38. Stealth Studying

In this blog I have touched on a number of strategies that have proven useful for me on my language learning journey, such as “eliciting” (getting the words you don’t know using words and gestures you do know; see blog entry 12), “copy correcting” (imitating native speakers when they correct your speech; see blog entry 8), “gesturing” (using your body when you don’t have the words to get your point across; see blog entry 19) and “Control” (conversation management based on a concrete behavioral model; see blog entries 27 and 28). On the other hand, all of these great strategies amount to nothing if you don’t go out into the real world and use them.

This is easy to accomplish if you are living in a country where your first language is not the lingua franca. Every interaction becomes a “learning experience”; however, you still may have to make an effort, particularly if your first language is English and you teach your mother tongue for a living, as many of the foreigners in Japan do.

No matter how sincere intentions are to learn “nihongo” (Japanese), the newly-arrived English speaker soon discovers that intial contact in the workplace will most likely not be in the local language. Soon you slip into the comfortable, but confining routine of functioning through colleagues, whose English language skills grow by leaps and bounds as your Japanese aspirations wither. It is an easy trap to fall into; however, you may soon find yourself frustrated and resentful, like a pampered child being constantly fussed over.

In my time here, I have run across a surprising number of foreigners who accept living in an “English cocoon” as the norm. They are unable to comfortably participate in simple conversations in Japanese even though they landed on these shores decades ago. For me, this is a sad condition. It reminds me of the Indian women I first taught in Canada (see blog entry 17) who were able to function but could not fully participate in the mainstream culture. In the case of English-speaking “ex-pats”, each activity in the local community is a hurdle while one’s circle of friends is typically limited to bilingual natives or other foreigners in the same confining monolingual boat.

The attitude of some local inhabitants may also prove a barrier to one’s efforts to becoming bilingual. In Japan, many of those keen to learn English have come to view native speakers as a type of language “vending machine”. Just push a button and a new phrase will pop out. It can be very frustrating when someone you have never met before insists on practicing their broken English with you when you are trying to get the job done in Japanese. Not the best way to make new friends.

So how do you go about finding opportunities to improve your communication skills in a language when based in a culture other than your own? If you live in a smaller town or the countryside, going to a language school for lessons may not be an option. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Endless grammar drills can be mind-numbing while a “key phrase for the week” is hardly high volume learning. For my money, I have found it much more productive to study with the locals as you learn a new skill in their language.

When I first arrived in Japan, I lived in a small village on the Inland Sea (see blog entry 29) with the nearest language classes a one-hour boat ride away. Since I worked most nights, attending lessons across the water wasn’t realistic. Besides, I was facing more immediate hurdles. Trips to the local supermarket were a nightmare. A surprising number of vegetables were unrecognizable while the contents of packaged goods could be positively ominous. I knew the Chinese character for “fish” but I might be purchasing catfood!

To remedy the situation, I decided to take cooking lessons and discovered that they were an excellent setting for learning language. Following orders to chop, slice or grill, I soon realized that I was picking up a range of vocabulary and expressions from my fellow classmates as they chattered around me.

Soon I began to evolve into a “serial student” developing (albeit shallowly) a range of skills, then walking away from each field once I had milked it for all of the language it had to offer. Doll making, wood carving, flower arranging – I tripped through the traditional arts with the ulterior motive of improving my listening comprehension and speaking ability in Japanese.

There was an obvious pattern to my progress. First, search out an instructor who was willing to tolerate an eager foreigner with limited linguistic skills. Second, squeeze in lessons for a few hours during my busy work week, assuming the role of class incompetent until I had mastered some fundamental techniques and terms. Next, strike up conversations, clarifying and being forced to clarify in order to communicate. And, finally, gracefully excuse myself from classes once I knew most of the jargon and it was obvious that my fractured phrases were understood by those around me. If my classmates stopped demanding explanations, I knew my learning experience had plateaued and it was time to move on.

The above progression may sound mercenary, however, my excuse of being “too busy at work to continue” was culturally acceptable and no noses were put out of joint. I had my priorities but was determined to part friends. Furthermore, I wasn’t completely a linguistic butterfly flitting from field to cultural field. I persevered with Japanese cooking for three years and studied “sado”, or tea ceremony, for eight years, even receiving a qualification.

I undertook tea ceremony because the language I had picked up in the Mitsui shipyards (see blog entries 27 and 29) was very rough-edged. I realized this the hard way while making a congratulatory speech at a wedding reception. My eloquent phrases were continuously sidetracked by the embarrassed giggles of the audience. I thought my words were polished and dignified; the other guests thought that I sounded like a dockyard thug!

Japanese tea ceremony, on the other hand, uses language that is excruciatingly formal – perfect for wedding speeches and, as it turns out, funerals. Furthermore, the study of tea ceremony can prove endless. You start with the basics of the ceremony itself, mastering a series of stages and steps in order to perform in a smooth, effortless manner for your guests. But lessons can become addictive and I soon found myself dabbling in ceramics in order to recognize the style of each tea bowl I held or lingering over the elegant hanging scroll selected by my teacher for the day’s lesson. Training includes posture (rising gracefully from a squat to full standing position can be hellishly difficult when you are tall and gangly) and the proper demeanor as you slide open paper screens and move about clad in a kimono. And, of course, all of this activity is accompanied by the directions and explanations of your “sensei” – the much sought after language I so desperately wanted.

The above learning contexts involved aural input. Like a small child, a lot of language has to go in before something comes out. In my next blog, I will talk about efforts at output, or treading in precarious places to improve my speaking skills.

(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!)

37. What’s in a name?

Way back in blog entry 6 I talked about a quirky strategy for remembering new words in a foreign language by associating them with assorted images or similar sounding words in your mother tongue or another language you are familiar with. I referred to this technique as “mental connections” and suggested the weirder the connection the easier it would be to remember since the association would stand out more. This is the season when I put the strategy to good use.

The school year has started again in Japan and with it comes the conundrum of what to call my students. My university classes range from 20 to 120 individuals and getting their names down can be daunting. But knowing a student’s name can mean the difference between his or her active participation or indifference in lessons. To complicate matters, there are a number of cultural norms that I must choose to adhere to or ignore when addressing students.

The general rule for Japanese is that you use the family name followed by “san”, the equivalent of “Mr.” or “Ms.” when speaking with those around you. If you are talking with someone from your childhood, however, the first name (or maybe I should say “given name” since, in Japan, the first name is the family name) can be used followed by “kun” for men or “chan” for either sex – kind of like the “e” sound we tack on names in English to indicate familiarity, such as “Jimmy” for “James” or “Suzy” for “Susan”.

In a school setting, another dynamic comes into play, that of teacher and student. If teachers really want to signify who is in charge, they will drop the title altogether and use the family name only. For female students use of the given name is also common.

So what do I do? Being a Westerner who conducts some of his classes in English, I am allowed to play by a different set of rules, which I tend to make up on the spot depending on who is sitting in the classroom. Usually I address my students by their given names, explaining that in Canada this feels more informal and friendly. Just call me Don, eh?

My goal is to break down the walls and get to know everyone better. The reasoning makes sense to the average twenty-year-old and, after some initial awkwardness mostly on the part of the guys, students take this as the norm and soon begin referring to each other using first names often followed by a “chan” or “kun” to make things sound more palatable to their Japanese ears.

Such use of the given name is normally only reserved for friends and family who have known you since childhood but it does have advantages. It helps build a feeling of camaraderie both in and outside of classes. This point was brought home during a recent parent-professor counseling session (yes, we have such things at the university level, too) when one mother expressed her delight that I was using everyone’s first name. She said that it helped break down the usual formality and her son had supposedly made new friends more quickly “just like in elementary school”. I’m not sure that is the ambience I strive for but she certainly approved.

 On the other hand, my demand that students use my first name results in the awkward situation where my colleagues refer to me by my family name with “sensei” (professor) while the students refer to me by “Don”. This has resulted in some professors complaining that my students are being rude. After explaining that the use of my given name makes me feel more approachable and comfortable with the speaker, some brave souls do attempt to “go with the flow” and address me as “Don”, particularly on staff outings. But others visibly cringe when a student or staff member shouts out “Don!” to get my attention in the halls.

When it comes to the foreign students in my classes, there are some interesting variations. My Korean students seem to enjoy using given names for the same reason I do – it breaks down formality and creates a more relaxed, personal atmosphere. As for my Thai students, they seem to have no qualms whatsoever about using given names rather than family names in class. When I commented on their “adaptability”, I was informed that Thais use the given name when addressing someone formally and switch to a “nickname”, which typically has no resemblance to their real name, in the company of friends. So much for creating a more casual ambience in my classes.

As for my students from China, they are harder to read. Some are delighted that I know a little Chinese and call them by their real names in their mother tongue. Others, however, insist that I use the Japanese pronunciation of their Chinese names, which can be disturbingly different. To give an obvious example, “Mao Tse-tung” of revolution fame is pronounced as what sounds like “Mo-Duck-Toe” to English-speaking ears.

I am not really sure why some of my Chinese students are more comfortable being addressed with the Japanese pronunciation of their names. Maybe they are just being kind to the inhabitants of their host country since most Japanese find Chinese names to be real tongue twisters. Or perhaps it makes my students from China feel like they “stick out” a little less. Being in Japan, they want to use a Japanese variation of their name. I can kind of understand this attitude. When I was in university studying Mandarin, I was given a Chinese name, which meant that I was “part of the group”. To this day certain friends in Vancouver still address me as “Meidan”.

On the other hand, if you are trying to remember the names on class lists and have already created an association for a Chinese name, such as “Jing-Jing” (“Hmm. That sounds like change in my pocket...”) only to discover that she wants to be called “Sho-Sho”, it can really mess with one’s mental processes.

Names are important. They reflect the very essence of someone’s persona with usage governed by cultural norms that are hard to overcome no matter how long you have lived abroad. In Japan, when men become well acquainted, they address each other by the surname without a title to show that they are “buddies”. On the other hand, in the Western culture that I hail from, being called by the surname only (“Hey, Smith!”) can come across as rude and offensive.

In my first year working at Mitsui Engineering and Shipbuilding (see blog entry 27), I became close friends with the man in the desk across from mine, Nishimura-san. One day in my second month, he shouted across the large office we worked in to get my attention by using my surname only. I was thrown off balance. How rude! He thought that our friendship had reached the stage where we were on a first-name basis – family name that is. For my unacculturated ears, it sounded loutish.

I have a close friend, Kurt, whose name ends up sounding like “Kato” in Japanese, a typical local surname. Some of his acquaintances are mortified when they discover that for years they have been calling him by his given name, not his family name. On the other hand, his surname contains fourteen letters and is liberally sprinkled with “v”’s, which don’t exist in Japanese. In the end, everyone sticks with the comfortable, if potentially rude, status quo.

 As for the name “Don”, it is not quite as adaptable. It has a range of meanings in Japanese, none of which are very acceptable. “Don” can refer to the noise of a drum being beaten (“don, don, don…”), the head of a yakuza (gangster) clan, stinky, a dimwit... I think you get the picture, which is not an attractive one. Still, my name doesn’t leave people snickering when I introduce myself as it does in Istanbul. In Turkish, my name means “boxer shorts”. What’s in a name, indeed!

(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!)

36. Another Perspective: Team Teaching

Today’s blog entry will go off on a rather different tangent. Yes, it talks about language learning, but in the unique context of team teaching. I was recently contacted by a major Japanese publisher of school texts to write an essay about this topic, which is dear to my heart. Here I present the unabridged version.

I have lived in Japan for over half of my life and during many years here have had a wide range of teaching experiences, including several working with Japanese instructors in junior and senior high schools to teach English. This arrangement is surprisingly common thanks to team teaching programs established by the Japanese Ministry of Education (Monkasho). A great deal of funds have been spent over the years on these programs; however, the results are mixed. Depending on who you are talking with, you will hear of amazing or horrible classroom experiences.

Although I am no longer involved directly with team taught classes for English, I do coordinate programs where I serve as the non-native instructor in a team-teaching context, most recently Thai. I also conduct workshops for regional education boards for both foreign and Japanese instructors who work for the government-sponsored Association for Japanese Exchange and Teaching (AJET) program. In my discussions with participants after these workshops, I hear praise and complaints very similar to those I encountered in my own team-teaching contexts many years ago. The French have an expression which describes this situation: “Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.” - The more things change, the more they stay the same. No kidding!

My first team teaching experience took place in 1984, well before the official Ministry of Education programs were set up. I was one of a very few foreigners living on Shodo Island in Japan’s Inland Sea area and was approached by two local high schools to work alongside their teachers in classes. The goal was the same for each school – to give the island kids a chance to interact with a native English speaker – but my experience with each school was radically different.

In the first school, I arrived early on the first day of class early to discuss the lesson plan with my teaching partner and confirm who would be responsible for which components of the lesson. What activities were planned? How would we interact? Would I be solely responsible for some sections or would we do everything together? I was excited by the prospects. I had studied Chinese at university with native and non-native instructors working together, and knew such classes could be very productive and motivating (see blog entry 21). In my case, it was exciting to speak with a native Mandarin speaker and really communicate. On the other hand, I was impressed by my non-native instructor who inspired me. He was clearly comfortable working with a native and gave me the confidence to persevere. If he could learn Chinese, so could I!

The teacher I was to work with at the first school, Mr. F, didn’t take my phone calls and appeared in the staff room minutes before the class actually started. When I asked about the lesson plan I was told “Nan de mo ii.” (“Anything is okay.”) then marched into the classroom and left at the front of the room as my “partner” walked to the back and sat down. I felt like a curiosity on display. Fortunately, I am energetic and quick on my feet. I came up with some introductory activities that did not require handouts or one-on-one interviews with students, a time killer which leaves the other kids uninvolved and bored. This first class was a big disappointment for me, but I was determined that the students would enjoy themselves. I could “fix things” with my teaching partner by the next class. Sadly, the only thing that changed was my attitude towards the school. I didn’t like working there.

Over the weeks of visiting this school, my attempts to sit down with the Japanese instructor and discuss lesson planning were met with resistance. Mr. F was always “busy” when I asked for some time together, and started each class by walking quickly to the back of the room and sitting in his chair. Occasionally he would get up and stroll about when students were asking or answering questions. I understood his purpose when I suddenly turned from writing on the board and caught him hitting a student on the back of the head for making an error! How did he expect his students to try if he hit them when they made mistakes? After class, I told the man that, if I caught him hitting a student again, I would not return to the school. As a result, he never left his chair at the back of the room and we were both miserable.

Fortunately, my team teaching experience at the second school was completely different. The instructor assigned to work with me, Mr. Y, was happy to meet several days before we were to work together in the classroom. He greeted me at the door the first day we met and lead me straight to his desk in the staff room where he showed me the ideas and activities that he had planned for our first lesson. We discussed who would do what and, once we entered the classroom, things went incredibly well. Mr. Y’s English wasn’t perfect, but his attitude certainly was. He was completely involved in the lesson and inspired his students – and me – with his pleasant, approachable manner. I finished the school year with a new friend, convinced that team teaching could work with some planning and sensitivity towards your teaching partner.

I left Shodo Island to continue my education in the UK, returning to a Community Program Supervisor’s position at the Language Institute of Japan (LIOJ) in Odawara. By coincidence, LIOJ had just received a contract with a local high school and I was asked to set up the program using the four community teachers on staff, including myself. I was very excited by the possibilities and encouraged the LIOJ teachers by telling them how wonderful team teaching could be, while providing clear, structured training. Our group worked closely with the teachers in the local school. Everyone knew what their tasks were and did them well. We ended the year on a high and frightening note: 40 local education officials came to observe our team taught classes, as many observers as students! Subsequently, Odawara City asked us to expand the program to seven schools, a testament to its success.

Why were the LIOJ team teaching classes so successful? Clear guidelines were applied to improve the chances that the working relationship between the local teacher and visiting LIOJ instructor got off on the right foot. These guidelines included the following three core principles.

1.        Consultation is critical.

As I learned on Shodo Island, taking the time to discuss the role of each teacher in the classroom can make or break the working relationship. Both teachers are under pressure: the local teacher doesn’t want to look incompetent in front of his or her students, while the visiting instructor doesn’t want to be treated like a dancing poodle for entertainment vs. education purposes. A little time spent together preparing outside of the classroom can make a huge difference. Whether you meet in the staff room, in a nearby café or simply discuss on the telephone, this consultation time goes a long way to making your classroom efforts a success. An added benefit is that you may develop a strong friendship in the process.

2.        Lesson plans equal less stress.

Consultation about classroom activities and roles is great; however, your end goal should be a concrete lesson plan that you are both more or less satisfied with. A good lesson plan is designed like a stage script with clear activities, estimated time required, and assignment of “roles”. In other words, who does what and how long will it take. In the beginning, there will be miscalculations and things might be a little messy; however, with time and patience both teachers should become more adept at recognizing what works well in their team taught classes. A lesson plan reassures both teachers and makes for productive discussion, particularly afterwards when you discuss how things went and what to do differently next time.

3.        Attitude saves the day.

In the end, all the discussion and lesson-planning in the world is worthless unless both teachers respect each other’s efforts. Each teacher has his or her particular strengths. The local teacher probably knows the class better and can help identify which students are likely to provide the best model at the start of an activity, while the visiting teacher can add an energizing element to what would otherwise be a repetitive routine. Identify each person’s strengths and design the lesson plan around them. Maintain a flexible attitude. If an activity is not going as planned, don’t step in and take over. Discuss the situation with your teaching partner and make adjustments. Students are not stupid. If they see that their teachers are working well together to provide a productive lesson, they will respond with respect for both of you. I know this from my own experience.

Years have passed since my first forays into team teaching. I have been on both sides of the team teaching equation, as a native English speaker and as a non-native French, Spanish, Japanese and Thai teacher. I know that with planning, patience and sensitivity towards your classroom partner, the end result can be a wonderful, productive experience for everyone, especially the students.

If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in reading two earlier papers I prepared on team teaching published in the academic publications Cross Currents and The Language Teacher. Click these links for access.

And, of course, if you are really a fool for language like me, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!

35. A Language Fixation: Never-ending Story

In my last blog, I talked about the origins of an accelerated language training system that I have spent many years developing. I refer to the system as ABLE for “action-based language empowerment” because immediately after each ABLE course I take participants overseas to test how well they can communicate and accomplish specific tasks in the target language (see blog entries 32 and 33). To date, I have coordinated about thirty-five ABLE courses in fourteen languages with approximately three hundred “guinea pigs”, including myself.

You would think that after so many years with so many languages and participants that the novelty would wear off. It doesn’t, at least not for me. So what is the attraction of running such courses, the reason for this ABLE addiction? Why do I continue to cajole, even coerce people into coming along for a language learning ride? I have three specific reasons.

First, over the years my obsessive interest in languages and apparent ability to pick up the basics of a new tongue relatively quickly has resulted in acquaintances viewing me as some kind of freak. In truth, I do not consider myself an exceptional language learner. If I do not put in the effort, my ability to communicate in a language does not progress. Perhaps I do have the ability to identify and mimic the sounds of a foreign tongue a little better than most people. Listeners frequently comment on how native-like my speech is even though my level may be very rudimentary. Many people who play the piano or sing in a choir probably have the same innate ability.

I recently read a review of a book entitled “Babel No More: The Search for the World’s Most Extraordinary Language Learners” written by Michael Erard,which is causing quite a stir among people like myself who are fixated with learning languages. The book (which I hope to read soon) apparently suggests that there are “special” people who are capable of easily picking up almost any language with little effort. Perhaps this is true to a degree; however, I truly believe that given suitable study conditions, an efficient teaching approach, interesting material, an empathetic instructor, and/or opportunity for use, anyone can master the basics necessary to communicate in another tongue. This is one of my primary reasons for involving others in the study of a new language. I want to show that any of my friends or family members is capable of quickly picking up the core language necessary to communicate their needs. I refuse to believe I am unique, one of Erard’s “special” people. It’s just that the whimsical road of life provided me with favorable conditions to nurture my fixation.

My next reason for spending the time, energy and funds to organize small groups of sometimes reluctant participants to learn a new language is because it is an adrenalin rush. It is thrilling for me to watch people who think they are lousy language learners evolve in a matter of weeks into motivated travelers effectively communicating in a foreign tongue. Of course they are not fluent but they get the job done. In pre-course surveys, few believe they will be able to understand or say anything in the language they are about to study, especially in such a short time. But in the survey administered post-course, after a trip abroad, there is an obvious “can-do” mentality for most participants with many expressing an interest in continuing their studies. And almost everyone is eager to participate in the next ABLE course!

My final reason for spending so many years researching how to learn a language more effectively derives from my own past as a teenager looking for an opportunity to go where I could savor the delights of unfamiliar cultures, meet new people and make new friends while using their language. My time in Malaysia as a 19-year-old perhaps had the greatest impact on me (see blog entries 10, 14 and 32); however, every trip I make to new, or even familiar places still excites me. For those who chose to join me on one of the ABLE programs, I hope that their experience will be just as energizing.

Many years ago, I read James Clavell’s “Shogun”, a novel based loosely around real events in feudal Japan. Academics panned the book as being pulp fiction for the masses but it got me interested in Japanese culture, and lead me to study the tea ceremony, traditional cuisine (kaiseki), even how to wear a kimono. I often wonder how many others started down a similar path thanks to a novel, movie, or even comic book. In my travels about the globe, I have met a surprising number of young people whose fascination with things Japanese is based on their love of manga.

In some ways, I view ABLE and, subsequently, our online courses at www.sulantra.com, in a similar light. The study system is surprisingly uncomplicated, while the visual component is simple and straightforward. Online there are no glitzy computer graphics or an overload of animated features because we want to reach and educate a broad audience – not crash their computers!

I understand that not every person who signs up for a classroom-based ABLE program or online course at www.sulantra.com will become fluent in the language they are studying. But I do want them to be able to communicate, albeit at a rudimentary level, and have the freedom to do what they want when traveling abroad. I want their first steps in the new language to be pleasant, not boring or painful. I want them to continue, moving forward step by step on a journey of self-discovery as they experience all that a new culture has to offer when you speak the language of its people. If only a small handful of those who make the journey eventually become fluent then the time and effort spent has been worthwhile!

(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!)

34. A Language Fixation: The Catalyst

In my last blog entry, I talked about an accelerated training approach, ABLE (for “action-based language empowerment”) that I have been working on for what seems like forever to help learners acquire basic communication skills in another language. I have spent about thirty-five years training “guinea pigs” then testing them onsite to determine how well they can interact with locals after only 10-15 hours of study. Most recently I coordinated an ABLE program in Korean for a group of eight Japanese and Chinese university students then dragged them off to Seoul to test their skills on the street (see blog entry 33).

Thirty-five years is a long time to spend having people study languages that they initially may not be thrilled about learning. Some participants say they are in a course only because a friend or family member “forced” them to join. Others make it quite clear on pre-course questionnaires that they want the mark (my university students get credit for the classroom course) but have no real interest in the language or its culture. My goal is to turn that attitude around, to have participants finish a course and thirsty to learn more of the language and dive deeper into the culture.

So when did this fascination with learning languages start? As described in my earliest blogs, a supportive home environment (see blog entry 1), opportunities to travel (see blog entries 5, 7, 10, 23), and the whimsy of unexpected contacts and experiences (see blog entry 31) certainly planted the seeds for my fixation; however, the catalyst for bringing others along for the ride occurred after I moved to Japan and started working for Mitsui Engineering and Shipbuilding (MES; see blog entries 27, 29) in the small town of Tamano.

Being the only foreigner on the Tamano staff, I was constantly being asked to do a wide range of teaching jobs. Having listed French and Spanish on my resumé, it was no surprise that requests for courses in these languages turned up on my desk. Then one day my section head asked me about teaching a beginners class in Indonesian to twelve welders who were heading to Sumatra for three months.

At first, I demurred. Although I could get by in Malaysian (see blog entry 10), which was essentially the same language with a few differences in vocabulary and pronunciation (think American vs. British English), I didn’t feel confident enough to conduct a three-week course. Besides, the group was made up of blue collar welders, most of who had not finished secondary school and were likely not very keen to be stuck in a classroom learning another tongue. Texts were not available and, even if they were, the group would probably not be interested in memorizing grammar tables.

But my boss wouldn’t take “no” for an answer and, in the end, I had to come up with a study program. Fortunately, there were two trainees from Java working in the shipyard and with their help I thought that I might be able to piece together a course so I met with both. The first man turned me down immediately but the second trainee, Budi, was more cooperative (naïve?) and said that he would help. Thus began the complex process of putting together a bahasa Indonesia course from thin air in the backwaters of Japan.

First, I talked with the manager of the Japanese welders in order to determine what the language would be used for – a needs analysis. I was told that an interpreter would be provided in the workplace to deal with occupational needs, but after hours the men would be on their own in the small town where they heading. A little Indonesian would definitely go a long way. The welders were expected to shop for their own food in the marketplace, ask for directions, catch trains and buses to larger urban centers, order in restaurants; in other words, the things that most travelers need to do. Using these task-based themes, I prepared a set of materials with hand-drawn visuals to introduce core language.

The next step was to train the teacher. I needed to give Budi a crash course in teaching methodology using a target language he had no background in. I wanted him understand how the welders in his classes would feel. He was conversant in English and his Japanese was much better than mine so we settled on French. The day before classes began, I ran him through a series of activities, all the while saying, “It’s easy.” or “You can do it!” in my perkiest voice. He looked terrified. Inside, so was I. After each activity, we switched roles and Budi would repeat the exercise, this time teaching me bahasa Indonesian. The next day, he was in the classroom with the twelve welders.

The Indonesian course went exceptionally well. Budi was a natural teacher and thrilled to be teaching someone his mother tongue. He had a clear, practical sense of what needed to be accomplished perhaps because he had already jumped through the hoops himself learning Japanese. The welders went to Sumatra and three months later at their “welcome back” dinner everyone said the language training had made a huge difference. Not only had they survived on the street, but they actually got to know some locals and had a terrific time!

The MES experience got me thinking. Why not develop a curriculum with a functional focus that trained people to get specific jobs done rather than bore them to tears with talk of grammar? If done carefully, this same curriculum could be used to work “across languages”. After all, I had used French to train Budi and he had “converted” the lessons for use with his mother tongue, teaching Indonesian to Japanese welders. The permutations were endless and I was hooked. The study model has evolved greatly from this unusual beginning, but the goal is still the same, to get people communicating with each other in a new language as quickly as possible – and enjoying themselves in the process!

(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!)

33. ABLE Training – Getting the job done in another language

It has been a while since my last blog but things have been busier than usual. Every year during my university’s spring break, I conduct an experimental language training program over a two-week period then drag the participants abroad to see if they can function onsite in the language they have been studying. This year it was Korean with eight of my students (six Japanese and two Chinese) testing their communication skills in Seoul, Kongju and Taejeon. They did a great job and loved every minute of both the study sessions and overseas testing – or at least this is what they all told me during debriefings.

This year the group did exceptionally well for two likely reasons. First, Korean is structured like Japanese and has lots of loan words from Chinese, which meant this year’s target language was probably more comfortable for the learners than last year’s Khmer or the Turkish course of the year before.

On the other hand, I suspect another reason is critical to the success of this year’s group. Before commencing the classroom course, everyone studied Korean online for approximately three hours using the free Starter course on my language learning website, www.sulantra.com. As a result, everyone had the same basic input of the target language, which meant there were no “higher level” students to undermine the confidence of the real beginners.

Thanks to this online introduction, participants entered the first class with the skills to clarify and actively interact with the instructor. The teacher, also one of my students, was very surprised at everyone’s ability to “control” classroom interactions (see blog entries 27 and 28 for details of the “Control” behavioral model). And all of the participants passed the onsite tests in Korea with flying colors, using public transportation to get around and completing a range of tasks, such as bargaining in the marketplace, ordering meals in small local restaurants, and finding their way back to the guesthouse where we all stayed.

There are a large number of language training approaches, both online and off, each with strengths and weaknesses. My own methodology is a hybrid, tested over many years with all types of learners in a range of languages. I call it Action-Based Language Empowerment, or ABLE. Why does this ABLE approach work so well? The system combines elements that I have found most attractive as a learner of languages, while carefully avoiding those that I stumbled over on the road to becoming conversant in other tongues. Most of the components are very logical but often overlooked in the classroom or in online courses that seem to have sprung from a traditional textbook format.

First and foremost is the focus of a training course. I know from my own experience learning languages in high school that grammar turns me off. When a teacher starts drawing tables and making speeches about syntax, it feels like I have accidentally stumbled into a Physics class. Great if you enjoy the subject matter, hell if you don’t. For my language courses, I always focus on practical application. What does the learner need to accomplish? Is the goal to take a trip or work in a factory? This mindset began with work I did with immigrants to my homeland, Canada, and persists today (see blog entries 14, 17 and 18). I always collect student input on course content and do my utmost to make sure at least some of their goals are being met. Relevance ensures interest.

Next, I structure the course in a spiral with information being constantly recycled and expanded. Time to pontificate. Most language training in schools and online is based on a textbook-style format. What this means is that the class material is presented as a thematic unit, for example, “Unit 1: Self Introductions”. The problem with this chapter-by-chapter approach is that, by the time you reach Unit 3, you have forgotten Units 1 and 2! And if the course contains lists of disconnected vocabulary and grammatical patterns to memorize, the learning process can become even more frustrating. Inefficient and definitely not fun. Sadly, despite the obvious limitations, many language learning sites follow this same “tried-and-trashed” lesson arrangement because it is familiar.

ABLE, on the other hand, has a very different structure. Each course still covers most of the functions covered in a standard “survival” or “travel language” textbook; however, rather than progressing “vertically” (completing all of the activities in one thematic unit before proceeding to the next), the material for an entire text is divided into five or six levels. The result is a set of compartmentalized, short study “modules”. The learner finishes the modules for one function then moves to the modules for the next function at the same level. Learners move “horizontally”, completing the modules for every function area before moving up to the next level, where the material previously studied is automatically recycled and expanded resulting in a spiral like the one shown above. This format of short modules in a spiraling format is fast (learners definitely don’t fall asleep!), focused and, thanks to the constant recycling, makes it much easier to remember key phrases for completing tasks on the street.

But there is one final component that is never built into a language training course for absolute beginners: communication strategies. Asking someone to repeat, speak more slowly or clarify, is never introduced to absolute beginners because the “language is too difficult”. This is true if you are looking at sentence structures, but not if you introduce key expressions as “chunks” (technically referred to as “formulaic language”). The question “How do you say this?” is great for picking up the words you need in a specific context and can be taught to beginners from the first day of a course if it is introduced as a single unit, one long word that can be blurted out when the need arises. This is how a child learns his or her first language. And this is how key language is introduced in an ABLE course, as well as online at www.sulantra.com.

The great thing about the ABLE approach is that learners are exposed to core language at regular intervals and by the end of a relatively short study period, either in class or online, have the ability to negotiate meaning on the streets of a foreign city. The learner’s stance is aggressive – no matter how low the level, participants in my courses can intervene, clarify, understand and complete specific tasks when we are abroad. Maybe they are not making speeches at the UN (yet) but they can certainly communicate and get the job done!

(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!)

32. A Box of Chocolates

In my last blog entry, I talked about special people I have met over the years who introduced me to their respective cultures (see blog entry 31). Each person became a close friend and led me into a new and seductive world through personal and positive initial contact. I soon developed a strong desire to learn languages in order to dive deeper into the cultures of Japan, Thailand, Bulgaria and Turkey, testing myself on the streets of each country by trying to communicate in the local vernacular – and having a great time doing so!

But friends, food and frolic are not the only reasons I undertake the study of a new language. There are a range of motivations involved, including scholarships and exchange programs. I learned very quickly that, if I wanted to travel to a place where I could use a language, I would either have to save every cent I earned or qualify for scholarships. In the latter case, I managed to get accepted for two study stints in Quebec (see blog entry 5), as well as for one in China (see blog entry 23). In both cases, although I did not yet have close friends from these regions, I was familiar with the local language thanks to classroom studies and wanted to test my communication skills in the real world.

I became involved with other tongues “by accident”. Two languages that I had no background in, but was unexpectedly introduced to, were Cree (see blog entry 15) and Malaysian. In the latter case, I hit the jackpot on a government study program at the end of my last year in high school (see blog entry 10). The Canadian government was implementing a program called Canada World Youth, or Jeunesse Canada Monde in French, to send young people overseas on developmental education projects. The lucky participants spent three months training in Canada, six months in the host country, and a final three months back in Canada with their international counterparts. There were five potential destinations – Cameroon, Tunisia, Yugoslavia, Malaysia and Mexico. I chose the last country since I had studied some Spanish in high school and thought that, if I made friends “south of the border”, the chance to visit them would be more likely than with the other countries. As it turned out, I was assigned to Malaysia, a country that I couldn’t even pinpoint on a map!

A total of eighty participants went to Malaysia. Divided into groups of ten, we spent a frantic year being shuffled from state to state, paraded before the public with the media in attendance as we planted rice, climbed up mountains, and learned folk dances. In our group, only two participants really made a concerted effort to learn the local language, bahasa Malaysia. As a result, each time the group was moved to a new state, we were singled out and billeted with families who spoke mainly bahasa Malaysia. While the others stayed in cities and communicated mostly in English, the two of us inevitably ended up in rural settings, which meant our language skills took off. We became quite conversant and were even interviewed in bahasa Malaysia on national TV at the end of our stint. Not bad considering that we had only lived in the country for six months. As for me, I became enamored with a place that I didn’t even know existed a year earlier and still dream of going back, picking up where I left off linguistically and culturally. This motivation grew from direct interaction with the people and culture.

But such stories are not always so positive. I was recently contacted by a friend who is organizing an exchange program between students from his Japanese university and counterparts in Thailand. Although he has gone to great lengths to offer language training both online and in classes with a native Thai speaker, none of this year’s fourteen participants seem interested. His students assume that, when they arrive in Thailand, someone will speak English or maybe even Japanese. To me, this smacks of naivety, or worse, arrogance. These students are satisfied with being typical tourists, not willing to take a little time to learn the language of the country they will soon visit. From my perspective, this is a truly sad condition. Hopefully direct contact with the people and culture will motivate them to make the effort to study some Thai. We shall see.

I, too, am running an overseas program this winter. Two weeks ago, eight of my students began studying Korean online at www.sulantra.com followed by twelve hours of classroom instruction over ten days using a teaching approach similar to the one they have experienced online. Tomorrow we finish our classroom sessions and the next day everyone will board a plane for Korea where we will spend five days testing our language skills on the streets of Seoul, Taejeon and Gongju. The last place is a smaller city where we assume most people will speak only Korean. This is where the participants will undertake “solo tests”, including shopping for souvenirs in a marketplace, ordering meals at noodle stalls, purchasing train tickets back to Seoul. In other words, typical activities when you are on the road.

And as they interact with the locals to complete their test tasks, I hope that my students will become energized. Although the weather will be freezing with snow on the ground, I am confident that everyone will have great stories to tell their families and friends back home. I also hope that they will develop a strong desire to learn more language in order to return to Korea in the future. I want them to have an exciting time communicating and continue to develop their skills in Korean. I want this trip to be memorable and motivating just as my trip to Malaysia was for me so many years ago.

It may seem like a farfetched dream, but I am optimistic. I have been running courses similar to this one for over thirty years and, although each program has its own hurdles and headaches, inevitably things work out. Most participants return home looking for ways to continue studying the new language they have recently reveled in. Still others want to tackle a different language, to open the door on new, energizing experiences. With just a few words and phrases under your belt, the world becomes a box of chocolates with an infinite number of flavors all waiting to be enjoyed. If that first taste is a pleasant one, it becomes very hard to put the lid back on the box. There is no turning back.

Many of the students going to Korea will be heading abroad for the first time. Through direct experience they will form their own opinions and understanding of a country so close and yet so far. I hope this first “taste” will leave them craving for more. More travel, more experiences, more language. My next posting will describe the training approach I have developed for my classes. The posting after that will most likely be from the countryside outside of Seoul.

Care for a chocolate, anyone?

(If you are really a fool for language, check out my language learning website at http://en.sulantra.com/ with courses from and to English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Bulgarian, Thai, German, Korean and Italian!)