Archives for posts with tag: applied linguistics

Well it’s the beginning of a new quarter at my university, and that means a new schedule and new subject.

For the past two quarters, I’ve been teaching Grammar out of the Focus on Grammar series. Overall, I’ve enjoyed it a lot, and I especially enjoyed the last quarter. I felt like my students and I really managed a solid grasp of the material overall.

So of course, the laws of the universe dictate that my tiny teaching universe be completely turned on its head.

This quarter, I am teaching reading to a lower level, and I’m on the evening shift (This last bit being completely irrelevant except to drive home the whole “turned on its head” bit).

I am still a pretty new teacher, so I was really nervous. Slowly, though, I remembered my Hagwon experience in Korea and the fact that I actually love teaching Reading because…well…I love to read. That simple.

I could think of no better way to spend my days then spending a few hours sharing my love of reading to a captive audience–

captive in the literal sense, of course, because they are bound by university rules to stay in class or be dropped.

Of course the love of reading isn’t enough. I have to teach these students how to pass their final exam, and how to pass the TOEFL if that’s their goal.

According to the Journal of Studies in Education, there are nine basic ways of reading: Intensive and Extensive reading; scanning; skimming; search reading; receptive reading; critical reading; reading for meaning; prediction; and redundancy.

With a teacher along to help develop these ways, students can use reading as a powerful language acquisition tool and it can provide them with critical target language exposure.

Intensive reading is pretty task-based, and its easily modified to a classroom environment. The article “Teaching Reading to EFL Students to make them Better Readers” states that the overall aim of intensive reading is get students to understand the meaning of a text and how that meaning is produced. In extensive reading, on the other hand, we often teach parts of a whole (book), and in that way we will be able to construct the meaning.

This strategy is a bit more difficult to adapt to the classroom because they can be forgotten. Also, in my limited experience, the length alone is intimidating to students, and it requires significant patience and review to keep even the lowest learners on par and engaged with a veritable mountain of foreign-language text in front of them.

That’s right. In my class, I’ve decided to teach my low-intermediate English readers a book: The Giver, to be specific.

This is one of my all-time favorite books and I think it is intensely appropriate for an academic setting. Plus, right now with the dystopian YA novel-turned-movie renaissance, I think it’s quite relevant, and that students have a lot of schema they can activate to contextualize the story and themes.

As the article states, longer texts also provide ample opportunity to practice reading strategies like skimming and scanning, plus it gives students a chance to compare the text against itself, and to think about the way the plot and characters develop, and to even discuss the writers’ point of view.  I’m hoping that in studying these topics, students will also be able to develop their receptive reading and critical reading skills.

And hey, maybe their critical thinking skills too? It is college, after all.

I realize that I’m not going to make them fluent readers in 10 weeks, but my earnest hope is that I will be able to impress my love of reading upon at least a few of them. The skills that I’m teaching them this quarter are the skills some excellent teachers taught me years ago, and in turn those teachers have gifted me with basically the love of my life: the love of reading a good look.

I’m really excited and optimistic about passing on that gift to a few of my students. Not unlike The Giver 😉

Source: Macrothink Institute. Teaching Reading to EFL Students to Make them Better Readers.




“I’m not like a regular teacher. I’m a cool teacher”–Me.

Life is mostly a lifelong exercise in turning the things that work against you into positives (sorry to wax philosophical). In my case, I know one of the things could work against me is my apparent youth.

I am 29 years old, and I teach at a university. I am definitely not the youngest professor here, but I’m young enough to have been asked in my interview how I would handle students who saw my youth as a way to undermine me in the classroom or as an instructor.

I wish I had known then what I know now, because I would have told my potential employers that if you wield it right, youth is a powerful tool that can connect me to my students.

In some ways, I feel like I have to tread lightly. I must be ultra fair and ultra consistent. When saying no, I fall back on my college’s policy a lot.

In others, my youth makes me extremely approachable, and I play this up in the classroom. As a result, students tell me about the latest trends; those trends then make their way into classroom materials, where students are usually amused/pleasantly surprised to have a teacher who is kind of sort of “in the know.”

This brings us to social media, that new hot ish that everyone is talking about. In my university, I am on the social media committee, so our team runs the university facebook and twitter pages, as well as the university snap chat.

After months of harassment, I have also given in and given my students my personal snapchat, and in exchange they have given me theirs.

It’s a given that social media is a great tool to boost communication, and a simple google search of social media in the classroom will give you pages and pages of results with both lesson plans and scholarly research.

The article Study of Social Networking Usage in Higher Education Environment states that social media was found to be useful in quickly disseminating information. It also found that participants were likely to use social media for entertainment, task assignment, exams and class rescheduling (Falahah and Dewi Rosmala, 2012).

I’ve added my students to my Snapchat account, and they’ve also had me create a Chubble.

Since then, the environment in both of my classes has noticeably improved. It is more warm in the classes–more personal. There are more jokes. In some ways, this has resulted in a more rowdy classroom. But in others, I’ve actually noticed an uptake in marks (correlation does not necessarily mean causation, but I think it’s worth noting).

In a language classroom, as a foreign language teacher, I am a novelty. And to be fair, they’re also kind of a novelty to me too. Our connections are forged through curiosity–a desire to see and show. My students want to see how I live, and they want to show me how they live. This is particularly powerful with some of the shier students–the ones who are quiet in class, or who seem disinterested. The tiny communications that we have outside of class show me more of their interests and allow us to have moments of connection. Although I never put anything they tell me into class material directly, knowing their interests, their senses of humor and the places they frequent all help me to create class materials that are just a bit more personal and that much more engaging. The students don’t want a whole lot of attention–they just like knowing that their teacher is available. That I care.

As a sidebar, since I have been using Snapchat, both the students and I have found that it is a much more easy and direct way to stay in contact. So far, my students have not abused this–they only use it to ask things that are (in their mind) urgent.

And I use it for things that are (in my mind) urgent as well. The other day, I made a mistake in their notes. Once I discovered the mistake, I wrote it on the board, snapped it with a little joke and sent the snap to every student on my list (all of them minus one or two). I was happy and excited to see them opening and screenshotting the note I sent.  If I had sent it via blackboard or Engrade, it would have fallen into the “teacher I didn’t get” abyss. With snapchat, the problem was noted and solved immediately.

In conclusion, I wrote this reflection to say that I have enjoyed using social medial with my students purely to be social. Students feel more invested in me and I feel more invested in them. This has had only positive results; (I am not an idiot) I am careful with what I post and we all enjoy the extra communication and connection.



So a couple of weeks ago, I happened across an article in the Journal of English for Academic Purposes talking about concordancing in L2 writing classes.

(Well, what actually happened is that my school has a Journal Committee where they read and review academic journals and I attended, pretty ostensibly so that I would have something to blog about use to improve my teaching)

In any case, they had this discussion about the benefits and drawbacks of getting students to conduct corpora-based research in the classroom, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Basically, the article states that corpora are (of course) powerful research tools, but when overused students can get bored with them (which definitely corroborates my own experience as a student).

However, I was surprised and excited to learn that with the right amount of training, students themselves see corpora work as quite useful and some even preferred it to reference and grammar books (Yoon, 2011).

According to the article, corpora work has been shown to foster learner autonomy, which is something that I am interested in incorporating in my classroom. So far, my experience in this region is that these community college students are a lot like baby birds–they want the knowledge chewed up for them and spat directly into their mouths.

With the right motivation, however, this is a tool that I could incorporate into my teaching arsenal to foster a more autonomous and independent working environment.

The article named several ways to apply corpora-based study in the classroom. One use was that it allowed writing students to compare their work with that of experts in the field, thus allowing them develop their own measure of the appropriate voice and style for whatever genre they’re studying at the time. It is also a great tool to get students to notice their mistakes, and can be used to build vocabulary (Yoon, 2011). The study even suggested that students could compile their own corpora of their writing work, which I also thought could be a tool learners could use to measure their progress as well as a source of pride in what they have accomplished up to that point.

Of course it also helps students to begin recognizing collocations and chunks–those tricky little things for which I as a teacher have no better explanation for them than “memorization” and “it comes with more exposure to English.”

I am big on having students look at outside, natural uses of English to make connections with what we’re learning, but I teach grammar. Last quarter, I had students find and present examples of whatever grammar point we were learning that week via sources like Instagram and Twitter–fun and fresh for them, getting them to connect grammar outside of the classroom for me.

I’m not sure I want to lose that element–it was a fun way for me to see what the students were into, and it was a sneaky way of getting students to think about English would it being super painful. However, I know that incorporating corpora work in the grammar classroom–especially for students at my level–could be an exciting way to get students to recognize patterns for some of the grammar points they struggle with (third person s, “dummy do” and present perfect all come to mind).

I think I will incorporate mild corpora-based research into the upcoming semester’s classwork, and then compare this batch of students’ mistakes on quizzes to the last batch. I’m excited to see what I find!


Concordancing in L2 writing class: An overview of research and issues. Choongil Yoon. Journal of English for Academic Purposes. Vol. 10, 2011 (130-139)

A couple days ago, EdWeek published a blog entry about students’ mistakes–how they make them, and how the way teachers handle them can be helpful or harmful to the student. Although it seems the writer was drawing from his experience with younger, first language students, I still drew a lot of parallels to my experiences teaching English as a Second Language.

The gist of the article is that when we as educators rush to fill the gap of empty space where a student is struggling to find the correct answer, we leave him/her with several negative impressions:

  1. that if you’re quiet long enough, someone will swoop in and provide you with the right answer
  2. it’s not OK to struggle to find the answer
  3. you don’t have to take an active role in your own learning–it’s voluntary
  4. you don’t have any responsibility in this situation; just shut down and I’ll save the day.

I was immediately transported to my MA Tesol days, where we spent at least a couple of weeks discussing the pros and cons of various forms of error correction. Of course, recast was the lowest of the low–lock it in the closet for its ineffectiveness. We also have explicit feedback, which can sometimes fail to produce modified output; clarification requests (which I’ve actually had a lot of success with in getting students to “fix” their errors); metalinguistic feedback; elicitation; prompts; repetition; and translation (Rezaei, S.; Mozaffri, F; Hatef. A, 2011).

As a teacher, I often weigh in my mind the best ways to point out and correct errors to my students. I tend to have a lot of success with the “just pausing” level of elicitation, where I leave a gap of silence and let them work it out on their own. I teach Level 3, which translates to intermediate(ish) in a lot of cases, and at that level they have the ears to hear when things don’t quite sound right, even if they don’t always have the skills to form the perfect output–yet. In the same vein, I have found that repetition (combined with a bit of strategically placed inflection) also helps students to hear that what they said “sounds funny” and actually does result in uptake.

Still, in the classroom, as the Ed Weekly article said, we can’t help but to “feel” for our students, right? They’re kind of on the spot and they’re searching for the right word or answer…the clock is ticking..everyone’s eyes are on that ONE girl…and it almost becomes more merciful to just go ahead and supply the answer instead of letting them slog through the mental quagmire.

In my classroom, I often find students racing each other to supply the missing words and broken links, no matter how many times I remind them that I’m the teacher. I’m teaching in Qatar right now, and I think it could be related to the culture–here, it’s very big for students to “help” their friends (as opposed to it being some sort of competition between students, I mean).

In any case, we can all pretty much agree that when we race to provide the answers for students it doesn’t do them any favors–those answers don’t even stick as well as the ones students reached all the way back into their minds and dragged to the front do.

I know that going forward, I will definitely keep the Ed Weekly article in mind when I’m handing students’ answers, and I will try to foster a classroom culture where I encourage students to allow space for mistakes and for thinking. It is, after all, simply a part of the learning process.


Rezaei, S.; Mozaffri, F; Hatef. A; Corrective Feedback in SLA: Classroom Practice and Future Directions. International Journal of English Linguistics. Vol. 1 No. 1.; March, 2011

What do you do when you and your supervising teacher have completely conflicting pedagogies?

I am teaching English in South Korea right now, and I am firmly rooted on the affective learning side: that students do better when they enjoy themselves; that language processing happens with greater automaticity when the walls (and all that noise that comes with the walls of “i hate this/i’m not good at this) are down.

There is research to support my point of view.

Krashen’s Affective Filter Hypothesis, if you like to err on the side of Krashen, states that comprehensible input ( language that is juuuuuust above a learner’s current level) will not turn into acquisition (you won’t grasp and hold and internalize and use the language you were just exposed to) if it is filtered out before it reaches the brain’s language learning facilities. And in this case, the things that could filter it out are low self-esteem, anxiety, etc. 

Additionally, the Center for Applied Linguistics cites Rubin (1975) in suggesting “that good L2 learners are willing and accurate guessers; have a strong drive to communicate; are often uninhibited; are willing to make mistakes; focus on form by looking for patterns and analyzing; take advantage of all practice opportunities; monitor their speech as well as that of others; and pay attention to meaning.”

Although research has shown that it’s difficult for a language learner to be truly uninhibited, things like “positive self talk,” practice, and authentic language situations can combat their language inhibitions.

I think these factors are strongly effected by affective factors. In many language-learning environments, people find themselves afraid to use the language they’ve acquired because of fear of making mistakes or discomfort. However, I think that a comfortable classroom environment coupled with naturally engaging tasks can “get students talking.” I am a teacher who doesn’t care what you talk about–just say it in English. 

I believe that my job as a Native English Teacher is not to provide students with an Academic class–it’s to provide them with a learning environment that facilitates conversation. From there, it’s my job to do my best to help students understand rhetorical and semantic conventions of conversation with an American Native English speaker.

My coteacher, however, believes that language learning can only be achieved through blood, sweat, and tears. At least, that’s what I think she believes since every time I propose an idea she wants it to be more academic. She can’t see the point in teaching English through purely enjoyable activities. It must be difficult.

Now at this point, there are some things to consider. Whereas I am a linguist fresh out of graduate school armed with all my theories, my coteacher is a woman who has been teaching EFL for 17 years. Plus, she actually learned English in a foreign language environment, to the point where she now has achieved automatic processing of academic and conversational English.

On the other other hand, my coteacher is the exception for EFL students. I’m sure that she must have been a highly motivated English Language Learner to have reached this degree of acquisition. Many of our other students are competent English test takers and fairly decent English writers, but when I stop them and ask them what they’re looking at in the halls, that is when they freeze up.

What I’ve learned as a teacher in my four-month stint, however, is that difficult for the students pretty much means difficult for me. Tedium for them means tedium for me. A class they hate = a class I hate.

And who benefits from a class everyone hates? Especially in an environment that is supposed to encourage language flow and language processing with a Native English speaker? 

I’m not quite sure how to articulate this to my supervising teacher, but after reading up on it a little more, I am more confident that there is a method to my language-teaching pedagogical madness. Any thoughts?


So apparently this session I’m just the [student] teacher that goes hard in the paint. I just started teaching again yesterday; today I gave my grammar class a quiz and tomorrow there’s an in-class writing assignment that counts as a quiz for the writing class.

I was messaging my mentor today and I asked her about whether I could use a quiz from the workbook or make one myself. She said I could do either, so I made one myself. In my most secretest place, in my heart of hearts I am a writer, so I figured making a quiz would be a cool way to exercise my creativity. Plus I like working the students’ names into stuff because I think it’s engaging.

So I make what, to me, is a simple, obvious quiz. Straightforward. Coordinating conjunctions. Add and/but/or where you need to. BOOM.

But the funny thing is that you just can never quite predict what is going to be straightforward and what will trip the students up. My little straightforward quiz ended up having a few answers that were justifiably right. And because it had a “correct the errors” section, students were looking for things that I would have never thought to look for. I have to remember to tell them “correct the errors that are relevant to what I’m quizzing you on ONLY. All other errors are the result of human imperfection and should be ignored/embraced.”

Now I am grading their quizzes and I have realized that I am one of those annoying teachers that corrects spelling errors (even though I don’t take off). From the side of the test-taker, it’s like “really? How anal.” From the side of the test-grader, it’s like “well…they probably ought to know how to spell.”

In my writing class, I asked students to bring in two articles to the next class, but apparently I told them Friday was the next class because the only person who actually brought in an article was the guy who came to my mentor’s office hours to double-check. I could see that. I almost never know what day it is anyway. On the other hand, my mentor and I were both on the same page in thinking I told them to bring these articles in tonight. It’s just such a learning process, because I feel like I never quite predict which will be the things that the students find to be crystal clear, and which will be the things that cause massive confusion.



so it goes. I guess in my line of work, things are hard to predict.

Today I taught two classes, one writing and one grammar. These are a part of my practicum, so they are not my classes, but my mentor lets me plan them and execute them and pretty much only jumps in if I’m drowning.


Tonight was my first night teaching again after a two-week hiatus due to both a family emergency and break between sessions, and I was mostly excited but also a bit nervous.

I was excited because I was teaching conjunctions and I felt like I planned this lesson to a T. I studied it and I had this nifty train car metaphor and I had conjunction junction and this lesson was gonna be IT, how I bounced back after a somewhat shaky first session (in my eyes).

I was nervous because I was also teaching a writing class and I had spent so much time and energy on the conjunction junction that I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do for the writing class.


As the saying goes, you can never be too rich or too thin. Or predict which classes are going to go well and which will have you looking/feeling/sounding lost.

In the writing class, I introduced the Objective Report by examining (deconstructing, I’d like to think ^^) an article on the New York Sugary Drink ban.

And that did have some issues, but they weren’t due to my teaching (mostly). They were just normal issues of, like, vocabulary and some students still finding their sea legs after moving up a level.

As opposed to my beautiful, well-studied conjunction junction which got stopped in its tracks. At one point, I literally said “OK I can see this is not working. Ignore what I just said and let’s just do this.” And then I proceeded to have them do some exercises out of their blue Azar book.

It seems that in my preparation for the lesson, I got too meta. I was too far above the material–I lost that balance of how to present it in their terms.

And I understood it so well that I didn’t know how not to understand it, so I was having a hard time even understanding their questions.

Which prompted my mentor to remark that she understood, and that it comes with working more with the class and getting a feel for them,

and that “you can’t understand the material TO them.”