This week I've done a couple of
observations (precisely three with the one I described in my previous post). I
really enjoyed the opportunity to see some decent lessons. I'm supposed to see
every English teacher employed at our school once in the term; i.e. twice in the academic year. There
are five English teachers, which then makes ten observations per year. This is
my new duty which I was assigned when I became the head of the English
department, and it's the duty I was most looking forward to because I believe this
is the most interesting and meaningful part of my job.
I must admit that
a year ago my observation feedback would have looked totally different. Not
that I wasn't competent or something - I had just finished my tough teacher
training after all and I knew what to expect and say - but I saw things from a
slightly different angle than I do now. One year ago I would have looked for
flaws and improvements. I mean, not that I wouldn't have told the teacher what
is good, but I would have felt my duty is to help them become better teachers
and that meant, at that time, fixing the flaws. Well, not that I don't want to
help my colleagues fix what I think is wrong with their teaching, I just doubt
that I have the right to preach what's wrong. The only thing that matters is
whether the students learn.
When observing the
first lesson in question, I thought: Well,
to my taste it's a bit too quiet and calm in here; just some regular coursebook
stuff. But then I realized
that it was a perfect opportunity to concentrate on things which would otherwise
remain unnoticed; either behind the glamour of the lesson, i.e. the teacher's
fantastic performance including the mastery of various gadgets and cool tools,
or the noise the students usually make when having fun during super cool
activities. There were no cool tools and no showing off on the teacher's part
though; the students worked quietly, but they did work all the time. The
teacher spoke a little; she only spoke when asking questions, giving
instructions and eliciting language from the students. The students produced
most of the language. What I loved most was the eliciting part. It was when I realized how important and valuable it is to ask before you provide the
answer, if you need to provide it at all. This information gap invariably
attracts the students’ attention. I loved it when the teacher zoomed in on
small words which were crucial to the overall meaning and successful completion
of the task. From time to time I stopped observing and for a while I only kept
listening with my eyes fixed down on the feedback form. It was when I could hear
that the students were learning something. I knew; I could hear it.
Then I looked up
again and saw the fantastic board work the teacher had produced throughout the
lesson. My eyes could see and thus my brain could absorb and process. I suppose
that's how the students felt as well. Learners learn when they listen, but the
spoken word is fleeting if not recorded in some form, at least the most salient
parts. Putting things on the board and asking the students to copy them results
in making these things permanent. Making a vocabulary or a grammar item
permanent results in helping it find its way into the student's memory. And
thus learning occurs again. And this is what happened in this lesson.
Based on the
lessons I've observed this week I've come to believe a couple of things. First,
I truly believe that the best teachers spend most of the time drawing attention
to language features. They make students notice what's important. Good teachers
then make the learners produce what they have noticed, either in writing or
speaking. They recycle the language in a well-thought way. Secondly, when you
observe a good lesson, you stop focusing on the teacher at some point - the
teacher simply recedes into the background, even though you're still aware of
their presence. The students are in the spotlight of your observation, even
though you actually came to see the teacher. Thirdly, there's a huge difference
between an effective and an impressive activity. An effective activity can be
but doesn't have to be impressive. And vice versa, an impressive activity may
turn out totally ineffective.
Finally, the
question the observer or the observee (or any teacher in general) should ask at
the end of each lesson is: What
have the students learnt and how do I know? Both parts of the question
are hard to answer. Every student is different and not all students pay
attention all the time; some of them are unmotivated and they even hate being
there. Thus it's better to ask: What
valuable learning opportunities have I offered and how do I know? I mean, sometimes the teacher does her
best but the students don't care. You cannot force people to learn things; they
can only learn out of their own will. Hence the second question makes more
sense. So when I'm sitting there as the observer, paying attention, I think I
can judge whether the observee is offering learning opportunities. Alongside with the students, I'm the most
objective subjective judge at the moment. And this should be the core of
the subsequent feedback.
What do
you think the students learnt and how do you know? This is the only
thing I'm entitled to do: to ask this obvious yet challenging question. I'm not
there to tell the observee that I do/would have done things differently -
there's no point. I'm not there to say that what the teacher did was wrong. No
method is wrong if it helps people learn. So the only thing I can doubt question is whether learning
occurred. If no learning happened, it wasn't a good lesson. It was a waste of
time and the kids may well have stayed at home watching an English movie or
play a PC game instead. If learning did occur, the next question could be: Could I help them learn even more? This is the kind of reflection we
should do together - the observee and I. This is the kind of reflection that will
help us both, but it's the students who'll finally benefit most.
