260º West | Teaching, travelling and volunteering in Ecuador

Teaching English: Ecuador vs. the UK

After two months of non-stop manual labour under the relentless Ecuadorian sun teaching English as a foreign language in sterilised, air-conditioned classrooms, here are some insights into the effect that moving halfway across the world can have your working conditions as an EFL teacher:

#1. Time is relative

Holy smokes, guys. In London I was in the staffroom by 7.30am, printing and copying done by 8am, classroom perfectly set up by 8.30am, the very last student floating in at 8.55am. My students knew that when the door closed at 9am, they were either in or out. Beware all latecomers who pass here!

In Guayaquil, we wait for the school to be unlocked five minutes before our classes are supposed to start. By the time we’ve made it inside, got our textbooks out of our lockers and prepped the classroom we’re already running ten minutes late. But you see, it doesn’t matter because the students won’t turn up for another ten minutes. And then they’ll breeze in, no apologies, because they’re Ecuador-on-time.

You can imagine what that does to a borderline-obsessive, ridiculously punctual, over-organised perfectionist like me … but that’s just how things are here. My blood pressure is going through the roof, but it’s actually teaching me some valuable lessons. For one thing, it’s forcing me to relax rather than worrying myself to death over things out of my control. It’s also giving me a much better work-life balance!

#2. You can’t sit with us

The one thing I really, truly disliked about working in London was the cliquey-ness amongst the teachers. Obviously when you have that many staff working for one organisation, you’re not going to get to know everyone, but there was some deep-rooted high-school-esque segregation at work in that staffroom. Not so in Guayaquil, where everyone genuinely seems to talk to everyone, and the staff go on big group nights out and weekends away together. So refreshing!

#3. Spanglish

Teaching in London was like taking a round-the-world trip without having to leave the comfort of your hometown. My students came from all four corners of the globe and had the most interesting stories – everything from a Turkish student’s summary of the state of gender equality in Istanbul to one Eritrean boy’s account of his harrowing escape from the unstable political situation in his home country. The fact that every student had a different culture and language to share meant that discussion tasks were effortlessly rich and students never resorted to L1 to communicate.

The thing about teaching in Guayaquil is that classes here are monolingual, and the minor but persistent presence of Spanish in the classroom is a constant reminder that I need to adapt my teaching methods to account for it. Rewards, forfeits, gentle reminders, activities specifically designed with L1 involvement in mind – the textbooks are full of methods for dealing with this stuff. I just need more experience in learning how to work with it, rather than letting it work against me.

#4. Size matters

The school I worked at in London was the monstrous hub of a huge international chain of language schools. The school I currently work at in Guayaquil is a small satellite in that very same chain, but is about a quarter of the size of the London school. A smaller school means the facilities aren’t quite as nice, the resources aren’t quite as new, and admin tasks don’t get done quite as efficiently. However, it also means I actually feel comfortable speaking to the Director of Studies (DoS) when I have a problem, that I know where everything is and how to use it all, and that all the staff are pretty chummy with one another (admin staff included).

If I had to choose, I’d take Guayaquil over London any day in that respect.

#5. It’s all about the money

I know this stuff isn’t supposed to matter, but a girl’s gotta eat, and let me tell you that this girl’s eating a hell of a lot better here in Guayaquil than she ever did back in London. My old £17 per hour wage just about paid the rent on a skanky central London shoebox while leaving me enough money to buy groceries, eat out a couple times a month and maybe go to a couple of restaurants every once in a while. In Guayaquil, $11 an hour buys me a big double room in a lovely furnished flat and enough spare cash to buy perfectly ripe tropical fruit, freshly cooked soups and delicious main meals every single day, as well as going out for drinks once a week and travelling all over the country on long weekends.

As my American colleagues would say, you do the “math”.

Advertisements
260º West | Teaching English & Getting Educated in Ecuador

A love letter to Guayaquil, Ecuador

I’m counting September 9th as my one-year Guayaquil anniversary, even though I’ve only actually spent six of the last twelve months here. Thing is, I’m already head-over-heels for this city, despite the fact that it has a face only a mother someone clinically insane could love.

But first, a little background.

The school I currently work for has recently undergone a big rebranding and has joined what is probably the most recognisable private ELT chain in the world. Because of this, they’re hiring new teachers like there’s no tomorrow; I’m just one of a whole pack of newbies being brought in to meet the presumably massive increase in demand.

One of those fellow newbie teachers, who I met at 6.30am on Tuesday morning, had unceremoniously informed me by 6.45am that same morning that he wasn’t planning to stick around. He wasn’t just going to leave the school, he was going to leave Guayaquil. And he wasn’t just going to leave Guayaquil, he was going to leave teaching.

This guy had committed years to working in similar environments in other countries, but Guayaquil was the place that ended it for him. It was the straw that finally broke that highly experienced camel’s back; the drop that spilled a cup already overflowing with culture shock; the long, rusty, crooked nail in the coffin of ELT.

You’ll forgive me if I find this absolutely hilarious. The whole thing. I really, truly do. And the reason it’s so funny isn’t that I think he’s crazy for not liking Guayaquil after his first week here; actually, I kind of see where he’s coming from.

You see, after just six months of living here, I’ve heard the complete list of one million and one reasons to hate this town. I’ve listened to people complain about everything from the noise and the traffic and the pollution to the unequal provision of public services to the corruption that may or may not be seeping through all levels of government to the oddly designed state education system.

If I thought about it for long enough, I’d probably agree with at least some of these opinions – but you see, love is blind, and Guayaquil and I are still in the honeymoon phase. And so even the things that I don’t like about this city, I love.

Take yesterday, for example: a frankly exhausting day spent teaching, volunteering, and running all over the city on public buses that – let’s be honest – operate so dangerously they’d be wildly illegal anywhere in the global north. As a treat, I bought myself $3 of roast chicken just before I got on the #114 bus back home.

There was no glass in the windows of the bus, the chicken juice had begun to seep out of the bag I was carrying it in, and the man next to me was balancing a live tortoise in the crook of his arm. Still, none of this mattered because I managed to get a seat during rush hour – and so at least the chicken juice was dripping gently down my thigh instead of swinging against my side and staining my Starfish Foundation t-shirt.

And as the bus driver raced down the motorway with absolutely no regard for the lives of anyone either on or around the vehicle, I thought to myself what a lovely thing it was to be on the road with the wind in your hair and your face and your heart while the sun is setting smoky violet over another beautifully imperfect day in Guayaquil.

(By the way, the chicken was delicious.)

Photo credit: pixabay.com

Spotlight on education: are Chinese schools better?

Maybe it’s because I’m a newly qualified teacher, but I’m totally addicted to the emerging genre of school-based reality TV. I’ve just finished watching BBC Two’s ‘Are Our Kids Tough Enough: Chinese School‘, in which the Chinese schooling system lands in a British state school to decide once and for all which one is better. Half the kids get real Chinese teachers running their school lives for a month, and the other half stick with the usual British system.

Obviously, the Chinese teachers are convinced that their 12-hour days of lecturing are better; the British teachers say the same thing about their more progressive, Constructivist method. Intriguingly, after four gruelling weeks and some external testing, the Chinese system emerges on top, much to the chagrin of the school’s British headmaster.

What’s more, this tiny sample also appears to reflect real-life outcomes; both empirically and anecdotally, Chinese teenagers can be shown to be consistently outperforming their British counterparts. But does that necessarily mean they are coming out smarter, more capable or better equipped for their futures? And if so, why?

Breaking it down

There are a million factors that can be (and have been) analysed in order to account for academic attainment, including cultural background, parental income, and IQ, to name but a few. The draw of this particular experiment was that the Chinese learning approach was tested on a group of British school kids, using another students in the same school as a control group. So instantly we’ve removed national, regional and educational cultures from the equation. Add that to the fact that before the experiment began, the Institute of Education (IoE) stated there was no ‘degree of [academic] separation’ between the two groups.

What possible factors remain? Well, three things immediately spring to mind: the sheer motivation of being on telly, differing curriculum design, and assessment bias.

The Hawthorne effect

Looking at the first idea, it’s true that the Chinese group (that is to say, the British sample group receiving Chinese education) had far more screen time than the British (control) group. The Hawthorne effect says that this gives the Chinese group a much stronger motivation to do better, precisely because they know they’re being observed. However, it’s possible that someone on the team had enough science education to foresee this potential problem, and that the camera crew therefore filmed both groups equally and only leant towards showing more of the Chinese schooling once the editing process began. (It’s also possible that this didn’t happen, but let’s give them the benefit of the doubt for now!)

Long jump, languages and learning

So we can move on to the second idea: differences in the way the British and Chinese curricula are designed. While two of the subjects in the study – maths and science – were familiar parts of a normal British state school curriculum, there were two notable variations.

The first of these saw PE go from a filler subject to a rigorous assessment of a range of physical abilities, ranging from the highly demanding shot-put to the athletic long jump to a delicate, graceful fan-dance. While events like these may sound pretty exotic to someone who received a British state school education, the salient point is that not one of these events is a team game; each emphasises the ability of the individual and comes with a pass or fail grade. Could it be that the all-or-none mindset of individual competitive sport had a significant effect on pupils’ attitude to learning, and actually engendered a drive to achieve that wasn’t there before?

The second adjustment to the curriculum involved language-learning: while the Chinese group were taught Mandarin from scratch, the control group continued with English lessons as normal. The academic benefits of learning languages have been extensively documented, and there is some evidence to suggest that the simple act of being exposed to foreign language teaching can account for improvement in other subjects. Whether or not learning Mandarin could have accounted for the 10% average improvement of the Chinese group compared to the British group is another question entirely.

Examining the difference

Changes to the curriculum aside, we should consider the third possible factor in our list: the test that the two pupil groups sat at the end of the experiment. Presumably the rationale of making the kids sit an external exam set by an independent assessor like the IoE was that the results would be free from bias. Looking at the interests of the IoE – a leading British research institution with fairly progressive views on education – I’d go so far as to say that if any bias existed, it would be in favour of the British group. Add to this the fact that the (British) headmaster of the school obviously and openly favoured the British approach, repeatedly predicting during the experiment that the control group would outperform the test group in the end. Yet despite having all of that motivation going for them, the Brits were simply outclassed in the assessment.

Why is this? It’s possible that any kind of written assessment is always biased towards students who have been coached to swallow and regurgitate vast amounts of specific information. If there is a curriculum containing a fixed amount of facts and even a fixed number of ‘problem-solving methods’ that a student is expected to know, we could argue that any teacher given a 12-hour academic day might have time to actually teach all of those facts and methods – but nothing more. Progressive and Constructivist schools of thought say that these students will come out having learned, but not having learned to learn; that is to say, when presented with a higher-level problem, they will lack the skills needed to effectively tackle it.

Does this theory hold up in practice?

Is it even possible to measure metalearning? Some studies have noted that Chinese students studying at British universities struggle noticeably in their second and third years. This aligns nicely with the theory that they ‘learn’ to an advanced level – covering the material studied in first year – but don’t ‘learn to learn’ and therefore lack the study methods needed to deal with the complex issues presented in later years. However, while studies like the one linked above are consistent with this hypothesis, they don’t actually prove it.

Whether the success of the Chinese schooling system lies in curriculum design, approaches to assessment, a combination of the two or none of the above, it is certainly true that we have a huge amount to learn just by making the comparison. Thought exercises like this one allow us to reflect on our assumptions about what does and doesn’t work in the classroom; surely this can only be beneficial in the long run, particularly when it comes to judging practices that are totally foreign to us (pun very much intended).

.

.

What does teaching look like in the country where you grew up/ currently live? Did the result of the experiment described above surprise you? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Photo credit: deathtothestockphoto.com

MOOCS: a first online learning experience

Apparently I don’t have enough to do preparing for my 6,000-mile move from England to Ecuador, so on Saturday afternoon I made a killer French onion soup and then signed up for my very first MOOC.

Jumping on the MOOC bandwagon

I know, I know, I’m about five years behind everyone else. What’s my excuse? Well, up until last year I was still busy with, y’know, real university. But after another year out in the big, wide world of work, I needed no excuse for a little extra bedtime reading and reflection. (Plus my mum runs a MOOC and she’s been going on and on about how great they are, so I thought it was about time I had a go.)

So I signed up to Coursera, filled out my profile and enrolled myself onto my first course: “What future for education?” Designed and delivered by the UCL Institute of Education, it’s supposed to make me think about the key actors in education (e.g. learners, teachers, schools) and what the system is going to look like in the future. Sounds perfect for someone relatively new to teaching!

First things first

Okay then. Week number one is ambiguously titled “How do we learn?” and the very first assignment is to answer the following question:

Reflect on your previous learning experiences. Think about one particularly successful and one unsuccessful learning experience. Consider what were the conditions that made this experience successful or unsuccessful for you and what this tells you about your own preferred ways to learn.

My first thought is that this looks very familiar. In fact, it’s basically identical to the first pre-course question I answered on my CELTA. And now I’m wondering if it’s cheating to copy and paste that answer here instead of actually doing the assignment again.

But in the name of honesty, let’s do this properly. It might even be interesting to see how my answer changes with the benefit of an initial teaching qualification and a year’s experience.

A ‘particularly successful’ learning experience

The first thing that springs to mind is the ‘French for Academic Purposes’ course I took in my final year of university. The class had a grand total of seven students and ran for two hours a week over the entire teaching year (which, at UCL, adds up to 20 weeks).

The success of it was at least partially due to the small class size and the immediate availability of great learning resources (access to a legal deposit library, round-the-clock IT services and support, well-equipped classrooms). But mostly it was down to our teacher, Mireille.

The importance of rapport

It’s very common in adult foreign language teaching to be on a first-name basis with your teacher, and perhaps that helped to establish a good rapport right from the beginning. But the academic relationship we developed had started two years earlier, when she had taught the first foreign language class I’d ever taken at university. Thanks to that year, I already had a great deal of respect for her as an academic thinker and an effective teacher, and she was already familiar with my particular style of thinking, learning and working.

So the groundwork had been laid, but what about the actual lessons? She more or less followed what I now recognise as the CELTA skills lesson format, that is to say starting by setting a context, introducing and analysing an academic text, delving deeper into the vocabulary presented, reacting to the reading material and then producing a critical piece or oral debate as a response. The methodology was textbook, but it never felt repetitive or predictable.

Context is everything

Choosing a context can make or break a lesson in the first ten minutes, but the possibilities are often limited by the scope of the course and the level of the students. Not so with this course, which aimed to prepare us for postgraduate study in a French-speaking institution; we were extremely high-level students open to any possible research area.

Instead of trying to cater to this impossibly broad range of study, Mireille chose topics that was clearly excited to teach: politics, gender studies, the European Union and sociology. Her subject knowledge was nothing short of encyclopaedic; her unfailing enthusiasm elevated what could have been memorising dates and treaty names in a foreign language to the pivotal study of the formation of a new world power, all from a fascinating global viewpoint. This was also the first time I’d been presented with gender studies as an academic discipline and it led to me (a Mathematics major!) producing a 4000-word piece on the state of the glass ceiling in France, in French. The examiners gave me 75 for that essay and I’m still oddly proud of it today.

Choose your words carefully

As for the texts themselves, she had personally collected every single one from academic journals and specially collated them just for our class. I once showed the booklet to the Parisian law student who lived across the hall from me; she couldn’t believe how advanced the language was. There was no holding back, no aiming too high, and Mireille’s certainty that we could cope with the material meant that we just did.

The choice of material was also very intelligent for a university with a large proportion of international students and a heavy emphasis on gender equality, which meant that the productive tasks at the end of the lesson had a ridiculously large range of cultural influences and viewpoints, and would frequently veer off into side-discussions about 1980s French government and the like. And I, against all odds and totally contrary to my fiercely logical, analytical nature, discovered that I actually liked the social sciences.

The story so far

So what do we gather about my personal learning preferences? I obviously value a teacher’s subject knowledge, the setting of high standards, and engaging material to learn from (even if it’s outside my main area of study).

But I think what I loved about Mireille’s class was her willingness to go above and beyond for us, her learners: taking the time to hand-pick authentic source material, pushing us to perform far beyond our own expectations for ourselves by encouraging high-level debate on advanced issues, and drawing out the vast range of experience and influences present in the class to create a much richer and more diverse learning experience for us all. In short, I think what I value the most in a classroom is the unfailing dedication of the teacher to their learners.

This is a strange conclusion for me to arrive at, mostly because I know I am fiercely independent in all things, not least in the classroom. I think Mireille’s constant support gave me the courage to develop my own opinions and present them with confidence; without that, I would have been quite happy to sit in silence at the back of the class, cram for the exam and leave with a decent grade but without actually engaging with the course.

And on that note

Well, that got a little out of hand – I’m surprised how much I had to say! I’ll leave the ‘unsuccessful learning experience’ for another blog post. In the meantime, you’ll find me making a start on the actual course material for this week, and maybe packing my bags for my intercontinental move on Monday …

.

.
Have you ever taken an online course? What did you enjoy about it? What would you do differently next time? Would you try a MOOC, if you haven’t done one before? Let me know in the comments!

Photo credit: deathtothestockphoto.com

8 hilarious myths about teaching English abroad

During my first year as a qualified English teacher, I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some of the most intelligent, inspiring and dedicated people I know.

I’ve also met some people who should never, ever have chosen to work in the education sector.

The following quotes are all things that have actually been said to me by would-be education ‘professionals’, and serve as an excellent reminder that teaching isn’t for everyone …

1. “I want to backpack around Asia, so I thought I’d teach English in Bangkok and go from there.”

Maybe you want to travel, maybe you’re running away from something at home, maybe you’re using teaching as a way to fill the gap until you work out what you “really” want to do; whatever it is, if you don’t genuinely want to teach, then your reason isn’t good enough.

Why? Because teaching is not at all about you as a teacher; it is absolutely and totally about the learner. You need to focus on their goals, their learning styles and their backgrounds, and you can’t do that if you don’t actually want to be in the classroom.

It’s not just that you won’t be interested in your job; you’re likely to have a deeply negative effect on your students’ progress, their love of the subject, and even their opinion of the academic system as a whole. Not to mention the fact that you’ll pay for your attitude in bad behaviour – if students sense that their teacher doesn’t care about them, they will respond (in)appropriately.

2. “All the other teachers speak English anyway, so there’s really no reason to learn [insert name of local language here].”

When you emigrate, you become an ambassador for your country whether you like it or not, and English speakers are notorious for being complacently monolingual. When you teach a language, you also become an ambassador of language learning, so now there’s really no excuse.

Be open-minded. You don’t have to come back with an encyclopaedic knowledge of ancient Japanese literature, but if you’ve been there for three years and you still can’t be bothered to learn how to introduce yourself in the local language, you’re doing it wrong.

3. “I’ve got a few months free and I want to give back to the community.”

Work at a charity shop, help out at a soup kitchen, raise money for your favourite wildlife foundation … If you’re really interested in volunteering then the possibilities are endless, and you don’t even have to go abroad or work in education!

Remember that students are committed to the whole school year and you should be too. I didn’t realise the full truth of this for myself until I taught for half a year in Ecuador – and I finally understood that it wasn’t even close to enough. Maybe six months is enough for you to achieve a sense of completion, but your students certainly won’t.

Learning is a long-term process and the TEFL industry already suffers from a revolving door of short-term teachers willing to accept lower pay, rubbish hours and generally worse working conditions. Don’t add to it.

4. “There are so many schools dying to hire native English speakers that you don’t even need to do a TEFL course.”

Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. Would you go scuba diving without a PADI certificate? Would you drive a car without a licence? Of course not – so why on earth would you ever consider trying to teach without the bare minimum of training?

You don’t have to have a PGCE or even a CELTA, but please remember that teaching does affect people, and whether that effect is positive or negative is up to you. A good training course will give you the tools you need to plan and deliver great lessons, while being the best version of yourself you can be in the classroom. Give yourself the best chance you can, and get educated!

5. “Teaching must be great – nobody ever criticises you!”

You’ve clearly never met your students’ parents, or yourself.

Parents’ Day is every teacher’s worst nightmare. Why? Because it takes five minutes to explain to the reasonable parents why their kid is or isn’t progressing as well as they should be. Five minutes. And you get to spend the rest of the evening trying to tell the less reasonable ones why their kid might not be the shining example of citizenship they clearly thought he or she was.

And I don’t think I need to explain that when you love your job, and it’s endlessly challenging and yet infinitely rewarding at the same time, all those other comments sound like sycophantic praise compared to the mental dressing-down you give yourself when you mess up.

6. “I’m just looking to make some money.”

HAHAHAHAHA

7. “Teachers get such long summer holidays. What’s not to love?”

Let’s put aside the fact that teaching is one of the most underpaid, underrated and understaffed professions in existence today.

Newsflash: TEFL doesn’t work like primary or secondary teaching. Maybe you applied for a post in Italy and they told you that you get a month of ‘summer holiday’ – sorry, but that’s just the Italian word for ‘unpaid leave’. Everywhere else, it works just like any other job.

8. “It’s not my responsibility to advocate for my students.”

And out of the entire list, this is the one that gets to me the most; I genuinely couldn’t believe it when I heard a colleague say this during a lunchtime debate in the staff room.

Any authority role comes with a certain amount of responsibility, and this is especially true when you’re working with vulnerable members of society such as children. One of those responsibilities is always looking out for the best interests of the learner, however difficult or uncomfortable or time-consuming that may be for you as a teacher.

This is non-negotiable and a vital part of the role. Your students will face all kinds of obstacles thrown at them by virtue of their socioeconomic backgrounds, the pressures of standardised testing, sudden changes in national education policy, their families and friends … and if you, as their educator, are in any position to help them then you have a duty to do exactly that!

.

.

Have you heard any funny assumptions or misguided comments about teaching lately? Share them in the comments below and make us all smile!