Category Archives: edgeblog

edgeblog 10

Oh dear. I was thinking that I was a little late for a December blog, but then, it is still December and now I see that I missed November altogether. Must try harder. However, don’t allow yourselves to be upset by all this nagging about posters. As I repeatedly find myself telling people, it’s not a question of how much time you have, we all have the same amount of time. It’s a question of what you prioritise, and I haven’t found a way to prioritise putting up a poster that is really only a self-promotional statement about some of my books. But why get so coy about it now? you might ask. What’s the point of creating the blooming thing if you don’t want people to see it?   Eeeeeeeeeeeee, well, I guess I thought of it (along with the other posters) as an awareness-raising statement for the corridor here at work, something to point out that although most people in the School of Education have no real idea of what we do — the usual TESOL poor-relation phenomenon — that fact should not be understood as meaning that we are inactive or ineffective. This poster, however, is more individual and retrospective than the others and I couldn’t see where it would well fit in a blog. However, Richard has since suggested that I could put it on my individual home page, which boasts annual updates, so that is now my plan. When I prioritise the time for it . . . Before the January blog. Now, then, that makes it a goal.

And there is a poster-link to December/January, in the sense that the last book featured on the poster is indeed my last book: The Reflexive Teacher Educator in TESOL: Roots and Wings. Have I told you about that before? Probably. Anyway, it was officially published on 16 December 2010. I got in touch with the publisher when I heard about this date. I mean, you don’t want to  have a book that’s already a year old before it reaches the shops, do you? I was reassured that the publication date in the book would be 2011. I didn’t know about that, did you? Just in case I haven’t told you, by the way, Roots is a reference to Narcissus, and Wings to Icarus, two of my flawed heroes whose reputations I try to redeem in the book. If any of you is thinking of attending the TESOL Convention (17-19 March 2011), I’m going to be doing a session on the book there at the bracing hour of 8.30am on the Friday. Of course, 8.30 in New Orleans in March probably feels a bit different to 8.30 in Manchester in December. I like to think, anyway . . . .  warm evenings, pale mornings, a bottle of blues . . . .

You know, since I let go of the final page-proofs, I’ve been going through the usual post-writing experience of remembering things that I had meant to say and finding notes I had forgotten I’d made, conclusions I failed to draw, etc.. Most of all, I have been thinking about how obvious it is that we (TESOL people) have blazed the globalisation trail in so many ways, good and bad, sunshine and shadow, and are still struggling with its contradictions. At our most short-sighted, we set out with our modernist vision of progress via language learning and thereby support elite groups in countries around the world. At our best, perhaps, we recognise that our common humanity must entail some basic, general facts about how language is effectively learned, and our cultural diversity must entail some basic, situated facts about how language is effectively taught, but we are hard put to discern the features of either or the connections between both these manifestations of the global and the local as the tides of profit-and-loss sweep us along. 

What have we learned in 2010? Well, certainly that if we once thought that we had countries and countries had banks, it has been spelled out very clearly for us that we belong to the banks, and countries are one way in which they collect from us. If we thought that among our rulers are vain fools who assume their right to mislead us while misrepresenting us, then we have started to learn how vengeful they may become when their foolishness and misrepresentations are uncovered. Oh dear, I seem to have wandered off the TESOL track here. Or perhaps I simply over-generalise.

 One thing I am sure I have not learned is that our newly enhanced virtual learning environment is going to introduce a scheme of assessment of student assignments whereby we click on pre-formulated comments that will then automatically copy over into our feedback.  That’s something that I don’t believe. Who would?

Twenty-eleven up. May it be good for you. Let us make it so. Lots to do. Back to prioritising, then . . .

 Best,

 Julian

edgeblog 09

I don’t know if you followed at all the election of the new leader of the Labour Party in Britain. One unusual feature of it was that two of the candidates were brothers. All through the campaign they both asserted forcefully that they would be happy to serve under the other brother if he were to win. Well, one of them did win, and the other one refused to serve. When asked why this was the case, following the many occasions on which he had maintained the opposite, the losing brother said, ‘That’s the difference between theory and practice.’

I wrote it down on the spot. You have to love it. It reminded me of how the ‘theory and practice’ discourse serves us so well in so many ways. In politics, it means that you can say what you think will get you elected without having to feel obliged to live up to it whether you win or lose. In education, it can so often mean the status that accrues to speculative abstractions or grand theories from elsewhere, as distinct from lowly understandings won from experience.

In fact, crossover thoughts from the news have been bumping into my professional thinking in a couple of ways recently. If all works out, I’ll attach a recent article from the Guardian on credibility in qualitative research. Well, the author doesn’t say that that’s what it’s about, but I think you’ll get the picture.

Meanwhile, we are into the new semester now and all getting to know each other a little better. Ah, and the gang here is about to produce a poster to represent us on the corridor. If I remember correctly an earlier posting from Mariam, Patron Saint of Poster-makers, it should be possible to attach that, too. Next time, perhaps.

            May all your October be golden. Ours is doing quite well, so far.

Best,

Julian

Edgeblog #08

edgeblog 08

Well, it’s a long, long time from May to December, but the days grow short when you reach September. Hmmmm. It’s that kind of a morning. 7.15, clouds low and grey, rain medium. And yet, and yet, if make myself think of the Sarah Vaughan version of the song, with Clifford Brown on trumpet, then everything has its positives, so I’ll pull myself together here.

            Actually just back from the British Association for Applied Linguistics annual conference, this year in Aberdeen, a city I hadn’t been to before and very much liked. The university campus in Old Aberdeen is delightful and, if you find yourself in town on a Friday or Saturday night, you might do worse than making your way to the Globe, where they have live music and a friendly crowd.

            Back at the conference, the theme of ‘Applied Linguistics: Global and Local’ attracted a lot of very interesting papers, including quite a few with an explicitly ideological content. I was involved in a colloquium, ‘British ELT in existential crisis?’ convened by Robert Philipson (Copenhagen), with contributions also from Richard Smith (Warwick, UK), Bessie Dendrinos (Athens, Greece), Adrian Holliday (Canterbury, UK), Ahmed Kabel, Ifrane, Morocco, and Shelley Taylor (Western Ontario, Canada). If my precarious IT skills permit, I’ll attach a copy of my twelve minutes’ worth to this posting. I discovered that Ahmed, who I hadn’t met before, has an engagingly combative style that led him to begin statements with expressions such as, ‘What you are doing here is confusing  . . .’ and I found myself responding with, ‘What you have failed to understand is . . .’ and so on. You don’t get that sort of thing too often in public and, as I spend a certain amount of time exercising non-judgemental ‘accepting’ discourse skills in my professional exchanges, it was good to give my argumentative muscles a bit of a workout. And we had a good hug at the end.

            Here on the corridor, we are readying ourselves for the beginning of the new academic year. The year no longer begins with an Induction Week for new students. Oh no. We now have Welcome Week. As you can see, things continue to improve in all sorts of ways.

 

Best,

 

Julian

edgeblog 07

I begin this edgeblog in hopes that Richard’s lesson on how to attach a document will have stayed with me, though it is certainly as hazy in my memory as it seemed complicated at the time. In order to keep our shared ideas in play. I’d like to post the text of the talk I gave at the ABLA Convention in Cali, Columbia, at the end of July. It was an excellent event altogether. Other plenary speakers were Kathi Bailey, Jeremy Harmer, Kumaravadivelu and Bob Oprandy. The theme was ‘Teachers as Learners’, which was very much in my area of interest, and participants from all across Latin America provided a very high standard of presentations and of involvement in the sessions that I saw. As well as the plenary, I had the opportunity to do a Cooperative Development workshop with Bob Oprandy that included us working as Speaker and Understander. It’s a bit risky to do that in front of an audience, but working with Bob is always a rich and rewarding experience, and so it proved again. The quality of engagement by participants and the level of questioning and comment was very satisfying. Cooperative Development lives.

Back on the topic of that text I’m posting, by the way, let me clarify what it represents. It’s not something that I read aloud at the audience — I hate that practice and I think it is, actually, dying out. When I am doing a straight talk to a large group, however, I do these days write a text in order to help me be sure that I have a coherent message and to help me judge the timing. I read the piece several times before the talk itself, including reading it aloud. So, when I get up to speak, I have the shape of the thing pretty clear in my head. What this also means is that I feel confident about improvising where appropriate and still finding back to a coherent line. On this occasion, for example, I was closing the conference and I could refer back to points that had been made by previous speakers and try to tie those separate statements together into themes.

Let me highlight just one such. When people ask me how to start developing their teaching, a regular suggestion of mine  is that they make a recording of one of their classes and listen to/watch it. You may find yourself witnessing a perfect event, but most of us see something in there that would be worth working on. This suggestion was written into my text. In her talk, Kathi Bailey reported on research into the kinds of developmental activities that teachers liked more or less. Right down there at the bottom of the list, least favoured of all, was, yes, you guessed it, making a recording of your class.

Hmmmm. Highly effective and least favoured. Now, why is that? My intuition is that it is because it is the most directly challenging option. We can talk about what we do and we can keep our diaries and we can read the journals and always there is some wiggle-room in which to find a little comfort, but that recorded data of what happened in our class just stares back at us and cannot be denied. This then also links up with that threat of ‘being observed’ that makes most people feel uncomfortable. I think that’s interesting.

Well, that’s enough for now. Next week, I’m off to the BAAL Annual Meeting in Aberdeen. I’m taking part in a colloquium organized by Robert Phillipson on the topic: British ELT in a state of existential crisis. I’ll report back next time.

 Best,

Julian

edgeblog 06

Goodness me, four months gone by since I edgeblogged. I really must try to get better at this, once I have worked out what ‘better’ means. For a start, I suppose, I could make sure to get back here a lot more frequently. But there you go already, as though ‘frequency’ meant ‘better’! Anyway, my main reason for being here today is simply that I know I left a promise unkept from last time, when I said I’d post my TESOL 2010 talk and handout.

What happened in the meantime is that on 15 July Richard Fay started a discussion called ‘Ponderings on Reflexivity’ over on the sister blog, ‘The Doctoral Community at LTE’. As my TESOL talk was on that same topic, it seemed to make sense to post it there. At least, it seemed to make sense until I found out that I couldn’t work out how to. At that point, I threw myself on the mercy of community member, Magdalena, who in turn engaged the support of Achilleas, and the TESOL talk was duly posted along with Magdalena’s message of 26 July. (Thank you again!)

SO, if you’re still interested, do please navigate yourself over there and take a look. You will also find a discussion of reflexivity (and other matters) that could keep a person occupied for much of the coming winter.  (Smile.) I’ll be back soon. I WILL be back soon.

 Best,

Julian

edgeblog 05

edgeblog 5

 The TESOL convention was good. Talk went fine. I was in good form, tho I say so myself. Started off with a hugely positive response to  my opening line of, ‘You know what? I  didn’t prepare a Powerpoint presentation for this session.’ Crowd goes apeshit. I’ll post  a text of the talk. Not that I “read” papers, but if I’m giving a talk I usually produce a written version to help me keep my ducks in a row, then talk to a handout, so that I have my prompts and listeners have a set of notes they can add to if they wish.

Low point of the trip overall was the DJ not calling me  to perform ‘El Paso‘ at the karaoke bar on the Friday night, especially following Bob Oprandy’s ‘Don’t Be Cruel‘. Thing is, the place was taken over by a 21st birthday party and a number of young women dressed more as if for a Louisiana bordello in June than a New England night in March took to performing rap numbers that seemed to feature repeated rhetorical questions along the lines of, “Dja wanna liddl bidda dis n a liddl bidda dat?” accompanied by ample and unmistakable manifestation of what it was that “dis” and “dat” were meant to index in this context. After a while, I was forced regretfully to acknowledge the appropriateness of the DJ’s decision.

Saturday morning,  trotted off back to  the airport to pick up pre-booked Dodge Neon.

“Oh, Dr Edge,” breathed Roxanne. “I can see your booking in the computer, but I’m afraid it’s frozen. It will take us five or ten minutes to deal with that, but, for your inconvenience, we will be able to offer you an upgrade.”

“That’s fine, Roxanne,” quoth Dr Edge authoritatively, “We’ll take the gold Mustang convertible  out there.”

“Well, we could offer you that for an extra $12 a day, but otherwise we could  offer you an upgrade to a Ford Fusion.”

“We’ll take the Fusion.”

“That’s fine, Dr Edge. Martin, can you make sure that the Fusion is ready for Dr Edge?”

“We ain’t got no Fusion, Roxanne.”

“There’s one here in the computer.”

“You may have one in the computer, Roxanne, but I ain’t got one out on the lot.”

“Dr Edge?”

“Roxanne?”

“I’m happy to be able to tell you that we can offer you the gold Mustang convertible at no extra cost.”

 We were also very glad. Especially as the temperature proceeded to shoot up to almost eighty as we toured off to visit friends who have built a house in the New Hampshire woods near to Newfound Lake and then further to friends who have built right on the waterfront of Lake Cupsuptik.

Manchester is OK.

edgeblog 04

Hi there.       

Back in frantic rushing-about mode, I’m afraid. Off to Boston tomorrow for the TESOL Convention. I’ll hang my handout onto this posting, so that you get the idea of what I shall be going on about.

 I have been threatening to go on about Luddites for so long now that I had better say something. You can always google them, no doubt, but that wouldn’t give you my associated rant, would it?

 Well, historically, Luddite was the name given to a group of workers who stood out against the introduction of the factory-based power looms that led to the end of the home-based handloom worker in the weaving industry. The name came from a semi-apocryphal Captain Ned Ludd (probably based on a man called Edmund Ludnum) who was meant to be their leader. The Luddites became famous for breaking into factories and smashing the power looms.

 Anyway, it’s not so much the detail of the history as the use of the metaphor that is important, because those in charge of representation have succeeded in establishing ‘luddite’ as an expression to mean someone who is massively out of date and who tries to stand in the way of progress. That’s not what the Luddites were about. The Luddites were fighting against the use of technology by those in power to destroy the livelihoods of working people and to subjugate them to machines at wages calculated only to maximize profit. They might be accused of standing in the way of what was to come, but that is not exactly the same thing as standing in the way of progress, I would say.

 And I feel an affinity with the luddite position as far as the use of technology in education is concerned. I don’t object to the use of technology. Quite the reverse. Technology has made possible developments in teacher education that are completely in tune with my convictions about the usefulness of studying while teaching and working to theorise one’s practice in a particular situation.

 The quality of that work can be exhilarating. Supporting that work can be hugely satisfying, but it also requires a major investment of time, energy and creativity. The luddism kicks in when one deals with employers who see what they call ‘distance education’ as a way of dealing with large numbers of students on the cheap, and when the efficiency of e-communications builds up volumes of work that demand a cut in quality of response. At least, that would be the very real danger if one came across such employers.

 So, listen up the next time you hear the word, luddite, used. The issues have not gone away. Not at all.

But I am. Off to Boston. Say hello if you’re there, too.

 Best,

 Julian

edgeblog 03

Well, I had every intention of telling you my Luddite reflections this time, but they will just have to wait. One thing I have learned about these new, tek-savvy times, is that it doesn’t matter if you do what you said you were going to do, because you can always send a text to say that you’re doing something else.

 Anyway, first up, edgeblog had to decide between the two outstanding entries in the neo-Gricean Principles competition. The committee discussed long and hard the merits of Magdalena’s data-based contribution and logical analysis, as compared to Jane’s somewhat cheekier effort. In the end, and not until the bottle was empty, it was decided to award first prize to Jane, for her postmodern pedagogic:

Only provide as much information as can comfortably fit on your smartboard screen.

 Jane, if you send in a suitable address, an inscribed copy of Edge & Garton 2009 will come winging your way.  Ha! Bet that surprised you all, dinnit? Didn’t think edgeblog would really give a prize, dijja? And as for the book itself, what about this for a mind-boggling sentence from Chapter 2?

 So far in this chapter, we have introduced three levels of mental activity and two general approaches to language teaching. We are now going to examine five basic elements of ELT which have a role to play in both general approaches and which need to be integrated.

 And that’s on p.19 already! Just imagine how we’re getting on by p.119! It’s all there, believe me, it’s all there.

However, back to the Luddites. Or not, actually, of course, because I haven’t written that yet. And the reason is that thoughts of Cap’n Ned were displaced by a brief Blackboard exchange on the topic of teacher training, education and development, along with CELTAs, DELTAs and MAs. I found myself writing the following, which I thought came out rather well in an area that is always tricky:

 Many thanks for these questions, which are really useful in helping us clarify what we mean when we use these terms. Here’s my take: An introductory course such as the CELTA will be very much oriented to the training end of the spectrum: Showing and telling people what to do in a set of predictable circumstances. This is the apprenticeship phase. A DELTA course will extend this training and take on some aspects of education, in that the participant will come out with a good understanding of why some decisions are made and with an ability to respond on a principled basis to novel situations. This is the ‘journeyman’ phase. An MA course will broaden the educational base of the participant’s experience and will bring into question also those principles that were previously accepted, while not losing touch with the need to act. This is the ‘master’ phase. Those are what I see as the responsibilities of the courses. At each phase, the possibility exists for the participant to create from these training and educational scenarios developmental experiences of their own. The best courses will be trying to create conditions under which these experiences are more, rather than less, likely, and a master’s course should provide the greatest scope. Well, excuse the historical sexism of the terminology back there. I’ve never tried to express those ideas in quite that form before, so, thanks again.  best,  Julian

 Wodja think?

 Luddites next. Look after yourselves out there.

Remember, edgeblog cares about you.

Edgeblog 02

edgeblog 02

Ooooooooooh! A little competition is now heating up among you Neo-Griceans! Nice to see. I think we’ll leave the competition open till the next edgeblog in mid-February and then, as politicians like to say, ‘Some difficult decisions will have to be made.

 

Well, this time, I promised revealing insights into that outstanding new teachers’ handbook:

Edge, J. & Garton, S. 2009. From Experience to Knowledge in ELT. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

 

One that springs immediately to mind is that, as I presented a spanking new copy to my colleagues here, Richard took a quick look, commented, “No entry for ‘intercultural’ in the index,” and passed it on.

 

He’s quite right, of course. I mean, right that there isn’t, and right that there should have been. The intercultural nature of all that we do in TESOL has been, for me, so built into the warp and the weft of a whole working life that I have rarely thought to feature it as a topic to explore in its own right. And what that means, in turn, of course, is that I have never brought to bear on the contribution of intercultural issues the level of focussed awareness that I might have. It’s been contingent, left to be mentioned when it made itself noticed in some other context. Good, then, that Richard makes intercultural study such an important part of what we do here in the Language Teacher Education Group. Have a look at his stuff while you’re here.

 

Other than that, what is in the book then, you might ask. Well, what Sue and I are most pleased about is the attempt, as indicated by the title, to help people move from experience to knowledge. It’s not an easy trick to turn, because this is, after all, a book, and a book to read, not a workbook, as such. Nevertheless, we hope that it might encourage the right kind of reader, whether on in-service or pre-service courses, not to be put off by the misconception that teacher education concerns lots of abstract theories that they have to learn. We want them to recognise that they have a great deal of experience to draw on, whether as language learners, or teachers, or both, and that that experience is a sound basis from which they  can create knowledge, in interaction with what we are telling them, using the terminology that we are giving them.

 

Funny how writing that book now seems like something from history and it only came out six months ago. So much to do, so little time! Stirring in the underbrush of the future at the moment is the TESOL Convention in Boston in March. I’ll be presenting a paper on reflexivity in  teacher education.

 

Heavens (if you’ll excuse my saying so), I’m already coming up to my 500 words (self-imposed limit), so I’ll tell you more on that next time. And then, I haven’t said a word yet about Luddism, which is very much on my mind and what I actually wanted to talk to you about. It is a very misunderstood concept and one with which I find myself developing ever more affinity. It’ll have to be an edgeblog of the future. If you have any thoughts on the topic in the meantime, or about interculturality, or experiential knowledge, or reflexivity, (Myohmy, we do cover some ground, don’t we??), do send them in.

 

I’ll be back in a fortnight.

 

Best,

 

Julian

edgeblog 01

This is my first blog in the sense of an ongoing process, as distinct from the over-long Introductory piece about the nature of time and tennis that you might have skimmed through on my home page. To get into the spirit of the thing, I have decided to think of it as edgeblog. My initial goal is to write an entry every fortnight and see where it goes from there.

A great part of my interest in getting involved with edgeblog arises from an exchange I had with Keith Richards while we both worked at Aston University. He talked about ‘writing to fill a space‘ and ‘writing to say something.’ In fact, if you wanted to read about that, you could take a look at the attached pdf of Chapter 9 from my (2002) book, Continuing Cooperative Development. It’s a lot more interesting than this stuff, I can assure you.

Anyway, I have always felt lucky to have got this far through a working life in TESOL on the basis of writing because I wanted to say something and now, at this undeniably late stage of the game, I find myself writing to fill a space. That’s to say, I have recently learned that if we (as a team of colleagues) are to make our MA TESOL visible to people around the world who are googling for such a course, what we have to do is create ‘traffic’ to our website. If there is lots of traffic, Google will spot us and deliver us up to the screens of said searchers. The simile that Gary used to explain this was,

Like The Eye of Sauron.

Heavens!‘ I thought, in a determinedly secular manner, and shifted my thoughts immediately to the luminous delights of the Lady Galadriel . . .

However, I now understand better how the search engine must make bloggers of us all, rather as though in a perversion of a Gricean Maxim of Quantity:

Make your communications as frequent and widely dispersed as you can.

This must be what people mean when they talk about human cognitive evolution developing in interaction with our technologies, in the same way that the possession of mobile phones slowly erodes our ability to make arrangements that we feel any obligation to keep to. A Maxim of Quality, perhaps:

Make your statements as retractable as possible.

The difficulty then arises, however, that if you post only inconsequential drivel, people won’t come back, and where’s your traffic then? Eh? So quality does rear its stubborn head after all, and edgeblog has to appear not only frequently, but to be worth reading and worth coming back to. Oh dear.

Right! Competitions, they’re supposed to work. (Aren’t they?) I hereby invite entries for the best IT ‘evolutions’ of Grice’s maxims, in connection, possibly, with your thoughts on human cognitive evolution in interaction with our technologies. If you want to check out Grice’s originals, by the way, you could go to:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gricean_maxims#Grice.27s_Maxims

 

But be sure to come back here again and give us a bit more traffic. Entries will be judged at some auspicious future date and prizes may be awarded.

edgeblog will return at the end of January, along with revealing insights into that outstanding new teachers’ handbook:

Edge, J. & Garton, S. 2009. From Experience to Knowledge in ELT. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

And, some real surprises!

Julian