Studies, theories, ideas, notes from the workface and occasional bits of stupidity.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Is there such a thing.....
This is following on from the last two posts, and I'm just trying to formulate ideas behind motivation, or perhaps more accurately, demotivation in language learners. This also, I think, segues rather neatly into a piece of research I did last year, namely a brutal piece of statistical number crunching I did with ESOL students' results that showed how people moving from intermediate to upper intermediate experience a far greater drop-out rate than should be expected. It also churned up the shocking stat that nearly two-thirds of ESOL students fail the Adult Literacy exam at Level One in their first attempt, a real indictment of its efficacy and usefulness. If you want to read it, it's over here on Scrib'd.
OK, my thinking goes like this. Just as Maslow has the different needs, so do language learners. So far, so no brainer. Well, what about 'peak experience'? What do students consider to be their aim? If you look at the questions I asked my two groups last week, you'll see that this was something I was trying to tease out of them, albeit not to any great extent. What is also signifcant is the fact that the learners felt inhibited about talking in a 'deep'/'satisfying' way about subjects that they felt deeply about, and about which they could communicate highly effectively in their own languages. In other words, they perceived a disparity between what they wanted to express and what they felt they could communicate. OK, well, duh, obviously.
But is this perceived disparity a genuine, objectively measurable one, or is it in fact a highly subjective thing? When we talk about things that genuinely interest us, what we should notice is that the language is arguably highly descriptive, but not necessarily grammatically difficult.
Let's go back to Maslow. Now, here is what I propose to do: I'm going to match the type of functional language and grammar forms we might expect to teach our students onto the hierarchy of needs, then compare it to what we actually teach people at elementary level etc. What I suspect this to show is that, for a student who lives in an English-speaking country, they actually need to be far more proficient in certain grammar forms in order to express their most basic needs, than they would do to express 'peak experience' ideas. In other words, in order just to fulfill their simplest physiological and psychological needs, an adult requires language skills far above what they actually would need to express themselves fully in a 'deep' conversation.
This disjuncture, I would argue, leads to a profound sense of demotivation. Indeed, I would say that it is a leading reason for a typical ESOL/ESL student becoming essentially 'diminished' in a way that an EFL student (who is studying the language as a subject, rather than as a medium through which things are learned) does not experience.
This may suggest that they way in which English is taught may need a rethink, certainly for ESOL students. While the Skills for Life materials do, in some respects, attempt to do this, they are rather feeble.
This also suggests that we may be able to talk about a 'hierarchy of language needs' - that is, optimal levels at which a student requires particular things and ways to express him/herself. This, though, would look very different from the mapping of language skills mapped over the Maslow hierarchy, as to some extents it would be informed by the student's own perception of need. What I would would then like to do is map it against statistics for achievement and levels of achievement against exam results and learner progression, in order to see if the hypothesis matches real-world results.
Could be interesting.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
More on depression and speaking
The answer was almost unanimously 'yes', except for one student who just giggled. Mind you, she does tend to giggle at pictures of kittens, handbags, passing clouds and occasionally while staring blankly into space, so...
I then asked 'why?'
You can probably guess the types of answer - embarrassment, fear of mistakes, frustration, etc.
I then asked, 'are there any situations which make you feel particularly embarrassed?'
Here the answers were varied. For a significant portion, it was talking on the phone: others mentioned more formal social situations such as going to the bank or talking with their children's teachers. A few of the more confident students said that they couldn't answer colleagues back in more formal meetings.
I then asked 'What situations/things would you like to talk about, but feel you can't?'
Here the answers were varied, ranging from talking to the council about housing benfits, to discussing schoolwork with a teacher, up to talking about politics, environmental issues, dance and music.
Lastly, I asked 'do you sometimes feel as though you are disabled?'
A unanimous 'yes'.
and 1 giggle.
The finding that most interested me was the one about which things people would like to be able to talk about. It shows, I think, that the level at which students would consider a conversation 'deep' and 'satisfying' vary enormously. It's no wonder that language learners do get so demotivated.
It's also set me off on what may turn out to be a rather exciting tangent of thought, but I'm going to have to put in a bit of research first. More later.
Monday, 8 March 2010
Speaking foreign makes you depressed, innit?
Is it possible that speaking in a foreign language can actually make you depressed?
It might seem a somewhat bizarre notion: After all, learning languages is supposed to be an incredibly liberating thing, allowing you to communicate with new people and new cultures, to open your eyes to another way of seeing the world.
That's what language teachers say, anyway - after all, they have only their jobs to lose.
But consider this report on a piece of research. The basic findings are that people who spend more time engaged in chat and gossip are significantly more likely to be depressed than people who engage in 'meaningful' discussions.
Now consider what we do with our students in class and what kind of topics are used - do these count as 'meaningful'? It strikes me that it is possible that the type of topics, along with the limitations of a student's level of language and their ability to express their ideas, may collude to be massively demotivating. We already know that students get frustrated at not being able to say certain things, but if we are also making them depressed by getting them to talk about, let's say, collections and hobbies to express the notion of habitual behaviour, then we are ladling on the problems. When we also consider that many students tend to drop out of English study round about Intemediate level - when their level of language is just emerging into an increasingly more sophisticated level of complexity, but the topic matters used are frequently banal - then we may have one of the (many)reasons why the dropout rate is so high.
Of course, it's all about keeping the students interested, curious and open-minded, but let's face it, unit 5, exercise 3 (listen to Brian talk about his dead pet hamster) probably isn't going to cut it. This is where getting to know our students as individuals, their hobbies, interests, likes and dislikes, is so important. It's also important to consider the fact that one person's notion of 'meaningful discussion' may not be the same level as another's. Matey in the corner might only satisfied with a weighty talk on Wittgenstein, while someone else will be thoroughly satisfied discussing puppies and shopping. It's all about the differentiation in class.
However, I suspect it may be difficult to find a text about Wittgenstein shopping for puppies.
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
The English UK Teachers' Conference 2008
Anyway, we arrived at the venue with no incident, apart from me letting loose an urban legend, while trudging and lurching through a tube station with several hundred other people, about how George A. Romero had based his Zombies' shuffling gait on the movements of London commuters on the underground. I said it loudly enough for several pairs of ears to hear me. I wonder how long it'll take before it gets published somewhere or other.
Prospero House has seen a few changes: The ground floor has been refurbished and made to appear wider by the judicious removal of the pokey little rooms facing Borough Road. In their place, a coffee lounge has been opened, complete with baristas in green aprons, attentive to everyone's needs. The pokey rooms have been shunted upstairs and given inspriational names like 'Express', 'Smile', 'Inspire', 'Poke with a Stick'. I've made one of those up. Why on earth give rooms names? Does it make the average conference delegate think 'gosh, I'm in a room called smile, I'd better look amused or something'? I suppose the designers thought it made themselves look more creative than appellating them room 1A or something.
We'd already missed half the opening session, so rather than furtively wander into the back of the room, we decided to have coffee and investigate which room we'd be using. It was one of the pokey rooms – Smile 1. It contained twelve chairs, an old projector on an old stand at a dodgy angle, no projector screen, one flipchart pad and a view of dilapidated buildings on Borough Road. And, somewhat crucially we thought, considering we were going to be given a presentation on computer-based admin environments, a laptop-sized hole. Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to bring my own along, and Chloe had four memory sticks, a CD and a printed version of the whole presentation, just to be on the safe side. And she'd emailed it to me and herself.
Anyway, we had plenty of time: we weren't due to deliver our presentation until the afternoon. We looked through the programme and decided which of the other presentations would be worth going to. This year, it seemed that there were an awful lot of company reps flogging their wares – sorry, giving meaningful and useful shows while utilising certain branded products. We decided to try and give these a miss and watch what other instructors were doing. Our first stop was motivated solely by self-interest, rather than any attempt at gathering information from as many different sources as possible to later disseminate – or, in the truly dreadful jargon our institution employs, cascade down – what we'd found out to the rest of the teaching team. No, we wanted to find out how to get published, and become full-time EFL publishers and live on yachts, drinking champagne like Liz and John Soars. So, we went to the excitingly-named 'Get your name in lights! How to get published', presented by the excitingly-named Celia Wigley. She was in Smile 1. We tried to smile too, as fifteen people attempted to squeeze in, mostly middle-aged older TEFLers who had all been seduced by the exclamation mark in the middle of the title. Celia was waiting with a brittle, nervous smile at the front, occasionally being kicked accidentally by people stretching out their legs, and looking anxiously at the laptop that someone had dug out, or possibly up. She had every right to look anxious, as the thing wouldn't work. Mark Rendell, the English UK organiser, appeared, and sent someone else off to find a techie guy called John. In the hiatus now offered us, Celia hemmed and hawed and introduced herself, and explained a little of her background. More from what was left unsaid, it was obvious that she'd followed the classic late 80's/early 90's route into TEFL: leave university; do some crap job for a while, while waiting for someone to give you a dream job and/or the world to sit up and realize what a wonderful genius you are; realise that actually you haven't got a clue what you are actually good at or for; see an ad in the newspaper saying 'teach your way round the world!!!' (see, those tempting exclamation marks again!!); go off on some dodgy teaching course or other while instructing a conversation class of 50 exhausted Indonesian businessmen; suddenly wake up and realize you've been in the job 10 years. However, she had, to her credit, managed to land a publishing job with EF. After a few more minutes of waiting, one techie arrived, followed by another, and they gesticulated at the computer for a bit, before disappearing. At this, Celia completely clammed up, claiming that she needed her presentation; So why hadn't she made any prints of the slides?
This afforded us all several more minutes of quiet contemplation, during which I marvelled at the clothing choices of my fellow TEFLers. Celia herself was dressed in a fairly standard long black woolen dress affair, complete with sparse pieces of chunky jewelery. The other women (apart from Chloe, I must say) seemed to have mostly got dressed in the dark with the aid of a guide dog with no aesthetic sense, and had their hair done in a variety of exciting, not to mention haphazard, ways, involving attempts to make grey hair more interesting. The men were far duller; corduroy, twill and tweed predominated, along with slobby jumpers. For the record, I was dressed in black trousers with a fine grey pinstripe, a grey and black striped shirt and black shoes. What the men lacked in spectacular sartorial wear, they more than made up for with the variety of stains of different hue on their clothes, and the various methods employed to try and disguise baldness.
Eventually, John the Head Techie arrived with another laptop, plugged it in and got the whole show going, some twenty minutes late. Actually, it was a shame, because there was quite a lot of potentially useful information about the publishing process itself. What there wasn't was any particularly useful or concrete advice about getting oneself published, just info about the arduous path the neophyte TEFL writer must wander. Fooled by those damned exclamation marks once again! It wasn't helped by Celia being not exactly well-prepared or practiced, either. It never ceases to amaze me how people whose profession involves standing in front of a load of strangers and communicating ideas to them in an alien language suddenly all go to pieces and forget good practice in front of their peers.
Anyway, after the end of her presentation, Chloe and I went our separate ways, her to a presentation on EAP methodology, me to one entitled 'Explore the subtleties of language', fortunately exclamation-mark free, which promised to explore the subtleties of literature, poetry, music and text within an upper-intermediate/advanced context. It was hosted by Karen, the DOS of a language school somewhere in London. She had bags of enthusiasm. She had big glasses. She had hair that had obviously been large and roughly the same shape as Carol Decker's from T'Pau in around 1986, and which had gradually worn down over the intervening years. She had a bright red cardigan and green dress. She had a brittle smile that kept on saying 'please like me'. Sadly, what she didn't have was a) enough photocopies to hand round, b) even a basic powerpoint presentation or c) a clue. The following fifty minutes was an object example in someone's enthusiasm overtaking their ability to express themselves clearly, or to actually analyse what it is they're delivering in class.
What was was, her reading and listening material seem to have expired at some point in the late eighties. We were treated to an extract from an early Jaqueline Wilson book, lyrics from heavy metal group Queensryche and Bon Jovi, and a newpaper article which, as she put it 'is written like he is dancing'.
Karen proceeded to hand out her materials, saying all the while that she loved them and they were excellent. What she did not do was explain methodology, approach, and practice. Instead, she encouraged us to analyse the text, looking for similes, metaphors, and tenses. Why? What for? The most appalling was the Bon Jovi lyrics, for Dry County, which are absolutley chock full of Christian imagery and allusion, and particularly imagery that resonates to an native English speaker. How on earth was it possible to make it relevant or interesting to non-native non-christian students? All in all, a total waste of everybody's time, in my opinion.
Deeply disappointed, I met up with Chloe again and we ate our buffet meals, most of which seemed to have been deep fried even if iy didn't want to be. We discussed final strategies and what we'd seen so far. Around us, other teachers sat in small groups, chatting of this and that. I watched one guy struggle with a daub of ketchup on his plate and something resembling a goujon, finally adding to the stain collection on his shirt. We finished off quickly, the went upstairs and set up our show. In fact, it was a good job we did, because it took us twenty minutes to set up the bloody computer. However, we managed it, and managed to start our presentation on time to a select audience of, er, ten. Well, strictly speaking, nine, as one had clearly overdosed on deep-fried substances and fell asleep at the back. We delivered the whole thing successfully and, amazingly considering our lack of practice, seamlessly, even though I was occasionally distracted by the sight, through the window, of a naked woman casually wandering around the flat above a shop on the other side of the road. What feedback we got was very positive indeed, and I think we provided something useful and tangible for those present.
Finally, there was the closing session, with Hugh Dellar, who was delivering a talk called 'the curse of creativity'. He works for the University of Westminster and has produced several textbooks. The talk was clearly one he had delivered before, but no worse for that. It was an entertaining performance and a good way to end the conference. Hi s basic premise was that teachers spend far too much time trying to be creative at the expense of the students actually learning anything. I think he has a point: why try to recreate the wheel in every lesson? However, I think he missed out a really crucial point – namely, encouraging creativity in students, even though he touched on a point about the Japanese concept of 'shu-ha-ri'.
And it is difficult to take seriously anyone wearing white shoes – SHOES, not trainers – with a cowboy shirt. At least the shirt was stainless.
Sunday, 16 November 2008
Ten Thousand Hours
In terms of language learning, would ten thousand hours of practice equate to mastery? Research suggests it would. After all, the requirements for Proficiency level state that someone who has studied for far less than this figure will achieve this level. And when a student has the opportunity to be entirely immersed in an English-speaking environment, we should point out how swiftly that can, in theory, become masterful. Let's take an example of someone with mastery of the English language: Joseph Conrad, someone who knew nothing of the language before the age of 19. Now, he came from a family that were hard-working and determined, and he had hour after hour to learn English while aboard boats, criss-crossing the oceans. In the end, he began writing, and look at his work! But I bet you that the aforementioned figure , all that time in practice and learning and practice again, had to be crossed before he even set pen to paper.
And as for being a teacher, what of that? After reading this article, I reflected on how many hours I've put in, both in the classroom and in preps, practice etc. I must have done, on average, about 20 hours per week of direct class contact over the last 15 years. So, 20 x 44 (don't forget holiday times, when I do my paperwork) x 15 = 13,200 hours of class time, plus planning & admin. Have I achieved mastery of my subject? Well, no, because I can always find something to learn, and there is always something to learn. But also, yes, because I know that I can walk into a classroom or even a circle drawn on the floor, with or without materials, and still deliver a good lesson.
Saturday, 8 November 2008
English UK conference, again
As you might remember, last year I was up against Adrian Underhill; This year we're going head to head with Jim Scrivener. No probs.
Anyone interested in online records of work could do worse than visit this site, where I'm playing with them, alongside other stuff.
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
Acquisition and Learning
Compare the concepts of language acquisition and language learning with reference to your reading and experience. Explain their relevance to three different learning situations in which you have had a direct teaching role.
Introduction
Since the nineteenth century and the rise of various theories of how languages are learned, one consistent area of research has been how children learn their mother languages, and how best that can be replicated in the language classroom in order to facilitate the simplest and easiest way of learning a target language. Since the 1970s, further research has been undertaken into understanding the differences between the seemingly unconscious way in which young children learn and the way in which adult learners learn languages, what processes are involved and how these might affect how we learn, and teach, languages. Arguably the currently most dominant theories are those of Stephen Krashen regarding language acquisition and language learning, as laid out in Second language acquisition and second language learning (1981), and how they relate to his and Tracy Terrell's Natural Approach theory (1983). While the Natural Approach, according to Krashen himself, falls under the umbrella of the Communicative Approach, nevertheless his own theories on Acquisition, learning and the differences therein has had a significant impact on language teaching, methodology, materials and texts since the 1980s. In this essay, I will compare the concepts of acquisition and learning, first exploring in brief some of the historical background behind the rise of Krashen's theory of second language acquisition. Next, I will compare the concepts in relation to classroom practice, based upon current materials and my own classroom practice, and explain three teaching situations which illustrate the concepts, and finally I will explain my own attitude towards acquisition and learning based upon my own experience.
The historical background behind acquisition and learning theories
It may be said that, broadly speaking, earlier approaches to language teaching and learning focused either on grammatical accuracy or on seeking to create conditions in which language is learned in a way closest to how a child acquires language, the two prime examples being the Grammar Translation Method and the the Natural, or Direct, Method, of ca.1900. The latter involved in its initial stages the instructor reading a text and then asking questions in the target language, often involving 'a great deal of pantomime' until the learner could comprehend phrases and sentences in the language being studied. It would only be after this initial phase that he or she would be expected to produce, and only later that grammar would be studied. While the Natural Method should not be confused with the much later Natural Approach, it did have something in common with the later idea. It is only later that there was consistent research into and analysis of what learners actually do. It was long held, for example, that (adult) learners of language would learn grammatical structures with greater or lesser speed depending on how close or distant their L1 was from the target language. This 'Contrastive Hypothesis' maintained that the learner's L1 could exert a positive or a negative interference depending on whether the language being studied contained the same grammatical feature as L1. However, when language learners were actually subjected to research during the late 1960s and 1970s, this hypothesis was found to actually have very little bearing on how L2 is learned. These 'Morpheme Order' studies sought to discover whether there is a natural sequence in which the structures of any given language are learned. While the initial studies have now come in for criticism, an outcome was that there does indeed seem to be a universal order of acquisition, and that we have an innate capability to acquire a language system from birth. Moreover, adult language learners appear to acquire language in much the same order as a child acquires his or her L1. However, there are still differences in these two processes: acquisition and learning.
What is Acquisition?
Acquisition, according to Krashen (1981), is the process best described as the 'natural' way in which first language development occurs in children. It is an unconscious process, involving the development of language proficiency by understanding a language and using it to communicate effectively and meaningfully. Krashen and Terrell (1983) state that the primary use of language is to communicate, and as such, language is naturally acquired in morphological 'chunks' – either word by word, utterance by utterance, or phrase by phrase, and that grammar has little to do with the natural way in which languages are acquired. Research does bear this out: Children acquire words according to their needs, and only later develop the 'framework' to create longer, more complex structures, the better to convey more complex meanings and information. Moreover, this framework takes time to become fully realised, and in the intervening time, children use an interlanguage – a form of the child's L1 in which he or she can experiment with language and where the rules and conventions are seemingly arbitrary and flexible. I can attest to this from my own experience of bringing up two children in a bilingual household. In the case of my first child, he initially acquired one language in preference to the other (in this case Turkish over English). However, due to a change of country just prior to his second birthday, he was plunged into a new language environment, and began to learn solely English, and his linguistic development subsequently proceeded in that language. By contrast, his younger brother (currently two years old) is exposed to both languages simultaneously at home, and also to Arabic via his childminder. When he speaks, he freely produces words in all three languages, but is at the point of clearly showing preference of lexical item depending on who he is communicating with. Nevertheless, his emergent interlanguage is still a mixture of vocabulary items from the languages he is acquiring. What is very clear is that there is very little discernible 'grammar' as such.
What is learning?
Language learning is a very different process from acquisition. It involves a process where the learner develops conscious rules about a language. It could be said that he or she learns about the language before learning the language itself. The outcome of this process is that the learner has clear, understood, knowledge of a language and can then verbalize this. In many respects, this means that a learned language is information learned much like any other subject, rather than the means or vehicle by which information is learned and disseminated, as is the case with L1. In contrast to acquisition, learning occurs in a formal taught environment. The development of the rules governing the target language may be helped by formal teaching techniques, such as error correction and testing. According to Krashen's theory, Learning cannot lead to acquisition, mainly because of how learning occurs, but also because of two other factors: the learner's internal 'monitor' and his or her 'affective filter'.
Acquisition, learning, the monitor hypothesis and the affective filter hypothesis
I have described above how acquisition is the process by which children acquire L1, and also how there seems to be a universal order of acquisition by which certain structures begin to appear in the learner's production. Research indicates that this order of acquisition also occurs in the way in which adult learners, whether in an informal or formal learning environment, acquire a target language. For example, the manner in which the negative is formed in English is typically initially expressed by putting 'no' before a verb ('I no go'), then by using an auxiliary correctly in one way, but incorrectly in another ('I don't go', but 'he don't go' or 'he don't can go'), before finally mastering the structure. This research into adult learners puts into question the entire notion of a grammatical syllabus. Surely we should teach English in a manner which most closely resembles the way in which we naturally learn our mother tongues?
This is in fact what Krashen and Terrel propose in the Natural Approach (1983). Some of the key features of this, according to Richards and Rodgers (2001) are that, firstly, the approach is designed to help students develop from beginners to intermediates in the target language; That specific objectives depend on learner needs; And that content selection should be interesting and foster a friendly, relaxed class atmosphere. The feature most relevant to our discussion is the role that the learner is expected to take. In the initial phases of a Natural Approach-based course, the student is not expected to contribute or produce until he or she feels ready to do so – in other words, once he or she feels a need to do so, imitating the need to communicate that is believed to drive language acquisition in children.
However, Krashen goes on in his SLA theory to describe other factors that distinguish Learning from Acquisition. First of these is the 'Monitor Hypothesis'. In short, this states that conscious learning functions only as a monitor,or editor, of what is uttered (as initiated by an acquired linguistic system), and provides a way of correcting language when we communicate. The efficiency of the monitor is affected by three conditions: Time, where there must be enough time for a learned rule to be chosen and applied; Focus on form, where the speaker is focused on accuracy or the form of what is produced; and knowledge of the rules, where the speaker, or performer, has to know the rules. As we have pointed out earlier, in second language learning, the rules of a language are generally learned along with the language.
Another factor that has been described is the Affective Filter Hypothesis. This states that the adult learner will be more or less successful in learning a language depending on the strength of their affective filter, that is, the emotional state, attitudes, motivation, self-confidence and anxiety he or she brings into the language learning environment. Krashen states that the lower the affective filter, the more successful the student will be in learning.
In other words, an acquired linguistic system is one learnt free of anxiety, or prior assumption. On the other hand, adult language learners have a set of assumptions and attitudes towards the target language and its culture that may or may not impede the process of learning.
One more important point to raise before we move on is this: Learning does not occur within acquisition, yet acquisition may, and does, occur within the learning process.
Examples from teaching situations
All my own teaching experience has been with young adult and adult learners, so I see students who are very much in the process of learning rather than acquiring English, albeit with some individual exceptions. One example was a student who had acquired highly fluent spoken English. Prior to entering the classroom, he had never formally studied the language: Instead, he had acquired what he knew of the language from his job as a waiter and bartender in a holiday resort, even to the extent that he spoke with a distinct London accent, despite never having been to the UK. Given his level of spoken English, it was anticipated before his initial assessment that his reading and writing would also be of the same standard. Instead, he tested out at ALTE level C2. He was disappointed by this, and once on the course with people with far lower levels of spoken fluency than him, he rapidly became frustrated and disillusioned, to the point that he stopped trying to learn any further.
The difficulty lay in that he needed to learn rather than acquire, even though he had acquired listening and spoken skills necessary for him to function, and function at a high level. Looking at his case through Krashen and Terrell's Natural Approach Theory, he had succeeded in acquiring a language in the most naturalistic way possible. However, in order to further his own career, he also required reading and writing skills, and this required a much more formal learning environment. In order to facilitate this, I had to first encourage him to continue learning. This I did by making him think about what it was he wanted and needed to learn, why this was, and how he could do it. This developed first through conversations, then through writing down his targets, then by breaking these targets down and showing him what he needed to learn. By involving him in the actual process of learning, and making him learn about language learning he managed to progress swiftly and far more happily.
I encounter similar issues with ESOL groups. Quite often, there is a disparity between spoken language, where long-term residents in the UK have acquired functional spoken capability, albeit one that is often limited to a specific set of social and work-based contexts, yet have highly limited reading and writing skills. Also, ESOL groups are frequently unfamiliar with the metalanguage and terminology frequently used when teaching a language, further evidence that they have not experienced a formal learning environment. Only through individual appraisals is it possible to devise an effective way of approaching how they need to learn further and what techniques are most likley to be effective.
By contrast, I have also dealt with groups (in the case I am thinking of, monolingual groups of Chinese students) who in had a technically high degree of knowledge of English, yet were incapable of functioning in the language environment simply because they could neither understand nor react to spoken English, nor were sufficiently capable of producing it to the degree that their grammatical knowledge suggested they should. In their case, they had achieved a great deal of learning but had experienced next to no acquisition. In their case, their frustrations with the language, while ostensibly similar to the first two examples, were in fact caused by the incapability to express the knowledge they believed they possessed, and this was compounded by the fact that they had to express themselves since they were studying in the UK. Many of them had aimed to go on to study at a British university after a year of studying English: with the realisation that they could not understand spoken interaction even at a relatively basic level, they became further discouraged. In the case of these students, exposing them to spoken interaction in class, encouraging them to listen to as much English as possible in their free time, and ensuring they reassessed their expectations all helped.
Conclusions
There is little doubt in my mind that Krashen's theories about acquisition and learning are, by and large, true. However, it may seem that some of his ideas are too simplistic, too much of the obvious being stated: one critic (Gregg, 1984) even goes so far as to suggest that he has no theory of language at all. I would take issue with the affective filter theory, and with some of the other features that he describes as distinguishing learning from acquisition, as I believe there is may be another way of explaining the difference. However, that falls outside the remit of this essay.
What we cannot do is invoke acquisition in our students in the classroom environment. Nor can we teach in a way that perfectly mimics acquisition. All we can do, within the class, is try to create a synthesis between how languages are picked up and an analysis of how the language works. What we can also do is encourage students to explore the language outside the classroom: we can direct them to discover for themselves as much as possible, to expose themselves to the target language as much as possible, to immerse themselves within it. And most importantly perhaps, we should encourage them not to be afraid, to play with language, to be flexible and arbitrary, to seek to be creative, to turn off their critical, affective filters and experiment with what is possible – in other words, let each student be comfortable in their own interlanguage as they learn.