Teaching Philosophy
Personal Teaching and Learning Philosophy
My first real teaching experience was as an ESL instructor in L’viv, Ukraine. I was a recent university graduate in English Language and Literature but had no training in either pedagogy or English as a Second Language. I was ill prepared and struggling with my own transition into life in post-Soviet Ukraine. I was assigned to an “advanced” conversation class of five students without any training, curriculum, or materials and told to teach. I knew nothing of learning theory—had never heard of cognitivism, constructivism, or communities of practice—but I knew if my students wanted to learn how to speak English, they had to speak. They had to speak to me, to each other, and participate fully in our class. When I left L’viv a year later, I still had no training, but my classroom was bursting, with extra students relegated to chairs in the hallway. Even an official English translator for the Ukrainian army attended the class. Why was it so popular? Because the students were becoming speakers of English.
Twenty years, three graduate degrees, and several university teaching positions later, my basic teaching and learning philosophy has not changed: Students must participate in order to learn.
For several years, I worked as a visiting fellow in a teacher-centered education system. In order to attend university, the students first had to “win” the entrance exam. They studied for years, and paid thousands of dollars for tutoring sessions, to memorize facts about mathematics, national history, and their native language. Based solely on these scores, they were assigned to study at a university and told what they would major in, for example, English Language and Literature. The students in my department had one goal: to become English teachers in the country’s public school system.
I quickly discovered that cognitive theories ruled this education system. Professors viewed their students as “empty vessels” to be filled with knowledge. They lectured to students, who were expected to process the information into memory storage and then retrieve the same information on two exams during the semester. Their scores were based on how well they had acquired, stored, and retrieved the information given in the original lectures. In this system, memorization was supreme. They mirrored Hunt and Ellis’s (2004) description of memory as “the heart of human intellectual functioning [that], consequently, is involved in all processes from perception to reasoning” (p. 35). Students used strategies like mnemonics and effective note-taking to improve their memories and thus prove on their exams that they were learning. Learning, in this situation, was equivalent to acquiring information.
Students became experts at acquiring information and using it as a commodity in the education system. However, I believed it was not enough to fill their minds with information because they were not individuals existing in a closed system—they were working to become teachers. Professors and students assumed all the knowledge they acquired would transfer to their careers as teachers, but, having associated with English teachers and professors in this community, I felt skeptical.
I was strongly encouraged by my colleagues to adopt a similar teaching philosophy. I was told my job was to impart knowledge, and the students’ job was to acquire that knowledge. However, my experience as part of the English-teaching community had shown me that learning was more than acquiring information; it was about participation and becoming a fully-functioning member of that community.
Without recognizing it, the students were part of a community of practice. In this case, they were learning how to function successfully as students in the English Language and Literature Department. They were becoming students and learning how to study and take exams in order to participate successfully in this community. My purpose as their instructor, however, was to invite them into another community of practice—that of future English teachers. Lave and Wenger (1991) “characterize learning as legitimate peripheral participation in communities of practice” (p. 31). Learning, then, is not simply about acquiring information but about participation.
Lave and Wenger (1991) make it clear that the theory of “legitimate peripheral participation is not itself an educational form, much less a pedagogical strategy or a teaching technique” (p. 40). It is a description of how learning occurs, but as an instructor, I needed to somehow facilitate this learning process. To do so, I have designed an “embodied curriculum” for my students. In an embodied curriculum, content is “situated within a context of use” (Barab & Dodge, 2008, p. 99). These are “authentic” situations, where “[a]uthenticity lies in the learner-perceived relations between the associated practices and one’s projected or envisioned use value of those practices” (Barab & Dodge, 2008, p. 99). In other words, content is situated in the real-world context where it can be used.
The idea of “becoming” has informed my viewpoint on learning and instruction. This viewpoint has evolved through my experience working as an instructor of university-level classes and is informed by a critical analysis of basic theoretical ideas. Through my experience and research, I believe that learning is more than simply acquiring information. Learning occurs through participation as learners become a part of their community, and my role as an instructor is to facilitate that learning. However, I also do not subscribe to what Yanchar and Gabbitas (2011) describe as “orthodoxy.” Each student and each class is unique. Teaching techniques that are successful in one section of a class may fail in another section of that same class. For this reason, I believe educators need to embrace flexibility and be willing to evolve when the situation warrants it. The focus must remain on the student and facilitating his or her learning environment, but the techniques can change.
References
Barab, S. & Dodge, T. (2008). Strategies for designing embodied curriculum. In Spector, J. M., Merrill, M. D., Van Merrienboer, J., & Driscoll, M. (Eds.), Handbook of research on educational communications and technology (pp. 97-110). New York: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Hunt, R. R., & Ellis, H. C. (2004). Introduction to cognitive psychology. Fundamentals of cognitive psychology (7th ed., pp. 1-36). Boston: McGraw-Hill.
Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Yanchar, S. C., & Gabbitas, B. W. (2011). Between eclecticism and orthodoxy in instructional design. Educational Technology Research & Development, 59, 383-393.
My first real teaching experience was as an ESL instructor in L’viv, Ukraine. I was a recent university graduate in English Language and Literature but had no training in either pedagogy or English as a Second Language. I was ill prepared and struggling with my own transition into life in post-Soviet Ukraine. I was assigned to an “advanced” conversation class of five students without any training, curriculum, or materials and told to teach. I knew nothing of learning theory—had never heard of cognitivism, constructivism, or communities of practice—but I knew if my students wanted to learn how to speak English, they had to speak. They had to speak to me, to each other, and participate fully in our class. When I left L’viv a year later, I still had no training, but my classroom was bursting, with extra students relegated to chairs in the hallway. Even an official English translator for the Ukrainian army attended the class. Why was it so popular? Because the students were becoming speakers of English.
Twenty years, three graduate degrees, and several university teaching positions later, my basic teaching and learning philosophy has not changed: Students must participate in order to learn.
For several years, I worked as a visiting fellow in a teacher-centered education system. In order to attend university, the students first had to “win” the entrance exam. They studied for years, and paid thousands of dollars for tutoring sessions, to memorize facts about mathematics, national history, and their native language. Based solely on these scores, they were assigned to study at a university and told what they would major in, for example, English Language and Literature. The students in my department had one goal: to become English teachers in the country’s public school system.
I quickly discovered that cognitive theories ruled this education system. Professors viewed their students as “empty vessels” to be filled with knowledge. They lectured to students, who were expected to process the information into memory storage and then retrieve the same information on two exams during the semester. Their scores were based on how well they had acquired, stored, and retrieved the information given in the original lectures. In this system, memorization was supreme. They mirrored Hunt and Ellis’s (2004) description of memory as “the heart of human intellectual functioning [that], consequently, is involved in all processes from perception to reasoning” (p. 35). Students used strategies like mnemonics and effective note-taking to improve their memories and thus prove on their exams that they were learning. Learning, in this situation, was equivalent to acquiring information.
Students became experts at acquiring information and using it as a commodity in the education system. However, I believed it was not enough to fill their minds with information because they were not individuals existing in a closed system—they were working to become teachers. Professors and students assumed all the knowledge they acquired would transfer to their careers as teachers, but, having associated with English teachers and professors in this community, I felt skeptical.
I was strongly encouraged by my colleagues to adopt a similar teaching philosophy. I was told my job was to impart knowledge, and the students’ job was to acquire that knowledge. However, my experience as part of the English-teaching community had shown me that learning was more than acquiring information; it was about participation and becoming a fully-functioning member of that community.
Without recognizing it, the students were part of a community of practice. In this case, they were learning how to function successfully as students in the English Language and Literature Department. They were becoming students and learning how to study and take exams in order to participate successfully in this community. My purpose as their instructor, however, was to invite them into another community of practice—that of future English teachers. Lave and Wenger (1991) “characterize learning as legitimate peripheral participation in communities of practice” (p. 31). Learning, then, is not simply about acquiring information but about participation.
Lave and Wenger (1991) make it clear that the theory of “legitimate peripheral participation is not itself an educational form, much less a pedagogical strategy or a teaching technique” (p. 40). It is a description of how learning occurs, but as an instructor, I needed to somehow facilitate this learning process. To do so, I have designed an “embodied curriculum” for my students. In an embodied curriculum, content is “situated within a context of use” (Barab & Dodge, 2008, p. 99). These are “authentic” situations, where “[a]uthenticity lies in the learner-perceived relations between the associated practices and one’s projected or envisioned use value of those practices” (Barab & Dodge, 2008, p. 99). In other words, content is situated in the real-world context where it can be used.
The idea of “becoming” has informed my viewpoint on learning and instruction. This viewpoint has evolved through my experience working as an instructor of university-level classes and is informed by a critical analysis of basic theoretical ideas. Through my experience and research, I believe that learning is more than simply acquiring information. Learning occurs through participation as learners become a part of their community, and my role as an instructor is to facilitate that learning. However, I also do not subscribe to what Yanchar and Gabbitas (2011) describe as “orthodoxy.” Each student and each class is unique. Teaching techniques that are successful in one section of a class may fail in another section of that same class. For this reason, I believe educators need to embrace flexibility and be willing to evolve when the situation warrants it. The focus must remain on the student and facilitating his or her learning environment, but the techniques can change.
References
Barab, S. & Dodge, T. (2008). Strategies for designing embodied curriculum. In Spector, J. M., Merrill, M. D., Van Merrienboer, J., & Driscoll, M. (Eds.), Handbook of research on educational communications and technology (pp. 97-110). New York: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Hunt, R. R., & Ellis, H. C. (2004). Introduction to cognitive psychology. Fundamentals of cognitive psychology (7th ed., pp. 1-36). Boston: McGraw-Hill.
Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Yanchar, S. C., & Gabbitas, B. W. (2011). Between eclecticism and orthodoxy in instructional design. Educational Technology Research & Development, 59, 383-393.