Most teachers have favorite, tried-and-tested activities we like to use with our classes: a fun way to introduce a certain structure, or an exciting activity to revise a particular tense. Such favorites are part of our teaching wardrobe just as much as the clothes we wear. They help us feel secure by giving us a safety net to fall back on whenever needed. As our bank of favorite activities grows, so does our self-confidence in the classroom. Yet, there are times when such lessons, ones that are proven time and time again, suddenly and inexplicably fail. We are left drained of all energy, scratching our heads in confusion, feeling cheated, and haunted by the suspicion that the students have somehow, deliberately sabotaged the lesson. For their part, the students may feel guilty, embarrassed that they couldn't follow the instructions, and inadequate, causing them to retreat into a passive learning style. Perhaps they don't want to, but at least it's safe.
It is too easy to dismiss the failure of an activity or lesson as some failure on the part of the students. Storming into the staff room saying "I hate that class!" is not the answer. To save the soul-searching and struggle, some teachers become indifferent, and emotionally detached. "I just teach; it's up to my students if they learn or not. I can't make them learn." But if we remain indifferent, we soon find ourselves dropping into a lonely abyss, unable to relate to our students and dissatisfied in our job.
For me, such failures in the classroom (and I've certainly had my share) are what makes it such an interesting and rewarding place. The classroom fascinates me: Why did this activity work with this class but not that one? Why does one exercise work, but not another? I need to know. Asking the question "Why?" raises so many exciting possibilities. Furthermore, it's not all about examining failure. Asking "Why did this work so well?" is as valid as asking "Why did it fail?"
Teachers who ask the question "Why?" quickly develop an almost sixth-sense, tuning in to the mood swings of their students, their rhythms of learning and patterns of behavior. Being a "good teacher" in the eyes of ones colleagues and students often involves little more than a sympathetic awareness of how students learn, who they are, and perhaps most importantly, of the differences between them.
I believe the key lies in understanding the differences. Finding the differences inherent in different learning situations, and adapting one's teaching style and approach to match, will result in a rewarding classroom experience for both teachers and students.
It is no revelation to say that people in different parts of the world learn in different ways. The world of English language teaching stretches across oceans and seas (Pacific, Mediterranean, Atlantic). We have to gain an understanding of the differences if we are to make sense of it all: educational systems, curricula, approaches; student educational backgrounds, expectations, needs, wants; teacher backgrounds, expectations, needs, wants The list goes on and on, so the differences become almost overwhelming.
Clearly, a class of South American students will behave and learn very differently from a class of Asian learners. Walk into classroom of Brazilian students with a brick in one hand and party hat in the other, and you may have the basis for a good solid 50-minute class of debate, role play, story-telling and who knows what else. Do the same in Japan, and you are more likely to sink under waves of perplexed frowns and silence. Within regional groups, differences also show themselves. A class of Taiwanese students will differ in what they learn, at what pace and how they learn it, from Japanese students, or Korean students for example. Each nationality presents us with different challenges and opportunities.
Of course, we can go a step further. We can break such differences down from regional, to national, and finally to the individual level. Different students bring different skills, experiences, knowledge and expectations to the classroom. Each student represents a unique challenge.
So, is it possible to develop a coherent technique in the face of such difference? Or are we left constantly mixing and matching: a bit of behaviorism here, a little NLP there, a bit of translation here, a little grammar there, forever adapting our approach?
Well, using the technique of mind mapping was one way that helped me, when I found myself in front of hundreds of Japanese university students for the first time. I hope to share my years of experience developing mind-mapping techniques in Japan, with you here at the conference. It's an approach not found in many course books, but it's easy to pick up and very effective in the classroom. After asking the question "Why?", mind mapping can help move us on to "How?"