English 345: Tuesday, December 6

"If implementation of a liberating education requires political power, and the oppressed have none, how then is it possible to carry out the pedagogy of the oppressed prior to the revolution?" asks Paolo Freire (pg. 52). He then begins to divulge into just how this is possible, how this will take place in two stages, and how the first begins with awareness for the oppressed. Yet, within much of the rhetoric of this text: He leaves out one important item: The teachers. Granted, I wouldn't call myself oppressed... because I know that I"m not. However, I also wouldn't put myself in the "oppressor" group, either. I am, like my other classmates in English 345, enlightened when it comes to working with the "oppressed" students that Freire focuses on.

Unfortunately, though, I think that we are of a select few. If a teacher hasn't in somewhay studied teaching english as a second language, Freire and other ideas like his have probably never come up--at least they didn't for me. These teachers may have a few lessons on culture, maybe one on different dialects brought into the classroom, but, within their own methods courses, that's probably the only thing that is said.

So, I'd like to take this opportunity to revamp Freire a little for our own purposes as teachers. Most of us in 345 are not oppressed (at least I don't think so). Yet, we are enlightened to this oppression. So, our job--as the in-betweeners of the oppressed and the oppressors--is to enlighten more of the oppressors, those teachers who may not have had the educational backgrounds that we have garnered. While Freire continually notes that this pedagogy begins with the oppressed, I think, more so, it begins with the teachers.

English 345: Tuesday, November 29

Although not outright stating it, Kumaravadivelu eloquently and importantly describes the recursiveness (or lack there of at times) of the process of teaching multiple times in Chapter 13, Monitoring Teaching Acts. Of the formal classroom, he states, “It is there the prime elements of learning and teaching—ideas and ideologies, policies and plans, methods and materials, learners and teachers—all mix together” (pg. 287). All the things affecting school systems like those policies, the set curriculums, the standards perhaps affecting the methods, etc. all ultimately trickle down into one space: That of the classroom and the relationship between the teacher and the individual students within those classrooms. When it comes down to it, looking past the red tape that some people see in regards to the educational system here in the U.S., the only part that truly matters is whether those students are learning; how teachers accomplish this, as discussed in this class, can be brought about in a myriad of ways.

That being said, I use the word “recursive” to mean to particular relationships as far classroom teaching goes:

1. The recursive of a teachers’ lessons, plans, etc. This can involve things like Kuma’s M & M approach, etc. in which teachers examine what’s working, what’s not, then—recursively—go back and fix it. As new units/lessons begin, this recursiveness is even more evident.

2. The (idealistically) recursiveness of teachers in relation to the schools-at-large, the polices, the standardized tests, and all of those other macro-level structures affecting teaching. However, does this relationship go two ways? Is it actually recursive? Can teachers—those “micro” level people, in turn, affect how the macro level structures work? While I think that the answer to this question is that this recursive wheel either turns much more slowly or often just drops straight down, not allowing teachers—the integral parts in that most important educational relationship—the opportunity for as much input in how classrooms across the country should be run, I also think that more teachers are beginning to question why this particular process isn’t more recursive. Hopefully, this wheel, then, moves more swiftly in the future, continuing with my terrible attempt at a metaphor.

English 345: Thursday, November 17

345 Blog: Thursday, November 17

            It is interesting that, often, the term “native speaker” is used as such a blanket term to refer to anyone who speaks a particular language as their first language. I have always found this to be interesting as the people under that umbrella term are so incredibly diverse. I cannot imagine attempting impose some sort of commonality on the English spoken by every single person in the United States. Yes, we are all native speakers, but the language spoken by large chunks of people is so different, encompassing particular social and cultural factors. That’s why I was glad to read about Shohamy’s problematization of that term in relation to the language testing or English Language Learners. Just who are these “native speakers” that these students are supposed to sound like? How “good” at speaking is a “native speaker”? What would this “native speaker” say in this particular situation? By considering that motif of “any native speaker in the United States” as an answer to any of these questions, one can see that eliciting one answer from all native speakers just isn’t possible. Shohamy echoes this point by mentioning a series of studies: “Specifically, they found that performance by native speakers was related to educational level and work experience, leading the researchers to conclude that the native speaker should be considered as the criterion for appropriacy” (209).

            On a somewhat unrelated note, Shohamy’s description of problems with reading comprehension tests called up my own experiences in testing reading comprehension through multiple choice questions. She writes that these tests don’t really test what they’re supposed to as all people bring their own experiences to passages being read (another example of both the reader and the text interacting with one another) and that there can never be one-text, one-meaning. I have always found this to be the problem with those standardized reading comprehension sections that all students must take. I remember studying for the ACT or another test of that sort. What I was doing during those reading comprehension passages was not reading and comprehending. Rather, it was knowing what the questions were beforehand and skimming, looking at key words, etc. in order to get out of that text what those testers wanted me to. A reason that I succeeded on those was that part of my prior knowledge was not just being able to read, but knowing how to take that particular type of test. However, most English Language Learners do not have that luxury. So likely, they are taking a reading comprehension test that doesn’t really measure what it should and do not have that prior knowledge of being able to subvert it as I could do. That’s a huge issue when the reading abilities of most students in this country—native or nonnative—are being tested in this way. It’s a very unfair playing field.

English 345: Tuesday, November 8

            As I read the texts for today’s class period, I found Chapter 11 of Kuma to be a direct answer, or plea for more awareness in the least, to the problems discussed in Harklau’s article, “’Good Kids’ to the ‘Worst’: Representations of English Language Learners across Educational Settings.” I found Harklau’s point that too little is known about ESL secondary students to be so true, in both research and otherwise. As I have research various topics related to this group of students, I found that the majority of research has been focused on ESL students in the elementary context. Many people have focused on the literacy practices of this group, perhaps because other native-speaking students at the elementary school age are also still struggling with literacy. Yet, a paucity of research exists on the reading and writing practices of ESL secondary students even though this group carries with it issues very distinct from their elementary school counterparts, including the identity issues exacerbated simply because they are adolescents.  

            This lack of knowledge of ESL secondary students was glaringly apparent in Harklau’s article. One teacher states, stigmatizing their ability to communicate in two languages: “It must be like somebody who’s very bright and has a stroke. And can’t express themselves” (50). The lack of knowledge about language acquisition and bilingualism behind this quotation, which was spoken by a college educated person, highlights the stereotypes that fill the heads of most monolingual English speakers in this country. Yet, one cannot necessarily blame the teacher for this way of thinking. He or she could, of course, educate him or herself about such topics as language acquisition. However, most research shows that teachers in the U.S. are extremely inadequately trained to handle this student population. Without proper training for all teachers, this problem will, unfortunately, persist.

            What should be done? What should these teachers/administrators/other people working with ESL students know? Well, first off, they should read Kuma Chapter 11 to gain some background on language, language policies, and the standardization of English. Most have no idea that “standard” English has nothing to do with it being better “linguistically” than other dialects: “A standard variety, thus, gets its prestige owing to social, political, and economic factors and not linguistic ones” (242). Most also have no idea about the significance of a student’s first language in acquiring second language literacy. The students features in Harklau’s article had already been in the U.S. for at least six years, but I especially wonder about students who arrive in the U.S. and are immediately placed in secondary schools. With the lack of research and the lack of teacher knowledge in that particular arena, I can imagine what it must be like for them to attempt to learn.

English 345: Thursday, November 3

When a student is learning a new language, he or she will, hopefully, be surrounded by ways to foster their personal language awareness, both generally and critically, as Chapter 7 in Kumaravadivelu. The author also goes on to note that “it is only recently that concerted efforts have been made to educational circles to relate language awareness directly to educational policies” (157). Both of the movements discussed here were attempting to combat “linguistic complacency,” uncovering the social and political implications that language holds. Yet I wonder how that movement can be taken one step forward, to help the general public fight its own linguistic complacency about what goes in US public schools and in the policies enacted in those institutions.

            I have been reading various articles on perceptual dialectology, or, basically, giving people a map of someplace (the US, for instance) and having them fill in where dialects, languages, etc. come in. All of these studies have one thing in common: The ignorance of the general public about language and the uncanny ability by most to easily label the common language stereotypes. Idealistically speaking, it would be much easier to help L2 students develop language awareness with the backing of the general public, but how does one (or many) even go about doing this monumental task?

            On a somewhat unrelated note, in Chapter 5, I found the discussion of the different types of interaction to be interesting. However, I feel as if the concept of “interaction as a textual activity” could be problematized a bit. The book talks about the use of texts as interaction tools as a sort of one way street, through input to the person. However, I do wonder if that idea is a bit too simply. Reading any text is a negotiated activity, between the reader and the text. The characteristics, views, and other identity constructs that a reader brings to a particular text will inevitably change how that text is viewed, allowing that text to be negotiated and allowing the reader the ability for potential “output” for that text. I’ll admit that I’m still working out this idea in my brain, but I think that this idea of reader/book as a give and take sort of interaction depends on how a person views the act of reading and writing itself. Some questions that I am thinking about related to this: How does a text change based on the L2 reader currently reading it? How is it read differently based on different readers in the class? Does this mean that each student, then, subsequently, has a different interaction with that particular text? Do words on a page simply stay singular words (even after the author wrote them) until a reader comes along to put meaning onto them?

English 345: Thursday, October 20

When I first started to read about learner autonomy from Chapter 6 in Kumaravadivelu, I asked myself, "Is there a minimum age on teaching this?" I then got to page 144 and read this, the simple answer to my question: "Learners at different proficiency levels will profit from an emphasis on academic as well as liberatory autonomy." Yet, I asked that initial question partly because of what I've seen this year in various classrooms. Many ISU freshmen simply do not want to think for themselves. They don't seem willing to and able to think independently. And many really don't want to take responsibility for their own learning. Instead, they want to teachers to tell them exactly what to do and exactly how to do it. They want teachers to point out the exact location of some particular point on the class syllabus. And, when something goes wrong, they want to immediately blame someone else rather than look back at their own learning and classroom decisions to see what caused that event to happen.

So, what I have seen a lot of this past year is a complete lack of learner autonomy of any kind. I see teachers trying, but many students just don't seem to care. Looking back, the problem could stem from a lot of factors, from the type of teaching that they often get in high schools today to overactive parent involvement to the complete lack of care about this particular class (which then creates the attitude of, just tell me what to do, I'll do it, then I'll pass the class). Regardless of the reason, the autonomy isn't there--and the students really don't seem to care.

With the previous scenario as a backdrop, I found chapter 6 to be thoroughly refreshing. Regardless of a learner's age, one can start teaching him or her autonomy, both the narrow as well as the broad view. The students above will likely be able to develop the skills of autonomy; they probably just haven't been given the chance, and haven't felt that there was a need, yet. Almost all are L1 learners from the middle class, so "questioning" why things are done the way they are, why they speak English the way that they do, why they write in the "standard" English, likely are not pressing issues for them. They are the audience that the standardized tests are written for. They are the audience most consider when writing textbooks. These ideas of autonomy are still very important, but just not pressing.

However, learning these skills of autonomy, from learning how to learn to learning to liberate are extremely important to L2 learners, especially those who immigrant to this country during their K-12 years. Unlike the previously afforementioned group, they probably aren't being considered in school decisions. Their first language is probably never being given use or rarely. Giving them the opportunity to question what decisions, regarding their language use or otherwise, is a skill that they necessarily need to learn. As Pennycook notes, have them examine just what sociopolitical factors are really shaping theri L2 classrooms. The libertory autonomy is synonymous with a critical pedagogy, which, in turn, is synonymous with Freire's idea of giving "power to the oppressed," of allowing those students who may not be considered in school policies the power to question just why this is so.

English 345: Thursday, October 6

"The world outside of their writing classes may be far less forgiving and understanding of L2 writers' written errors, linguistic gaps, and acquisition gaps," Ferris writes in "Myth 5..." (109). While harsh, the "may" in this statement could very well be replaced with "will." The outside world will be less forgiving of L2 writing for a few reasons. Almost all will not understand the concepts of second languaage acquisiton or the specific characteristics of L2 writing, and many of those people will automatically assume that the L2 writer should be able to understand how to write in English correctly--they just simply need to do it. Yet, while I could go on about what the public will likely question about L2 writing, some specific items in the articles struck me as interesting.

Perhaps because the majority of what I read now is in some way related to standards/policies/standardized tests, I was drawn to the discussion regarding the state test of California that Ferris mentioned in her article. I have been noticing that when states implement writing on tests or for benchmarks--as many of them do now--the way they teach writing changes, and this can be especially detrimental for L2 learners. One noticeable examples arises from a school district in California.  The high schools in the district included "benchmark" assignments in English that all students had to pass to move on to another grade. These "benchmarks" contained their very own set rubric about what would be passing and what would not be. The article noted that, when teaching writing, teachers focused simply on the criteria in the rubric. During one witnessed writing conference, the English teacher helping a second language learner focused not on the overall content of her paper but on how well she met the bullet-pointed points in the rubric to this state standard. Apparently L2 learners in many states learn that all Americans write is SAT-like writing statements.

I think that a refreshing aspect of writing teaching outside of these "Standardized ways" is through the genre approach talked about in chapter 31. However, I am curious about something regarding this. The text says that the teacher brings forms and patterns to conscious awareness, but can the students construct their own forms for the genres, as well? Does the teacher always explicitly need to give the set guidelines--which truly change within a particular genre, as well. I see this as one of the only major ways that L1 writing teachers adn L2 writing teachers use the genre approach to teach students: The L1 teacher allows the students to create their own genre "rubrics" while the L2 teacher lays down the specificis in the specific context. I'm wondering if the line can't be more blurred at times?