities is that all students pass their classes as a matter of course. Students who sleep or don't hand in any work are still given the green light to pass through the system. Apparently, administrative pressure and/or teacher apathy are the root causes. Hmmm.

I say this with some hesitancy because I haven't meant any teachers who actually admit to being in this situation so, while I'm certainly not saying that it doesn't happen, the extent of the behavior might well be overstated- something of an educational urban legend. In this way, it's similar to the widespread NJ notion that Japanese English teachers primarily teach grammar-translation lessons (which I've blogged about previously and with the same caveat that I've not actually met any Japanese teachers who admit to doing so). In short, it seems to be only second-hand 'common knowledge'. Most university teachers I've met have shown an almost defiant willingness to fail the laggards.

Now please realize I'm not talking about high schools here. I have heard regularly from very trustworthy sources that auto-passing is indeed a common practice in high schools. To some extent, this is understandable. If high schools fail students it looks as if they have failed to motivate or educate them properly (putting emphasis here on the phrase 'looks as if'). After all, student stewardship is a big part of a high-school teacher's role. This will therefore look bad on their records and any stats or data used to woo the public for recruiting purposes- which is, of course, a special concern for private high schools in particular. So, in order not to give off the appearance of creating 'failures' high school grades or standards might well be gerrymandered.

But universities? First, universities have almost nothing to gain from automatically passing students. After all, public perceptions of quality is based primarily upon entry standards. The fact that a student may take six years to do four years' work is unlikely to enter any meaningful record that would influence public perception of the institution (and it might even enhance the university's reputation for being tough).

Not only that, but by having students do an extra year or two means more revenue- not a small concern these days. And then there are the professors themselves- they will not in any way cause damage to their standing or reputations by failing students. There is also no 'teacher's room' or all-uni meetings where pressure to pass students (for what purpose I do not know) would be applied. And office administrators do not and cannot lord it over professors on such matters.

Most university professors I've met in Japan (both J and NJ) are in fact quite at home with the idea of failing students who do not meet expectations. It's no skin off their noses (although the big disadvantage may be that the laggards might be back in your class next year). At the university level, it is understood that professors are no longer responsible for motivating these young adults (it's university after all) and therefore generally do not feel that they have been derelict in their duties should a student get a failing grade.

Personally, I have never felt any pressure whatsoever here at Miyazaki University to automatically pass students. In fact, when some dicey pass/fail situations have come into play in the past administrators have been more than supportive of the failing option. I teach part-time at a nearby liberal arts university as well and they too have a similar policy (with the exception of soon-to-graduate students who have already secured jobs).

In the MU faculty of medicine (my home base) we have a year-fail ratio of about 15-20%. By 'year-fail' I mean that students fail three courses within a certain year and thereby have to repeat that year (although they will be obliged only to take the classes they fail and electives). Moreover, in their first two years, if a students fails ANY required course (and Communication English is numbered among these) they will be duly dropped a year (this can be traumatic for many students as they tend to build quite strong bonds with year-mates). Over six years in this medical school about 90% of students will fail some individual class at some time. I fail a few each year myself. I allow that this should be the norm when you are educating future doctors. medicine, of all faculties, should not be a walk-through.

So how do students fail? Well, attendance policies for one thing. More than three non-medical absences means an automatic zero. A total score of under 60% is the other criterion. No one in the administration will question how or why a student got under 60% (the professor's word is all that matters- it is unthinkable that any administrators, aside from the head professor's committee- the Kyouju kai, would interfere in this process).

There is a small catch though- and a good one I think. When preliminary grades are entered into the system, those with a grade of 30-59% must be offered a chance at some type of re-test (in the case of incorrigibly bad students a 29% score will conveniently offer no further re-testing opportunities). On the whole though, re-tests are a good thing. After all, the idea of education is to help the student learn the skill, complete the tasks, master the knowledge and if that means they get their asses in gear a little late- well, at least they will have fulfilled the basic requirements. (Of course if the re-test consists of little more than the pithy 'writing a report' the re-testing system is meanngless)

And here's where testing, content, and methodology come into play. If a student sleeps through all the classes, contributes nothing, and studies nothing, there should be no way that they can achieve the necessary 60%, even with a re-test. This is not so much a moral policy as a logical one. What I mean is that the course should NOT measured only by a singular final test based on discrete knowledge (akin to, in many ways, some entrance exams). Since education (especially that at the tertiary level) should be a process- a process that involves carrying out tasks and the development of specialized skills, students should be graded on the completion of these tasks and skill areas; things that are learned and practiced only in that class and cannot possibly be attained by a last-minute cramming of the textbook.

In other words, a returnee student who does nothing but easily fill in a discrete point English test form at the end of the semtster would end up get a passing 60% for doing nothing. This would indicate that there is something wrong with the class content, methodology and grading policy (pretty much the three strikes as to what constitutes a good class). In my 1st year English Communication classes I can categorically state that it would be impossible for such a student to get 60% because the medical discourse and related skills I teach- and they subsequently practice in process-based tasks- are NOT something they will have encountered in high school or by living/studying abroad.

As for sleeping students, that is a matter of the individual professor's responsibility and/or policy. I keep mine awake because the classes are task-based, not receptive 'lectures'. Pair and groupwork forces them into action. If they did sleep for any length of time, they simply would not know what to do and this would lead to- at the very least- two or three nasty re-tests. The students learn this very quickly (sometimes the hard way) and therefore avoid both lazy absences and sleeping.

Teachers who measure the course with a single year (or semester) ending test will likely not have this luxury. Students will know (from their seniors) that all they have to do is get the basic attendance, study the textbook just before the big exam, and focus on a few points that will be tested (all university students can get hold of old exams). Basically this serves a recipe not only for sloppy students attitudes but is pretty much a blueprint for meaningless education. If teachers prepare tests/grades this way they are basically shooting themselves in the foot. (Again, I don't know of anyone who actually admits to doing this)

But, if passing is incumbent upon actively participating in class-related tasks, learning something new and unique to the particular class, or manifesting a new skill (or best, all three of the above) then students will involve themselves accordingly. Not only that, but professors will feel that this makes their classes meaningful, that they are involved in the process of education, and not merely 'completing a course'.

In which case passing actually means something; and failing is a real option.

I'm past the age where chatting up the ladies in Japan is a viable option (not to mention that it wouldn't exactly be endearing to my wife) but I do remember a time when the inevitable "What do you do?" question would be popped by an enticing young lady I had just met. "Ummm I'm an English teacher," I'd stutter, almost wincing with anticipation at her look of disdain upon not having said 'investment banker'.

Let's face it- the general response (usually an implicit one in this land of tatemae) is not that of admiration. The general notion is that we Eigo no kyoushi are in fact talentless itinerants, drafted into the profession only because our mother tongue happens to be in demand. But we don't have any real skills- nothing of real professional virtue.

It's not just the lovely ladies with whom one has to use the 'E' word with trepidation. Any type of official, or even the guy who starts chatting with you on the train, will look almost disappointed when you mutter that you are an English teacher. It's a bit like saying you are a poet or philosopher or that you're looking for your big break to get into the movies- OK, you don't have a real job I see.

Of course it is true that some Non-J English teachers are here in a state of flux or limbo. It's just a temporary thing- a step on the way to that real job. Some are truly unqualified and in fact couldn't get much of anything 'back home' but have found that their mother tongue is at least marketable abroad. This meets the Japanese public expectation about the credibilty of English teachers- that of shiftless wanderers who couldn't make it back in Peoria. Others are what I'll call semi-qualified but will scrape their way up through the system and gain education and experience until they have, often to their own surprise, made an actual career of it. I'm not being derisive of such people in the least- after all that sounds a lot like me. Let''s face it, very, very few of us were actively recruited from the Education Faculties of Ivy League universities.

There are ways around the stigma of this shameful confession though. If you regularly write textbooks you can say that you are a materials writer or that you work for a publishing company. That will buy you some more J cred. In my case, I expediently avoid demeaning myself in the eyes of my interlocutor (and by 'expediently' here I mean 'soothe the ego') by saying that I am a professor. A university professor (yeah, yeah, OK- associate professor if you must). That certainly makes the hankos come down on that bank loan approval forms quite a bit faster and gets me trough customs just that bit faster.

When asked what exactly I am a professor of I have the option of keeping my J creds by stating that I work in the medical faculty. Hell, that might even be enough to elicit a 'Sugoi!' or two. But if the English element (or, slightly better, medical English) is revealed I automatically lose a few social testosterone points.

This is ironic because if or when my equally qualified Japanese colleague is asked what he does he gets big kudos locally for being a prof in the top faculty at the top university in the area (OK- It's Miyazaki- big fish, small pool and all that). But me? Nah- I'm presumed to be there largely because I speak the language as a native. I'm there by linguistic default.

I never wanted to be an English teacher. Now this is not a case of sour grapes or anything or armchair grumbling. In fact I just can't imagine anyone in their formative years declaring that their lifetime goal is to become an English teacher. When I was a kid I wanted to be a hockey player (Damn that gammy leg!) and an actor (Damn that gammy agent who didn't get me the good roles!). Then as I realized that I lacked only the size, strength and talent to play in the NHL I considered (more seriously) diplomatic work (damn that gammy French fluency requirement!) and becoming a Christain minister (damn that gammy proclivity for sin and subsequent guilt!).

I took philosophy and religious studies courses in university because I was interested in these subjects. I was not thinking about my job in the real world thereafter. I knew that you didn't see a lot of "Philosopher wanted" ads in the newspapers but so what? And I did learn a lot from these courses. I developed more refined ability with critical thinking as well as skills in managing discourse and rhetoric. I certainly felt that I became more articulate, able to express myself concisely, and suitably versed in Western culture (although this and 250 yen will get you an American Blend- a small one- at Doutor's).

After that, getting a teaching certificate and doing another graduate degree in Applied Linguistics were certainly intended to give me viable work options- although the latter was also of great benefit to my development. It helped me realize that my skills were in communication and that I did have some natural affinity for teaching. I also developed an academic interest in how languages 'work'. And as I was/am a travel buff foreign lands beckoned with opportunity... and so here I am.

I think a lot of us are in the same boat. We kind of 'fell into' teaching English but, as we got older, and the big brass door of life options began to shut, we realized that we had to become professionals or remain in permanent limbo. That this was our lot and we'd better make the best of it. Do a job well done, as an oldtimer would doubtless tell you. And when you get married and make babies it's not as if you have a lot of opportunities to reinvent yourself anyway. You've becoma an English teacher for life. That's your calling, your station now despite your best laid plans of becoming...well... an artist/poet/philosopher.

A lot of the university English teachers I know in Japan have similar backgrounds in the humanities. Few studied the so called 'practical' subjects. The vast majority are articulate and skilled communicators. Most have a facility for self-expression, so English teaching is a natural fallback. Many have dabbled in the arts in some form or another and have kept that up as a hobby. There's a certain commonality here.

And you know what? It's not a bad job. We have responsibility. We get to interact with a variety of people. We get to be creative. We are, to a certain extent, our own bosses with our private, personal spaces at work (at least in comparison to the poor saps in the Somu office cubicles). The work is not back breaking. We get to attend conferences and keep up the look of being professionals. There is an occasionally stimulating academic basis to what we do. We have the chance to conduct research that we are interested in. Some of us (and by 'us' here I mean 'me') can keep a blog and write newspapere articles on work topics that interest us.

So, is this what I really want to do? No. I still want, in my heart of hearts, to be a hockey playing actor-cum-rock star or travel the world and be paid to write abut my travel exploits- but something tells me that ain't gonna happen. But given the fact that most people on this earth don't seem to like their jobs or simply don't have any options as to work, given that drudgery is the normal price for taking home a paypacket, I can't complain. In fact, even if the young lovely I once tried to seduce didn't make pachi-pachi eyes at me when I told her my vocation, I'm still thankful for what I've got. I've got a life here.

Have a great 2010 everybody!