You are not alone: Critical incidents and the sharing of experience

I was one of those many people who thought that expertise or vast knowledge in a given subject was enough for teaching it. Soon after I got my degree as a translator, I accepted a post as a teacher at a language school. It was not long before I realized there was something else to teaching that mere knowledge; I had to deal with uneasy situations, insecure children who cried in the middle of a test or anxious adults who felt easily frustrated. I had to come up with spontaneous sensible decisions in order not to make the situation worse. I felt at a loss. Not sure whether my reactions were appropriate, I wished somebody had written a book on “How to react in the classroom.”

There is no doubt knowledge is a key starting point to be a good teacher. However, there is the necessity to nurture professionals who “apart from being experts in their field, have the ability to observe the class, reflect on what they teach, come to new sensible decisions when problems arise in the classroom” (Tejada, 2000; as cited in Fernández González, Elórtegui Escartín & Medina Pérez, 2003, p.3). Critical incidents, a strategy in which teachers analyze typical classroom problems and offer strategic solutions to them, provide future or in-service teachers with insight into possible or safe courses of action available, based on other teachers’ previous experience and reflection.

It may be argued that novel situations can always arise, for which there is no previous experience to draw upon. However, a critical incident may function as a reflection tool, “a questioning element in sight of similar situations” (Fernández, 2001; as cited in Fernández González, Elórtegui Escartín & Medina Pérez, 2003 p.6); especially for inexperienced teachers who cannot apply heuristic methods to their practice. I agree with Fernández Gonzales et al (2003)  on that “Critical incidents do not replace classroom experience, but they provide the future teacher with professional resources obtained by means of reflection to avoid, as far as it is possible, impulsive reactions under the pressure of the classroom here and now”(p.8).

Critical incidents, then, come as the closest version of the “How to react in the classroom” book I was pleading for. Of course, there are not unique or perfect solutions. As Fernández Gonzales et al affirm “it is hard to find a critical incident analysis widely accepted by all those involved in it” (p.12); nonetheless, looking into other people’s experience and thorough analysis, makes you feel you are not alone in the profession of teaching, and that anything that happens to you now might have been experienced in the past or will be experienced in the future. The important thing is sharing.

Reference

Fernández, González, J., Elórtegui Escartín, N., & Medina Pérez, M. (2003). Los incidentes críticos en la formación y perfeccionamiento del profesorado de secundaria de ciencias de la naturaleza. Revista Universitaria de Formación de Profesorado, 17-001. Zaragoza. España: Universidad de Zaragoza. Retrieved December 2007, from

http://redalyc.uaemex.mx/redalyc/src/inicio/ArtPdfRed.jsp?iCve=27417107

An uneasy first time

The moment I stepped into the classroom, their faces turned to me. I had the feeling it was going to be a special day – and it was indeed. Something new for all of us: a group of four-year-old children who were about to take their first step in learning English, and my first time as a kindergarten teacher. I had accepted the job at a local language school because I felt it would be a new experience, different from everything I had done before, and I love challenges.

I knew working with children demanded long hours of planning. “Materials and activities” my methodology teacher would insist “have to be varied and appealing because children’s span of attention is short”; and I followed that rule to the letter. I had made a colorful puppet to introduce myself and ask children their names. It would take between ten and fifteen minutes according to my schedule. I also had some cardboard cutouts they should color with crayons, another ten minutes would pass; and a “goodbye” song to teach them before I left. I thought that was enough for a forty-minute lesson. Besides, children that age are restless, they all want to speak at the same time and some minutes are always lost as you try to restore order and silence.

So there I was, standing at the door. The twenty-five of them staring at me with a blank expression on their faces and a silence I thought would be over after I said the first word. But I was wrong. Soon after I sat on the floor, all of them were sitting around me, waiting patiently for instructions, quiet as a mouse; nothing to do with the noisy talkative kindergarten children I had read about in books, and I felt there was not much I could do but start the lesson right away. I took the puppet out of my bag and adjusted it onto my hand. The children’s eyes opened with curiosity, but they did not speak. So I – or the puppet – uttered the first word, “Hello!”. They all said “Hello!” in chorus. Then, silence. The puppet asked my name and I answered, so as to show them how to introduce themselves. The first activity started. I turned the puppet to a girl sitting next to me and asked “What’s your name?”, “I’m Anna” she said, self-confident and proud. The situation was repeated by the remaining twenty-four. Nobody hesitated, shouted or changed the pitch in their voice. They listened to the question, answered back, and remained silent again.

By that moment, I had begun to feel a little bit uneasy with the situation. Too much silence, I did not know whether they were bored or tired. What I did know was that children are spontaneous and honest when showing their feelings, and I could see they were not having a good time. I tried making a joke, they laughed and went back to silence. “Maybe, they’ll enjoy painting” I thought, and I drew on the cutouts. It was just the same, they worked in silence and finished at once. When I glimpsed at my watch, I could see that only fifteen minutes had gone by, though it looked like three hours to me!

I knew it was part of a teacher’s job to improvise when things turned rough, but I felt at a loss. I still had an ace up my sleeve, the song, but I was discouraged and a little bit sad. I was disappointed and I felt kindergarten was definitely not for me. Hoping against hope, I said “Let’s sing a song” and, to my surprise, they started to shout “Yes! A song! A song!”. They easily learnt the lyrics and the tune and we kept on singing and dancing till the end of the lesson. They looked happy and interested, but I still had a bad taste in my mouth. Had I known they liked music, I would have started with a “Hello” song. At that thought I realized, ironically, “Or do they like it because it says goodbye?”

Dictionary of Academic Terms

Dictionary of Academic Terms

The following definitions will be published by the Caece University Dictionary of Academic Terms 2010:

Academic Writing

In general terms, the phrase academic writing is used to refer to a specific kind of writing which occurs within specific academic contexts or communities and with specific purposes (Pintos and Crimi, 2010). Apart from context and purpose, the formal aspects of language and writing conventions are also defining characteristics of academic writing. As this definition implies, academic writing is not simple and it “requires conscious effort and much practice in composing, developing, and analyzing ideas” (Myles, 2002, abstract, ¶1).

It can be stated that academic writing takes place in contexts where knowledge is constantly generated. The purpose of academic texts is not the mere rendering of already available information but the creation of knowledge. As Pintos and Crimi (2010) state: “Academic writers develop from reading academic texts and from writing to call to action, introspect, create and make judgments” (p.9).

Currently, there is some discussion as regards what the focus of writing courses should be. Some researchers argue that format and style training is essential whereas others suggest that “both social and cognitive factors affect language learning” (Myles, 2002, ¶1) and that they should be taken into account when teaching academic writing.

Vignette

A vignette is a kind of personal narrative which describes a specific situation, shortly after it takes place (Pintos and Crimi, 2010). Events are recorded by an observer as they occur, and the resulting piece of writing is subject to later analysis or reflection.

Many definitions have been rendered to outline the concept of vignette. Miles (1990), for example, defines vignettes as a way of “providing a snapshot, or perhaps a mini-movie, of a professional practitioner at work” (as cited in Angelides, Panayiotis, Gibbs and Paul, 2006, p.2). On the other hand, Erickson (1986) suggests that a vignette is “a vivid portrayal of the conduct of an event of everyday life, in which the sights and sounds of what was being said and done are described” (as cited in Angelides et al., 2006, p.3). Despite subtle differences, they all agree on the fact that vignettes describe a situation in detail. 

According to Angelides et al (2006), “The process of discussing vignettes during staff meetings has a further advantage of helping teachers to develop as a team” (p.5). Currently, vignettes are highly used in education to record situations in class and reflect on the teacher or the students’ behavior. These practices foster cooperative work and professional development.

Reference

Angelides, Panayiotis, Gibbs, Paul (2006). “Supporting the Continued Professional Development of Teachers through the Use of Vignettes” - Teacher Education Quarterly.

Myles, J. (2002). Second Language writing and research: The writing process and error analysis in student texts. Retrieved September 2002, from http://writing.berkeley.edu/TESL-EJ/ej22/a1.html

Pintos, V., & Crimi Y., (2010) Unit 3: Academic writing. Retrieved September 2010, from http://caece.campusuniversidad.com.ar/file.php/54/EAP_UNIT_3_-_ACADEMIC_WRITING.pdf