International Perspectives On Motivation International Perspectives On Motivation

International Perspectives
on Motivation
Ema Ushioda
Language Learning and Professional

Challenges
International Perspectives on Motivation
International Perspectives on English Language Teaching
Forthcoming titles in the series:
Sarah Rich (editor)

INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES IN TEACHING ENGLISH TO YOUNG LEARNERS
Sue Garton and Kathleen Graves (editors)
INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES IN ELT MATERIALS
International Perspectives
on Motivation
Language Learning and Professional
Challenges
Edited by
Ema Ushioda
University of Warwick, UK
Selection and editorial matter © Ema Ushioda 2013
Individual chapters © their respective authors 2013
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Contents
List of Illustrations vii
Notes on Contributors viii
Series Editors’ Preface x
List of Abbreviations xii
1 Motivation and ELT: Global Issues and Local Concerns 1

Ema Ushioda
2 Cultural Challenges, Identity and Motivation in State School EFL 18

Martin Lamb and Budiyanto
3 Listening to Romanian Teenagers: Lessons in Motivation

and ELT Methodology 35
Florentina Taylor
4 From Bilingual Francophones to Bilingual Anglophones:

The Role of Teachers in the Rising ‘Equities’ of
English-Medium Education in Cameroon 60
Kuchah Kuchah
5 The Integration of Content and Language as a Driving

Force in the EFL Lesson 82
Darío Luis Banegas
6 Motivational Challenges for Gulf Arab Students

Studying Medicine in English 98
Diane Malcolm
7 Motivation and the Transition to University 117

Lindy Woodrow
8 Digital Games and ELT: Bridging the Authenticity Gap 133

Alastair Henry
9 Technology and Motivation in English-Language

Teaching and Learning 156
Glenn Stockwell
10 Motivated by Visions: Stories from Chinese Contexts 176

Xuesong Gao
v
vi Contents
11 Social Identity and Language Learning Motivation:

Exploring the Connection and Activating Learning 192
Lane Igoudin
12 ‘Native Speaker’ English Language Teachers: Disengaged

from the Changing International Landscape of their Profession 216
Pamela Aboshiha
13 Motivation and ELT: Looking Ahead to the Future 233

Ema Ushioda
Index 241
List of Illustrations
Figure
11.1 Socially situated model of adult language learning motivation 204
Tables
3.1 Participant details 40

3.2 Student perceptions of English lessons, teaching and school 45
3.3 A comparison of traditional classrooms and
constructivist classrooms 46
4.1 Timetable/Emploi de temps Class 5/Cours Moyens 1 (CM1) 78
7.1 Nationality of participants 122
7.2 Descriptive statistics for questionnaire items 123
7.3 Coding analysis of interview data 124
vii
Notes on Contributors
Pamela Aboshiha is Senior Lecturer at Canterbury Christ Church University,

U.K. Her research and teaching interests are pre- and in-service teacher educa-
tion, especially the needs of non-native speaker teachers. Her article ‘Diverse
changes to practice after an INSET programme’ (NATECLA Language Issues) was
published in 2012.
Darío Luis Banegas works as a secondary school teacher, adviser, and curric-
ulum planner at Ministerio de Educación del Chubut, Argentina. He is an
e-tutor at a distance pre-service programme and leads a research project on
helping novice primary school teachers through action research. He is involved
in projects together with the British Council in Argentina and Uruguay. His
interests are materials development, CLIL and action research.
Budiyanto is Principal of Junior High School 7, Jambi, Indonesia. He is also
an experienced English language teacher and holds an MA in educational
management.
Xuesong (Andy) Gao is Associate Professor in the Faculty of Education, the
University of Hong Kong. He publishes on language learner autonomy and
teacher development. He is an associate editor for the Asia Pacific Education
Researcher (Springer) and serves on the Editorial and Advisory Board for TESOL
Quarterly (2011–13).
Alastair Henry teaches English and language education at University West,
Sweden. His research interests include motivation to learn foreign languages
additional to English and gender differences in language learning motivation.
Lane Igoudin is Assistant Professor at Los Angeles City College, where he
teaches ESL and linguistics. He also serves as chair of the ESL Committee for Los
Angeles Community College District. His research interests focus on the role
of social identity in L2 acquisition, code choice and language learning moti-
vation, as well as the use of the arts in TESL. His upcoming published works
include a chapter in Multilingual Identities: New Global Perspectives and a paper
in Plurilingualism and Pluriculturalism in a Globalised World: Which Pedagogy?
Kuchah Kuchah is Teaching Fellow at the University of Sheffield, U.K. He is
completing PhD research at the University of Warwick. His research inter-
ests include context-appropriate ELT methodology, teaching and researching
young learners, teaching and researching large and multi-grade classes, learner
autonomy as well as teacher training and development.
viii
Notes on Contributors ix
Martin Lamb is Senior Lecturer in TESOL at the University of Leeds, U.K.,

where he teaches undergraduate and postgraduate courses in the areas of
language teaching methodology, assessment, and global English. His main
research interest is language learner motivation and its relationship with
achievement in different social contexts.
Diane Malcolm is English Unit Head at Arabian Gulf University, Bahrain. Her
research interests include learner autonomy, self-directed language learning,
English for medical purposes, and L2 academic reading. Recent publications in
these areas have appeared in System, Arab World English Journal and Studies in
Self-Access Language Learning Journal.
Glenn Stockwell is Professor in Applied Linguistics at Waseda University, Japan.
His research interests include mobile learning, computer-mediated communi-
cation, and the role of technology in the language learning process. Recent
publications include CALL Dimensions (co-authored by M. Levy, 2006) and
Computer-Assisted Language Learning: Diversity in Research and Practice (2012).
Florentina Taylor is Lecturer in Education and MA TESOL Programme Leader
at the University of York, U.K. Her recent research has focused on identity in
foreign language learning and teaching, as well as the motivation of British
pupils to study Modern Foreign Languages.
Ema Ushioda is Associate Professor in ELT and Applied Linguistics at the
University of Warwick, U.K. Her research interests are language motivation,
autonomy and socio-cultural theory. Recent publications include Teaching and
Researching Motivation (co-authored with Z. Dörnyei, 2011) and Motivation,
Language Identity and the L2 Self (co-edited with Z. Dörnyei, 2009).
Lindy Woodrow is Senior Lecturer in TESOL at the University of Sydney,
Australia. Her research interests are English language learning motivation
and academic writing. Her latest publications include ‘College English writing
affect: Self-efficacy and anxiety’ in System (2011) and ‘Goal orientations’ in
Psychology for Language Learning (edited by S. Mercer, S. Ryan and M. Williams,
2012).
Series Editors’ Preface
As series editors we were delighted to find that in her introduction to this

launch volume of ‘International Perspectives on ELT’ Ema Ushioda manages
to capture so elegantly what makes the series both necessary and impossible.
Because, while we are insistent that the series should be genuinely interna-
tional in range and focus, we are also forced to recognise that as far as language
learning is concerned what counts as local is inherently problematic. In a situ-
ation in which ‘contexts of learning and using English in the globalised world
are becoming fluid, flexible, mobile, transitory, borderless and less easily defin-
able’ (Chapter 1, p. 5), distinctions between international and local blur to
indistinctness.
We see this series, however, not as a matter of constructing international
perspectives out of local experiences, but of exploiting connectivities that are
part of ELT’s global presence. In rejecting the linear myth of steady progress
towards a methodological ideal, and setting aside what Canagarajah character-
ises as ‘the spectacles of approaches and techniques’ (2006: 2), ELT has opened
itself to new ways of seeing and to new configurations of understanding. In
this world, privileging local over global (or vice versa) is as unproductive as
insisting on the primacy of the native speaker.
In order to reflect the many dimensions of ELT, topics in the series will
range widely, some focusing on specific groups of learners or settings, others
exploring particular aspects of teaching and learning. We begin with motiva-
tion, a core element in the language learning process, and this will be followed
by collections focusing on young learners, materials, and classroom interaction.
Whatever the topic, editors are asked to invite contributions that have a strong
local flavour but are internationally relevant, having something distinctively
fresh or original to say that is likely to stimulate debate.
Bringing together in one volume contributors from a variety of contexts
offers the prospect of multi-voiced engagement with shared themes and
concerns, rooted in what Kumaravadivelu has called ‘a pedagogy of particu-
larity’ (2001: 537), but having global resonance. In gathering contributions
from six continents (lamentably, ELT in Antarctica remains unexplored),
Ushioda has responded to this challenge with impressively diverse perspectives
on motivation, woven together by common themes and concerns.
Settings in this collection range from a large urban ESL programme in
Southern California (Igoudin) to English lessons in a junior high school in
provincial Indonesia (Lamb and Budiyanto), and the contexts cover those in
which English is such an integral part of the everyday lives of students that
x
Series Editors’ Preface xi
English lessons are seen as a welcome opportunity for rest and recuperation
(Henry) to those in which English has only recently started to gain prestige
status (Kuchah). Contributors may approach motivation issues from different
perspectives and with different concerns, but their engagement with these
contributes to a deepening of our shared understanding of the nature of
language teaching and learning.
As with other books in the series, all the papers in this collection draw on
original research by the author, but all have practical relevance, speaking to
language teachers and educators rather than to those interested only in research.
Inevitably, what is practical or relevant in one context may be pie in the sky in
another, but the aim of this series is not prescription; instead we invest in the
power of local illumination to prompt new ways of thinking and acting.
In her penetrating state-of-the-art chapter, Ushioda demonstrates how
changes in the ELT landscape have had a profound influence on the devel-
opment of thinking in the area of motivation, calling into question some of
the most fundamental assumptions about its nature and giving rise to new
perspectives on how it can be understood. The motivational dissonances that
Ushioda refers to in this discussion, and returns to as she looks ahead in the
concluding chapter, represent protean challenges made more intractable by
the interplay of identity and alignment within specific contexts. Solutions, she
suggests, are not to be found in blanket prescriptions but in the form of under-
standings generated through local engagement. As ever, much is demanded
of the teacher, but the weight of responsibility can be lightened by shared
understanding.
The papers that follow wrestle with contemporary challenges in ELT, identify
fresh opportunities and engage with old problems in new ways. Individually,
they may address local concerns, but as the engagement priorities at the end of
each paper demonstrate, the issues they raise resonate internationally. These
issues also reflect a professional context in which it is no longer meaningful to
think in terms of a ‘centre’ or ‘periphery’ – the dynamics have changed. In any
field, knowledge appropriation by the centre establishes a centrifugal dynamic
which not only pushes advice and prescription out towards the periphery but
simultaneously blocks the flow of reciprocal insight. By establishing a global
knowledge exchange environment we change this dynamic to one which
accommodates opposing flows: a systolic/diastolic relationship that becomes
the heartbeat of our profession.
References
Canagarajah, A. S. (2006). TESOL at forty: What are the issues? TESOL Quarterly, 40(1):
9–34.
Kumaravadivelu, B. (2001). Toward a postmethod pedagogy. TESOL Quarterly, 35(4):
537–60.
List of Abbreviations
AGU Arabian Gulf University

AMTB Attitude Motivation Test Battery
ASEAN Association of Southeast Asian Nations
BBS (electronic) bulletin board system
CALL computer assisted language learning
CBI content based instruction
CDE California Department of Education
CEFR Common European Framework of Reference
CELTA Certificate in English Language Teaching
CLIL content and language integrated learning
CLT communicative language teaching
CMS course management system
DELTA Diploma in English Language Teaching
EAP English for academic purposes
EFL English as a foreign language
ELF English as a lingua franca
ESL English as a second language
ESOL English for speakers of other languages
ELT English language teaching
FCE First Certificate in English
FPS first person shooter (game)
GCC Gulf Co-operation Council (Arab Gulf states of Saudi Arabia,
Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Oman and the United Arab Emirates)
IATEFL International Association of Teachers of English as a Foreign
Language
ICT information and communication technologies
IELTS International English Language Testing System
IMF International Monetary Fund
IRC Internet Relay Chat
L1 first language
L2 second language
MMORG massively multiplayer online role-playing game
MOO multi-user domain object oriented
MUVE multi-user virtual environment
NPA New Pedagogic Approach (in Cameroon)
PDA personal digital assistant
SLA second language acquisition
xii
List of Abbreviations xiii
SMS short message service

SNS social networking site
TBL task-based learning
TEFL teaching English as a foreign language
TESOL teaching English to speakers of other languages
1
Motivation and ELT: Global
Issues and Local Concerns
Ema Ushioda
What is distinctive about this book: starting

with local concerns
Motivation is widely recognised as a significant factor influencing success

in second or foreign language (L2) learning, and is perhaps one of the key
variables that distinguishes first language acquisition from second language
acquisition. After all, while motivation is not really an issue in the case of
infants acquiring their mother tongues, being motivated (or not) can make
all the difference to how willingly and successfully people learn other
languages later in life (Ushioda, 2010: 5). The study of language learning
motivation has a long history, dating back to the early pioneering work of
Gardner and Lambert (1959) in Canada, and has generated a large body
of literature. On the whole, this literature has been driven by the pursuit
of explanatory theoretical models of motivation and their empirical explo-
ration in a variety of formal and informal learning contexts. This is reflected
in the current push towards new analyses of L2 motivation in terms of
concepts of self and identity and of complexity theory (see, for example,
the collections of conceptual and empirical papers in Dörnyei & Ushioda,
2009; Murray, Gao & Lamb, 2011). Since the 1990s, it is true to say that the
research literature has increasingly concerned itself with motivation issues
and practices of relevance to teachers, leading to the development of peda-
gogical recommendations in areas such as motivational strategies (Dörnyei,
2001), group dynamics (Dörnyei & Murphey, 2003), or teachers’ commu-
nicative style (Noels et al., 1999). Yet the relationship between motivation
theory and practice tends to be of a top-down kind in the sense that it is
from theory and research that implications for practice are distilled, often
in rather generalised terms for a wide potential audience (i.e., not tied to
specific settings or local concerns).
1
2 Ema Ushioda
In contrast, what makes the current volume distinctive is that it takes

the local teaching–learning context as the starting point for reflections on
motivation. In doing so, it seeks to acknowledge and capture the recent
remarkable growth of interest in motivation in the English language teaching
field – an interest that is largely shaped by local educational and pedagogical
objectives rather than by the broader pursuit of theory.
In an era in which globalisation, global English and associated critical
issues are having a significant impact on educational policy, curriculum
provision, language pedagogy and, of course, on student motivation, interest
in motivation within the ELT field is driven by local practical concerns. At
a superficial level, the global importance ascribed to English might lead us
to assume that the need to learn English is unquestionable, and that there-
fore student motivation is not really a problem. After all, English is a global
language, spoken by an estimated 1.5 billion people worldwide by the turn
of the millennium (Crystal, 2003: 6), and increasingly regarded as a basic
educational skill alongside literacy, numeracy and information and commu-
nication technology (ICT) skills (Graddol, 2006). Hence, the motivation for
learning English does not seem to require justification or examination. In
reality, however, local ELT experiences and practices indicate that this simple
logic does not hold. Rather, it seems that issues of motivation are often high
on the agenda despite – or perhaps because of – the significant status English
has in local or national educational policy, curriculum provision, high stakes
gatekeeping exams, the professional job market and society at large. Where
learning English is concerned, these local exigencies reflecting global trends
and pressures have an inescapable impact on the motivation of students and
teachers. Moreover, the power and status accorded to English may have nega-
tive consequences for students’ motivation to learn other foreign, national or
local languages, or for the motivation of policy makers or education providers
to promote a more diversified language curriculum. In addition, with the
growth of immersion and bilingual education and English-medium subject
teaching in many countries across the world, motivation issues relating to
learning English often become inseparably linked to more general issues and
problems of motivation in mainstream education.
This book brings together motivation-related practical concerns and
debates from a wide range of international contexts and levels of educa-
tion, and from the perspective of writers who are practitioners as well as
researchers. As the various chapters will show, these contextually grounded
and locally produced insights, questions and understandings can have wider
global significance, resonating with the experiences and concerns of ELT
practitioners in other contexts, and contributing also to current theoretical
analyses of motivation.
Motivation and ELT: Global Issues and Local Concerns 3
Motivation, contexts and the changing global

landscape of ELT
A key message in this volume is that, with the rise of global English and
the changing global landscape of ELT, contexts of learning assume partic-
ular importance for discussions of motivation. While in one sense the global
English phenomenon and associated growth and mainstreaming of English
language education may suggest processes of convergence and homogenisation,
in reality the changing global landscape of ELT reflects an increasing diver-
sity of geographical, political, social, cultural, linguistic, educational, institu-
tional and technological contexts in which learning English is situated. Such
diversity of contexts reflects, in turn, further local diversities – for example,
in curricula, models of teaching, target varieties of English, materials and
resources, teacher background and training. This contextual diversification
was already apparent in Kachru’s (1985) depiction of the historical spread of
English around the world from its native Anglophone ‘inner circle’ bases (e.g.,
the U.K., North America), through the ‘outer circle’ postcolonial territories
(e.g., Nigeria, Singapore) where English fulfils key social and administrative
functions and has developed indigenised varieties, to the ‘expanding circle’
of countries where English is studied as a foreign language (e.g., Italy, China).
As several commentators have since noted (e.g., Crystal, 2003; McKay, 2002),
the ‘expanding circle’ has now expanded and diversified to the extent that
in many such contexts (e.g., the Nordic countries, the Netherlands), the
so-called ‘foreign language’ of English has a pervasive presence in society with
more fluent bilingual English speakers than in many ‘outer circle’ contexts
in which English has official second language status. Moreover, there have
been growing discussions in some ‘expanding circle’ countries about making
English an official second language (e.g., South Korea, Taiwan, Japan – see
Graddol, 2006), which would render it steadily more difficult to categorise
contexts of learning.
Traditional analyses of ELT contexts and motivation
In short, the global landscape of ELT is rather more complex than its
traditional binary analysis in terms of English as a second language (ESL) and
English as a foreign language (EFL) contexts, distinguished broadly according
to linguistic setting (i.e., whether or not English is used in the surrounding
society). As Howatt (1984: 212) has noted, the ESL/EFL distinction became
‘widespread’ in the 1950s. This period happened to coincide with the begin-
ning of research interest in language learning motivation, through the work
of Gardner and Lambert (1959) in North America. While Gardners and
4 Ema Ushioda
Lambert’s initial programme of research focused more on learners of French

than learners of English, what is relevant to the discussion here was their
interest in comparing L2 motivation in bilingual and bicultural (i.e., second
language learning) settings such as Quebec or Louisiana, with L2 motivation
in monolingual and monocultural (i.e., foreign language learning) settings
such as Maine or Connecticut (Gardner & Lambert, 1972). The nature of the
setting and the potential (or not) for regular social contact and integration
with speakers of the target language thus constituted key considerations in
the analysis of L2 motivation. These considerations became crystallised in
the well-known distinction between ‘integrative’ and ‘instrumental’ reasons
for learning a language, the former reflecting a more socially oriented desire
to interact with, and possibly integrate into, the target language commu-
nity, and the latter reflecting the more pragmatic benefits of acquiring target
language skills.
It is important to note that Gardner and his colleagues have been at pains
to deny a simple association between integrative motivation and second
language contexts on the one hand and instrumental motivation and foreign
language contexts on the other, and they have marshalled meta-analytic
research evidence to show that such an association does not hold (Masgoret &
Gardner, 2003). Nevertheless, as reflected in Dörnyei’s (1990) contention that
integrative reasons will feature more strongly in second language rather than
foreign language settings, the association has long had intuitive appeal and,
as Bhaskaran Nayar commented critically in 1997, has led to the assumption
that integration must be a primary motivation for ESL learners. In short, at a
superficial level, there has been a temptation to map the traditional binary
analysis of the ELT landscape (EFL/ESL) onto the traditional binary analysis of
L2 motivation (instrumental/integrative).
Yet, as Bhaskaran Nayar observed back in 1997, a problem with this
assumption is that ESL contexts differ markedly depending on whether they
refer to English language education for immigrants in native Anglophone
settings such as North America or Australia, or to learning and using English
in postcolonial settings such as India or Malaysia. While integration may be
an understandable (though not a necessary) motivation for learning English
in the former ESL settings (see Igoudin, Chapter 11), the relevance of inte-
grative motivation seems less clear in multilingual postcolonial settings
in which English may serve certain administrative functions or be used in
particular sectors of society, and where people are likely to possess complex
linguistic repertoires (e.g., Sridhar, 1996). Thus, perhaps, it was no great
surprise that instrumental rather than integrative orientations emerged more
significantly in two early L2 motivation studies in postcolonial ESL settings –
the Philippines (Gardner & Santos, 1970), and India (Lukmani, 1972). More
recently, Coetzee-Van Rooy (2006) has strongly criticised the concept of
integrative motivation as untenable in relation to learners and speakers of
indigenised varieties of English (i.e., world Englishes) in postcolonial contexts,

since the concept cannot account for the complex sociolinguistic realities of
language learning and use in such settings in which multidimensional iden-
tities and pluralism (rather than integration) are the norm. As Coetzee-Van
Rooy argues, with the global spread of English there is now a growing diver-
sity of contexts in which English is learned and to which traditional concepts
of L2 motivation cannot be uncritically applied.
In short, with the increasing diversity and complexity of the ELT landscape,
the associations between context and motivation are also becoming ever more
complex, as will be explored in the following sub-sections.
Motivation and the fluidity of today’s learning contexts
At one level, complexity lies in the fact that, with the growth of migration and
mobility and advances in communication technologies, contexts of learning
and using English in the globalised world are becoming fluid, flexible, mobile,
transitory, borderless and less easily definable. In relation to communication
technologies, for example, students can interact with people across the world
via the Internet, participate in discussion forums and webinars with other
students and teachers in different locations, access learning materials and
resources via their smartphone or tablet computer while on the move, or get
feedback and comments on their blog-writing from a local or global audience
(e.g., see Stockwell, Chapter 9). Communication technologies also mean that
migrants, business travellers, international students and tourists can maintain
daily contact with family, friends and colleagues they have left behind, or can
access national news and television programmes from their own countries.
Thus, they can maintain a strong virtual foothold in their home communi-
ties and in social or professional networks while living, studying or travelling
abroad, and cheaper air travel also means that it is relatively easy to return in
person or even to commute on a regular basis. In effect, the contexts within
which people learn and use English are not so easily definable in geograph-
ical, physical, cultural, social or linguistic terms. Thus, the distinctions
between learning English as a ‘foreign’ language and learning English as a
‘second’ language become increasingly difficult to sustain when immersion
in an English-speaking community or the return to one’s home community
are readily possible, both virtually and physically. In particular, character-
ising learning settings on the basis of whether or not English is spoken in the
surrounding environment is becoming less and less easy across the internation-
alised higher education sector. This is due to phenomena such as the globalisa-
tion of universities competing in the international academic marketplace, the
spread of English-medium academic teaching in many countries (e.g., in the
Middle East – see Malcolm, Chapter 6), the growth of international universi-
ties offering degree programmes taught in English (e.g., Maastricht University)
6 Ema Ushioda
and the setting up of transnational overseas campuses by a growing number

of American, British and Australian universities (e.g., Monash University in
Malaysia, Nottingham University in China, Temple University in Japan).
Hence, this complexity in defining what we mean by local learning contexts
raises critical questions about how we can characterise people’s motivation
for learning English in a globalised world. As Pavlenko (2002) has argued,
traditional categorisations of L2 motivation operate on the assumption that
the world consists of largely stable homogeneous and monolingual cultures,
of in-groups and out-groups in situations of inter-ethnic contact (e.g., Giles &
Byrne, 1982), and of individuals from one ethnolinguistic community moving
into another (e.g., Schumann, 1978). However, when there is such fluidity of
movement as there is today, when multilingualism rather than monolingualism
is the norm, and when people regularly traverse multiple social networks and
communities locally, virtually and internationally, how can we possibly char-
acterise the interactions between context and motivation for learning and
using English?
Motivation and the growth of English in

mainstream education contexts
At another level, on the other hand, the complexity of the associations

between context and motivation lies in the unprecedented growth of English
in mainstream education in many countries around the world. Here, the notion
of context refers not just to geographical setting but also to curricular context.
English is now dominating language curricula in more and more regions of
the world, is moving down the curriculum from secondary to primary educa-
tion, and is spreading across the curriculum to the teaching of other subjects.
This mainstreaming of English language education has several repercussions
for motivation. It constrains the curriculum by effectively eradicating choice
for institutions, teachers, students and parents. Or, as noted earlier, it reduces
students’ interest in learning other foreign or local languages when the need
to acquire English is prioritised. This is the case, for example, in the coun-
tries of Central and Eastern Europe where English has quickly outstripped
traditional regional languages such as German or Russian in the mainstream
curriculum (e.g., Dörnyei et al., 2006; for overall statistics see Eurydice, 2005).
It is similarly the case in Scandinavia where students’ interest in learning
second foreign languages (other than English) is increasingly under threat (see
Henry & Apelgren, 2008; Trebbi, 2003). Even in bilingual education contexts
in which there is a choice of language or of medium of instruction, it seems
that there are social and economic pressures to opt for English, as Kuchah
(Chapter 4) explores in his analysis of the motivation of Francophone parents
and children for English medium schooling in Cameroon.
Across the world, the mainstreaming of English language education is also

creating downward pressures at primary school level where non-specialist
teachers may yet lack the language skills, training and, indeed, the motiva-
tion to teach English let alone teach through English as may be increasingly
expected of them. The motivational risk for primary school children is that,
with poor quality learning experiences, they may develop an early dislike of
English which can have damaging consequences for long-term motivation (on
the impact of initial learning experiences on subsequent motivational trajec-
tories, see for example Carpenter et al., 2009). On the other hand, for children
who are motivated by early experiences of learning English through play and
fun activities in primary school (e.g., see Pinter, 2006), the transition to the
more cognitively demanding challenges of formal language study in secondary
school may quickly turn that motivation sour. Whatever the target language of
study, research on global changes in L2 motivation in formal learning contexts
typically points to patterns of motivational decline as students progress
through the upper years of schooling (e.g., Chambers, 1999; Tachibana et al.,
1996; Williams et al., 2002). Unless the transition from primary to secondary
English is managed very carefully, a major concern is that the onset of this
motivational decline may simply happen earlier.
In many contexts, moreover, the mainstreaming of English language educa-
tion also has repercussions for students’ engagement with other subjects of
study across the school curriculum. As Banegas (Chapter 5) reports, there are
now well-established traditions of content-based instruction (CBI) or content
and language integrated learning (CLIL) in many parts of the world, where
students study curriculum subjects (e.g., history or science) or associated topics
through the medium of L2 English (for recent overviews, see Coyle et al., 2010;
Crandall, 2012; Dalton-Puffer, 2011). Of course, one can readily appreciate
the motivational benefits of engaging students of English with subject matter
content that has real learning value and curriculum relevance (e.g., Huang,
2011; Lasagabaster, 2011). At the same time, it is clear that integrating content
and language presents pedagogical and motivational challenges for teachers
who may not be subject specialists or language specialists or who may need to
engage in collaborative teaching with language or subject specialist colleagues.
Integrating language and content may also present motivational challenges for
linguistically weaker students who lack the English skills needed to deal with
cognitively demanding subject matter and learning materials. As Malcolm
(Chapter 6) reports in the context of Gulf Arab students studying medicine
through English in Bahrain, the pressures of having to develop adequate profi-
ciency in English to cope with high-level academic study can have seriously
deleterious effects on students’ motivation and self-esteem.
Returning to the earlier discussions about the fluidity of contexts across
which English is now learned and used, the mainstreaming of English
8 Ema Ushioda
language education can create a further set of motivational challenges for

students and teachers – specifically, motivational dissonances between
in-class and out-of-class contexts of English learning and use. As Banegas
(Chapter 5) comments in relation to his local teaching context in Argentina,
many students attend private language institutes as well as mainstream state
education and thus may be well ahead of their classmates in terms of English
proficiency or even ahead of the school syllabus. This dissonance between the
English skills students have developed outside mainstream education and the
English lessons they are obliged to attend in school can clearly have demotiv-
ating repercussions. It should be noted that the repercussions may affect not
just the students who have developed more advanced English skills but also
those in the class who have not had privileged access to private tuition. As
McKay (2012) comments, in many parts of the world the burgeoning market
in private after-school English classes and even English language kindergar-
tens (e.g., in South Korea) is creating an economic divide and inequality of
access to English language education since not all parents can afford to send
their children for private lessons.
Motivational dissonances are explored, too, by Taylor (Chapter 3) in the
rather different setting of state education in post-communist Romania, where
she reports young teenagers’ sense of boredom and frustration with school
English lessons on the one hand, and on the other their intrinsically moti-
vated engagement with English in their lives outside class through various
entertainment media, online social networking and other personal pursuits.
The need to bridge this authenticity gap between contexts of English use in
popular youth culture and contexts of formal English learning in school is
similarly highlighted by Henry (Chapter 8). He reflects on the situation in
Sweden, where English has become such an integral part of young people’s
leisure activities outside the classroom that it is difficult to engage their
interest in classroom-based activities for learning English. Henry proposes
that one motivational approach may be to provide classroom opportuni-
ties for more creative, authentic and self-congruent interactions in English
similar to those experienced in online digital gaming. At the same time, he
warns against indiscriminate appropriation of youth culture content into the
English language classroom, while Stockwell (Chapter 9; also 2008) likewise
highlights the risk of encroaching too much on students’ ‘private’ spaces (e.g.,
through mobile learning), and stresses the need to respect their motivation to
keep ‘private’ spaces separate from ‘studying’ spaces.
In short, there is a delicate tension between how students engage with
English inside and outside the classroom, which can create motivational
dissonances if, on the one hand, they perceive the gap as too great or if, on
the other hand, they perceive that their personal, social and virtual worlds
are being appropriated by teachers for language learning purposes (see Levy,
2009). In order to address these motivational dissonances, what seems impor-

tant is to nurture and support students’ sense of personal ownership and
autonomy in relation to learning and using English for their own purposes
and needs (Ushioda, 2011a). This places a premium on understanding
students’ personal perceptions of what English and learning English mean
for them, how they relate to this language, and to what extent they take
ownership of English as an integral part of their desired social identity (see
Igoudin, Chapter 11). It is to this important aspect of motivation for learning
English that we now turn.
Motivation, identities and the role of English
As we have seen, with the spread of global English and the growth, complexity
and fluidity of contexts across which English is now learned and used, it is
becoming more and more difficult to explain people’s motivation for learning
English in terms of an interest in the target languages culture and commu-
nity and a possible desire to integrate into this community. While in some
contexts the concept of an integrative motivation may well still be meaningful
for some learners of English, it is clearly rather difficult to apply to contexts in
which people acquire English for the functional purpose of communicating
in a lingua franca with others for whom English is also a second language.
As statistical estimates show, such lingua franca communication encounters
account for the vast proportion of English language use in the globalised
world (Crystal, 2003; Graddol, 2006). In these kinds of ‘international English’
communication settings, the notion of a target language reference group or
community (fundamental to the concept of integrative motivation) is diffi-
cult to conceptualise. One could argue, for example, that people are moti-
vated to learn English as an international language of communication which
will enable them to integrate in different ways with members of the global
community – that is, we might describe their motivation as representing a
generalised international orientation or outlook akin to what Yashima (2002)
has termed ‘international posture’ in relation to Japanese learners of English.
Yet, since people are also in principle members of this global community
themselves, one might also argue that they are motivated to learn English
to enhance their sense of cosmopolitan identity and connectedness as part
of this imagined English-using global community. In other words, being an
English user may be integral to how they wish to see themselves – that is, part
of their desired identity or sense of self.
Reframing L2 motivation in relation to self and identity

This re-theorising of L2 motivation in relation to concepts of self and
identity is now central to research in the field (e.g., Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2009;
10 Ema Ushioda
Murray, Gao & Lamb, 2011). A particularly influential theoretical framework

is Dörnyei’s (2005; 2009) L2 Motivational Self System, which draws on the
psychological theory of possible selves (Markus & Nurius, 1986). Possible selves
are future-oriented dimensions of the self-concept and constitute potential
future self-images which may be positive or not. Future self-representations
that are highly desirable are likely to shape motivation, effort, persistence
and growth, in contrast with future self-images that are less attractive or less
personally valued or internalised. In Dörnyei’s L2 Motivational Self System,
possible future self-images as a proficient L2 user are categorised according to
whether they are personally desired (ideal L2 self) or desired for us by signifi-
cant others (ought-to L2 self).
While the notion of possible selves is grounded in psychological theories
of the self-concept, related discussions in the L2 motivation field have drawn
somewhat more loosely on theories of identity to characterise how motiva-
tion for learning a new language may shape – and be shaped by – processes of
identity development and construction (e.g., Lamb, 2004; Lamb & Budiyanto,
Chapter 2; Norton, 2000). These discussions mirror a much wider critical
concern with issues of identity across the field of research on L2 learning
and use, reflecting what Block (2007a) has characterised as ‘the rise of iden-
tity in SLA research’ in the early twenty-first century, as evidenced in several
book-length publications around the theme (e.g., Block, 2007b; Jackson, 2008;
Jenkins, 2007; Lin, 2007; Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004). More broadly, identity-
focused discussions of L2 motivation reflect a growing paradigm shift from
achievement-oriented to identity-oriented theories of motivation in main-
stream educational psychology (see Kaplan & Flum, 2009). These identity-
oriented theories highlight how individual motivation is linked to the pursuit
of identity goals that are personally valued and also socially formed. In the
case of learning a new language, as van Lier (2007) explains, people engage
in forging new identities and new ways of expressing and negotiating their
identities through new words and in new worlds. The extent to which they are
comfortable with developing these new identities and expanding their sense
of self may connect profoundly with their motivation for language learning
(see Ushioda, 2011b).
These themes of identity goals and possible selves permeate nearly all the
chapters in this volume and, thus, clearly resonate with the experiences of
learners and teachers across a range of contexts. A strong message seems to
be that learners’ English-related self and identity goals and possible engage-
ment with globalisation processes are firmly shaped by and grounded in local
contexts and practices, such as the development of supportive social networks
and communities to help motivate and sustain efforts to learn and use English
(see Gao, Chapter 10), or such as teachers’ explicit promotion of identity work
through classroom activities that stimulate and challenge learners’ sense of self
(see Lamb & Budiyanto, Chapter 2).
What English and learning English mean for students

Yet as Lamb and Budiyanto also comment (citing Block, 2007b), the degree
to which learning English in school may necessarily engage (let alone trans-
form) students’ sense of self or identity, or indeed whether it should, is open to
question. In many educational contexts, after all, English functions as a core
curriculum subject and, as Graddol (2006) observes, its increasingly wide-
spread introduction at primary school level (and even pre-school level) seems
to reflect a growing perception that English is simply a basic educational skill
alongside other basic skills such as literacy, numeracy and ICT skills. One may,
therefore, reasonably ask whether motivation for studying English is qual-
itatively different from motivation for studying other curriculum subjects,
and whether it necessarily entails some kind of self-transforming psycho-
logical investment or identity striving; or whether in many circumstances
people’s motivation for learning English can be better explained in terms of
more general theories and concepts of motivation (for detailed discussion, see
Ushioda, 2012). This latter question is taken up by Woodrow (Chapter 7) in
her study of international EAP (English for academic purposes) students taking
foundation courses and then progressing to undergraduate programmes in
Australia. As she discusses, these students’ motivation to develop their English
skills and to study in English at an overseas university cannot be accounted
for simply in terms of their motivation as language learners since it is clear
that strong academic goals and needs come into play. Woodrow thus finds
it useful to draw on theoretical perspectives relating to academic learning
motivation (i.e., self-determination theory, mastery and performance goals)
to analyse these EAP students’ motivational aspirations and experiences
through their foundation course studies and their transition to the first year
of undergraduate studies.
In short, we may well question whether transformative self and iden-
tity goals are necessarily implicated in the motivation for learning English
as a basic skill, a school subject or a medium for academic study. For many
students in many contexts the external pressures to learn English are strong
because of the critical role that English plays in gatekeeping tests at significant
transitional stages of education and of entry into the world of work. This test-
focused orientation to studying English may disconnect students from any
sense of the personal communicative value of learning English, particularly
where teachers struggle to integrate communicative language teaching with
the form-focused instruction needed to enable students to pass exams or, in
Sakui’s (2004) words, struggle to wear two pairs of shoes at the same time.
Thus, the extent to which learning English in school engages students’ iden-
tities in a potentially transformative sense may be doubtful as long as they
perceive English and learning English to mean little more than the business
of mastering grammar and vocabulary and taking tests.
12 Ema Ushioda
Furthermore, even where students recognise the pragmatic value of acquiring

English for the purposes of communication and access to information, they
may simply perceive English as a practical tool, skill or necessity (much like
being able to use a computer or drive a car) that does not particularly impli-
cate their self-concept or identity. Within the English language teaching
(ELT) field, there is a developing view that motivation for learning English
may be detached from any sense of investment of identity, given that English
is an international communication code not bound by particular cultures,
values, contexts or standards, although the extent to which it can be culture-
and value-free is of course questionable (see, for example, Kirkpatrick, 2007;
Sharifian, 2009). A somewhat contentious issue in this regard is whether the
target variety of English to be taught should be modelled on an ‘English Lingua
Franca Core’ as proposed by Jenkins (2000; 2007), in which the emphasis is
on mutual intelligibility rather than proximity to native standards of accu-
racy, and on strategies for effective intercultural communication with other
non-native English speakers (e.g., for discussion see Seidlhofer, 2004). Such a
language curriculum policy would clearly have significant motivational reper-
cussions for learners who, for whatever reason, may aspire to native speaker
English models and standards and feel frustrated by the models and targets
presented to them in the classroom.
Motivation, identities and implications for ELT teachers

More broadly, local and national policy decisions concerning varieties of
English to be taught can also have motivational repercussions for teachers
charged with the responsibility for providing target models and standards.
With the changing global landscape of ELT and particularly the expansion of
English teaching across mainstream education and downwards into primary
level in many countries, the make-up of the ELT profession has also changed. In
essence, the majority who teach English these days are locally trained teachers
who share their students’ linguistic and cultural background and have them-
selves learned English as an L2. While figures are hard to determine, a recent
estimate (Braine, 2010: x) suggests that around 80 per cent of the ELT profes-
sion across the world are teachers in this category. A growing literature is now
developing around the challenges and issues faced by so-called non-native
speaker teachers in terms of their sense of status, linguistic and cultural
competence and professional skills and identity (e.g., Kamhi-Stein, 2007;
Moussu & Llurda, 2008). In this respect, while the specifically motivational
dimension of non-native English-speaking teachers’ experiences remains
rather under-researched (although, see Kubanyiova, 2012), issues of motiva-
tion are clearly implicit in analyses of such teachers’ sometimes self-perceived
lack of English competence or their feelings of ‘impostorhood’ (Bernat, 2008)
vis-à-vis the idealised native speaker model. Issues of motivation are implicit,
too, in more critical discussions of how such teachers are negatively positioned
in the ELT profession (e.g., Canagarajah, 1999; Inbar-Lourie, 2005).
At the same time, however, the changing global landscape of the ELT
profession also has significant repercussions for native speaker teachers. They
may, in Holliday’s (2005) words, struggle to teach English as an international
language as they try to navigate this changing landscape where their long-
held linguistic and cultural capital and professional identities as native speaker
teachers may be losing value. Such repercussions will depend on the extent
to which native speaker teachers are motivated to engage with this changing
professional landscape and associated academic discourses surrounding target
varieties and standards of English, English as an international language, and
native speaker versus non-native speaker models. As Aboshiha (Chapter 12)
shows in her revealing and thought-provoking study, the motivation of some
native speaker teachers to engage with these issues may in fact be rather limited
and the position they adopt quite defensive.
In short, the changing global landscape of ELT clearly raises some crit-
ical challenges for the motivation and professional identities of all English
language teaching practitioners, regardless of their linguistic and cultural
background.
Concluding remarks on the structure of this book
Despite (or because of) the global importance ascribed to English, motivation
is undoubtedly a significant concern for many students and teachers of English
across the world and presents various language learning and professional chal-
lenges at a local level. The ensuing chapters discuss some of the motivational
challenges faced by learners and teachers from a wide range of international
settings and educational sectors. The chapters follow a loosely structured
sequence that highlights some broad themes while traversing contexts from
one continent to another:
t classroom practices (Lamb and Budiyanto on English lessons in provincial

Indonesia, Chapter 2; Taylor on students’ perceptions of English lessons in
Romania, Chapter 3);
t English as a medium of learning (Kuchah on French versus English
medium schooling in Cameroon, Chapter 4; Banegas on CLIL in Argentina,
Chapter 5);
t English for academic and professional purposes (Malcolm on medical
students in Bahrain, Chapter 6; Woodrow on EAP students in Australia,
Chapter 7);
14 Ema Ushioda
t youth culture and technology (Henry on digital gaming and ELT in Sweden,
Chapter 8; Stockwell on technologies and ELT in a variety of contexts,
Chapter 9);
t self and identity goals (Gao on learners of English in China, Chapter 10;
Igoudin on ESL learners in the United States, Chapter 11);
t changing global landscape for teachers (Aboshiha on the perceptions of
British native speaker teachers working in a variety of international settings,
Chapter 12).
While grounded in different local contexts and concerns, the discus-

sions in these chapters clearly have much wider significance as discussions
that resonate with the experiences and concerns of students and teachers
in other ELT settings, and which contribute to or, perhaps, interrogate,
current theoretical analyses of L2 motivation. Each chapter concludes with
a list of ‘engagement priorities’ which set out, in the form of questions and
directions for exploration, the broader pedagogical or theoretical implica-
tions of the local issues under focus. The volume concludes with a brief
chapter that highlights key issues emerging from the collection and draws
out their wider implications for ELT practice and motivation theory and
research.
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2
Cultural Challenges, Identity and
Motivation in State School EFL
Martin Lamb and Budiyanto
Introduction
In the past decade or more, a consensus has formed in the applied linguistic
community around the importance of identity in language learning. All
learning, from a social perspective (e.g., Lave & Wenger, 1991), can be viewed
as the construction of a new identity in relation to a certain community; for
example, learning to play tennis involves gaining knowledge of the game and
physical skills for participation, but it also implies ‘becoming a tennis player’
in one’s own eyes and that of other players – feeling comfortable holding
the racket, having the right shoes, speaking the jargon and so on. Similarly,
‘learning an L2 involves a struggle to forge a new identity that is true to the
self’ (van Lier, 2004: 47) while being recognised by others as a competent
user of the L2. In fact because language is so closely connected to our sense
of selfhood, the path to proficiency is likely to be strewn with even more
personal challenges than is learning other skills. The novice tennis player can
assert his or her other more expert identities (as bank manager, chess player,
mother) when chatting with other players, whereas individuals learning a
second language in a foreign country are denied their most basic means of
self-expression at the same time that they are challenged by aspects of the
local culture. Their sense of self may be destabilised, and they may feel ambiv-
alence towards their new community – ‘feeling a part and feeling apart’, as
Block (2007: 864) neatly puts it. Such ‘identity work’ is just as much a part of
successful language learning as grammar work or skill-acquisition. Eventually,
if the process continues far enough, the successful learners regain a coherent
sense of self, begin to feel comfortable using the L2 to communicate inten-
tions and feelings and are increasingly recognised by others as competent to
do so – they develop an ‘L2 identity’.
Researchers have presented considerable evidence for such identity work
being undertaken in naturalistic adult migrant settings in which immigrants
18
Cultural Challenges: State School EFL in Indonesia 19
struggle to gain a foothold in new L2 communities (e.g., Norton, 2000;

Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004), or in study-abroad contexts in which an
extended sojourn in a foreign country can provide multiple challenges to
young adult students (e.g., Pellegrino-Aveni, 2005; Jackson, 2008). But what
about for those learning the second language in home-country institutions,
perhaps distant from any actual community of L2 users, and whose main
daily preoccupations may be doing well in class quizzes or getting to the
end of the latest coursebook? Block has expressed deep scepticism about
how far such learners are able to develop L2 identities: ‘there is usually far
too much first language-mediated baggage and interference for profound
changes to occur in the individual’s conceptual system and his/her sense of
self’ (2007: 144). In classrooms, the argument goes, the primary identity of
learners is that of pupil, and while some change is possible within that role –
for example, becoming recognised as a star pupil, or as a class rebel – too
often their true selves are not engaged, and the L2 is just another subject on
the school curriculum, quite divorced from the powerful resonances which it
might have in the communities where it is used.
It has also been suggested that where English is being learned as a ‘lingua
franca’ (ELF), as it is in most education systems worldwide, it has effectively
lost its function as a ‘language for identification’ and can instead be catego-
rised as a ‘language for communication’ (House, 2003). ELF is ‘not a national
language but a mere tool bereft of collective cultural capital’ (p. 560), and iden-
tification is not involved in its learning or use because there is no clear commu-
nity of ELF speakers. The appropriation of English on a personal or societal
level becomes much less problematic when it is perceived as a ‘post-identity
language’ (Lo Bianco, 2005).
Complicating the picture further is the issue of age. Early adolescence is typi-
cally considered a period of flux and uncertainty, when the individual questions
the identities ascribed during childhood, experiments with new identities and
struggles to achieve a coherent sense of self – a period that sometimes has the
character of a crisis, and which in the modern world can extend well into one’s
twenties or even thirties (Côté, 2009). In her review of research on adolescent
migrants in Anglophone communities, Harklau (2007) shows how ethnolin-
guistic identity is one such facet of the self which comes under critical ques-
tioning. The vast majority of the work done on adolescent identity, however,
has been conducted in Western contexts, and we know much less about youth
development in other international contexts. Arnett (2002) has argued that
globalisation is having a profound effect on youth, at least in the wealthier
urban segments of societies in which economic development means they share
the extended period of ‘identity explorations’ and, indeed, the ‘identity confu-
sion’ of Western youth. Further, he argues that ‘most people in the world now
develop a bicultural identity, in which part of their identity is rooted in local
20 Martin Lamb and Budiyanto
culture while another part stems from an awareness of their relation to global
culture’ (p. 777). Lu and Yang (2006) elaborate on the Chinese bicultural self,
which they conceive as ‘a dynamic process of constantly resolving conflicts
and striving for a better adaptation when the individual is caught up in a tran-
sitional society with both traditional and modern cultural systems side by
side’ (p. 170); young Taiwanese, for example, seek to reconcile a local socially
oriented self with a Western-influenced individualism. As the global lingua
franca, we might expect English to be strongly associated with the modern self
to which many young people aspire.
The rest of this chapter relates this debate to the preliminary stages of
teaching English during early adolescence in a junior high school in provin-
cial Indonesia. Although the data is drawn from one particular institution – set
in a relatively prosperous area, aspiring to be the best state school in town and
receptive to the inquiries of foreign researchers – it in many ways represents
a ubiquitous context for the learning of language in the early twenty-first
century. English is recognised by government and people as both a global
and local lingua franca (it is the official language of the ASEAN trading asso-
ciation). It is an important and compulsory part of the curriculum, taught
for four hours per week to fairly large classes (approximately 35 pupils) by
low-paid and often overworked teachers using locally written textbooks. Their
pupils are of mixed ability, most of whom may have learned some English in
primary school or in private language schools, and have increasing exposure
to English in the media and their physical environment but rarely have any
direct contact with native speakers or other foreign users of the language.
Therefore, we believe the issues raised may have some resonance for the very
large numbers of educationalists working in such contexts.
This chapter does not report the results of a specific research project but
instead draws on the experiences and reflections of the two authors. The
second author has taught for 11 years in this school, which we shall call
SMP X, and previously for seven years in other schools in more rural contexts
in Indonesia. The first author has visited SMP X on numerous occasions
during the past decade, including visits of three to four weeks in each of the
years 2002–04 while conducting his doctoral research, and made shorter
visits in subsequent years (2006, 2008, 2010 and 2012); during these visits
he made formal observations of over 30 classes, taught scores of classes in
years 7, 8 and 9 (ages 12–14), conducted formal and informal interviews with
English teachers on numerous occasions and, thanks to the characteristically
open architecture and welcoming nature of this particular school, was able to
observe in a more casual way the teaching and learning going on inside (and
outside) classrooms on a daily basis.
We begin by presenting three vignettes of English learning in the school.
These are then discussed in relation to the literature on identity and L2
motivation. The chapter then presents further descriptions of language

teaching practice in the school, while the final section offers practical recom-
mendations for promoting identity work in the classroom, thereby helping to
sustain learner motivation over these three crucial years.
Three vignettes from the Indonesian junior high school
Vignette No. 1
The English teacher has organised a debate in one of his ‘elite’ year 8
classes. The topic is: ‘Do ghosts exist?’ He starts the class by telling an
anecdote about a family member’s encounter with a ghost and elicits
various comments, some gently mocking, others more serious enquiries.
He directly asks the students whether they believe in ghosts or not. There
is a roughly even split, with several ‘not sure’. He then suggests the class
debate the issue and arbitrarily divides the class into two groups, one
to prepare arguments why ghosts do exist, the other to argue the oppo-
site. He then leaves the class for about 30 minutes while the two groups
cluster in different parts of the room and get on with the task of preparing
their arguments. There is much animated discussion, mostly in Bahasa
Indonesia, but students write out comments in English to prepare for the
oral debate. Some students switch groups; a few sit on their own, appar-
ently not engaged in the task or else preparing their own thoughts. When
the teacher returns, he asks the group that believes in ghosts to present
their arguments first. Several students make comments, mostly in the form
of personal anecdotes or relating reports of local legends involving ghosts
and spirits. The members of the other group respond in similar fashion,
with two distinct lines of attack: some students argue that modern science
has effectively disproved the existence of ghosts, others that Islam forbids
its followers from believing in anything other than jinns, which are invis-
ible to people. All class members listen with interest, sometimes making
comments to the class or to each other; public comments are in English,
private comments usually in Indonesian. Sometimes pupils ask the teacher
how to express something in English. The teacher allows the debate to
continue for over half an hour before eventually making some closing
conciliatory comments of his own.
Vignette No. 2
The teacher has asked his year 8 class to write a diary at least once a week
and in it reflect on meaningful events in their lives; only he would read it,
he has promised, and it should be written in English so it would be ‘secret’
from parents/siblings who did not know the language. Some learners have
produced long entries of a very personal nature, which they give to the
teacher every week to read and comment upon. Here is one extract from
a 13-year-old girl’s diary:
14th February: Friday, maybe today every pair asserted their love to
her/his darling with flowers, chocolate, or a present. That was mean, it
was a special day for some of the people in the world but wasn’t for me
because according to my religion we might not celebrate it. I thought
that didn’t have a purpose or advantages. Forget about it!?!
On the following page is a beautifully designed Valentine’s Day card.
Vignette No. 3
An English teacher has invited a British visitor to the school to meet her year
7 class and ‘motivate them to speak English’. The teacher and visitor arrive
at the classroom about ten minutes after the class was due to start; some
students are inside doing gap-fill exercises in their textbook while others
have to be summoned from various sites around the school; one group
was sitting under a tree listening to a boy strumming his guitar. However,
once they are seated at their appointed desks the class captain quickly
calls them to order and they give a greeting in chorus: ‘Good morning
teacher!’ The teacher introduces the native speaker and invites them to ask
him questions. Since none are forthcoming, the native speaker introduces
himself, giving his name and nationality and purpose for coming to the
school. Recognising that the class has limited English, he tries to speak as
clearly as possible and checks that they understand him – they all say that
they do, so he invites them to ask him questions. Again, there is silence,
and the class teacher urges them to take this opportunity to communicate
with a native speaker. Eventually, after a lot of giggling and a nudge in
the ribs from his neighbour, a boy at the back raises his hand. ‘Yes!’ says
the native speaker with relief. ‘How old are you, Mister?’ asks the boy. The
native speaker explains that this is not a question one normally asks in
his culture, at least not of older people. The boy looks crestfallen, so the
native speaker gives him an approximate answer, and now other questions
start to come, mostly about his experiences of the school and town: e.g.,
‘Where do you stay?’ ‘What is your favourite food?’ ‘What do you think
of Indonesian students?’ One or two students venture questions about the
United Kingdom: e.g., ‘What is your football team?’ ‘Do you know Justin
Bieber?’ There is much laughter and much chattering among the students,
and when the teacher finally calls a halt after about 30 minutes and the
native speaker gets ready to leave, the students all rush to the front individ-
ually to take his hand and touch it to their foreheads. Some get snapshots
of themselves posing with the native speaker on their BlackBerry phones.
Identity and the school English language learner
We shall argue here that in each of these vignettes, we are witnessing learners
of English in a heightened state of emotional stimulation, and that this frisson
is generated by the way the language is associated with challenging cultural
values. In the first vignette, the topic excites debate because ghosts are a
traditional feature of local belief systems, are associated with particular places
in the neighbourhood and are an ingredient in many of the stories passed on
by older family members; yet the learners will also be aware that those English
speakers of Western societies who follow the tenets of materialist science
would allow no role for ghosts outside of Hollywood horror movies. Perhaps
the imams, or teachers, at their local mosque have also condemned the notion
in the name of modern Islam. In other words, the topic naturally stimulates
debate among these learners – and pushes them to produce English at the very
limit of their capabilities – because it probes the tension within many of them
between their current identities, as local citizens and dutiful sons and daugh-
ters, and imagined identities of the future as sophisticated English-speaking
citizens of the world (Lamb, 2004; 2009).
This tension also manifests itself in the triple punctuation marks that end
the girl’s diary entry in Vignette No. 2. Valentine’s Day is a recent cultural
import from the West, taken up with special enthusiasm by the urban young
but also regularly challenged as un-Islamic or contrary to national values (e.g.,
The Jakarta Post, 2012). The girl’s diary entry reveals her ongoing struggle to
reconcile her local self with this attractive ritual from the permissive West; she
is aware that a future English-speaking self may gain access to some of the fruits
of economic and cultural globalisation, but will also expose her to Western (or
other) influences which could lead to alienation from the home community.
The diary-writing exercise itself was extremely successful, motivating many
of the learners to produce large amounts of written text in English – often
reflections on issues of current personal concern – which was of great value
to their linguistic development. We would argue its success lay in the way it
allowed the learners to ‘try out’ their English-mediated identities in the shel-
tered context of a ‘secret’ diary.
The third vignette presents a scenario which has been repeated by the
first author in dozens of classrooms in SMP X. The native speaker’s appear-
ance galvanised the pupils in a dramatic way; it returned them swiftly to
their seats, riveted their attention on the person of the visitor, and struck
them dumb. Only once the initial nerves were settled did they start to speak,
and when those more forward individuals found that their English ‘worked’,
they were keen to speak further. With minimal wit or personal ingenuity,
the native speaker was able to induce a state of collective excitement that
lasted beyond the day’s class; local teachers claim that such visits boost the
students’ long-term motivation to learn English, and this belief underlies
SMP X’s current policy of inviting native speakers to visit English classrooms
whenever such individuals are available, even when they are not qualified
as teachers or, indeed, even when they are not native speakers (international
English speakers are also welcome). Again, we would suggest that this moti-
vational effect derives from the way learners are suddenly encouraged to
perform an identity as a member of the global English-using community,
with all its potentially threatening customs and values, which hitherto have
only been imagined. The content of the interaction may appear mundane,
but many of the self-referential questions (another example, certain to evoke
great hilarity, is ‘what do you think of dangdut music?’) allow them to use the
English-speaking outsider as a mirror, reflecting light on their own familiar
world, and suddenly juxtaposing their local interests and values with those of
the supposedly cosmopolitan Westerner.
Blommaert (2010: 133) argues that ‘the homogenizing ring of a word
such as “English” is the indexical trap of globalization’. Like all languages,
English carries different connotations in different societies and, indeed,
within particular niches within a single society. House (2003) may be right
that ELF is regarded primarily as a ‘language for communication’ among the
German university students she teaches and researches, but it is far from
a neutral code for many Indonesian teenagers. Likewise, Block (2007) drew
his conclusions about the lack of identity work going on in EFL classrooms
largely from his observations of Spanish adult evening classes. Arguably, the
cultural proximity of these European contexts of learning to Anglophone
cultures makes the appropriation of the language unproblematic in identity
terms, involving relatively little ‘destabilisation of the self’. The more cultur-
ally ‘distant’ the context, the greater the potential challenge to individual
learners’ sense of identity, even for those mainly studying the basics of the
language in school.
In contrast to Block, Kramsch (1993; 2010) has consistently highlighted the
transformative potential of language learning. Many teenagers, she argues, are
‘anxious to liberate themselves from the constraints of the one (monolingual)
mother tongue’ (2010: 206) and exhibit a powerful desire for the way a second
language can open up new worlds and new means of expressing their feelings
and aspirations:
Seduced by the foreign sounds, rhythms and meanings, and by the ‘cool-
ness’ of native speakers, many adolescent learners strive to enter new, exotic
worlds where they can be, or at least pretend to be, someone else, where
they too can become ‘cool’ and inhabit their bodies in more powerful ways.
(Kramsch, 2010: 16)
Of course exposure to new languages and cultures may excite, but it will also
challenge; learners may feel uncomfortable trying to express themselves in
the foreign tongue; others may actively resist the identities that the language
potentially imbues, as Canagarajah (1999) describes among Sri Lankan
learners of English. Individuals in this Indonesian context, too, may objec-
tively recognise the potential value of English yet remain personally detached
and unwilling to invest effort in learning it – two examples are described in
Lamb (2011).
For English as a lingua franca, there is legitimate debate about precisely
with what communities and cultures the language is, or should be, associ-
ated. Canagarajah (2005) and Kumaravadivelu (2007), for example, have both
recently discussed the way cultural globalisation has made the relationship
more complex, with learners of English no longer necessarily looking to join
Anglophone communities but, instead, using English to negotiate member-
ship of hybrid and fluid communities within and beyond their own national
contexts. As Baker (2009: 588) asks: ‘[i]f it is not possible to identify a clear
language–culture relationship for lingua franca communication, then how
are participants in ELF communication to be prepared for the wealth and
complexity of cultural backgrounds and the associated communicative prac-
tices and forms they are likely to encounter?’. This is an important question
with serious pedagogic implications but, at early stages of the language learning
process, among school pupils with few immediate communicative needs, the
more urgent concern is to recognise that ‘language can never be culturally
neutral’ (Baker, 2009: 588), that in more ‘distant’ contexts this cultural content
can bring an emotional charge through challenge to learner identity and that,
as Miyahara (2011) has pointed out, the emotions generated by these identifi-
cation processes can contribute significantly to learners’ motivation to acquire
the language.
More typical English language learning activities
We are emphatically not saying that these vignettes represent typical practice
in SMP X. In fact, rather the reverse is true – they are all exceptional. English
class debates are not a common pedagogic practice, particularly in junior high
school, even if nationally organised English language debates serve to moti-
vate elite students in senior high schools; no other English teachers in the
school have used diary-writing as a means of motivating students to write;
native speaker visits are rare events. Instead, the vast majority of English classes
at SMP X involve practices that actually divest the English language of its
cultural meanings. Lessons revolve around the textbook and the related ‘exer-
cise book’, which all pupils bring to class. Central to each unit of the textbook,
and so to each lesson, are certain aspects of language knowledge: structures,
sets of lexis and, in more recent versions reflecting national curricular priori-
ties, skills and sub-skills expressed as competencies. While lessons may begin
with brief oral exchanges between the teacher and pupils in which the main
topic is introduced, most lessons then become overwhelmingly focussed on
written language: on the reading of texts, on answering comprehension ques-
tions based on the text, and completing follow-up grammar and vocabulary
exercises. Punctuating this individual work are teacher explanations about
the language and pupils’ production of their written answers. Listening or
speaking activities specified in the textbook are often ignored, as most class-
rooms lack devices for playing CDs, and many teachers lack both awareness of
communicative teaching methodologies and confidence in their own oral abil-
ities. Further, although some of the reading texts describe aspects of Western
(usually Anglophone) culture, few of the teachers have any personal experi-
ence of such cultures and, as a result, these texts are rarely exploited to stim-
ulate thought and discussion. Finally, as students move into the 9th grade the
work becomes more oriented towards practice for the local and national exams;
these include a listening component, but not speaking.
The huge emphasis on written forms of the language, and especially on gram-
matical and lexical knowledge, is a source of dissatisfaction for many learners.
Survey results consistently indicate that pupils want to do more ‘conversation’
and ‘dialogues’ (Lamb, 2007). As one pupil said to the first author in 2008,
‘in school it’s just about grammar, grammar, grammar and grammar; I still
learn about grammar since I was elementary school and this, I feel this thing’.
Indeed, Lamb (2007) reports the general fall in learners’ enjoyment of their
English lessons over the first two years of study in this school, and on a recent
visit to the school, one experienced teacher commented that by year 9 pupils
‘think only about the final exam; they are not interested with the subject’.
Of course this pattern of declining intrinsic motivation is not confined to
Indonesia; Ryan (2009) for example describes the toll taken by a regimented
exam-oriented language education system on Japanese school leavers’ desire
for English.
Promoting identity change in the classroom
To review our argument so far: the three vignettes demonstrate that even at a
very early stage, and in a formal educational setting, the learning of English
brings identity into play, and when it does so it appears to generate strong
emotions, arguably because it triggers tensions between the young people’s
local selves as dutiful members of the local community and potential future
identities as citizens of the world. However, in the normal course of events,
this rarely happens; most of the time, English is taught and learned as a
values-free body of knowledge conveyed via official textbooks and assessed in
high-stakes exams. Two sorry outcomes of this are a diminution of learners’

long-term motivation to learn the language and a failure to develop intercul-
tural awareness.
Changing this state of affairs is inevitably complex, as it involves multiple
factors at different levels of the education system (Wedell, 2009). Feeding
the systemic inertia here are both teachers’ and learners’ avoidance of risk –
teachers preferring to avoid both the unpredictability of speaking activities
and the moral ambiguities of intercultural lesson content, and learners priori-
tising performance in their assessments. But the vignettes show that the seeds
for change exist in the school. Here we will suggest some small steps that
teachers can take to ensure that their lessons do involve ‘identity work’. Our
ideas are based on successful activities conducted by the second author, and
the first author’s observations and conversations with other teachers in the
school. What is more, as we will explain, our ideas involve practices already
familiar to the teachers and do not presume any familiarity with communica-
tive teaching methodology.
Simple speaking activities – performing not communicating
In most classes at SMP X, there are only three situations in which pupils are
encouraged to speak English. The most common by far is where learners give or
read out answers to their written exercises. Another quite frequent occurrence is
at the beginning of lessons, where teachers may introduce the topic of the class
with some comments and questions in English, to which some learners might
respond. The third type is also common, but only in classes whose teachers see
value in giving learners opportunities to speak. In this activity, pupils work
in pairs (in the fixed paired seating common in Indonesian schools, this will
almost always be the person sitting next to them) to prepare a dialogue based
on a situation in the textbook unit (e.g., giving directions, having a telephone
conversation, explaining how to use a technical device); they then rehearse the
conversation until it is memorised; then volunteers are invited to the front of
the class to perform the dialogue, using whatever props are available.
The first author has observed this simple activity in other national contexts,
and we would speculate that it is a ubiquitous form of speaking practice in
the early stages of language learning, particularly in state education systems.
Interestingly, there is a key difference between this activity and the activi-
ties recommended in contemporary teachers’ guides (e.g., Hadfield & Hadfield,
1999): it is not communicative. There is no information gap between the role
players, no spontaneous negotiation of meaning. Its popularity with teachers is
probably in part because it requires no extra materials preparation and affords
practice of language items targeted in the class textbook, but as the first author
has observed and the second author has experienced, it is also an activity
enjoyed by learners. We would suggest that the pleasure comes from the way
the simple role play allows them to ‘perform’ the language, to enact imagined
identities as English speakers in the sheltered environment of the classroom,
in front of their friends and a supportive ‘expert’. What is more, the imagined
setting is also usually familiar: they are eating in an Indonesian restaurant, for
example, or speaking on the phone to their own Indonesian friend. Without
any international experience, these young adolescents would have difficulty
imagining any other setting and, in fact, some of the humour generated by
the activity comes from the discordance of using the international language,
English, in local settings. This was evident in an activity observed by the first
author in a year 8 class recently, in which the pupils constructed dialogues
around bargaining for goods in a local marketplace; the dialogues were inau-
thentic in that they contained phrases (such as ‘please give me a cheap price!’)
which would almost never be heard in an Anglophone cultural setting, and
most of the gestures and behaviour of the pupils were slightly theatrical
versions of themselves rather than attempts to mimic those of Western users –
but the activity produced laughter and obvious enjoyment.
It could be argued further that in ‘translating’ the local communicative event
into English the learners are becoming more aware of features of their social
world, of how they may look to outsiders; and, therefore, the activity repre-
sents a very elementary form of intercultural learning. The second author has
conducted similar speaking activities which, while again sometimes lacking
a communicative element, encourage learners to represent their culture to
English-speaking outsiders. A notable example is the writing of a prayer in
English: pupils are encouraged to choose their favourite prayers and as a home-
work task to translate them into English; at the following class they read them
out to their friends. A similar activity involves the translation and perfor-
mance of Indonesian songs. A third example is the creation, in English, of a
recipe for an Indonesian dish; in an unusually elaborate lesson, the pupils have
the opportunity to explain the recipe while actually preparing the dish over a
grill in the manner of a TV chef. These activities generate very high levels of
involvement.
In many national education systems the representation of one’s own culture
to outsiders is recognised as a legitimate motive for the learning of English.
Such activities could be said, therefore, to directly address this objective.
However, they also have a more subtle motivational role in the way they bring
into play the current and future elements in learners’ potential bicultural
selves; that is, in forcing them to ‘perform’ aspects of their current selves in
English – as when reciting a favourite prayer in the language – they are being
encouraged to see themselves in a new light, to question a habitus, to develop
a new self-image that they may aspire towards. As we have argued in rela-
tion to the ghosts debate and Valentine’s Day diary entry, such identification
processes can be intrinsically motivating for language learning because the

tensions involved produce emotions. In the longer term, they may also be an
early-stage contribution towards the creation of an Ideal L2 self (cf., Hadfield &
Dörnyei, in press). Claire Kramsch (2010: 205) writes:
The challenge for teachers, as Vygotsky repeatedly stressed, is to teach to

the potential adult, not just to the past or even the actual adolescent. This
means giving the students the space to engage both the teenagers that they
are and the adults they might become. The language classroom is precisely
the place to explore with our students alternative ways of representing
themselves ...
Of course there is the possibility that tensions produce some discomfort, as well
as excitement, and it is the teacher’s role to judge the suitability of a particular
task for a particular group. For example, such activities might fail to motivate
a class of learners – perhaps in a rural setting less exposed to the forces of
globalisation – for whom English is simply an alien code without any mean-
ingful cultural associations. Alternatively an activity that confronted learners
with too powerful a challenge to their local, traditional self may provoke a
strong reaction against the language. To invoke Vygotsky again, educators
have to work within their learners’ cultural zones of proximal development.
As learners become older and gain more knowledge of the outside world, such
pedagogic activities should encourage learners to imagine interacting directly
with international users of English (native speaker or otherwise), adapting
both their verbal and body language accordingly. Baker’s (2012) taxonomy of
the features of intercultural awareness offers educationalists in Asia a helpful
framework for sequencing classroom tasks.
A role for native speakers
In recent years it has almost become TESOL orthodoxy to downplay the value
of native speaker teachers and advocate the strengths of non-native local
teachers of English on the solid grounds that knowledge of the learners’ home
context and language gives them significant professional advantages (e.g.,
Medgyes, 1994; Holliday, 2005). Rivers (2011) goes even further in arguing that
the consistent use of native speakers of English as models and interlocutors
promotes a monolingual ethic and ‘serves to train students in the develop-
ment of less favourable attitudes toward English language speakers of other
racial, national and ethnic backgrounds’ (p. 843), and possibly even reinforces
a ‘heightened sense of anxiety and inferiority among the students’ (p. 851).
These arguments tend to emerge in contexts in which native speaker
teachers are plentiful, or are even in competition for jobs with non-native
speaker teachers. In many areas of the contemporary world, however, the

English language has spread in advance of actual human users, and prob-
ably the majority of school learners of the language have had no face-to-face
contact with a native speaker. Such conditions should force a re-evaluation
of the native speaker’s possible role. In the market economy, scarce commod-
ities will find their own price, so it is no surprise to find that in Indonesia, as
elsewhere, private sector language institutes will pay relatively high salaries to
attract native speaker teachers. Where that is not possible, they will encourage
their pupils to seek out native speakers in the local environment, armed with
questionnaires – a popular pedagogic activity known locally as ‘hunting’. As
stated above, SMP X is also actively looking to recruit short-term native speaker
teachers, even unqualified ones, in the belief that they will help motivate pupils
to learn to speak English. Their role would be primarily to serve as interactants
in the language – their lack of explicit grammatical knowledge will not be a
drawback, since L2 explanations can be confidently left to their Indonesian
counterparts, and their lack of proficiency in the Indonesian language could
even be construed as an advantage, in that it leaves English as the only possible
medium of communication. But we would argue that their main legacy will
lie in the learners’ imaginations – intense experiences of successful interac-
tion will make it easier for them over time to envision a modern English-using
globally involved self. At the same time, in seeing their own lives and culture
reflected in the voiced experience of the outsider, their intercultural awareness
is enhanced.
Rivers (2011), Baker (2012) and others are right to stress the educational
benefits of employing other international users of English, whether L1 users
(e.g., from Singapore, Hong Kong or India) or L2, to encourage ‘more plural-
istic and dynamic conceptions of English use in Asia’ (Baker, 2012: 26). The
likelihood is that Indonesian youngsters will use English more with other
Asians than with Westerners, and alternative linguistic models are available,
just as alternative lifestyles and moral values are laid out as options for their
personal futures. Nevertheless, teachers in this locality stress the motivational
potential of native speakers for their learners. This could be because, as the
research of Timmis (2002) and Jenkins (2007) has found, the teachers them-
selves view native speaker models as the prestigious professional variety, and
learners pick up that message; another explanation, one more in tune with the
arguments of this chapter, is that learners find difference exciting.
Conclusion
Riley (2006: 296) has pointed out how the very expression ‘foreign language
learning’ should alert us to the fact ‘that issues of identity are massively
present’, and it is also true that languages are likely to be perceived by learners
as more or less ‘foreign’. Our main contention in this chapter is that, based on
our experience of EFL in one state school in provincial Indonesia, identity work
is present in mainstream EFL, that it can be motivating for learners through
the emotions it arouses, and that there is the potential for much more without
the need for major methodological change on the part of teachers. Block
(2007) may be right to argue that identity work is often absent, particularly
in European settings in which English is simply less foreign and brings fewer
challenging cultural associations. It is also probably true in other settings, such
as here in Asia, where many teachers and pupils prefer to play safe by divesting
the language of its cultural content and instead emphasising the linguistic
content presented in detail in the class textbook. But this represents a major
lost opportunity to engage young people in the process of foreign language
learning.
Of course cultures are not monolithic entities. Adolescents with little
personal experience of foreign cultures will likely base their identifications on
stereotypes that need to be critiqued as they move through the school system,
and we would support the kind of intercultural awareness-raising proposed
by Baker (2012). Likewise we have to acknowledge the cultural distinctiveness
of SMP X within Indonesian society. The majority of pupils now come from
middle-class backgrounds and have access to role models (in family members
or through the media) of interculturally competent, globally aware English-
speaking Indonesians and, therefore, have had the chance by early adolescence
to develop aspirations towards biculturality and ideal L2 selves (Lamb, 2012).
This is precisely why they see the moral character and cultural behaviour of
Westerners as potential challenges to their own future English-speaking iden-
tity, and they react emotionally. In other more remote Indonesian contexts in
which children are less exposed to outside influences and their future iden-
tities are anchored in local traditional society, the English language may not
arouse the same emotions, and might instead meet the same indifference as
Latin did to most twentieth-century Britons.
Engagement priorities
We are suggesting that cultural identification processes are present in the

early stages of mainstream school EFL in this particular Indonesian context,
and that these processes do affect learners’ short- and long-term motivation
to learn the language. But how widespread is this phenomenon? Are there
teachers or materials writers in similar contexts who are deliberately exploiting
these cultural challenges in order to motivate learners and encourage positive
identity change? As mentioned, most of the current evidence for identity work
in language learning involves adult migrants and study-abroad participants, or
older and more advanced EFL learners: see, for example, Yihong’s (2009) useful
summary of Chinese research demonstrating self-identity changes among

undergraduate learners of English. Research evidence is lacking for school-age
foreign language learners. Here are some questions that practitioners might
usefully consider:
t Is it true in your context that adolescents tend to develop ‘bicultural

identities’, with a local self and a global self? Where might you look for
evidence of this?
t This chapter describes some simple speaking activities for elementary
learners which encourage them to ‘perform’ L2 identities (e.g., reciting a
prayer in English, describing a local recipe), while also becoming more
aware of features of their own culture. Can you think of other examples of
such activities, suitable for your own context?
t To what extent do you consider language teaching as also the teaching
of culture? If you do, which culture do you find yourself teaching in the
English-language classroom? To what extent do you agree with Baker
(2012) that, since we cannot predict what cultures our learners will come
into contact with in the future, we should aim to develop their general
intercultural awareness rather than favouring particular Anglophone
cultures?
t There is a widespread assumption that native speaker teachers do moti-
vate students to learn the L2. How could we investigate the validity of this
assumption? It would be important to know IF they motivate, and if so,
WHY and HOW. Some further issues to consider:
t What research methods would be most effective in addressing these
questions?
t What population of learners/teachers could you take as your sample?
t How could you carry out such research in a practical and ethical way?
Suggested further reading

Arnett, J. J. (2002). The psychology of globalization. American Psychologist, 57(10):
774–83.
A very readable and persuasive article by an American authority on adolescent
psychology.
Baker, W. (2012). Global cultures and identities: refocussing the aims of ELT in Asia
through intercultural awareness. In T. Muller, S. Herder, J. Adamson and P. Shigeo
Brown (eds) Innovating EFL Teaching in Asia. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan,
pp. 23–34.
Baker argues that as English increasingly becomes an ‘Asian’ language, serving local
communicative needs, pedagogical goals should no longer be centred on Anglophone
linguistic models, and in this chapter he proposes an alternative approach based on
helping learners to become ‘interculturally aware’.
Kramsch, C. (2010). The Multilingual Subject. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Learning a second language may be literally an academic pursuit for many, involving
hundreds of hours of enforced study leading to exam success or failure. This book shows
how, by contrast, it can be personally transformative.
References
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Baker, W. (2009). The cultures of English as a Lingua Franca. TESOL Quarterly, 43(4):
567–92.
Baker, W. (2012). Global cultures and identities: refocussing the aims of ELT in Asia
through intercultural awareness. In T. Muller, S. Herder, J. Adamson and P. Shigeo
Brown (eds) Innovating EFL Teaching in Asia. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan,
pp. 23–34.
Block, D. (2007). The rise of identity in SLA research, post Firth and Wagner (1997). The
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Matters, pp. 101–16.
3
Listening to Romanian
Teenagers: Lessons in Motivation
and ELT Methodology
Florentina Taylor
In recent decades, few educational concepts have inspired more publica-

tions than motivation, the field of language learning also benefitting from
a number of noteworthy volumes on the topic (Chambers, 1999; Dörnyei &
Ushioda, 2011; Murray et al., 2011; Ushioda, 1996). This very volume is a clear
indication that not only is motivation in language learning and teaching still
generating very lively discussions, but also that these discussions have now
reached a clearly global status.
In our perpetual search for ways in which to motivate our students, however,
we may sometimes forget a simple fact, expressed clearly by the outspoken
advocate of progressive education, Alfie Kohn (1993: 198–99):
[ ... ] children do not need to be motivated. From the beginning they are
hungry to make sense of their world. Given an environment in which they
don’t feel controlled and in which they are encouraged to think about what
they are doing (rather than how well they are doing it), students of any age
will generally exhibit an abundance of motivation and a healthy appetite
for challenge.
Not only may motivation be a natural attribute of a child, given the appro-
priate environment, but there are also suggestions that other factors may be
more helpful in explaining student achievement. In Hattie’s (2009) synthesis
of 800 meta-analyses of factors contributing to educational achievement, moti-
vation is ranked as 51st out of 138 domains, below many relational factors
such as peer influences (41st), home environment (31st) and teacher–student
relationships (11th). Crucially, the single best predictor of academic achieve-
ment in this meta-analysis of meta-analyses is students’ estimation of their
own performance. Interpreting this result, Hattie (2009) comments that, on
35
36 Florentina Taylor
the one hand, this may indicate that students are not always encouraged
to exceed their own and others’ expectations; on the other hand, students’
own remarkable understanding of classroom achievement casts doubts on
assessment-driven educational systems aiming to find answers that students
already have.
These two insights – that students are naturally motivated, and that they
can show remarkable understanding of classroom achievement – constitute
the premises of the present chapter, which aims to show that students can and
do have a voice that deserves to be listened to, valued and taken into account.
Why listen to students?
In an era of diversity and equity, it is perhaps surprising that including students

in educational decision making is still rare in mainstream schooling. The persis-
tent calls that marked the end of the last century (Corbett & Wilson, 1995;
Kozol, 1992; Levin, 2000; Rudduck & Flutter, 2000) have clearly made a diffe-
rence to student voice, at least in the English-speaking countries (Cook-Sather,
2006; Kidd & Czerniawski, 2011). Nevertheless, ‘the most informed ... witnesses
of schooling’ are still marginalised in most educational contexts (Smyth,
2006: 279). Schools as places of genuine dialogue, in which the voices of the
most important stakeholders – pupils – are specifically sought after and valued,
are still rare (Leitch & Mitchell, 2007; Zhao, 2011).
Student perspective occupies a central position in social constructivist
approaches to education (Brooks & Brooks, 2000; Larochelle et al., 2009),
which have in common a Piagetian sociocognitive conflict and a Vygotskian
sociocultural view of learning (Palincsar, 1998). According to the former,
learning occurs when a child’s level of understanding is challenged by new
experiences in the social context, while the latter regards learning as an
essentially social process in which a child advances along the developmental
continuum through interaction with more advanced peers or adults, this inter-
action being realised via language and other symbolic means (Palincsar, 1998).
In both situations, children have an active role in the process, as they learn
by constantly comparing new and old information in their attempt to create
meaning and make sense of the world around them (Larochelle et al., 2009). In
educational contexts, as Lincoln (1995) explains, learning as meaning-making
is only possible by giving students a legitimate voice in the classroom and
allowing them to appropriate new information in a way that makes sense to
them as individuals. Students have repeatedly been shown to prefer construc-
tive to overly didactic learning environments (Kinchin, 2004; McIntyre et al.,
2005), and constructivist instruction has been shown to positively predict
deep processing strategies, self-efficacy, task value and achievement in large
cohort studies (Nie & Lau, 2010).
Listening to Romanian Teenagers 37
Given that language is considered one of the main vehicles by which learning
occurs (Vygotsky, 1992), it is not surprising that social constructivism has been
adopted in the language learning literature, either explicitly (e.g., Kaufman,
2004; Williams & Burden, 1997), or implicitly, in various theoretical and
methodological areas that emphasise a learner-centred approach, in partic-
ular task-based and problem-based language learning (e.g., Bygate et al., 2001;
Ellis, 2003) and sociocultural approaches to language education (e.g., Lantolf &
Poehner, 2008; Swain et al., 2010). Giving students a voice and an individual-
ised approach to education have also been advocated by, for example, propo-
nents of autonomy, who emphasise the learner’s need to develop as a reflective
self-directed individual in the social context (e.g., Cotterall & Crabbe, 2008;
Little, 2007; Ushioda, 2009; 2011; van Lier, 1996); the learner-centred curric-
ulum, which regards the language curriculum as the result of democratic
teacher/student collaboration (Clarke, 1991; Nunan, 1988); and the Dogme
approach to language teaching, which relies on student needs and interests as
the sole basis for language teaching (Meddings & Thornbury, 2009).
While these developments have become mainstream in the international
private ELT sector, in local state education contexts they are still rare. Romania
is a case in point, in which constructivism and learner-centred education are
hardly ever mentioned in the literature. In fact, as the pressure to publish and
undertake research is still in its very early stages in the country, the amount of
publicly available educational research is very limited indeed. Virtasalo (2008)
explains the situation through the country’s continued struggle to adapt to the
new democratic structures after several decades of communism in which most
research and development activities were limited to tightly controlled state
institutes and were virtually absent from universities and industry.
Among the few authors who have explored the student’s perspective in
Romanian education and made their results available are Badea and Cuciureanu
(2007), who investigated children’s rights and responsibilities in school. One
of their conclusions after interviewing 165 teachers and surveying 1637 pupils
is quite telling: there is a balance between students’ rights and responsibili-
ties in Romania: teachers believe that pupils have too many rights, and pupils
believe they have too many responsibilities. Other findings are that Romanian
students tend to perceive learning as something they do ‘for the teachers’
rather than for their own lifelong benefit, that academic motivation is in clear
decline; that students believe they have very little say in their own education;
and that Romanian schools do not prepare students for taking responsibility
in real life.
A more pupil-centred project initiated by the British Council, called Student
Voice (Istrate & Velea, 2006) explored and encouraged the expression of
students’ views on education and schooling via an online platform, with over
700 participants from five Romanian and three British secondary schools. One
of the insights gleaned from the asynchronous debates was the perception
that teachers are extremely influential in determining students’ attitudes and
values, and that Romanian teenagers appear to cherish personal qualities in an
educator more than subject knowledge.
Istrate and Velea (2006) maintain that projects like Student Voice can
promote bottom-up educational change in Romania by giving adolescents
opportunities to develop and practise decision making and responsibility, by
making their voices heard and by giving them a platform for learning through
interaction and democratic debate. While such scaffolded interventions are
clearly beneficial and necessary in Romania, teachers themselves could also
start their own educational reform in their own classrooms by routinely taking
into account their pupils’ perspectives (Taylor, 2009; 2010a). After an overview
of learning English as a foreign language in Romania, two examples of more
formalised research that continued my own informal classroom investigations
as a teacher of English in Romania are reported in this chapter as examples of
the motivational and methodological insights that Romanian adolescents have
and are happy to share, if we are prepared to listen.
Learning English as a foreign language in Romania
A republic situated in south-eastern Europe, Romania is one of the latest

two countries to join the European Union in January 2007 (the other being
Bulgaria). Romania’s long journey to democracy began in December 1989 with
the elimination of the communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, which left the
country’s economy on the verge of collapse. The following year marked the
beginning of a lengthy and difficult transition from a totalitarian regime with
a deeply inbred and corrupt system to a democratic society and open-market
economy (Light & Phinnemore, 2001).
As in most European countries, Romanian schools have no autonomy in
deciding the content of the compulsory curriculum, but they do have the
freedom to decide what teaching methods to use, with monitoring mecha-
nisms in place (European Commission, 2008a). In theory, students are assessed
through formative and summative methods including oral questioning, written
papers, practical activities, projects and portfolios, according to standard-
ised curricular descriptors approved by the Ministry of Education (European
Commission, 2008b). In practice, however, oral questioning is prevalent, and
marks are often ‘based more on teacher’s experience and perception rather
than clean, relevant and unitary criteria’ (Mihai, 2003: 69). In some contexts,
bad marks are given for bad behaviour – leading to further bad behaviour,
which in turn leads to more bad marks.1
Foreign language education has always been a high priority in Eastern
Europe. While the Soviet bloc imposed the teaching of Russian as the only
compulsory foreign language in most communist countries, the Romanian

dictator opted for a colder relationship with Moscow in favour of a pecu-
liar personality cult. In the 1970s, Russian was prevalent but not obligatory,
French, German and English being also taught in Romanian schools and
universities. Despite a historical preference for French as a fellow Romance
language, it has been argued that in Romania an interest in Anglo-American
culture and civilisation acted as a spontaneous form of opposition to commu-
nist indoctrination (Constantinescu et al., 2002). However, whilst all links
with the West were severed under threat of imprisonment for all but the secret
police and their all-pervasive informers, learning foreign languages in school
had the sole purpose of getting satisfactory marks, with no link to authentic
communication (Fodor & Peluau, 2003; Medgyes, 1997). Foreign language
films, books and music were completely inaccessible, except for propaganda
materials originating in other communist countries.
After 1990, the political-economic environment in Europe brought English
to the fore, with the European Union and the need for a regional lingua franca
playing an unquestionable role (Medgyes, 1997). The World Bank, Peace Corps
and the British Council have also shaped the importance that English would
have in the Romanian educational system in the future (Mihai, 2003). In 1990,
a governmental decree made the teaching of a foreign language mandatory
from the age of eight in all Romanian state schools. A second foreign language
would be introduced at the age of ten. Unlike several other European countries,
in Romania there is no compulsory foreign language, but English is clearly
prevalent: 96 per cent of students opt for it in secondary schools – compared
to an EU average of 84 per cent – and 39 per cent in primary schools (Eurostat,
2009). Since 1999, of the two foreign languages studied by every secondary
school student in Romania, at least one must also be part of the final examina-
tion, the baccalaureate.
The combination of strong international influences and developments, on
the one hand, and a controversial political atmosphere with changes of govern-
ment triggering changes in educational policy every four years, on the other
hand, has taken Romanian education through a perpetual cycle of reforms
and structural changes in recent years (European Commission, 2008b; Mihai,
2003). Admittedly, monochrome Stalinist textbooks have been replaced by
glossy materials featuring age-relevant issues; students watch English language
films in class and may be assessed on project work more than on proficiency
in literary translation, but the extent to which these recent developments have
truly been appropriated by Romanian English language teaching is debatable.
As Andrei (2006: 774) puts it, ‘there still is a nostalgia for the past certain-
ties, for more stable and more predictable curricula’. Although syllabi are alleg-
edly based on a functional–communicative model of learning and teaching
(National Curriculum Council, 2007a, 2007b), in practice, teaching is still
heavily driven by grammar–translation methodology, and the structure of the

final examination – which for most pupils still represents the main reason for
studying – has long contradicted the theoretical principles stated in the official
documents (Mihai, 2003).
Paradoxically, many Romanian adolescents are actually proficient speakers of
English. Their intrinsically driven competence, however, may sometimes have
little to do with their classroom activities. Many of them learn the language
from films, music, computer applications and online social networks where
they use English for authentic communication about personally relevant issues
(Emmerson, 2009).
Listening to Romanian teenagers: some qualitative insights
Romanian teenagers’ motivation to learn English and other associated processes

have been explored recently in two mixed-method research projects – Taylor
(2008) and Taylor (2010b) – whose key qualitative findings will be reported
briefly in this section. More details about the participants2 in the qualitative
components of the two studies can be found in Table 3.1.
While the semi-structured interview schedules focused on identity processes,
there were also questions on perceived relevance, motivation, perceptions
of the English class and suggestions for possible improvement. The findings
reported in this chapter are based on these questions.
The interviews, conducted in Romanian, were transcribed integrally, coded
and analysed with the QSR NVivo 8 software package and translated selectively,
for citation purposes. The qualitative data were analysed inductively, through
thematic content analysis (Miles & Huberman, 1994). The findings discussed
in this chapter do not claim to represent trends or generalisable results, which
are not aims of qualitative research. While qualitative findings from one
Table 3.1 Participant details
Methods Number of Gender Age range Number School

interviewees distribution and mean of specialisms
schools
Taylor Group 53 20 M 15–19 3 Theoretical
(2008) interviews Various
Focus groups 33 F 16.94 Various
Taylor one-to-one 32 16 M 14–19 4 Economics,

(2010a) interviews 16 F 16.47 Tourism &
Administration
Computer science
Music
Modern
languages
research context are often not transferable to other contexts, comparing results
from different settings leads to a deeper understanding of the research problem
(Richards, 2003).
The qualitative findings of the two projects will be discussed in an aggre-
gated manner, in two main subsections. The former analyses the perceived
direct proportionality between teacher motivation and student motivation,
while the latter gives examples of students’ intuitive understanding of English
language teaching methodology and assessment.
From motivated teachers to motivated students
The literature describing the influence of the teacher in the classroom is abun-
dant, both in general education (Birch & Ladd, 1996; Harter, 1996) and in
foreign/second language learning (Noels et al., 1999; Papi & Abdollahzadeh,
2012; Ushioda, 2011). This influence was confirmed by the interviews
conducted on the two research projects. One of the main motivational factors
that student participants identified was the teachers’ own motivation, engage-
ment and interest – both with regards to the subject and to their students.
Many participants explained that their motivation in the English class
depended clearly on the teacher’s attitude. Asked about his level of engage-
ment and willingness to work hard in class, a participant explained:
It depends on the teacher. If it’s a good teacher, who knows how to approach
the students, who also jokes with them and knows what to do ... then I
am really pleased to answer correctly, to work hard and all that. But if the
teacher’s not like that – umm, not really. [emphasis added] (M, 15)3
Similar comparisons were made by a 14-year-old female student, whose

admiration for her English teacher is perhaps a little surprising given that
she also considered she was constantly marked down in class. When asked to
explain her perceptions, the student explained that, although the teacher was
‘a very, very kind person’, she also knew when it was necessary to be strict, so
the girl trusted her wisdom:
She’s always known how to be both nice and useful. She’s always known
how to get involved where she needed to. Where she thought it unnecessary,
she didn’t, and it was very good what she did. [ ... ] We’re not the same with
all the teachers, but when we see that she shows us this ... enormous respect,
then we like to do the same. [emphasis added]
Another girl, 15 years old, who admired her English teacher for starting her first
class by asking students about their personal likes and dislikes so she would
know what to emphasise in her lessons, thought this had an important effect
on the students’ motivation. A less interested attitude of the teacher, she felt,
would result in students thinking: ‘If the teacher’s not bothered about what I
want, why would I care about what she wants?’ She felt that when the teacher
was interested, students too were interested.
However, many participants had less positive experiences to share. A
16-year-old boy contrasted his present teacher to his previous one, commenting
on the influence that the teacher’s attitude had on his level of engagement:
Our English teacher in elementary school took great interest in me. [ ... ]
She gave me extra work to do and all that. Here, the teacher is not very
demanding. [ ... ] Other teachers get us to work hard even if their subjects
are not important for our specialism, but English is like ... well, let’s just do
a little thing or two ... [ ... ] I love discovering things, but we can’t discover
much in the English class, because the teacher is not really bothered.
The teacher’s apparent indifference can even engender aversion for the
subject itself, which was also one of the findings that Istrate and Velea (2006)
commented on:
There’s a class that I literally hate. [ ... ] He teaches the subject and we look at
him and ... we literally see him like a ... robot. It’s mechanic, everything he
teaches ... he looks through you, really, it’s not like he’s talking to you ... He
looks right through you, he doesn’t care that you ... you can sit there and eat
or ... or I don’t know what. He doesn’t care! He just looks through you and he
drives me up the wall! I really hate this, I really do! (F, 19)
The risk that negative perceptions of teachers may lead to negative perceptions
of the subject they teach was also pointed out by one of the youngest partici-
pants in the second study:
We don’t learn the lesson from the classroom, which is very bad! [ ... ] You
go home to learn a lesson which maybe you’re sick of, because maybe you’re
sick of the teacher ... That’s what usually happens: when you don’t like a
teacher, you don’t like the subject they teach either. (F, 14)
The implications are dramatic: If the teacher is genuinely interested in the

students, this increases the students’ interest and engagement too. If, however,
the teacher has not managed to bond with the students for one reason or
another, this may diminish the students’ interest and affective propensities
for the subject itself. The beginning of this quotation is also essential, as the
student makes a direct link between failure to learn in the classroom and
not liking the teacher, therefore not liking the subject. The need for student
autonomy could not be greater here. It is obvious that not every teacher will
be liked by every student at all times, but if students are autonomous and
understand that they are learning for themselves, not ‘for the teacher’ (Badea
& Cuciureanu, 2007), then the relationship between not liking the teacher and
not liking the subject would surely be weaker.
For many others, a recurrent theme was contagious boredom:

Teachers are bored and pass their boredom on to us. (M, 17)
Classes bore me especially when I don’t understand and the teachers don’t
know how to explain and can’t show you how beautiful a subject is – so all
you can do is sit there and nod off; and the teacher doesn’t make any effort.
(M, 17)
There are few teachers who are really passionate about what they do.
Many of them do it just because they’ve got to do it. [ ... ] They no longer
feel like it, they just come because they’ve got to come and to retire and to
finish with it all. (M, 19)
This participant’s words echo almost literally those of the student cited by
Knesting and Waldron (2006: 607) in their analysis of factors contributing to
student disengagement: ‘ ... many of the teachers don’t care; obviously don’t
care about their jobs. They’re just here to do what they do then get paid
and go home’. Very similar perceptions were also reported by Phelan et al.
(1992).
Several interviewees attributed the teachers’ indifference to the generation
gap and also to a ‘mentality gap’. It was rather interesting to see that these teen-
agers, the oldest of whom had been born four years after the fall of commu-
nism, believed they could not communicate with their teachers because the
latter were ‘communist’. An 18-year-old felt he could not express his honest
point of view in class because the teacher was communist. Having been born
in democracy, he maintained, he respected people’s right to a free opinion, but
she did not.
Another participant believed similar differences were the origin of a ‘wall’
that prevented genuine communication between teachers and students:
There’s a wall between the student and the teacher. You can’t really reach
the student. [ ... ] they’ve both created this wall, both the teachers and
the students, I think. [Why?] Because ... I suppose every generation brings
a change. Maybe an improvement to the previous generation, or just a
change. And if you, as a teacher, can’t understand this and try to manip-
ulate the students [ ... ] or to introduce them into the system that you’re
familiar with, of course you get this rift. And students don’t agree with this
and you’ve lost them. I suppose this may lead to defiance ... [ ... ] Or simply
that can’t-be-bothered attitude ... (M, 18)
Palmer (1997) discusses classroom interactions in similar metaphors.

Teachers and students ‘collaborate’ with ‘structures of separation’, he believes,
because they fear ‘live encounters’ (genuine person-to-person communication,
being themselves in class). In order to avoid these encounters, Palmer explains,
students hide behind their notebooks and their silence, while teachers hide
behind their lecterns and their authority. The reason for this behaviour
(Palmer, 1997: 37) maintains, is fear:
We collaborate with the structures of separation because they promise to

protect us against one of the deepest fears at the heart of being human – the
fear of having a live encounter with alien ‘otherness’, whether the other is
a student, a colleague, a subject, or a self-dissenting voice within. We fear
encounters in which the other is free to be itself, to speak its own truth, to
tell us what we may not wish to hear. We want those encounters on our own
terms, so that we can control their outcomes ...
Perhaps the fear of ‘live encounters’ and a desire to maintain control could
also explain the perceived behaviourist teaching methodology that most
participants described when talking about their usual English classes. There
is evidence to show that psychologically controlling teachers, who pressurise
students into acting and thinking in a particular way, may do so as a result
of a pressuring school environment and because of their own low autonomy
as teachers (Reeve et al., 2004; Soenens et al., 2012). Their autonomy and
intrinsic joy of teaching can be stifled both ‘from above’, through curriculum
constraints, performance standards, challenging colleagues, and ‘from below’,
through disruptive and demotivated students (Pelletier et al., 2002). The argu-
ment that student autonomy depends on teacher autonomy has also been
made in relation to language learning. Little (1995), for example, explained
that the nature of the student/ teacher dialogue will always be more impor-
tant in nurturing self-directed learners than strategy training. However, apart
from being a crucial determinant of student autonomy, the nature of student/
teacher dialogue may itself be the key to the teachers’ own comparatively low
autonomy in such contexts. As recent research indicates (Klassen et al., 2012),
relatedness with students is a more important factor in determining the level
of engagement and positive emotions in teachers than other work-related
relationships.
From behaviourist teaching to constructivist learning?

In the 2008 study, participants were asked to comment on their perceptions of
English language lessons, teaching and school, in general. Their open answers
are summarised in Table 3.2.
The summary indicates that these students appreciate fair teachers who help
them experience and learn a subject that will be of use to them in real life.
Table 3.2 Student perceptions of English lessons, teaching and school
Students do not like Students (would) like

Teachers who Teachers who
– do not care about students as – are friendly and treat students as their
individuals: are not interested in their friends
personal opinions; do not notice/care if – are competent in their subject and
they have lost the students’ attention passionate about teaching it
– lack enthusiasm and interest in the – show logical connections between
subject they teach subjects and their relevance for life
– are unfair and take revenge by giving – are able to summarise the subject
low marks matter without burdening the students
– punish the whole group for one person with too much information
– are arrogant and sarcastic, labelling and – are fair, understanding and patient,
mocking students explaining for as many times as
– answer their own questions, without necessary (‘without shouting’)
giving students a chance – can maintain discipline in class
– cannot control the class and maintain
discipline
Class/Teaching style Class/Teaching style
– too much textbook-driven grammar, – varied, interesting and interactive
too little communicative practice classes with audio-video support
– too much to learn: students feel they – relaxed and encouraging atmosphere,
cannot cope so that students are not afraid to
– no differentiation: students either get express themselves and talk about
bored because the explanations are too their interests and passions
easy, or disengage because they do not – the opportunity to learn about the
understand the activities (especially real/practical use of English in the
students who have only started world
studying English) – the possibility to apply theory in
– no choice: students have to do what is practice
imposed on them
Classmates who School
– are noisy and rude, disturbing the – longer breaks, with relaxing music;
teacher and the other students classes to start later
– call you a ‘nerd’ if you do well, or laugh – colourful rooms, with relevant
at your mistakes teaching materials, plants and flowers
– get into little factions that tease and – sports, projects and extracurricular
gossip about the others activities
– support in finding one’s ‘gift’/talent
and pursuing it
Source: Taylor (2008: 70).
They want a nurturing and disciplined environment in which they have a

voice that is valued and respected. In their comparison of ‘traditional class-
rooms’ and ‘constructivist classrooms’, Brooks and Brooks (2000) list several
aspects that the Romanian participants appeared to understand instinctively.
A summarised and adapted version of this list can be seen in Table 3.3.
Table 3.3 A comparison of traditional classrooms and constructivist classrooms
Traditional classrooms Constructivist classrooms
Curriculum Presented part to whole, with Presented whole to part, with

emphasis on basic skills emphasis on big concepts
Strictly adhered to Acts as a guide in pursuing highly
valued student questions
Relies heavily on textbooks and Relies heavily on primary sources
workbooks of data
Students Blank slates onto which Thinkers with emergent views
information is etched by teachers about the world
Tend to work alone Tend to work in groups
Teachers Didactic manner Interactive manner
Disseminate information to students Mediate knowledge construction
Seek the correct answer in order Seek the students’ points of view
to validate learning in order to incorporate them in
future lessons
Keep assessment separate from Interweave assessment with usual
teaching teaching activities
Assess mainly through tests Assess mainly by observing
students at work and evaluating
work portfolios
Source: Based on Brooks and Brooks (2000: 17).
It is perhaps surprising that the participants in both studies reported here

appeared to have such an accurate view of constructivist teaching and learning,
given that apparently not many of them had experienced what they described
as their ideal learning environment.
What the numerous theories of constructivism have in common is a view
of learning as a meaning-making process. As Richardson (1997) explains,
individuals create their own constructivist understandings based on the
interaction of what they already know and believe with the phenomena or
ideas they encounter. This is in contrast to traditional behaviourist pedagogy,
which leaves no room for reflection and subjectivity – either in determining
the learning content or in how information is used, interpreted or understood
(Boghossian, 2006). Discussing measures of success in traditional educational
settings, Boghossian (2006: 716) goes on to explain:
In the traditional behaviorist model, learners undergo some form of condi-

tioning. [ ... ] The behaviorist would interpret, for example, a student’s correct
answer to a question as a sign of successful conditioning, and then continue
to reinforce correct responses behaviorally by assigning good grades. [ ... ] In
a behaviorist paradigm, the student is engaged in the educational process
only in that she displays the appropriate verbal behavior (e.g. checking the
correct box on a multiple choice test).
Analysing Table 3.3 in the light of this very brief comparison, it does appear
that, in the context of this research, English language teaching is perceived
as predominantly behaviouristic, whereas the learning that the participants
declare they long for shows signs of intuitive constructivist inclinations. These
insights will be discussed below in further detail, with reference to teaching
methodology, assessment and feedback, and valuing students as individuals.
Teaching methodology
The ‘communication wall’ mentioned earlier appeared to manifest itself
in many of the participant groups through physical distance, which many
teachers allegedly preferred and students appeared to dislike:
The teacher sits at the front and the students at the back: everybody just
listening like we’re at a congress. (M, 17)
[If I were a teacher], I’d be close to [my students], to see what they want,
what they like and don’t like – that’s how you know them and can help
them. (F, 18)
This physical distance was associated with teacher-centred instruction that

appeared to favour a lecturing model of teaching and reduced opportunities
for student fluency practice:
Some sit at their desk and dictate and we write stuff for 50 minutes without
a break. [ ... ] Generally, we don’t get a chance to speak in the English class –
maybe we’ll say a word or so in an hour. It’s the teacher who talks, talks,
talks, and we just sit there ... I mean, if we could speak too, if we could show
that we know ... Or even if we don’t know, at least we learn, as long as we can
speak ... (F, 14)
The 14-year-old cited here shows an apparent inclination towards a ‘growth

mindset’ (Dweck, 2007; Mercer & Ryan, 2010), being aware that practice would
help her and her peers develop even when making mistakes. She is not afraid
to take risks, if this means her ability would expand.
Other students hinted at similar repetitive lecturing practice and a literal,
non-differentiated application of the cyclical syllabus (Dubin & Olshtain,
1986):
... a notebook written four years ago looks almost the same as a recent one.
(M,19)
Nothing new. We’ve got bored hearing the same things all over again for
eight years. (M, 18)
Apart from the perception that teachers adopted a lecturing style in the
teaching of English (some actually lecturing in Romanian, according to several
participants), many of these students felt too much emphasis on grammar left
too little time for communicative practice.
I’d make classes more interactive and interesting – not just teaching modal
verbs and stuff. (M, 18)
More emphasis on communication, talking more, that’s what we need;
even if we can write well, we find it very difficult to express ourselves when
speaking. (F, 18)
My idea of a perfect English lesson? I can’t really describe it, because we’ve
hardly ever had one. I guess one in which we speak freely, in which we
express our views of things. Certainly not a class in which we write exercises
on the board! (M, 18)
I’d shorten the time given to grammar; I’d introduce much more speaking,
just about ordinary things and then we’d also learn tenses and everything
else. (F, 15)
Although very young, and without much apparent experience of communi-

cative language teaching, these adolescents demonstrate keen insight into
the principles of authentic communication tasks (Nunan, 2004). They under-
stand that, if language tasks were meaningful and purposeful (Williams, 1998),
students would also acquire grammatical knowledge in the process of genuine
communication about issues of personal importance to them or simply about
‘ordinary things’.
Some had clearly experienced such English classes and their perception of
the lesson and of the teacher was very positive, as testified by this 16-year-old
boy:
I really do think that our teacher’s style is a very good one. [ ... ] Because we
don’t limit ourselves to solving exercises from the book and writing ... I don’t
know what English word equals I don’t know what Romanian translation.
And having vocabulary lists in your notebook and homework and that’s it.
No! We do a lot of essays, so there’s room for artistic expression, for imagi-
nation, for developing your vocabulary – because we’re always looking for
new words and then using them in front of the class and speaking freely,
and that’s how they stick and we learn them.
Or a similar, more orally focussed description of a perfect English class:
Desks in a circle, teacher in the middle ... and fun! [What sort of fun?] Say
we’ve had to do some reading in English – a book, a story, anything. And the
teacher asks: What can you tell us about this? Everything would be relaxed,
not tense or stressful. I’d do things differently, I mean I’d have diversity, if
you wish. Not just ... every lesson: writing on the board, exercises, reading,
full stop. I’d bring games and things, people would get involved, team-
work ... (M, 15)
It is easy to recognise in the teenager’s description the main elements of

constructivist classrooms (Brooks & Brooks, 2000) that we saw above in
Table 3.3.
Assessment and feedback

The perceived need for more interactive learning was also linked to
assessment:
I’d love something more interactive. I mean, not the teacher sitting at her
desk, reading the question, and you answering from your desk. Right,
[mark] 104 for one answer! Or for some ticks! That’s how we’d develop our
oral skills too, which we don’t really [develop much]. ... (F, 17)
A younger pupil, who confessed that, to him, marks were the only thing
that mattered, also claimed that he only had high marks in English because
they were informed in advance what they would be tested on, so they could
prepare:
This way, I can study, but I only study that chapter, or that lesson that I
need, and that’s why I get a high mark. If she were to assess me on the whole
syllabus, it would be a disaster. (M, 15)
The practices that these teenagers are referring to reflect clear behaviourist
reinforcement of a preconditioned response (Boghossian, 2006; Ormrod, 2011).
Such ‘recitation script’ practices have been discussed, for instance, by Gutierrez
and Larson (1994) in terms of ‘border reinforcement’ and ‘teacher hegemony’
in the classroom, as their sole purpose is to display a reinforced behaviour that
is controlled by an authoritative teacher.
Many participants believed it was always safer to be on the teacher’s side,
to create the right impression, to do their ‘duty’ as students and to avoid
conflicts, as it was the teacher who gave their marks. Some students thought
it was typical of ‘the System’ for teachers to bear grudges and take revenge by
giving bad marks if one got into trouble with them. Fear of retaliation some-
times prevented hard-working students from making the most of their English
class. A 14-year-old confessed that she and her classmates were sometimes
frightened to put their hands up and ask a question or confess they had not
understood something. In turn, a 17-year-old girl told of a situation when she
got scolded really badly by her teacher for making a mistake in a lesson when
they were practising a newly taught concept. The student concluded: ‘That’s
what makes people look up the answers at the back and fill them in before the
lesson – and what have you done with that?’ These are indications that testing
and marking were used as expressions of power and control, as well as disci-
plinary tools, with little apparent awareness of the effects on test takers or any
significance of such practices in the real world (Shohamy, 2001).
These strategies appeared to be clear to some students, who felt there was
no connection between learning and assessment, and marks were used as an
instrument of control, with little connection to the life outside the classroom:
She wasn’t really interested. Whether we learnt anything or not was our
business. She was only there to evaluate us, that’s all. (F, 19)
You’ll never find the way to your students if you keep that attitude of ‘I’m
a teacher and give bad marks – you’re a student so you’ve got to do what
I say’; marks shouldn’t come out of fear; you should learn for life, not for
these marks. (M, 17)
These students appeared to understand that such an approach to assessment

‘promotes neither the interaction between prior and new knowledge nor the
conversations that are necessary for internalisation and deep understanding’
(Richardson, 1997: 3). On the contrary, whatever information is acquired from
traditional teaching will normally only be elicited for assessment, and ignored
at all other times, remaining unintegrated with the students’ other knowledge,
as Richardson (1997) explains.
Informal assessment, verbal feedback and other interactive cues were
perceived as painful by many participants. A fairly common complaint was
that they felt they were treated with arrogance and irony, labelled and ridi-
culed in class:
We once had a term paper and I did a composition about winter, I think,
and she started to read it aloud in class and to mock me and I felt really
bad. (F, 19)
When you see they’re getting in and ... they think you are stupid ... and
they are the best ... I don’t think that’s normal. As long as they’ve come to
teach you something, that’s what they should do. (F, 19)
I really loved English and was trying to learn more, but she would say to
me: ’Oh, you’re bound to get it wrong, I won’t have you answer this ques-
tion!’. [ ... ] I used to feel like a real weirdo who didn’t know anything and
they knew everything. [Did you think you’d get it wrong when you put
your hand up to answer?] I did, but I thought if I got it wrong then she’d
correct me and I’d learn something new. But she didn’t. [And you still put
your hand up ... ] I did, and at some point she sent me to the board to write
it up and when she saw I’d got it right she said I’d cheated. I felt like a right
crook then. Really left out I felt. (F, 15)
This is another example of a student who was willing to take risks, make
mistakes and expose herself to ridicule in order to learn something new
and develop her English language ability. These are the rare ingredients of a
‘growth mindset’ (Dweck, 2007; Mercer & Ryan, 2010), which many teachers
would be grateful to see in more students. In this particular case, however, the
teacher herself appeared to encourage a ‘fixed mindset’, whereby risk taking is
avoided as it may reveal low ability that cannot be developed further. Given
that students tend to perceive teacher responses as assessments of themselves
as persons rather than of their abilities (Deci & Ryan, 1985; Dweck, 1999), it
is little wonder that this experience had such a painful emotional impact on
the pupil.
Such verbal cues are clear examples of controlling rather than informative
feedback (Deci & Ryan, 1985), as they do not give the students any guidance
on how they could improve their skills, or what their strengths and weaknesses
are. Given such situations, it is perhaps not surprising that many participants
reported having learnt to do their ‘duty as students’ in order to obtain passing
marks. This is reminiscent of other reports of Romanian students learning ‘for
the teacher’ (Badea & Cuciureanu, 2007) and may explain why English was
perceived by many participants as an academic subject like any others rather
than a real communication tool in class – a situation also reported in other
educational contexts (e.g., Williams & Burden, 1999).
Valuing students as individuals

Doing one’s ‘duty’ as a student – both in their interaction with an often imper-
sonal and disengaged teacher, and in bidding for a passing mark – appeared
as one of the strongest leitmotifs in both projects. In the former one (Taylor,
2008), this duty was perceived as putting in as little effort as possible to mislead
the English teacher into thinking they were on task, while actually attending
to numerous personally relevant activities with no connection to the lesson.
In the latter project (Taylor, 2010b), one’s duty as a student tended to consist in
a complex display of socially imposed and often contradictory identities (e.g.,
that of a diligent student when interacting with the teacher versus that of an
academically disaffected teenager when interacting with peers), whose main
strategic goal was to keep the interlocutor on one’s side (Juvonen & Murdock,
1993). These mechanisms were not without negative emotional consequences,
however, as these two adolescents explain:
I’ve noticed it’s best to agree with the teacher, although sometimes I’ve got
a different opinion. Because she often clings on to her view and I can’t
convince her that this is my opinion and my choice. [ ... ] I’ve tried, but I’ve
realised it’s not worth it. (F, 17)
I’ll normally tell you straight all I’ve got to say, and it’s a compromise for
me having to hide the truth and to take roundabout routes. I hate this. But
I’ve got to do it to avoid conflicts, especially with the teachers but also with
my parents. (M, 17)
At the happier end of the spectrum, another student felt that the permission
he had to be himself in class was a very useful pedagogic tool for his English
teacher:
I’ve always tried to be very open and very honest in the English class. So my
teacher knows all my good and bad sides. [ ... ] She can be a better pedagogue
through this. If she knows what motivates the pupil, she can use this as a
weapon – in a good sense. [ ... ] And I think that’s what every teacher should
do: try to know the pupil’s personality and then try to ... manipulate that
personality in a very good direction ... And I think this would motivate any
pupil. (M, 17)
Another young man thought this was the key to removing the ‘communication
wall’ that he felt prevented students and teachers from genuine interaction:
[If I were a teacher] I’d try to remove that wall I was talking about. I’d try to
understand ... to find their desire ... to see where it comes from. And maybe
to channel it in a certain way. If you’ve got the desire you can change a lot
of things. (M, 19)
According to another 19-year-old male student from a different town, this is

the only thing that differentiates one teacher from another – the gift of seeing
each individual student’s way of learning beyond any superficial defensive
masks:
However rude [ ... ] any student has a ... side through which he can learn
something. That’s the ... magic of a teacher ... to find that way. [ ... ] Because
between teacher X and teacher Y, in terms of knowledge ... often there’s no
difference, they’re both equally capable as far as knowledge of the subject
matter is concerned. But ... this what-you-call-it ... this teaching method-
ology ... [ ... ] That’s the secret. If he finds the way, then he’s a very good
teacher.
These students are clearly asking to be allowed to ‘speak as themselves’ in the

language classroom (Ushioda, 2011). They want to have their right to a personal
opinion acknowledged and valued (Rudduck & Flutter, 2000); they want to be
treated with the respect for the individual that they are very happy to show
to the teacher (Phelan et al., 1992). They also seem to have an intuitive under-
standing of what research has repeatedly shown: that discrepancies between
what people believe is their true identity and an identity that is imposed on
them from the outside act as barriers to academic engagement and well-being
(Faircloth, 2009; Hatt, 2007; Phelan et al., 1993; Wortham, 2006).
Concluding remarks
Constructivist and learner-centred teaching approaches are not without

criticism (e.g., Fox, 2001; Kirschner et al., 2006; Mayer, 2004), one of the
main counterarguments being that students cannot learn without guid-
ance – certainly not before they are advanced enough to provide their own
support. This, however, is no different to what proponents of learner-centred
approaches militate for: students’ transition to a more active role in learning
and society requires sustained training and support from adults (Corbett &
Wilson, 1995); complex learning and problem solving necessitate robust scaf-
folding (Hmelo-Silver et al., 2007), and teachers are as indispensable as ever,
both as pedagogues and as subject experts (Little, 2007). These conditions are
also no different to the two basic principles of social constructivism discussed
earlier: that learning occurs when a person’s level of understanding is chal-
lenged by new experiences in the social context; and that learning represents
progress along a developmental continuum through interaction with more
advanced peers or adults (Palincsar, 1998).
As the numerous extracts above have demonstrated, these conditions are
very similar to these Romanian adolescents’ intuitive understanding and firm
expectations of what teaching should represent. They were not asking to be
left alone to discover their own way through to communicative competence
and linguistic sophistication. In one powerful chorus, they were asking to
be listened to, taken into account, included in their own education; to be
treated like real people, who would love to bring their own real world into the
language classroom and take the language out of the classroom into the real
world.
However, putting such insights into practice is not a straightforward matter, as

teachers’ freedom in the classroom is often limited by assessment constraints
and a duty to prepare students for high-stakes examinations. The question then
arises as to how realistic these examinations are, how far they help prepare
our students for using languages in the real world, for real communication,
and whether assessment standards are not sometimes acting as a deterrent to

language learning, particularly in contexts in which foreign language study
is optional. Nevertheless, as teachers have been shown to have an important
influence on students’ motivation and engagement, they may be in the best
position to help students overcome many perceived barriers to language study.
Perhaps a good place to start would be for each of us to think of what stim-
ulated our own interest in languages and motivated us to study them. Our
students may well be motivated by similar factors.
I would like, therefore, to invite my fellow classroom practitioners and
researchers in Romania and elsewhere to join me in exploring and reflecting
on the following engagement priorities:
1. How can the students’ methodological preferences be reconciled with formal

assessment constraints?
2. How realistic are our assessment practices in language education?
3. How far are we still from language education as genuine communication
between real individuals?
4. What would our students want to achieve in language learning if they knew
nothing would stand in their way? How can we help them get there?
5. What motivated you to become interested in languages? Could something
similar motivate your students too?
Notes
1. Statements that are not supported with references are based on anecdotal evidence
and private communications, as well as on my own perception and experience as a
student and teacher in the Romanian educational system.
2. One of the three institutions participating in the first study is the school where
I worked as an English language teacher between September 2004 and February
2007. As a result, some of the participants in that school had been my students for
up to 1 year before the data were collected (May 2008). All the participants in the
other two schools in study 1 and all the participants in study 2 were unknown to
me.
3. In order to protect the participants’ anonymity, only their gender (M = male,
F = female) and age are reported.
4. In the Romanian education system, marks are given on a 1–10 scale, 5 being the
minimum pass mark.

Brooks, J. G., and Brooks, M. G. (2000). In Search of Understanding: The Case for
Constructivist Classrooms. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum
Development.
This is a highly accessible text written by two experienced practitioners with an
interest in student-centred education. The book makes a persuasive case for construct-
ivism in the classroom, discusses guiding principles of constructivist education and
provides helpful advice on how these principles can be put into practice.Juvonen, J. and
Wentzel, K. R. (eds) (1996). Social Motivation: Understanding Children’s School Adjustment.
This edited volume represents a classic collection of papers exploring pupil voice,
success and failure, peer culture and teacher influence on pupils’ learning and devel-
opment. A landmark contribution to understanding children’s motivation and
achievement.
Kohn, A. (2011). Feel-Bad Education: Contrarian Essays on Children and Schooling. Boston:
Beacon.
As an outspoken promoter of progressive education, Alfie Kohn advocates children’s
active role in their own education and the need for parents and teachers to treat them
with respect and give them a voice. While each of Kohn’s best-selling books transmits
the same deeply humanistic message, this volume offers a good bite-size introduction to
pupil learning and motivation, classroom climate and ‘unconditional teaching’.
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4
From Bilingual Francophones
to Bilingual Anglophones: The
Role of Teachers in the Rising
‘Equities’ of English-Medium
Education in Cameroon
Kuchah Kuchah
In this chapter, I attempt to explain why English-medium (Anglophone)

education is fast becoming the coveted medium of education for many
Francophone children in Cameroon in spite of the existence of complex
language ideologies and attitudes that represent Anglophones and ‘anglo-
phonism’ as second class in a country dominated by Francophones and a polit-
ical system that is hugely borrowed from, and influenced by, France. I begin
by exploring the historical foundations and linguistic heritage of the country,
setting the pace for an understanding of the paradoxical shift in interest from
French-medium education to English-medium education. Then I examine the
literature on the role and importance of the English language today, as well
as on language motivation and choice, followed by presenting and analysing
data collected through school-based observations as well as interviews with
Anglophone teachers and ‘Francophone’ children (and their parents) pursuing
English-medium education.
Cameroon’s dual colonial heritage, derived from its relationship with two
former colonial powers, France and England, has placed this central African
nation at the crossroads of political and linguistic controversy for a long time.
The last two decades have seen an upsurge of tensions resulting in demands for a
return to a federated state and, in some cases, for total secession of Anglophone
Cameroon from Francophone Cameroon. These tensions, far from being
resolved by the linguistic ‘unification’ that the adoption of French and English
as ‘neutral’ languages at independence was meant to achieve, have instead
been fuelled by both languages and the new identities associated with them.
60
English Medium Education in Cameroon 61
Wolf (2001: 223) observes that ‘the feeling of unity is so strong that “being
Anglophone” [or Francophone] denotes a new ethnicity, transcending older
ethnic ties’. Consequently, although multiculturalism in terms of ethnic diver-
sity has hardly been a problem, ‘ethnicity along the Francophone–Anglophone
dichotomy is, and has whisked away attention such that it threatens national
unity ... more than anything else in the country’ (Ayafor, 2005: 124). To better
understand how this new ethnic hostility came about, it is important to return
to the early beginnings of this nation.
Historical background and linguistic identification
The decision, in 1961, by Southern Cameroons (English protectorate) to join

La République du Cameroun (French protectorate) led to a demographic domi-
nance of Francophone Cameroonians over their Anglophone counterparts at
all levels of public life, which has over the years explained the continuous pres-
ence of dissenting voices from the minority Anglophone community pointing
to existing problems at various levels. These problems have been codified by
various historians and sociologists as ‘the Anglophone Problem’ (Dicklitch,
2011; Konings & Nyamnjoh, 1997), an expression used to refer to an avalanche
of grievances that have often been undermined by a heavily centralised and
undemocratic bureaucracy dominated by Francophones. Political figures from
Anglophone Cameroon (e.g., Ngwana, 2009) have accused their Francophone
counterparts of using their political powers to marginalise the English language
and Anglophones by relegating them to second-class citizens. One such
instance of marginalisation was encapsulated in the 1984 constitution, which
stated that ‘This constitution shall be registered and published in the Official
Gazette of the Republic of Cameroon in French and in English, the French
text being authentic’ (my emphasis), a legal provision that meant that English
language, although one of the two official languages in the country, was not
legally authentic. This constitutional provision created a situation wherein a
poor translation into French, of an official document originally conceived in
English, was considered more authentic than the original English version.
With the introduction of multiparty democracy in the early 1990s came
a general atmosphere of distrust and threats of sectorial violence with the
creation of groups like the Southern Cameroons National Council (SCNC);
Southern Cameroons Youth League (SCYL) and its military wing, the
Southern Cameroons Defence Force (SOCADEF); and the Southern Cameroons
Independence Restoration Council (SCIRC) (Dicklitch, 2011; Konings &
Nyamnjoh, 1997). Following nationwide post-election violence in 1992 and
the enforcement of a state of emergency in the Anglophone northwest prov-
ince, the provincial capital, Bamenda, became the icon of opposition with
Anglophones and English being identified as agents of violence and disunity
62 Kuchah Kuchah
by Francophones, an image strengthened by references to Anglophones like

‘les anglofoux’ (‘anglo-fools’) and ‘les enemies dans la maison’ (‘enemies in the
house’) by government ministers.
In the mid-1990s with continuous unrest and growing suspicion by
Francophones and distrust and hatred by Anglophones, the government had
become desperate to restore trust, especially amongst Anglophones. After two
years of lobbying, Cameroon joined the Commonwealth of Nations in 1995,
a move which in a sense helped to restore the status of the English language
and Anglophones. In line with the country’s new status as member of both
the Francophonie and the Commonwealth, the constitution was extensively
amended in 1996 and the English language ceased to be the ‘unauthentic’
language of previous constitutions, assuming the same status as French. The
1998 Education Law – which sought to redefine educational policies that would
reflect the needs of a society both united and torn apart by identities built along
the lines of two non-native languages – also pledged to protect the specificities
of English-medium and French-medium subsystems of education. Desperate
to restore ‘national unity and integration’, the state took a vague stand on
bilingualism, institutionalising the implementation of English and French at
all levels of French- and English-medium schools respectively, and allowing
different forms of bilingual education to emerge: (a) French-medium schools
in which English is a compulsory subject and vice versa; (b) English-medium
schools with very large numbers of children from French-speaking homes;
and (c) ‘immersion’ bilingual schools with children from French- and English-
speaking homes studying school subjects in both languages and only deciding
in the final year of primary education whether to pursue secondary educa-
tion in English or French. This chapter examines the third form of bilingual
education by exploring the role of English/Anglophone teachers in motivating
the decision by Francophone children (and their parents) to pursue English-
medium studies at the end of bilingual primary education. It is hoped that this
study will highlight the important role that teachers play in language choices
and raise the important issues of teacher quality for language motivation.
The rising demand for the English language in Cameroon
Dramatic interest in English-medium education by Francophones at the start

of the last decade (Anchimbe, 2005; 2007; Kuchah, 2009; Mforteh, 2006)
reveal that the English language is fast gaining a prestige status in a country
where French is still the language of the ruling elite. Anchimbe (2005) provides
statistics which reveal that in the 2001–02 academic year, 71.5 per cent of
students on the MA programme in the Department of English of the University
of Yaounde I were Francophones. The same study reveals that 54 per cent
of 1782 children enrolled in three private English-medium primary schools
in Yaounde were Francophones. Mforteh (2006) reports significant numbers

of Francophone pupils in English-medium secondary schools based in the
Anglophone part of Cameroon. In a recent study in three English-medium
state primary schools in Yaounde (Kuchah, in progress), it was noted that
85 per cent of year 6 pupils in these schools were Francophones. In the case
of the present study, 80.9 per cent of the 42 pupils in the English-medium
final class were from Francophone homes. In a country like Cameroon where
language and identity have become strongly interwoven icons of individual
and group membership (Anchimbe, 2005), and where English and French have
reinforced separate identities for Anglophones and Francophones respectively
over years of mutual suspicion and hatred, one would ask what factors have
motivated the sudden interest in English-medium education by Francophone
Cameroonians.
Focho (2011) provides a summary of four important roles that English
language plays in the international scene, and which could constitute moti-
vating factors for learning the language. To her, English is a means to academic
success, an added impetus for international employability, a medium for
international communication and a catalyst for global education. In relation
to academic success, Focho (2011) draws from studies that present English as
the established language of science and technology (e.g., Hasman, 2004) and
statistics which show that 45 per cent of the world’s international students are
in the United States, United Kingdom, Australia and Canada (Coleman, 2010),
all of which are English-speaking countries; and she concludes that
Students who seek to study in English medium universities despite language

difficulties must be convinced of the potential gains. Proficiency in English
seems to be an important gateway ... to an education that is easily recog-
nised and valued internationally (especially in the job market). (Focho,
2011: 139)
The phenomenon of migrant working arising from trends in globalisation

in the new millennium (Coleman, 2010) has only helped reinforce the
role of English as the language of the workplace for presentations, negoti-
ations and international collaboration (Warschauer, 2000). Tembe and
Norton (2011) explain that in a multilingual country like Uganda, English
is perceived by parents as the language that offers wider opportunities for
their children. This instrumental dimension (Gardner & Lambert, 1972) is
well captured in a recent study (Pinon & Haydon, 2010) which reveals that
in countries like Cameroon, Nigeria, Rwanda, Bangladesh and Pakistan,
proficiency in English is fast becoming a precondition for jobs. The study
argues that ‘multinational corporations indirectly drive the development of
English in Cameroon’ (p. 31) since English-language skills are necessary for
64 Kuchah Kuchah
internal company communication with business partners based in English-

speaking countries such as Nigeria, South Africa and the United States. This
need for communication in English across countries underscores its impor-
tance for international communication, an importance that has been largely
documented in the literature (e.g., Graddol, 2000; Hasman, 2004; Jenkins,
2006). An addition to this is an intra-national and intra-cultural dimension
(Kuchah, 2009) which explains how English is also being used within the
Francophone school system in Cameroon as a vehicle for the transmission of
Anglophone cultural values in the hope that children will develop an under-
standing of, and a tolerance for, the immense cultural differences between
Anglophone and Francophone Cameroonians. ‘Such understanding fosters
cross-cultural co-operation, tolerance and peace and helps minimise hatred,
tribalism, racism and violence which inevitably lead to war’ (Focho, 2011:
142). Encouraging such an understanding at national level is a basis for an
international awareness and global education which Focho (2010) argues can
better be transmitted through a global language like English.
However, to claim that the arguments raised above directly influence
parents’ and children’s decisions for English-medium education will be diffi-
cult to sustain, given that with the multiplicity of English-language centres
in Cameroon in recent years, and the institution of bilingualism at all levels
of education, school leavers are now able to attain proficiency in the English
language without necessarily undergoing English-medium education. To
understand the factors that motivate the choice of English as a medium of
education and lifelong identity therefore, we will need to look elsewhere.
Explaining the adoption of English-medium education:

is L2 motivation theory enough?
Gardner and Lambert (1972: 3) establish a complementary relation between the

integrative and instrumental orientations to second language learning, which
add to the learner’s attitude towards the second language speaking group to
determine motivation to learn. In the case of Cameroon however, it can be
argued (e.g., Ayafor, 2005) that the institutional approach to national integra-
tion takes an instrumental orientation, while linguistic integration takes an
integrative orientation. This rift between instrumental and integrative orienta-
tions to bilingualism has been at the root of rising discontent in Cameroon.
Anchimbe (2007) describes the phenomenon, identifiable amongst adults,
of identity opportunism, a conscious process of linguistic/identity fluctuation
motivated by the desire to reap benefits from different cultural and linguistic
contexts. This is especially visible amongst descendants of Francophone
Cameroonians who fled the ‘Maquisard’ armed resistance against the French
colonialists in the 1950s and settled in the Southern Cameroons territories.
This group has constantly fluctuated identities and allegiances between the two
regions for personal gain (Mbuh, 2000). There are also numerous examples of
Francophones who, after obtaining a bilingual degree from university, pursue
further education in the medium of English and as such claim Anglophone
identities when there is a political inclination, under the government’s
‘regional balance’ policy, to offer opportunities to Anglophones. In a country
where Anglophone–Francophone identities are still largely defined by terri-
torial origins rather than linguistic and educational orientation, this instru-
mental penchant for an Anglophone identity has engendered several problems,
making it imperative for the country to encourage an integrative policy in an
otherwise fragmented and delicate political unity (Ayafor, 2005).
Studies by Anchimbe (2005; 2007), Kuchah (2009) and Mforteh (2006)
show that recent years have witnessed an ever-rising interest in bilingualism
by Francophone Cameroonians and, for some, this has taken the extreme
form of embracing English-medium education. Although it is not evident
that for most parents, English-medium education entails an identity muta-
tion for their children – Anchimbe (2007) reports that 75 per cent of parents
whose children pursue English-medium education refuse to identify their
children as Anglophones – it is clear that for some parents (as we shall show
later) and from the point of view of young learners themselves, English-
medium education is transforming them into linguabrids – a term coined
by Anchimbe (2007) to refer to children who are brought up between two
linguistic and cultural identities and as a result, are not inclined to switching
languages for opportunistic reasons, but for purely linguistic (and to some
extent, integrative) reasons – distancing them from current in-group classi-
fications that have often been exploited for cultural/linguistic victimisation
and/or for personal gain. It is no surprise therefore that in Anchimbe’s study
only 7.5 per cent of parents associate their children’s English-medium educa-
tion with instrumental motives. It has been argued (e.g., Ushioda, 2008)
that attitudes towards, and perceived status of particular languages, consti-
tute a socio-cultural context which influences motivation to learn those
languages. While this may not be the case with adult linguistic opportunists
in Cameroon, it is arguably the case with Francophone children who, not
having taken the decision to pursue English-medium education, eventually
find, through interacting with peers and teachers, interest in English-medium
education despite the added constraints of having to interact with siblings
and parents at home in French.
The educational context within which learners operate has been identi-
fied as playing a motivating (or demotivating) role in their language learning
experience. According to Gardner (2007), important motivating factors are
the characteristics of the educational environment, such as policies, general
environment of the school and, more directly, the language classroom envi-
ronment which in a sense is determined by the teacher’s attitude and the class-
room culture he or she creates in their capacity as the main point of contact
66 Kuchah Kuchah
for the individual learner. Unfortunately, while much has been written about
the ever-growing importance of English in Cameroon and the socio-political,
economic and global factors that motivate Francophone Cameroonians to
learn English, there seem to be very few published studies which focus on how
teachers contribute to this phenomenon. Studies by Ebong (2004) and Focho
(2011) explore strategies for motivating Francophone secondary school students
learning English as a subject in the curriculum. In terms of the growing interest
in English-medium education, there is yet no study, to the best of my knowledge,
which examines how teachers influence the decisions of parents and pupils.
This is partly because most linguists are more concerned with describing and
explaining the phenomenon in the light of global trends and as such ignore
the micro factors that are quintessential to individual choices. It is taken for
granted that because of the global importance of English, Francophone parents
will send their children to English-medium schools. Yet, it can be argued that
these children go to school with no idea of what globalisation involves and as
such could just as well perform very poorly in their first years in school, forcing
their parents to move them back to French-medium schools. The important
question still not answered regards what in English-medium schools motivates
children to stay on and strive in contexts dominated by French.
Another reason for overlooking the role of teachers comes from the fact
that the Cameroonian educational system has often been perceived only as
consisting of two separate culture-based subsystems operating independently.
Esch’s (2012) study, which examines areas of convergence and divergence
between English and French pedagogical cultures in Cameroonian primary
schools, provides a sound basis for understanding how pedagogic cultures
can influence pedagogic practices, but it does not explore how these practices
can, in turn, influence learning and linguistic choices. This is simply because
French-medium and English-medium schools have often been seen as separate
entities, each developing learners who have only one option, that of pursuing
education in a medium that has been selected for them by their parents.
However, with the emergence of ‘immersion’ bilingual schools in which chil-
dren are exposed to the curricula of both subsystems of education, there is a
need to investigate those factors within the school environment which influ-
ence their decision as to which medium of education to adopt at the end of
primary school.
Investigating the issues: considering the ‘who’,

‘where’ and ‘how’ of this study
This study explores the reported motivations of Francophone children and

their parents and teachers regarding the influence of their Anglophone
teachers on their decisions to pursue English-medium education. Data for
this study was collected over a period of two academic years, from September
2007 to September 2009 and also during two other shorter visits to the
school in 2010 and 2011. The main participants were upper primary (years
5 and 6) children from French-speaking homes. Year 5 pupils were still in
an immersion class and were only to decide at the end of the year whether
to proceed to an English-medium or French-medium final year class. On the
other hand, year 6 pupils had already taken the decision to continue their
education in English. Two groups of four pupils each were selected from
each of the two classes, making a total of 16 pupil participants. To broaden
the scope of insights into the situation discussed in this study, I have
combined data collected through school/classroom observation, individual
interviews with teachers and parents and focus group conversations with
pupils. I use the word ‘conversations’ here to highlight the special consid-
erations for interviewing children in friendship groups recommended in
the existing literature (e.g., Lewis, 1992; Mayall, 2008), and the striving to
dissipate power differentials between the adult interviewer and the child
respondent through empowering interactional attitudes (Kuchah & Pinter,
2012).
The school referred to in this study (CamBil) was selected on the basis of its
structural representativeness of an emerging model of bilingualism in primary
education in Cameroon, as well as because of my particular connection and
understanding, through several years of interaction with the school commu-
nity, of the issues arising from the data. CamBil can be termed an ‘immersion’
bilingual school in the sense that although it recognised the inherent differ-
ences in the curricula of both subsystems of education, children in each class
followed English-medium and French-medium education simultaneously. This
meant that apart from final year classes, each class had both an Anglophone
and a Francophone teacher who took turns to teach the subject content of
their different curricula each day (see Table 4.1 in appendix for timetable of
a bilingual class). However, extensive effort had been made to harmonise the
content of different subject areas by drawing from subject content similarities
across the two subsystems to design weekly schemes of work such that the
children would be exposed to (nearly) similar content within each subject in
both languages.
My relationship with CamBil began in January 2006 when, after a series
of visits to the school (first on ministry assignment and later on a personal
basis) to better understand how it functioned, I was later employed as
resource person in the school (March 2006). My role was to act as mentor
to both Francophone and Anglophone teachers. This included checking that
their lesson plans were properly written, observing and commenting on their
lessons, organising training sessions on particular areas of pedagogic rele-
vance and offering advice on teaching and learning on a regular basis to
68 Kuchah Kuchah
teachers with particular difficulties. Through sustained interaction with the

school community, therefore, I became grounded in the cross-cultural and
cross-linguistic realities of the school and, as such, am able to interpret the
discourses of all respondents. What is more, having worked with primary
school pupils and teachers for over a decade, it was easy for me to frame
my interview questions in the discourse of the children (Pinter, 2011) and,
from a socio-semiotic perspective, to draw on my awareness of the linguistic
and cultural factors that may be conveyed both in verbal and non-verbal
communication (Ryen, 2001). While interviews with pupils and teachers
were conducted in English, all interviews with parents were conducted in
French and translated only by me into English.
Choosing English-medium education: where do

teachers come in?
Four main themes explaining the motivational role of teachers in the

decision for English-medium education emerged from the data collected for
this study. These include the socio-affective influence of teachers, their peda-
gogic practices, their role in ensuring success in final exams and their role in
pupils’ identity formation.
Socio-affective factors: relationship with teachers

The nature of the relationship between the pupils and their teachers emerged
as a significant motivational factor. In the conversations, the pupils constantly
referred to their Anglophone teachers as either Auntie or Uncle, but when
they were talking about their Francophone teachers, they referred to them
as either Mr (or Monsieur) or Mrs (or Madame). What is more, these ‘titles’
were followed, in the case of Anglophone teachers, by first names (e.g., Auntie
Bridget), and by surnames (e.g., Madame Fotso) in the case of Francophone
teachers. However, in class, the children addressed their Anglophone teachers
as ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’, in expressions like ‘I have a question, Miss’. This was also
the case when a Francophone teacher was teaching, except that while the
children used ‘Miss’ for both married and unmarried female Anglophone
teachers, they used ‘Madame’ (not Mademoiselle) when addressing both
married and unmarried female Francophone teachers. This instance of
formality/informality has also been documented in Esch (2012) as signifying
a contrast in politeness between Anglophone and Francophone teachers. In
this study, it emerged as an important influence on the children as can be
drawn from the following conversation with year 5 children:
Kuchah: You said you will like to go to class 6 next year. Why do you prefer
class 6 and not CM2?
Aisha: I prefer class 6 because Uncle Emmanuel is a very good teacher; he

teach very well English and mathematics and everybody pass in common
entrance [examinations to English-medium secondary school].
Kuchah: But I know that the CM2 teacher is also very good. Last year all
your friends in CM2 passed the concours d’entrer en sixième [entrance
exams to French-medium secondary schools].
Bini: Yes, is true but the CM2 teacher is very wild [aggressive].
Kuchah: Doesn’t he have a name? Why do you call him the CM2 teacher?
Bini: Eeeeh, Monsieur Edou. He doesn’t teach well maths, so I want to be
scientist in future, he cannot help me. Also, Monsieur Edou is very serious;
you cannot even play with him. But Uncle Emmanuel is behaving like
our big brother, he play with us ...
Aisha: But he can also punish
Manga: Yes, but not like Monsieur Edou, who is always serious, serious,
serious [general laughter] and he is behaving like a soldier.
My own experience working with these teachers for over five years confirms
this formal/informal relationship perpetrated by both groups of teachers.
Francophone teachers generally addressed one another as Monsieur + surname
while they addressed Anglophone teachers as Uncle or Auntie + first name.
As the extract above shows, this impacted on the way pupils perceived their
teachers and in a way inspired, despite visible language difficulties, an interest
in English-medium education. From the perspectives of Anglophone teachers,
the degree of informality in the relationship with learners is based on a
cultural system that sees all learners as children. In an interview with the class
6 teacher referred to by the children above, it was revealed that he did not see
his learners as pupils, but as ‘children’. Constant reference to ‘my children’ in
the interview point to a humanistic perspective that influences his relation-
ship with them:
I do not treat them as pupils; they are my children in the sense that if
anything happens to them while they are in school, it is my responsibility
to protect them. Even if any of them runs into trouble in town and I am
informed, I still have the responsibility to help. [ ... ] In my culture, a child
belongs to his mother only in the womb; once he is born, he belongs to
the society. So I always consider these children as mine too. [ ... ] It is not
possible to be a teacher and not act like a parent, because these children
have genuine needs and interests which we need to understand [ ... ] when
I teach, I consider that just like all the children from one father cannot
behave in the same way, so too, my children cannot all behave in the same
way. So I encourage them to be responsible and to take the right decisions
and do the right things that can help them succeed in school and in life.
70 Kuchah Kuchah
This assertion is in line with the humanistic perspective of learner-centredness

which highlights a holistic approach to education in which learning is seen
as an activity which involves learners as complex human beings, whose intel-
lectual and affective resources can be drawn upon to enrich their experience
of life (Tudor, 1993). The discourse of this teacher is further sustained by the
following response from a Francophone parent:
When I sent my second child to CamBil, I was not sure if she will survive
in the Anglophone subjects. Today, I have two other children in CamBil;
there is no doubt in my mind that they will all succeed. Zita [second child]
has done very well; she is now in class 6 and I think even the other two
will become Anglophones too. [ ... ] I am sure it has to do with the way the
Anglophone teachers behave towards the children. I have communicated
with Zita’s teachers very often. Her best teacher is called Auntie Prisca.
When Zita fell sick last year, this woman was in hospital every day. That is
Zita’s second mother; there is no better way of bringing a child nearer to
you than to show her that you care.
Clearly, therefore, Anglophone teachers demonstrate an alignment with

social values that transcends professional expectations and embrace a more
holistic perception of their role and responsibilities towards their learners.
This alignment in a sense generates a socio-affective relationship which, for
young learners, tends to dominate the learning experience (Kuchah & Pinter,
2012) and, as such, may constitute a motivating factor for both pupils and
parents in choosing English-medium education at the end of a bilingual cycle
of studies.
Pedagogic factors
A number of pedagogical practices were revealed as having an impact on
learning outcomes and, consequently, on future choices. One of these was the
teachers’ pedagogical content knowledge (Shulman, 1986), that is, the way they
make the knowledge accessible and understood to learners (Siraj-Blatchford
et al., 2002). According to class 6 pupils, it was clear that their teacher invested
a lot in encouraging classroom interaction in a way that empowered them to
perform better, but also built their self-image and confidence. When asked how
they felt being in an English-medium class and what in the teaching practices
of their teachers had encouraged them to pursue English-medium education,
the following responses were given:
Mvogo: I am happy to be in class 6 because I am not afraid of English.

Our teacher explains very well and give many examples, he makes us
do many exercises and debates [ ... ] when I was in the other classes, my
English teachers used many songs and poems to teach us English. They
gave us much homework and always made us to ask them questions if we
don’t understand.
Berthe: I told my mother that I wanted to go to class 6 because I was better
in the English subjects and French, but I prefer English subjects because
my English teachers are good, especially Uncle Charles [ ... ] he was my
teacher in class 4. He teach very well ... I could not read well in English
in class 3, but he make me know to read; he make me to play games
with sounds and he also make me to teach other children to read. I even
teach my mother to read in English and I help my big sister who is in
Ecole publique [French-medium primary school] how to read her English
reader.
Arnaud: If I did not come to class 6, I will have cried until my father
accepts! ... You don’t know how my Class 5 teacher made me to like
English very well ... I also love the other subjects in English because he
always remind us of other things that we learn in other subjects when he
is teaching one subject. Then I understand well, because he used many
examples from our environment and even in history, he explained as if
he was there when everything happened. He also told us many village
stories when he teach English. It is very nice. [ ... ] My French teacher does
not explain very well like that; he just ask us to read and then he ask us
questions and explain the answer if we don’t understand.
A number of pedagogic practices are raised in the statements above, namely

detailed explanations, extensive practice activities and homework, use of
illustrative context-based examples, local stories, games, classroom debate,
group/pair work and cross-curricula links. One teacher participant explained:
We understand that most of these children come from Francophone

homes, so we put in a lot of effort to explain and demonstrate what we
teach. In reading comprehension, for example, I spend a lot of time in
brainstorming around their previous knowledge and make them act out
different roles.[ ... ] I also make them understand that all knowledge is
related somehow, so I draw ideas from other subjects and other things
they have learnt to make them understand me. [ ... ] By the time we read
the passage, they have already grasped the main ideas in it. We need to be
patient with them.
And yet another teacher revealed that
I like to encourage pair and group work in my class and I take time to orga-
nise groups depending on how much progress each of them have made and
72 Kuchah Kuchah
how much support they can give their classmates. In English lessons, I mix
up children from Anglophone homes with those from Francophone homes,
so that they can help each other. Also, I try to bring in a lot of fun in the
class to motivate them.
For these children, these are all motivating factors for loving their teachers
and consequently for feeling comfortable in English-medium education.
In the case of Arnaud for example, my imagination is not strong enough to
ascertain the extent of his teacher’s influence on his love for English language,
and he recounts above how he was ready to impose his decision to pursue
English-medium education on his parents.
From my own observation during the years I worked as resource person in
CamBil, it was easier for Anglophone teachers to adopt a creative curriculum
than it was for their Francophone colleagues. Francophone teachers specifically
needed help on how to implement the stages of the ‘New Pedagogic Approach’
(NPA), a one-size-fits-all method (see Kuchah, in progress, for a critique of
this approach) to teaching all subjects in primary schools recommended by
the Ministry of Basic Education. This approach to teaching, consisting of six
stages – observation, statement of hypotheses, research, verification of hypoth-
eses, analysis and generalisation – had been designed to develop inferential
thinking in mathematics and the sciences and was eventually codified in the
Head Teachers’ Guide (1999) as the standard method of teaching in Cameroonian
schools. These teachers were, therefore, not willing to explore any methods
that were not in line with the NPA for fear of disapproval by other pedagogic
inspectors. On the other hand, it was much easier for Anglophone teachers to
take on board creative activities which, although inconsistent with the specifi-
cities of the NPA, were considered useful in their classroom. While Francophone
teachers felt comfortable that their pupils were mostly Francophones, or at
least (in the case of Anglophone pupils) communicated with peers in French, it
was the awareness of the Francophone background of their pupils which moti-
vated Anglophone teachers to explore every resource available to them to help
the pupils learn.
Sharing (pedagogic) responsibility for teaching:

parental involvement
In an interview with one parent, it was revealed that there is an enabling
working relationship between parents and Anglophone teachers which is in a
sense pedagogic:
My daughter insists every day that I should listen to what she learnt in school
and I have received letters from her teacher which she reads and explains
to me. Her other sisters are in Francophone schools, so she is our English
teacher. [ ... ] She is very proud of herself for being our English teacher and
I must say I am proud that she has progressed very well and is helping me
learn a language that was my nightmare when I was a young student.
One of the teachers themselves asserted that involving parents in the education
of their children by encouraging them to listen to their children was mutually
beneficial to both parties:
We make it a duty to encourage children to share their learning with their

parents. Most of our children are from Francophone homes and have diffi-
culties in English when they first come here. One way to empower them is
to encourage them to teach their parents everything they learn in school.
[ ... ] One parent, she told me that her child is very stubborn that he insists
that she should learn English at her old age.[ ... ] I told her that it is the only
way they can help our work and also help themselves to understand what
their children are going through in school.
Success in (final) exams

In a context like Cameroon where success in exams constitutes an important
factor in determining good teaching/teachers (see Kuchah, in progress), there
is no doubt that for children and parents, the possibility of passing high-stake
exams like the entrance examination into secondary schools will be an impor-
tant motivating factor for choosing medium of instruction. One pupil captures
this very aptly when she says
I prefer class 6 because Uncle Emmanuel is a very good teacher; he teach very
well English and mathematics and everybody pass in common entrance
[examinations to English medium secondary school].
According to the IMF Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper for Cameroon (August
2010), low completion rates at primary schools as well as limited access to
secondary education are problems which require a careful planning of action
across both levels of education. The paper reveals that the failure rate of students
taught entirely in English was lower than that of their French-taught peers
(Pinon & Haydon, 2010: 20). This observation resonates with Aisha’s perspec-
tive above, which lends credence to the reputation of the class 6 teacher in
ensuring success in exams, a motivating factor in the context of the culture of
certification that characterises Cameroon.
So far, I have shown how teachers’ pedagogic practices can act as motivating
factors for important decisions regarding the choice of medium of instruction.
74 Kuchah Kuchah
It seems obvious from the perspectives expressed above that Anglophone

teachers employ a variety of teaching strategies that both motivate and
empower their learners to overcome their initial language difficulties. Also
important is the connection they create between the home and the school and
the mechanism through which they create and sustain the shared responsibil-
ities between both environments.
Teacher’s role in identity formation

A dominant part of the literature on bilingualism in Cameroon has been
to explain how and why ethnological identities and language have been
interwoven, and how this has led to language ideologies and attitudes
that strengthen the Anglophone–Francophone divide in the country. In
this study, it was revealed that teachers and the school environment can
considerably dissipate or even transform such ideologies and attitudes to
create new identities. The administrative set-up of CamBil did not define
barriers between Francophones and Anglophones; parents attended the same
meetings irrespective of their language backgrounds, and information was
conveyed in both languages interchangeably. In spite of this, all the parents
of class 6 children interviewed in this study saw their children as not just
bilinguals, but as Anglophone bilinguals. This was captured in the following
response from a parent:
I have four children; one is Francophone, the first one. The other three are
Anglophones. Two passed through Cambil; they are now in Anglophone
secondary schools in Bamenda. The last one is in her fifth year in CamBil;
she too will become an Anglophone. [ ... ] All my children are perfectly bilin-
gual, even the first one is very good in English. [ ... ] To me, it is their success
in life that matters and they have shown interest in English education so I
have to support them.
This shift from the perception of linguistic identities along territorial lines
to purely linguistic competence and medium of instruction is not uncon-
nected to the work of teachers and the school culture. It reveals a potential
for an educational system to influence cultural and language ideologies
significantly. The socio-affective relationship between teachers, pupils and
parents as well as the sharing of pedagogic responsibilities between school
and home discussed above are all complementary motivational factors.
Within the period of my involvement in the school, mention was never
explicitly made of Anglophones or Francophones in the discourse of the
administration. However, teachers made explicit reference to the economic
and technological as well as demographic advantages of learning English in

the classes. One of the teacher respondents recounted the following:
I tell my children every time that English is very important in the world
because everybody is learning it. It is the most widely spoken language;
French is not even the second. Look at the poorest countries in Africa; they
are mostly French-speaking, but countries like South Africa and Nigeria,
Ghana and Tanzania are more developed than us. If they learn English,
they will be able to interact with scientists from developed countries like the
U.S., and Britain; even China and Japan which are technologically advanced
countries also speak English.
A fallout of such assertions can be found in the discourse of pupils who variously
made reference to the fact that they wanted to be able when they grow up to go
and study in the United States, the United Kingdom or South Africa. Statements
of future ambition like ‘I want to be a doctor, so I will go and learn in America’;
‘Auntie Barbs said that if I want to be a pilot, I must study hard in English so that
I can go to Britain’; ‘I am happy to be in class 6 because I am not afraid of English’
are illustrations of how teachers influence children’s language attitudes.
In terms of pupils’ own self-perception, it was revealed that in the final
year of primary school, although they had acquired a proficiency in both
languages sufficient for them to continue to secondary school in either
medium of instruction, identities were created according to the chosen
medium of instruction. In class 6, pupils saw themselves as Anglophones, and
it was difficult to spot in their friendship group formation, especially during
playtime, any discrimination between children from Anglophone homes
and Francophone homes. Rather, whenever in my conversation with pupils I
made reference to Francophones, they were quick to refer me to their friends
in Cours Moyen 2 (the French-medium class). Statements like, ‘If you want to
speak French, go there’ (pointing to the French-medium classroom), or ‘This is
an English class, not a French class’ point to a new identity formation which
is strengthened by the class 6 teacher himself through the encouragement of
an in-group dynamics that makes these pupils see themselves as different.
Although it was clear that they still had proficiency problems in English, and
that they used French extensively at home and in school when communi-
cating with children from other classes, they seemed to have a shared opinion
when speaking to me: that they were Anglophones by virtue of the medium
of instruction they had chosen. In this study, therefore, pupils’ linguabridity
was very evident, but this was secondary to their constructed identities as
Anglophone bilinguals.
76 Kuchah Kuchah
Discussion and conclusion
The purpose of this study was to investigate the role that teachers play in
influencing the decisions of Francophone pupils and their parents in choosing
English-medium education in a context in which two subsystems of educa-
tion coexist. Language policies have often been led by countries’ political
visions, with little or no consideration of the material and human resources
necessary to make such policies effective. In the case of Cameroon, polit-
ical changes emanating from a complex colonial experience led to the adop-
tion of English and French as ‘neutral’ languages which, far from resolving
the problem of multiethnicity and multilingualism, created instead stronger
ethno-linguistic identities that have threatened the very unity for which the
two languages were adopted. The political transformations the country has
encountered over its 50 years following independence have seen the neutrality
of both languages trampled upon by the emergence of socio-political and
socio-cultural discontent amongst Cameroonians. The English language in
Cameroon has for a long time been treated as the language of the minority
Anglophones and, therefore, given second place to French. Cameroon still
remains a predominantly French-speaking country, and its political and
economic relationship with France and other French-speaking countries is
still overwhelming. It is not certain that this relationship will be changed
soon; rather there are indications that the relationship with France is being
continuously strengthened at all levels of the country’s socio-political set-up.
However, trends recently show a rising quest for English-medium education,
a situation which has been variously explained by historians, sociologists
and linguists.
This present study/this chapter was based on the premise that the exam-
ination of the linguistic situation in Cameroon has so far focused on the
macro factors (e.g., the international status of English and national policy)
that have motivated Francophones to study English as a language or to adopt
it as a medium of education for their children, but such an assumption has
overlooked the role that teachers can play in consolidating, enhancing or
even determining such a motivation. It is difficult to sustain the assumption
that the global importance of English and the policy of the government of
Cameroon to promote bilingualism in schools are sufficient motivations for
parents and children to embrace English-medium education. For this reason,
it was important to examine other micro factors that can influence or even
sustain language choices. This study focused on those factors that motivate
Francophone children to pursue English-medium education in contexts
dominated by French and by a more imposing Francophone identity. More
particularly, it examined the school/classroom dynamics, investigating
especially the role of teachers in influencing such decisions. The results
have shown that teachers do, indeed, play an important role in encouraging
English-medium education. This can be seen at three levels, namely, through
the socio-affective relationship which they create with learners and their
parents, their pedagogic practices and the language ideologies and attitudes
they convey to learners.
The findings of this study point to the importance of investing in teacher
education and teacher quality as an important part of language planning and
policy. Drawing from the voices of learners, parents and teachers themselves,
this study aligns with previous research elsewhere (e.g., Buckingham, 2003;
Maged, 1997) which argues that a teacher’s pedagogy is the critical determining
factor in the quality of what pupils learn or, as Buckingham (2003: 71) affirms,
‘the single most important influence on student achievement is teacher quality’.
The results of this study are a reminder for governments and other institutions
investing in English-language pedagogy and English-medium education to
pay more attention to the development of teacher education as an important
factor in designing, planning, implementing and fostering English-medium
education.
My main focus in this chapter has been on the role of teachers in influencing
learners’ choice of medium of instruction in a context in which two foreign
languages compete. While it is obvious that teachers play an important role
in learning, it is not always the case that their perspectives, or even those of
other education stakeholders like parents and learners themselves, are taken
into consideration in language policy enactment. Maybe this is because, in
most cases, a foreign language is introduced only as a subject in a school
curriculum that is transmitted through a national language. But, in many
countries-in-transition, where national languages have been relegated to
family circles and foreign languages given official status, or where national
and foreign languages compete as the medium of instruction, there may be
a need to reconsider the status and role of teachers alongside that of other
education stakeholders like parents and learners, themselves, in defining
language policy. The following issues maybe worth exploring:
1. To what extent can language teachers influence language policy, and how
may policymakers benefit from involving teachers in the policy-making
process?
2. Why would parental involvement in teaching/learning be particularly
relevant in primary education?
3. How may we reconcile the institutional need to encourage bilingualism
with the personal need to pursue education in a particular language?
Appendix
Table 4.1 Timetable/Emploi de temps Class 5/Cours Moyens 1 (CM1)
Time Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday

Heure Lundi Mardi Mercredi Jeudi Vendredi
07h25–07h40 DEVOTION AND INSPECTION RASSEMBLEMENT

07h40–08h10 Citizenship–Civics Hygiene Citizenship–Moral Education à la santé Citizenship–Human
education Rights
08h10–08h55 Maths Lecture English language/ Grammaire English language/
Grammar Reading
08h55–09h30 English language/Reading Conjugaison Maths Histoire Maths
09h30–10h15 Geography Géographie English language/ Production d’Ecrits Eng. Lang. Dictation/
Composition Spelling
10h15–11h00 History Les mesures Geography Géometrie Maths
11h00–11h10 SHORT BREAK RECREATION
11h10–11h40 Education civique et morale Science/Health Education civique et History Education civique et
education morale morale
11h40–12h10 Lecture /Expression orale Maths Lecture/Expression Maths Conjugaison
orale
12h10–12h45 Nombres & numération English language/ Nombres & Science/ Problèmes practiques
Vocabulary numération Environmental
education
12h45–13h10 LONG BREAK PAUSE PAUSE
13h10–13h40 Sciences/Milieu vivant English language/ Orthographe d’Usage English language/ Sciences Techno
Grammar Vocabulary
13h40–14h10 Grammaire Maths Sciences/Ed. Drawing/arts and Activités pratiques
environnementale craft
14h10–14h40 Production d’Ecrits Hand writing Initiation à Club activities Initiation to computer
l’Informatique studies
14h40–15h10 Vocabulaire Home economics Musique/Chant Club activities Sports

Coleman, H. (ed.) (2011). Dreams and Realities: Developing Countries and the English
Language. London: British Council.
A collection of chapters that represents a powerful contribution to the growing debate
about the role of English in the world today.
Graddol, D. (2000). The Future of English? (Revised Edition). London: The British
Council.
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of English.
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enous strategies like drama, songs, folktales, riddles and proverbs on students from six
French-medium secondary schools in Cameroon.
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5
The Integration of Content and
Language as a Driving Force in
the EFL Lesson
Darío Luis Banegas
Introduction
English is a foreign language in Argentina, where Spanish is the official

language. Although other languages such as Portuguese, French, Italian and
German may also be taught in state secondary education, English is the only
subject taught two hours a week over the six years of secondary education
regardless of curricular orientations. Not only is it studied at school but also
at private language institutes throughout the country, where students of all
ages enrol to learn it as a private activity for different purposes. Some students
simply like the language; others are interested in English-medium songs and
films, and others believe it will be crucial for their professional future. Also,
sometimes against their children’s will, parents send them to a language
institute as a plus in their formal education.
Needless to say, this context creates circumstances in which EFL teachers may
have students in secondary education who have already mastered the contents
of the official English curriculum. This situation may be similar to other EFL
contexts in which students may learn English faster at language institutes
than at secondary schools. This chapter examines how, in response to such
contextual needs and conditions, teachers and students turn to Content and
Language Integrated Learning (CLIL) models as a framework for co-developing
motivation, and how they thus assume agency over the teaching and learning
processes they jointly create.
First, I offer a brief description of ELT in Argentina so that my accounts
of local and contextualised pedagogies may have a global resonance.
Surprisingly, we teachers and researchers usually find that we have more
contextual similarities than we suspect. Such a description will naturally
lead me to introduce the challenges some teachers face and the reasons for
exploring a richly localised CLIL approach.
82
Integration of Content and Language in Argentina 83
Second, I explain the whys of CLIL in a nutshell and then I examine

experiences in Argentina’s secondary education from different parts of the
country. I analyse how this new approach motivates teachers and students in
various ways based on current research carried out by Argentinian teacher-
researchers and my own research. From a global perspective, these experi-
ences in Argentina may have echoes in other EFL settings since increasing
professional and state educational demands call for more context-driven
approaches to promote and encourage the learning of English. Initially, our
pedagogies may be anchored in European frameworks, but we live in very
different, equally rich settings. Given these conditions, opportunities and
demands, teachers and students may need to discuss ways in which they work
as a team so as to strengthen their motivations to learn and teach in formal
education.
ELT in Argentina
Why do teachers and students possibly need to examine their own motivations
and create spaces for collaboration and negotiation? To address this question
we need to understand the local context, and so I will briefly describe the
state secondary sector where most of my teaching experience comes from, and
examine the need for motivations to be negotiated and co-developed and how
this could be achieved through a CLIL-based approach.
Secondary education comprises six years and, on average, students study
around 13 subjects per academic year. Students usually have English once or
twice a week, and most start learning English when they begin secondary school
at age 12. Although it only takes two hours of the weekly school timetable,
English is the only subject present throughout the whole six years. Because of
the scarcity of qualified teachers, some students may have the same teachers
for four or even five years. When this is the case with my own students, I
often tell them in the first lesson that ‘this is the beginning of a long love-hate
relationship’.
Teachers are expected to conform to an official curriculum usually
designed by a politically appointed group of specialists. It is a top-down
style of curriculum implementation. Despite the prescriptive nature of the
official curriculum, the guidelines offered act as suggestions for teachers
to adapt according to their own contextual needs and qualifications. It is a
prescriptive, yet not restrictive, curriculum. Recent curricula offer traditional
Communicative Language Teaching (CLT) and Task-Based Learning (TBL) and
the more innovative CLIL as three approaches that teachers can implement
throughout secondary education. Secondary school students, it follows, may
learn English through three different ways – with CLIL being implemented
in the last two years, as local specialists agree that it is fruitful when students
84 Darío Luis Banegas
already know the language as a system. In addition, the Ministry of Education

does not impose a particular coursebook, either locally or internationally
produced. In theory, each teacher may choose their favourite book. In prac-
tice, however, teachers work collaboratively and each school may opt for one
or two titles in the market.
Nevertheless, the context also presents another alternative for the learning
of English: private language institutes which may be found anywhere in
the country. They could be locally run or part of national and international
associations. Their courses may be tailored and intensive, and the teacher–
student ratio is significantly lower than the state sector ratio. For instance, as a
teacher at a language institute I may have six students, but at a regular school
I may have around 35 students. This private learning alternative is taken by
teenage students who are interested in learning the language faster, and in
another environment, or because their parents consider it essential for better
career prospects. This may mean that students attend secondary school in the
morning and private English lessons in the afternoon or evening. Such an
alternative makes the landscape more complex.
When this private learning starts at a young age and continues through
adolescence, many students may start year 1 in secondary schools with basic
knowledge of English already. As years go by, the gap between the language
institute and the state school is wider, causing a number of issues. On the one
hand, not all students in a given class attend English private lessons. Teachers
then may have a multi-level class with students who are total beginners, others
who have had private English for a couple of years and a few others who are
studying to take international exams such as First Certificate in English (FCE).
On the other hand, those students who already know some English may
not be interested in the EFL lessons because they have already mastered the
curriculum content. Under these circumstances, teachers are faced with the
issue of providing new alternatives which offer these students new learning
opportunities.
In an attempt to narrow these gaps among students, classes may be rear-
ranged according to levels of English proficiency at some schools. Teachers find
this regrouping more comfortable because they can offer more personalised
assistance to their students. However, even though the high-level students are
placed together in one class, there is still the issue of what course to develop for
them since the curriculum does not contemplate alternative procedures which
exceed the mainstream classes and general curricular aims. Although CLIL is
officially recommended, it is not stated how it could be systematically applied
over a long period of time. However, as I will suggest, exploring contents agreed
between teachers and students may be an innovative and motivating approach
to learning English.
At this stage most students may be reluctant to continue with grammar prac-
tice, bland topics and skills work following international coursebooks since
they have received this type of instruction both inside and outside the school
for more than four or five years. They usually voice their need to use the
language meaningfully by learning contents related to the school curriculum
through English in the English lessons.
As a consequence, these contextual features, demands and needs have
prompted teachers to view the integration of curricular content and language
learning as a solution. Introducing curricular content in the English lesson
following CLIL may improve motivation for both students and teachers since
the lack of interest of the former more often than not negatively impacts on
the motivation of the latter. Moreover, this interest in enhancing motivation
does not flow uni-directionally. Teachers may feel that they need to improve
their own motivation to teach. Students may also perceive that in the ecology
of a classroom, understanding what motivates all the actors involved will
contribute to a richer classroom experience. In other words, students may also
realise that a motivated teacher will attract students to learning. Motivation
could be co-developed through CLIL, since by definition, the incorporation
of contents from the school curriculum or generated by students may help us
reflect on shared agency and classroom dynamics (see Banegas, 2012; Coyle
et al., 2010; Dalton-Puffer, 2007; 2011; Kiely, 2011). I discuss below the reasons
behind choosing CLIL as a means for co-developing motivation.
Why CLIL?
According to authors such as Coyle (2006) and Lasagabaster (2011), CLIL will
motivate both students and teachers provided it is responsive to the context
in which it is developed. Given the relatively low interest in English as a
school subject among students with language institute-generated knowledge
of English, Argentinian teachers may resort to CLIL to meet the demands
of their settings, making students and teachers themselves want to come to
lessons. Coyle (2006) adds that motivation in CLIL lessons may be fostered by
teacher collaboration and involvement in curriculum development and the
non-prescriptive nature of its models. Motivated teachers, she asserts, breed
motivated students who, in turn, will motivate their teachers even more.
In principle, CLIL motivates students because they can learn new contents
and revise others which are initially rooted in their own interests and curiosity
(Brown, 2007: 168–72; Lorenzo et al., 2010; Seikkula-Leino, 2007). The content
relations students may achieve produce a positive impact because they are
linked to their personal experiences (Llinares & Whittaker, 2009: 78–85). It is
the value of the unknown and the importance of manipulating new concepts
that may drive students (And why not teachers?). Richards and Rodgers (2001:
204–15) state that students learn another language more successfully when
through it they acquire information, such as curricular content. The focus on
either content or language within CLIL has given rise to the CLIL continuum.
This continuum moves from content-driven models such as bilingual educa-
tion to language-driven models such as topic-based lessons or content-based
lessons in the EFL classroom. I shall now briefly discuss how language and
content are treated regardless of models in the CLIL continuum.
In CLIL, language learning may be organised through three interrelated
perspectives comprising the Language Triptych (Coyle et al., 2010). In this
triptych, one perspective is language of learning, that is, the learning of termi-
nology and phrases which are inherent to the content under study. Secondly,
language for learning focuses on the language students need to carry out class-
room tasks such as contrasting data. Last, language through learning makes room
for unpredictable language learning because it is concerned with new language
emerging from the cognitive process students are engaged in. This latter cannot
be managed, and it depends on the teacher’s ability to make room for students’
demands in situ.
What is key in CLIL, according to Coyle et al. (2010: 29–30), is that content
needs to be cognitively engaging to students, with tasks which promote problem
solving and higher-order thinking processes. CLIL also involves language
proficiency for students beginning to engage in tasks which require complex
language derived from complex curricular relations (Kong, 2009: 239–48).
Learners are also engaged in more real meaningful interaction when the
process is supported by authentic materials. Drawing on a theory of learning
built on students’ experiences outside and inside schools, authentic CLIL
materials may feature texts about contemporary issues and discourse-based
activities. For example, contents may come from geography, as it is highly
visual, spatial and contextual. Moreover, authentic materials can come from
textbooks as well as from the media in the form of documentaries, news reports
and short articles. The experience is richer because students may adopt more
equal roles since they can suggest topics, explore different knowledge areas
and contribute to materials’ and activities’ selection through which they can
develop their autonomy (Wolff, 2003: 211–15; see also Wolff, 2007; 2010).
Overall, students and teachers feel motivated through content and language
integrated learning experiences because they offer possibilities to use the
language meaningfully by learning new contents through the language. Within
language-driven models, motivation may also increase because topics, lesson
dynamics and materials are negotiated in such a way that students are willing
to learn because they have been active participants in the process. Along these
lines, we may agree that this teacher collaboration, participation in educational
change, and student involvement will be possible in settings where democratic
undertakings are valued and encouraged. Working towards motivation needs

to be conceived as a process with others, to which all involved actors contribute
and from which they all benefit.
CLIL experiences across Argentina
Although most recent CLIL incorporations appear to be part of new school

curricula, the gradual implementation of CLIL models in Argentina essen-
tially responds to a bottom-up process started by practitioners to deal with the
classroom issues mentioned above. In addition, some implementations have
been the result of teachers meeting at national conferences or in-service work-
shops in which teacher–researcher findings are shared (Banegas, 2011). Some
teachers, then, may start their own experiences and in so doing are replicating
or exploring new models within the CLIL continuum. I should emphasise that
the integration of content and language is chosen by teachers themselves from
their own exploratory practice outcomes, supported by theory and practice in
the field rather than being imposed by ministerial policies. The selection of
classroom experiences and practitioner research included below may illumi-
nate the joint motivation-driven goals teachers and students have when they
decide to explore the incorporation of curricular content into the regular EFL
lesson (see also Anglada & Banegas, 2012).
López Barrios (2008: 40–52) offers an enlightening view of content and
language in state secondary education in one central Argentine province
through a small-scale investigation which includes textbook evaluation and
interviews. He found that international coursebooks offer little in terms of
challenging and curriculum-related contents because topics are usually trivial
or treated naively. When teachers were willing to incorporate content in their
lessons despite the coursebooks at hand, they would resort to their students
for topics and materials. Although teachers admitted that their lessons would
feature translation, reading aloud and vocabulary focus, they still felt that both
their students and they, themselves, enjoyed these lessons for they attempted
to introduce controversy and reflection in the ELT agenda. I believe that such
an experience calls up the need to produce our own materials and courses so
that we can choose the topics and sources which are appealing, relevant and
meaningful in our local contexts.
In relation to CLIL materials development, Orce and Llobeta (2008: 86–95)
together with Schander and Balma (2008: 264–71) describe classroom practices
concerned with the use of film trailers and complete films to teach the target
culture, whatever that is in the authors’ eyes. In their view, the target culture
is a powerful content to incorporate as core subject matter in learning English.
Film watching, the authors suggest, could be followed by brainstorming cultural
aspects which could be then broken down into subtopics learners may choose
from to carry out an Internet search and prepare oral group presentations. The
authors put forward the belief that it is language that prevails – that is, the
incorporation of cultural topics, as it were, fulfils the function of context for
skills integration. In their view, they recommend that such a procedure should
be explored with secondary school students whose level of English is beyond
an elementary stage.
Based in northwest Argentina, Bello and Costa (2011) also used films in
their theme-based explorations. Their criteria for content selection were
meaningful experiences which could increase their secondary school
students’ interests, motivation and linguistic improvement. For example, for
one lesson these two teachers used an ‘I Am Legend’ film trailer to activate
students’ schemata and linguistic knowledge by asking them to solve a puzzle
based on the trailer script and images. After this warm-up, they discussed
literature, and science fiction as a genre, to express the future. In addition,
using the same trailer to refer to biology, they had their students brainstorm
ideas around virology and then compare their previous knowledge with a
text about what a virologist does.
Last, Castellani et al. (2009: 272–75), from Buenos Aires, report an expe-
rience carried out in the first year of an arts-oriented secondary school in
which students are taught arts in the EFL lesson, thus combining content
and language. The authors highlight the need to develop materials targeted
to future art and music specialists from a local point of view. For this type
of experience, it is vital that materials and activities should reflect students’
interests and needs. To achieve this, it is the teachers involved who need to
become active in materials design because the market does not offer suitable
materials for learners involved in these types of school projects. Together
with this emphasis on context-responsive materials development, the authors
acknowledge the fact that this experience takes the CLIL framework as just
a guide despite the fact that the aim is to introduce content in the English
lesson, consequently placing themselves at the language end of the CLIL
continuum. Furthermore, this experience does not seem to be simply a collec-
tion of topic-based classes, since all the materials are carefully sequenced
and follow a cohesive pattern having one same subject matter, the arts, as
core. From my knowledge and position, this is a rich and serious content and
language integration experience as it features the following aspects: collabo-
rative teamwork among EFL teachers, materials development in the hands of
those teachers and, above all, systematicity in terms of didactic procedures,
contents selection and management for materials purposes.
The experiences briefly reported above paint a picture of different CLIL
models and adaptations in varied contexts within Argentina. In addition to
those practitioner accounts, I will put forward my own experience of exploring
language-driven CLIL through action research (Banegas, 2013).
CLIL through action research
Brown and Jones (2001: 44) suggest that every action has a cause and is a
possible cause for changes. The explorations discussed above encouraged
a group of three teachers and myself as a teacher–researcher to implement
language-driven CLIL at a secondary school in southern Argentina. We agreed
that action research, given its transformative nature, would be our method-
ological framework. By definition, action research seeks to promote cyclical
reflection and action in such a way that its outcomes stimulate professional
development and generate theories anchored in specific settings. Professional
development could be significantly enhanced when teachers work collabora-
tively. In our experience, this was realised through regular group meetings,
materials development, discussions and classroom observations.
When we designed the three action-research cycles we lived through, we
agreed that our main aim was to offer our teenage students a meaningful expe-
rience in the learning of English as a school subject. These students learnt
English at language schools and, therefore, the school curriculum did not
offer anything new in terms of language learning. It was our students’ aim
also as they demanded the same in their own words and through demotiv-
ating behaviours such as poor classroom participation and attention. The
plan of achieving such an aim through language-driven CLIL included the
development of our own materials as a response to our perceived coursebook-
dependent practices and the poor contextualisation and irrelevant topics that
coursebooks presented. This step revealed that our motivation was also under
investigation and that, in fact, we aimed at not only improving our students’
motivation but also our own.
We believed that in order to raise our students’ motivation we had to create
spaces characterised by democratised and negotiated practices. Teaching prac-
tices need to be systematic as regards needs analysis and the outcomes must
be then incorporated into the ELT curriculum. This needs analysis should
contemplate not only what students bring into the classroom but also what
teachers are willing to offer together with their strengths and weaknesses.
In so doing, teachers and students will relate to each other from a point of
view which acknowledges their internal drives. The concept of democratised
and negotiated teaching practices involves increasing students’ participation.
This meant sharing responsibility for our practices and acknowledging the
importance of our students’ voices as an irreplaceable resource in a class-
room environment. Rather than perceiving their participation as a threat, we
perceived this challenge as an invitation to renew the school curriculum with
our students’ help. We believed that the co-construction of social practices of
reference entailed developing, together, a framework which represented all
our interests and needs.
In the case of language-driven CLIL, our action-research explorations led

us to ask students to vote for topics derived from school subjects. We also
asked them to suggest possible sources of input and activities. Since the
exchanges we facilitated with the students had revealed that the topics and
activities found in coursebooks were unappealing, we decided to include
their suggestions in our teacher-developed materials. I shall now elaborate
on the effect that topics, sources, and activities exercised on our students
and us teachers.
As regards topic selection, we asked our students to have a say, since we
had perceived that a topic linked to their interests and curiosity would be
the driving force behind all our efforts and pedagogical planning. Even when
the suggested topics were not our favourite, we were still determined to accept
our students’ decisions and plan our CLIL lessons accordingly. The topics
the students voted for ranged from the history of rock and roll to Nazis in
Argentina, drug decriminalisation and the universe.
Once we had the topics, we moved on to collect sources such as videos from
YouTube, texts from Wikipedia, newspaper articles and subject textbooks.
These sources included our students’ preferences. While they suggested
audiovisual sources such as documentaries, film trailers, and interviews, we
also incorporated written texts. We realised that, without previous agree-
ment, we had all chosen authentic sources. In our students’ eyes, the use of
authentic sources provided them with meaningful opportunities to learn
English and pay attention in class. Other criteria for materials selection
were relevance, comprehensible input, and transferability potential to our
context.
In relation to activities, we regularly met once a week to organise and
discuss our lessons and materials. Individually we adapted, if necessary, our
chosen texts and developed activities around them. As a team we discussed
our options and provided and received feedback about our ideas. Although
we taught different lessons for different classes, we still felt that collaboration
was vital to keeping us motivated and on track. One of the teachers, Sandra,
expressed it thus:
Sandra: Esto del CLIL me sirve y me ha dejado ver otras posibilidades, animarme
a otras cosas. [This CLIL is useful and has allowed me to see other possi-
bilities, to do other things.]
Similarly, another colleague valued the possibility of developing our own

language-driven CLIL materials:
Aurelia: Esto de hacer los propios materiales, te alienta, a mí me encanta lo que

estamos haciendo ( ... ) [Making our own materials encourages me; I just
love what we’re doing.]
In relation to complementing the coursebook with our materials, Sandra put

forward how the latter had improved the classroom atmosphere:
Sandra: Yo utilizo el libro como de repaso digamos. Pero cada dos, tres clases les
tengo que traer algo más. Pero la verdad que está buenísimo. Algunas cosas les
interesan, otras no, pero es algo distinto, todos prestan atención y ya es como que
lo esperan, ¿me entendés? [I use the book as a revision, let’s say. But every
two, three lessons I have to bring them something else. But the truth is
that this is awesome. Some things are interesting, some others aren’t, but
it’s something different, everyone pays attention, and it’s something they
already look forward to, you see?]
When we noticed the benefits of our first lessons, we planned further

language-driven CLIL lessons in which the focus was on language practice,
vocabulary learning, and, above all, listening and speaking skills practice. In
addition, there were activities which responded to the Language Triptych,
but work on grammar, for example, was peripheral through awareness-raising
activities or not included. We found it difficult to develop grammar activities
based on authentic sources. However, when we used texts, discourse features
tended to be highlighted.
At the end of each action-research cycle, we asked the students for feed-
back concerning our lesson management, materials developed and future
topics. Taking into account their feedback, we met to reflect about our own
emotions and practices. Aurelia explained the effect that her students’ feed-
back had on her:
Aurelia: El hecho de poder tener el feedback de ellos te hace repensar la forma en

que confeccionás el material. Por lo general el profe de Inglés es el libro. [The
fact of having their feedback makes you rethink the way you develop the
materials. In general the teacher of English is the coursebook.]
In general, the students showed that their motivation was linked to our
motivation as teachers. They believed that our new attitude and our identity
reconfiguration as teachers who were less coursebook-dependent had allowed
them to see the learning experience under a new light:
Student 1: Cuando viene a hablar de lo que trajo es diferente porque la postura del
profesor cambia. [When (the teacher) comes to talk about what he brought,
it’s different because the teacher’s attitude changes.]
Darío: Como que en definitiva es el profesor que hace la clase más interesa. [Like,
in the end it’s the teacher who makes the lesson more interesting.]
Student 1: Sí, participa más el profesor sino es como ‘abrí el libro y hacelo vos’.
Es como que participa más el profesor cuando trae sus cosas. Sino es como que
el chico está participando y el profesor te dice ‘yes or no’. [Yes, the teacher
participates more, otherwise it’s, like, ‘open the book and do it’. It’s, like,
the teacher participates more when he brings his things. Otherwise it’s
like the kid is only participating and the teacher just says ‘yes or no’.]
In addition, the students perceived that they had developed their language
skills because the activities – which we developed based on their interests –
seemed to be relevant. Even when the activities were similar to those found
in coursebooks, the context-responsive nature of the topics put these activities
under a new light:
Student 2: En la clase habíamos podido hablar más, pensar más y poder decirlo,
compartir más opiniones, más ideas. No era solamente la parte de gramática,
de hablar, escribir, completar. [That in class we could talk more, think more
and be able to say it, share more opinions, more ideas. It wasn’t just grammar,
speaking, writing, completing]
Student 3: Lo que pasa que el tema, los temas están buenos. Son interesantes,
entonces te da ganas de saber. [The thing is the topic, the topics are cool.
They’re interesting and so you feel like you want to learn.]
Student 4: Para mí que son iguales pero como es un tema que te interesa por ahí
prestás más atención. [To me they’re the same but it’s, like, because the
topic is interesting, you pay more attention.]
At this stage, Sandra and Aurelia had already highlighted how motivating this
experience was and our students’ perceptions of us seemed to confirm this.
More importantly, our students themselves noticed, as in the excerpts above,
that their motivation had increased through participation and attention:
Darío: ¿Qué otras cosas notaron? [What else did you notice?]
Student 1: Que empezaron a participar todos. Empezaron a hablar gente que
no participaba mucho. [That everyone started to participate. People who
would never participate started to speak.]
Darío: Eso, ¿a ustedes les parece que aumentó la participación? [That, do you
think that it raised participation?]
Student 5: No sé si la participación, pero sí la atención. Cuando estábamos
debatiendo de anorexia, todos escuchaban. [I don’t know about partici-
pation, but it raised attention. When we were debating about anorexia,
everyone was listening.]
We felt that by having addressed contents which were related to a curriculum

subject and were derived from our own students’ interests and previous knowl-
edge, classroom participation was higher. In addition, they used the language
meaningfully and tried to incorporate the language for/of/through learning
in the activities we had planned. I may conclude, then, that their motivation
increased and so did ours, because we proved that their motivation drove us
to improve our practices which, in turn, drove them to participate and to pay
attention more in class as we became autonomous and creative teachers. Thus,
the exploration of language-driven CLIL through action research revealed that
classroom motivation is a dynamic construct which emerges from student and
teacher motivation in synergy.
Motivation negotiation in language-driven CLIL
Based on the experience outlined above, CLIL may be a valuable option to

co-develop and foster motivation among teachers and students provided that
the content is negotiated with the students. However, negotiation also includes
sources of input and activities. When teachers and students discover their
interests, needs and demands, the learning process irradiates new possibilities
through which their roles and identities are reconfigured, always in relation
to one another. Teachers and students become active agents by co-developing
materials and offering suggestions which will feed into the classroom dynamics
and materials development.
Language learning through content, whether it is deeply embedded in
the L1 curriculum or in the social context, is what makes language-driven
CLIL relevant and meaningful. All pedagogical approaches and every single
coursebook feature topics and themes which may relate to general culture,
popular knowledge or trivia. Topic-based lessons and texts about sports,
healthy eating, or Australia are common in ELT. If CLIL only incorporates
these topics superficially, I may argue that there is nothing new about CLIL.
What is not frequently found is a text or a selection of topics related to
scientific knowledge and school subjects treated in such a way that they are
cognitively engaging without inadvertently underestimating students. On
the other hand, even the most ordinary topics could become crucial and
enlightening when authentic sources and activities are used to stimulate the
students at a cognitive level.
Drawing on a metaphor from physics (language and content integrated for
real), I view motivation negotiation in the language-driven CLIL classroom
as a matrix in which different forces interact. Naturally, it is the teacher who
sets CLIL as the approach that will help learners achieve the shared aims. It
is also the teacher who acts as a force that facilitates the moving of students
through CLIL. However, because all motivation may be eventually intrinsic,
such moving may be hindered if the motivations are significantly different.
If the teacher-led CLIL consists of topics and sources which only represent the
teacher’s motivation, and such topics and sources are generally rejected by the
students because they have other motivating topics in mind, the friction will
obstruct the learning and teaching processes.
In physics, identical surfaces facilitate movement with minimal friction. In

CLIL, or any approach in fact, similar or aligned motivations facilitate learning.
Even when teachers and students acknowledge the fact that their motivations
as regards topics may be dissimilar, there should be still room for negotiation
which needs to emerge from mutual understanding and reflection. From my
experience, it may turn out that a topic that students see under a poor light
becomes relevant once they understand it or are able to contribute to it with
their own knowledge, experiences and sources. It could also work the other way
as I may become engaged after listening to their accounts. More often than not,
students’ preferred topics are linked to what they do not know rather than to
what they already understand. Although it may be asserted that the first steps
for successful learning materials and approaches are text collection and text
selection (de Graaff et al., 2007: 607–08; Tomlinson, 2003: 110–16), I think that
we need to consider topic selection as the cornerstone of our endeavours. Topic
selection must be the alpha of CLIL models, especially when we claim that
we aim at integrating language and curricular content in our lessons. If in a
language-driven CLIL model the language will be learnt through contents but
these are somewhat imposed, little language learning may be achieved because
students will not feel inclined to participate or pay attention. Because intrinsic
motivation may reside in students’ interests in certain topics and tasks, these
have to be relevant in their eyes so that they feel moved to collaborate (Ryan
& Deci, 2000: 56–7). Their positive attitude to learning may instil enthusiasm
among teachers who will then respond more positively to students, thus estab-
lishing an interactive relationship between teacher and student motivation
(Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2011: 190–91).
Conclusion
I opened this chapter by providing an overview of ELT in Argentina and how

language institutes pose state secondary schools (where the official curric-
ulum is taught) with a challenging question to address: What shall we do
with the language institute students in the secondary school EFL lesson?
Such an issue has triggered the exploration of language-driven CLIL models
across Argentina. My own personal and team experiences through action
research provide an account of what motivates teachers and students to
embrace CLIL and, more specifically, what benefits teachers may gain when
developing their own materials through different possible frameworks. In
CLIL pedagogies it is vital that contents, sources and activities emerge from
the intersection between the school curriculum and students’ interests and
cognitive development.
Above all, learning is about discovering. Foreign language learning becomes
an engaging activity when knowledge of the world is approached through it.
English becomes a powerful tool for asking and answering questions, setting
positions about historical issues and putting across cause-effect relationships
between two entities. In Greek mythology, several gods and heroes were
punished by being given a task that is mechanically repeated for eternity. We
as teachers do not want to use the same coursebook all our professional lives
or impose our agendas so as not to leave our comfort zone. Our students do
not want to learn over and over again that verbs add an –s in the third person
singular in present simple affirmative. Teachers and students may be willing to
explore different ways of accessing knowledge, since inquisitiveness, the irre-
placeable root of our life (Bordelois, 2010: 110), is what drives us to suggest
topics, to develop materials and to offer sources and experiences.
CLIL pedagogies which shape and are shaped by collaborative development

between teachers and students entail a number of areas which are worth
exploring. Student–teacher collaboration for effective CLIL seems to be based
on students’ proficiency, the extent to which topics and materials can be nego-
tiated and the relevance attached to content complexity in an EFL lesson.
Given these apparently necessary conditions for good CLIL practices, it may be
enriching to delve into the following concerns:
1. To what extent can students choose topics and materials for the EFL lesson?
2. Could language-driven CLIL through authentic sources improve students’
grammar and all skills equally?
3. What relevance should content learning have in assessment when, after all,
the subject is EFL?
4. Does CLIL only benefit proficient students?
5. Can CLIL be carried out by teachers who are not proficient L2 users?
6. Do students truly engage with cognitively demanding content and activities
in the CLIL lesson?

Dale, L. and Taner, R. (2012). CLIL Activities: A Resource for Subject and Language Teachers.
This handbook features more than 50 CLIL activities to focus content, language and
cognitive skills, and assessment. The authors emphasise the motivational force of
subject-related topics strictly found in the school curriculum.
McCall, I. (2012). Score in French: motivating boys with football in Key Stage 3. Language
Learning Journal, 39(1): 5–18.
The author reports the development and implementation of a curriculum around
football to foster motivation and fight underachievement among boys in a French class.
After one school year of projects and teacher-developed materials around football, boys
(and also girls) found French learning more engaging.
Mearns, T. L. (2012). Using CLIL to enhance pupils’ experience of learning and raise
attainment in German and health education: a teacher research project. Language
Learning Journal, 40(2): 175–92.
This action-research-based report signals that CLIL is mainly motivating among
high-achievers. Results indicate that while students’ enjoyment of the German class-
room increased, their confidence in their own progress was affected by the type of tasks
introduced.
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6
Motivational Challenges
for Gulf Arab Students Studying
Medicine in English
Diane Malcolm
Introduction
The Arab Gulf region, comprising the countries of the Gulf Cooperation
Council (GCC) – Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the UAE, Qatar, Oman and Bahrain –
is among the regions of the world where tertiary institutions have prolifer-
ated in the past few decades, as their governments have attempted to provide
higher education opportunities for burgeoning numbers of young, increas-
ingly educated and globalised nationals. Private colleges and universities
offering a wide choice of majors to GCC high school graduates have also
spread. In most of these new institutions, the principal language of instruc-
tion in technical and scientific fields is English (Zughoul, 2003), yet the
level of English required to be an effective college student in these settings
is often far beyond what most public-school graduates from GCC schools
have achieved. As a result, most colleges in the region include compulsory
English language and academic skills training in a foundation or preparatory
programme as a pre-requisite to acceptance to the degree courses. Medicine
is among the most prestigious and desirable of the professions in the GCC,
so acceptance into a medical college is an aspiration for many of its brightest
students and a source of pride for their families and communities. In GCC
countries, students typically enter medical college directly from high school,
study for six years then intern for a year before becoming fully qualified
MDs. Arabian Gulf University (AGU) in Bahrain, where I have taught for over
20 years, is one of the longest-established medical universities in the region
and the first in the GCC to follow a problem-based learning (PBL) approach.
It is also unique in being the only regional medical college that is supported
by all the GCC countries, providing scholarships for qualified nationals
according to a quota system for each country. Up until very recently, AGU
98
Gulf Arab Students Studying Medicine in English 99
did not provide its students with basic English skills training in a foundation
year, but English courses with a focus on English for medical purposes have
always been a credited part of the Year One programme, which also includes
basic science, lecture-based courses, and is seen as a ‘filter year’ in which
pass marks in all courses are required to proceed to Year Two, the medical
phase. Although, unlike those who study in ESL settings, these Arab students
live and study in a familiar environment, they face a number of challenges
to their motivation and self-esteem as they adapt to their new role and,
perhaps most importantly in the initial phase, to the demands of studying
academic content for the first time through the medium of English. This
chapter describes some of these challenges as students themselves perceive
them, guided by the ‘person-in-context’ relational model (Ushioda, 2009)
that highlights personal, affective variables rather than cognitive ones, in
order to facilitate teachers’ understanding of the many background factors
that affect the individual’s attitudes, responses and ultimate success or failure
as a medical student studying in English in the Arab Gulf region. It is hoped
their experience may also have relevance for English teachers of tertiary
level students studying for specific professional aims in other, non-English
settings, as an example of a phenomenon that is becoming increasingly prev-
alent in today’s globalised educational setting.
English learning background of Arab public-school graduates

The English language proficiency levels of Arab learners of English entering
Arab universities to pursue degree courses in regional institutions can vary
widely depending on their previous schooling, but the majority of applicants
have attended public schools. Rabab’ah (2005) describes a typical experience
in Jordan, where public–school students experience English as a school subject
taught largely in Arabic, with little or no communicative use of the language,
and very little opportunity for out-of-school contact with English speakers.
The problems of school English courses as reported by Clarke (2006), Qashoa
(2006) and O’Sullivan (2004) for the UAE setting include classes that are
teacher-dominated, where translation and memorisation are widely used tech-
niques; readings act as a vehicle for vocabulary, structure, and pronunciation
practice rather than content; and the classroom focus is on exam preparation
rather than communication. Suleiman (1993) reported the Arab learners of his
study (Libyan, Saudi, Jordanian and Palestinian) found their English classes
in their home countries were boring, repetitive, not challenging, emphasised
grammar over conversation, and their teachers had poor pronunciation and
used Arabic more than half the time. As a result of such instruction, students
who enter universities are often at a low proficiency level, despite having
had several years of high school English courses (Dwaik & Shehadeh, 2010;
Rabab’ah, 2005).
100 Diane Malcolm
Motivation of Arab students of English

Studies investigating Arab tertiary level students’ motivation to learn English
generally categorise their motivation as ‘instrumental’ (Diab, 2006; Suleiman,
1993; Vogt & Oliver, 1998) as they report students have a clear purpose in
mind relating to the need to learn English: a requirement for their college
major, a necessary step for their future careers and professional development,
or fulfilment of family expectations (Suleiman, 1993: 44). Another term used is
‘required’ motivation (Dwaik & Shehadeh, 2010), in which passing an English
course is detached from any real life purpose, but is a compulsory part of the
educational syllabus. Because of the perceived status of English as the language
of international communication, even Arabs with hostile attitudes to English
speakers view its acquisition as a necessity for progress. For example, Zughoul
(2003: 106) states:
Despite the hegemonic and imperialistic nature of English, it is still badly

needed in the Arab world for the purposes of communicating with the
world, education, acquisition of technology and development at large.
English may also be viewed as the dominant, or prestige, language of the

educated GCC national, at the expense of Arabic, a situation that is seen as
unavoidable but threatening by some academics and by the students them-
selves (Clarke, 2006). Gulf Arab students who wish to study medicine in a
regional college have little option but to study in English, regardless of their
attitudes to the language. It is accepted that, even in Saudi Arabia, where it is
not used as a language of wider communication as much as in the other GCC
states, English is taken for granted as the ‘medium of instruction especially in
medicine and engineering’ (Al-Haq & Smadi, 1996).
Instrumental or integrative motivation

While the term ‘instrumental motivation’ had earlier acquired a somewhat
negative connotation as being associated with superficial, pragmatic language
learning – compared to what was considered a more enabling ‘integrative’ moti-
vation’ which assumed a desire to understand and assimilate to both the target
language and culture – nowadays the term integrative motivation in its orig-
inal formulation has lost its applicability to the motivating factors affecting
English learners in the globalised setting (Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2011: 87).
Instead, new motivational paradigms, such as the L2 motivational self-system
(Dörnyei, 2005; 2009), person-in-context relational view (Ushioda, 2009;
2011), possible selves (e.g., Oyserman & Marcus, 1990), and complex dynamic
systems (Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2011: 88) have been proposed to account for
the fluctuating nature of motivation, as well as the individual and situational
elements that form a backdrop to the process of language learning over time.
Apart from the immediate need to master English for their medical studies,
many students of medicine are motivated by their long-term goals and their
vision of an ideal future self, or ‘instrumentality-promotion’ self-regulatory
motivation (Higgins, 1998; 2000), a type of instrumental motivation that fires
the imagination and spurs the students to persist in their efforts. For most first-
year students, however, the immediate and pressing need to pass the year is at
the forefront of their efforts, and achieving this goal the primary focus of their
studies. Thus, their ‘ought-to’ self is related to Higgins’s concept of ‘instrumen-
tality-prevention’ motivation, in which the driving force for first-year students
is not to fail the first-year courses, disappoint their parents and, consequently,
have to leave the university.
The present study
Study background
For the past several years, I have interviewed over 30 AGU medical students,
individually or in small focus groups, in order to discover the problems they
face in dealing with their medical studies in English. These interviews, mostly
conducted with first- and second-year students, inevitably touched on affective
issues relating to students’ perceptions of how their studies were proceeding;
problems they had faced and overcome; initial responses to the demands of
studying medicine in English; sources of help and encouragement; and the
role of the teacher in facilitating their English improvement. For this chapter,
focus group interviews specifically aimed at investigating student motivation
were conducted with two groups of students. The first group comprised three
students now in the medical phase (Years 2 and 3), including one who had
taken a preparatory year at a university in Saudi Arabia before transferring to
AGU, another who dropped out of first year in order to study English inten-
sively in New Zealand before coming back to complete Year One at AGU, and
a third who was given the chance of taking a specially arranged semester of
foundation English in lieu of completing Year One, which he was in danger
of failing. The second focus group was made up of students currently enrolled
in Year One, who were among the first batch of students to be accepted after
completing a full year of foundation-level English at AGU. Most of these
students had been, or are currently, in my Year One English classes, and had
given their permission for the interviews to be recorded. All the students are
male and from Saudi Arabia. The focus group interviews averaged around one
hour in length and were conducted in English in my office; then the record-
ings were transcribed and the transcripts reviewed for comments related to
motivational factors. Relevant comments were also included from previously
conducted interviews with male and female nationals of Bahrain, Kuwait,
UAE, and Saudi Arabia. Their remarks were then grouped according to the
102 Diane Malcolm
following recurring themes: background factors including family and societal

expectations, previous education and training, adjusting to a new environ-
ment and different learning demands, and coping with affective threats to
their self-esteem and study focus. In particular, I wanted to focus on how these
factors function both to stimulate and inhibit motivation, as related to the
‘ideal’ versus the ‘ought-to’ self of the L2 motivational self-system (Dörnyei,
2009) or the ‘instrumentality-promotion’/‘instrumentality-prevention’ model
proposed by Higgins (as summarised in Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2011: 88). Finally,
I wanted to examine these students’ perceptions of the importance of English
proficiency in their studies and future profession and the role of the teacher in
supporting their language learning efforts. Students are not identified by name
but by the year of study at the time of the interview (Year 1, 2 and 3). The ques-
tions posed to the students are listed as an Appendix.
Students’ perspectives on motivation

Background factors affecting student motivation: personal factors, family expecta-
tions, social setting, and attitudes
Applicants for the AGU medical school undergo a screening interview as
part of the entrance requirements. Typically, when asked why they wish
to become a doctor, they will mention that it has been their dream since
childhood. This has become such a cliché that some interviewers cannot
conceal their amusement at hearing the same story recycled. One interviewee
remarked:
I remember when I do the interview, they laughed at me. I told him when
I was a child, I see a doctor (as) something big, important or like this, and
then from that time it was my ambitious, I want to be like this guy (Y1)
Nevertheless, the dream of becoming a doctor is widely seen as the most impor-
tant source of motivation, but often the dream has been strongly influenced by
family expectations and personal events:
You say motivation, I think a person has a dream, the dream will be his
motivation. And if he has some reasons, I had my grandmother, she dead
[died], and she told me, ‘Ahmed, I want to see you doctor.’ And I think I
have to be doctor, and not just be doctor ... she death [died] from wrong
mistake [of the] doctor’s. And then I want to be surgical, cardio-surgical
doctor, because I don’t want to see more people death from doctor mistake
or I see people and I can’t help him. Beside my dream, it is more responsible
my grandmother told me I want to see you doctor. Sometimes I feel I don’t
want to complete [continue] but when I remember what she told me, I think
I want to do it. (Y1)
While family hopes can act as a motivator to keep on going through tough
times, the fear of failure and returning home in disgrace also has a powerful
influence on motivation:
[In first year] I [was] very, very afraid to fail. I will disappoint my family, and
myself, and my relatives. All of them see me in good position, then I [am]
back in [my home]. Bad picture. (Y3).
Expectations from the community and friends also play a part, and put
additional pressure on students to pass:
Even my neighbors (say), ‘Welcome doctor, welcome doctor, welcome.’ I say

to them, ‘Don’t say doctor, I still in year one.’ We didn’t deserve this word,
until we finish at least four years. (Y3)
When I fail or something, I think my close family they would support me,
but others from my family members, they think that he’s a bad guy. They
don’t think, okay, maybe they have sons and they study basic subjects and
they be [do] good because it’s easy. But when someone study medicine and
fail, it’s [a] big problem. They think, okay, he’s a loser. Everything in life, he
can’t do anything. (Y1)
Another student, whose father had died, had to convince his mother to let
him study in Bahrain, rather than in his home country. As the eldest son, this
Saudi student was expected to take on an active role as head of the household,
according to tradition:
When I choose to study medicine in Bahrain, [my mother] said: ‘No. You
will be away.’ And you know in my age it’s the first age to be like, like the
father of the family and she will miss this thing. But when my uncles, her
brothers told her, it’s very big chance and most students want to be in your
son’s situation she agreed. And now she thanks God. (Y1)
AGU medical students from other Gulf countries must move to Bahrain which,
while still an Arabic-speaking Islamic country, is an open society compared
to some of its neighbours, notably Saudi Arabia, and has gained a reputation
for being a ‘party place’. Students must combat these negative stereotypes:
Saudi people when they come to Bahrain and they come back to Saudi
Arabia, they have bad picture about ... what happening in Bahrain. [They
think it’s] just for fun. We told our relatives there is good universities in
Bahrain and good people and this is one benefit of travelling. You know the
cultures of another country, you meet people from another countries, you
know all their cultures. (Y2)
104 Diane Malcolm
And also they think this university it’s easy, it’s Bahrain. In Bahrain it’s
easy, you can take certificate without hard study. (Y3) Yeah, [they think]
you can buy certificate. This is the idea in the people in Saudi Arabia. But
actually it’s harder. (Y3)
Adjusting to the new educational setting and threats to self-esteem

Low proficiency in English is at the root of many of the problems students
have in their first-year experience of studying in the AGU medical college. The
failing grades they obtain largely as a result of their poor English are at odds
with their self-image as excellent students, based on their high school leaving
results. One student who did poorly in the first set of exams was asked why he
didn’t give up at that point, and he expressed it like this:
I was afraid of, you know, come early to my father and he ... sent me here,
so I think, ‘I will try, month, two months and then I will see.’ [So the main
thing that kept you here, was, you didn’t want to disappoint your father?]
Not just that, even disappoint myself, because I feel in my high school, you
know, I am good student, I can do whatever I want. (Y2)
For me, I was the honest [most honored] student in my high school ... I get
97 in my high school, but when I came here I felt like the worst student in
this university. For the second week, I lose maybe two three kilo from my
weight. I can’t eat, just I’m thinking. Yeah, and there was Eid [Eid Al Fitr, a
major Islamic holiday] after the two weeks ... it’s was for me the worst Eid in
my life. (Y3)
Even students with better English skills face difficulties handling the amount
of reading and information-processing demanded by the first-year science
courses:
I remember the first week when we had the biology and physiology I was
very depressed and I was very disappointed, because I said, ‘Oh my God it’s
too much.’ I stayed for one page maybe one hour approximately. And I told
myself, ‘My God what can I do?’ (Y1)
Dealing with large amounts of technical reading matter in English is not the
only problem, however. Having to motivate oneself to read and study the
required subjects that are uninteresting is another issue:
The problem was that we took subjects, like epidemiology, that they were
very, very dry for us. So, because of that I was thinking from my side, why
have I chosen medicine. I think business or something like that is better
than medicine. But after a while I changed my opinion and I say to myself,
‘sure I have some difficulties here and whenever I go there, I will have the
same difficulty because they have their own language and I have here in my
medical college, my own language. So I have to deal with it and I have to be
very happy because I have chosen medicine from the beginning.’ (Y2)
The students who joined Year One after taking an English foundation year
also found that adjusting to the study atmosphere of Year One had an effect
on their motivation. Full of confidence after their success in improving their
English, they had hopes of rising to the top as their studies progressed:
In the beginning I had enormous motivation and I think about the honor
board but [now] my ambition to take 80; that’s my level and I will work hard
to achieve this. (Y1)
When asked what brought about these lowered expectations, this student had
two explanations.
Because physics I got so bad grade because we don’t have good basic educa-
tion in Saudi Arabia, the marks, yes, and some students also. When you
sit in the lecture hall you see just three or four just talking all the time.
They don’t let you have a chance to ask. The teacher want[s] to teach some-
thing, and when he start, they say everything and he go to the other slide.
Okay, let him give us the information. Because he thought we understand
everything. Yeah, he thought that all of us, we are the same. (Y1)
Many of the students admitted to Year One have graduated from interna-
tional schools, so they are both fluent in English and accustomed to the kinds
of interaction expected from college-level instructors. The experience of
attending lectures with these fluent students is intimidating to those without
that background and serves to demotivate them, temporarily at least. As one
student put it:
In foundation year, we are the same, sort of, we are the same [level]. And I
think it’s more motivate than this year. And there are a few students they are,
I think they are up the ah normal level who graduated from international
school or something in Saudi Arabia, they already get physics and chem-
istry. So they come here they know the most information and it’s easy for
them but they laugh about you when you said anything. Okay you are better
because you have more experience and you have another kind of education
but it’s not fair, you make me [have] less ambition when you laugh. (Y1)
106 Diane Malcolm
However, this feeling is short-lived as these students realise that the English
and interactional skills of these international school graduates are not always a
guarantee that they will achieve the highest marks.
I told the student, English is not the key for pass, in this university. If you
don’t study, you will never/pass. My friend, his level when he came was
very, very bad. But he pass Year One, and Year Two and now he’s in Year
Three. This [being weak in English] is not an excuse. (Y3)
The attitude of some of the professors is also a factor in demotivating students.

A physics professor who, students complained, taught at a level far beyond
their understanding, had a powerful effect on their motivation, although his
intention was probably the opposite:
[The physics professor] teach us for the high level, but if he come in the first
lecture and he told you 60 percent for the students [last year] they failed in
my exam and 60 percent will fail, no problem, it is normal. How you will
feel in the first exam and he told you this? He want[s] you [to] suddenly be
a high level, [but] we just finished high school. (Y1)
In order to understand his lectures, students record and then spend hours
transcribing them. While students complain about the amount of pressure
they are under to do well in Year One, at the same time they accept that this is
expected of medical students, and has a purpose:
Here [they should teach] the basic, [in] the premedical, it have to be the basic,
but they make it the most pressure and you don’t have time for anything.
Maybe ... they think to make us in pressure because they want to see who
will want to be a doctor ... The physics professor ... said that your work in
medicine, or in college, in medical college, it’s to suffer (laughs). And it’s
right. (Y1)
Many of the adjustments these students have to make are common to all
students in transition from high school to college studies, not just those
studying for academic purposes in their home countries. What makes it harder
for these Arab medical students, of course, is the fact they must also study in
English. Understanding how English proficiency is involved in their motivation
to learn is the one factor that is of most relevance to their English instructors,
especially as related to the kinds of language support that can most facilitate
student progress.
The importance of English and the role of the instructor

General English ability is closely aligned with students’ success at AGU, and
students’ poor English level is a subject that frequently recurs in incidental
conversations with medical college professors, most of whose own first language
is not English. Nevertheless, it is assumed that English is the first language of
learning medicine, though it may not always be the only language used to
convey content. As one student remarked:
In this time the English is now the mother of the language in all the world.
And when you can speak English fluently you can live in anywhere – in
China, Russia, in America, in Arabian Gulf. And all the science, the good
science, like medical, engineering, computer science, almost (all) the
language of this science is by English.
Public-school graduates, particularly those who did not have the chance of a
foundation year to improve their English skills, consider their first-year experi-
ence to be mostly concerned with improving their English, especially as related
to their medical studies:
The most benefit for us, English in Year One. The most benefit [beneficial]
subject/yanni/[I mean] in Year One, the English, for us. Okay, biology, Year
Two you can repeat it and you can understand it. It’s okay, but English you
have to study hard in Year One. (Y3)
In particular, students praise the study of medical terminology:
You know the name of organ, name the process, name the tools or
instruments, what we used it in the surgical process or take biopsy or inves-
tigations. It’s very, very good, very helpful. (Y3)
Those students who completed a foundation year before being accepted to Year
One also recognised how much they owed to the programme:
We can understand everything. If we sit in the lecture, we can understand

the lecture. But if we just graduate from high school and we came here, we
will be, like: He talk about [what]? I don’t know, in the language I don’t
know (Y1)
This student had already taken a year in another college in Saudi Arabia, but
had not been accepted into medical school there because of his low grades,
which he attributed to his low proficiency in English. From this experience,
and because of his determination to do medicine even if it meant losing
another year, he said:
So I came here, to improve my English and also to be in a good college like

AGU. If they put me in first year when I had [the admission] exam I will
108 Diane Malcolm
choose to go to the foundation year. Because I know that, if it’s one year of
studying English it will be very helpful. That’s what happened. (Y1)
One of the criteria for admission to AGU is high school final scores. Students
with science and English averages below 95 per cent are not normally admitted.
However, grade inflation is prevalent in public schools, and a mark in the 90s in
the final exam in one GCC state does not necessarily equate to that in another
country. To illustrate the extent of unpreparedness, one student recounted his
experience when taking the admissions exam which I administer:
I [was] shocked when you stand up at that exam. You speak, you spoke
English, you said, ‘[Stop working] after 5 minutes.’ Even I couldn’t write my
name in English. I felt I am so stupid. (Y2)
It may be evident to most English teachers that a student with so little expe-
rience of English as a ‘real’ language rather than as a high school subject has
little chance of passing a first year of medical school crammed full of diffi-
cult lectures, readings, and exams that depend so heavily on comprehension
of the language. This is not such an uncommon situation in the Arab world,
however. Rabab’ah (2005: 182) states that in Arab universities students are
accepted into English departments ‘without taking into consideration their
proficiency level or whether or not they will be able to manage in a program
of English studies’. Our university is supported by the governments of five
different GCC countries, and a predetermined number of seats are assigned
to each. Although in theory students must meet the university criteria for
acceptance, in practice it is very difficult to reject candidates selected by their
country for a scholarship to study medicine, or to insist that they meet an
internationally recognised English standard before entry. Thus, before the
foundation programme was established, Year One English classes were likely
to contain students of widely divergent proficiency levels. In such a situation,
student motivation is put to the test, while teacher support is a key factor.
Student views of the English teacher

Faced with students whose English skills are so far below what is expected
by their medical college professors that failure is virtually inevitable, their
instructor may feel disheartened and dismissive of their needs. Nevertheless,
the effort to help those cast into these difficult waters is not unappreciated.
Over the years, I have dealt with many students who were initially almost
unable to say a word in English in my class and certainly understood very little.
Yet the strength of their drive to succeed and strong self-image, bolstered by
family expectations and their previous positive experiences as high achievers
can result in their overcoming the odds, through hard work, advice, and help
from more fluent or upper-year friends and relatives. Teacher encouragement
and support are also seen as an important source of motivation. As one of my

former students put it:
I think if you didn’t push me to learn, I wouldn’t be here. [The role of the
teacher is] not just to teach us, [but] to know, you know, [find out] what’s
our problem, what do we need from you [not] just to give us information [Or
to just] give the subject and go through the door. The relation between the
teacher and student is bigger than this. (Y3)
These students also have quite clear ideas about what is needed to improve
their English. Apart from learning medical terminology, these often relate to
improving their speaking skills:
I think the group discussion is a good way to learn. The best way. (Y2)
No, I think the best way to learn, it’s by presentation. (Y2)
Presentation for speaking just, and to break the shy[ness]. (Y2)
Yes, first you have to break the wall between you and English, then group
discussion, to improve your skills. (Y3)
Fluent speaking is often equated by these students with proficiency in English

and, as described above, they are often intimidated in lectures and in English
class by the fluency of international school graduates. Students who had
been in the intensive English foundation programme the previous year also
regretted the drop in fluency they experience in Year One, when more time is
spent in poring over textbooks and listening to difficult, information-dense
lectures than in interactive, communicative English enhancement activities:
Now, in Year One, I think our English, not the general part but speaking
part, it’s decreased, because sometimes when I want to talk or when I went
to talk with [my foundation] teacher, I find that it’s different than the last
year ... because I lost some skills. (Y1)
These students went on to discuss how their teacher’s actions affected their
motivation:
I think the teacher sometime give you some motivation ... when I attend
in [Teacher X’s] class [in the foundation year] I think I get some infor-
mation, but unfortunately I was with [Teacher Y] I’m sorry but what I
want said it, I remember she never get up from her chair. All the time she
was sit[ting] and start talking about his house and summer [holidays].
Okay but you didn’t ... teach us how we have to talk and how we learn the
grammar. (Y1)
110 Diane Malcolm
This student felt he had gained so little from the foundation classes that he
enrolled for private English tuition, at considerable expense, to coach him to
the required International English Language Testing System (IELTS) level for
admission to AGU Year One.
Other characteristics of teachers that these students criticise or praise
illustrate how importantly they view the teacher’s role. In their view, a poor
teacher is inactive, gives little information, has poor pronunciation or is a bad
speaker, expects students to learn the language on their own without guidance
and has little patience for student error or confusion. A good teacher is active
in the class, gives good, detailed explanations, is willing to repeat, and creates
an encouraging, unthreatening environment. Most importantly, the teacher
must push the student to learn, as one upper-year student advised:
Push them, because any student, he’s just come from Saudi Arabia, ‘okay,
open country, can do anything.’ And now he is alone, he can do anything.
But if the university [will] push them, give them more homework ... more
tests, and more book[s], I think they will get better. (Y3)
Summary of motivational factors
Studying in the GCC setting

The experience of these Arabic-speaking medical students studying through
the medium of English in, or near, their home countries, illustrates the many
challenges to their self-esteem and motivation they must face and overcome
in order to reach their goals. While students in the GCC setting have easier
access to family and friends than those studying in L1 English settings,
they may also be under greater pressure to succeed thanks to the constant
reminders of the high expectations placed on them, such as being called
‘doctor’ when they return to their home villages. Furthermore, students’ pride
in being accepted into a medical school is undermined by negative attitudes
to the university and its setting in their home countries, devaluing the degree
they are working toward, due to the society’s lack of acknowledgement or
understanding of the hard work involved in achieving it. One student stated
that he was offered free tuition at a private university in his home country
but refused because these schools ‘don’t teach as good as other universities[.
T]hey cheat, and there is bad things happen[ing] there’. Unfortunately, the
bad reputation of these money-making institutions may have tarnished the
image of more legitimate and established universities.
Changing image as a student

On a personal level, students must reconcile differences in their self-image,
from confident, top-of-the-class student in high school, to anxious, near-failing
student in Year One medical school. The negative vision of returning home as
a dropout (‘a loser’), and the problems this will create for their family, acts as
‘instrumental-preventive’ motivation. At this point the ‘dream’ of the ideal
self – the future doctor – may be the only spur that keeps the student on track.
As one student put it, ‘If you thought about if you be a doctor how you will feel
if you save one life ... this is what give you motivation, so stop thinking about
leave or something like that’. The necessity to work hard and ‘suffer’, reinforced
by their professors, is seen as a rite of passage for a medical student, and even a
source of pride. Anticipation of top marks in medical school becomes tempered
by the pressure of exams, lectures, and readings, and students lower their
expectations, hoping just to pass rather than being on the honour board.
Future selves as motivators

The vision of themselves as successful future doctors is for these medical
students very much intertwined with competence in English and, thus,
learning English has an ‘instrumental-promotion’ focus, related to the ‘ideal’
L2 self. Students are also sustained in their motivation by examples from their
families and the social setting of doctors who have studied abroad in English
L1 countries and, as such, are held in higher respect when they return. One
student put it like this: ‘When you go out and you return with good grade(s),
all the people will respect you, and the mind will change about you’.
Institutional policy
Students accepted into the university in spite of their low levels of proficiency
in English face an almost insurmountable challenge. While realistically these
students should be redirected to an English foundation programme, in reality,
as noted above, often government or university policies mandate direct entry.
In fact, at AGU this has been the policy until quite recently, meaning that the
English courses which are a required part of Year One had to accommodate
students of a wide proficiency range in the same class.
Finding ways to improve English proficiency

With the exception of students who have graduated from English-medium
international schools, all first-year students face an adjustment phase in which
they must find ways to deal with the English problem. One second-year student
described his initial reaction like this: ‘When I come here and I see everything
in English, I start hating this language’. He also admitted feeling depressed and
lonely at first, and in need of family support: ‘I every day call my mother on the
telephone and she [said], “You can do it, you can make it easier”’. With time, as
his understanding grew, and as he succeeded in passing his courses, his view of
English changed. He was heartened by comments of his relatives and friends:
‘They said that the English is ... the easiest language and the Arabs ... can learn
112 Diane Malcolm
fast any language, any other language’. As evidence for this, he stated that his
uncle had mastered German in six months in order to continue his studies in
Germany. By the time this student reached second year, the English problem
was largely overcome, and he took pride in being asked by one of the fluent
students for his lecture notes:
I feel like I improved in English because last night H. come to me. He said,
‘M. I want your pathology notes.’ I felt like proud, of myself because last year
I asked him to explain the meaning. I asked him about meanings and now
he wants notes, not meaning. (Y2)
Other students decide their best course of action is to drop out temporarily
and upgrade their language skills elsewhere before being readmitted to the
university, such as the student whose brother advised him to go to New
Zealand to avoid failing the year. For those who elect to stay, the required
English courses and the relationships built up in these classes with the
teachers and fellow students help to counter students’ feelings of confu-
sion, demotivation, and low self-esteem. Unlike lecture courses, English
classes are small, and constitute a non-threatening, supportive and acces-
sible learning setting. Importantly to students, they are also credit courses,
and good marks in English can help to improve students’ overall averages
as they struggle to pass the first year. Two guiding principles have helped
shape the content of AGU English courses over the years: accommodating
students’ interest in English for medical purposes and creating opportuni-
ties for English improvement for students of a wide range of proficiency
levels. To meet the first aim, course materials focus on the language of basic
sciences, and include a programmed study of medical terminology as well
as a number of assignments that require researching medical texts, dictio-
naries, and online resources for in-class oral and written presentations.
Less proficient students get additional support from the self-access centre,
staffed by a fluent speaker of Arabic and English who also directs discussion
sessions for fluency practice. Students are also encouraged to develop their
autonomy and English skills by organising and carrying out each semester
a self-directed project on an aspect of English they would like to improve.
These required out of class activities are included in the course evaluation, to
encourage students to expand their English learning efforts while appealing
to their desire to get marks for their work.
Conclusion
In many ways, the challenges faced by the Gulf Arab students I encounter
every day in my English for medical purposes classes are common to students
entering tertiary level education in other settings. Many have experienced
the highs of being a top student in high school, followed by plummeting

self-esteem and feeling unprepared, stupid, and voiceless in the new language
and new setting. In the difficult period of adjustment, the long-term dream of
becoming a medical professional helps to sustain these students’ motivation
while the day–to-day encouragement and advice of friends, relatives, experi-
enced others, and teachers buffer short-term blows to the ego. What is different
for these students, of course, is the need to upgrade their English language
competence rapidly, while handling all the personal and study challenges
of college-level studies. Administrative policy at AGU may stipulate English
competence as a requirement for admission but, as is the case in other regional
institutions, it is also subject to political and fiscal realities that bend these
requirements. In this situation, teachers also face motivational challenges in
providing the means to ‘push’ students who are often underprepared students
to maintain their study focus while upgrading their English language profi-
ciency as rapidly as possible.
The common practice of importing into the Gulf Arab countries Western
models for tertiary education has had many benefits in providing better
opportunities for its citizens as well as enhancing national prestige and setting
the groundwork for future progress and modernisation. At the same time,
mismatches between the regional culture and tradition, different primary
and secondary school practices and standards, and those expected in Western
academic institutions with similar aims often give rise to conflicting social
and personal expectations with consequent effects on motivation for both
students and instructors. Although enormous expense and effort are often
involved in setting up these programmes, to date little investigation has been
done of recurring problems and controversies that affect them, as well as of
the effects on individual participants. These issues include the following:
1. While it is generally accepted that English is the language of medicine, and

competence in the language a great benefit to students in the field, the
emphasis on its acquisition seems to cast the students’ native language of
Arabic into a subordinate role. To what extent does this undermine students’
self-concept and self-esteem, and what are the immediate and long-term
effects on their motivation?
2. One of the contentious issues at AGU has been the establishing of a foun-
dation year. Some feel scholarship students should be admitted directly to
first year and compete on the same footing, regardless of their English back-
ground. They argue students will forget their high school science and waste
their time and the government’s money if they do not take the year seriously.
Are there differences in motivation according to whether students enter a
114 Diane Malcolm
degree programme directly from high school, in spite of low English profi-
ciency, or after a year’s foundation in the language? How can teachers in a
foundation programme motivate their students to stay focused on passing
the language requirements when they must wait another year to start their
medical studies?
3. As noted in this chapter, in this academic setting students of very different
levels of language proficiency are placed in the same academic courses. What
are the mechanisms that allow students with low proficiency in English to
maintain their motivation when competing with more fluent students and
when facing failure?
4. Based on their previous experiences in the school setting, many Arab
students consider the teacher the giver of marks, and the process of
awarding marks as open to negotiation. On the other hand, their instruc-
tors view marks as something to be earned, and improvement, not inflated
grades, the measure of success. What teaching practices can help motivate
students to take on greater responsibility for their own learning, become
less teacher-dependent and develop their own ways to assess their language
gains?
5. Learners in this study noted the effect of their teachers, both in English
and science subjects, on their motivation. What part is played by teacher
attitudes toward, and involvement with, their students in enhancing or
detracting from their motivation to succeed in their academic studies and
future profession?
Appendix: Questions posed during focus group

interviews about motivation
1. What do you think of when I say motivation? What pushes you to do

something, such as becoming a good English speaker? Is there anything in
your background that motivated you to study medicine?
2. How important did you think it was to learn English before coming to this
university?
3. Did you notice a difference when you started to study in Year One (for
foundation students)? In what way was it different? How did you feel then?
4. Was there ever a time when you felt you wanted to leave and thought you
couldn’t do medicine? How did you keep yourself from leaving at that
point?
5. Do you think your family or friends had an influence on you or helped to
motivate you? How?
6. What was the biggest challenge you thought you would face when you came
here? What have been some of the challenges you had to face since you
came?

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7
Motivation and the Transition
to University
Lindy Woodrow
This chapter focuses on the motivational profiles of English for academic

purposes language learners in Australia. It has emerged from a research project
that examined a wide range of issues concerning the academic performance of
‘foundation college’ students in Australia (Woodrow et al., 2011). The chapter
focuses on motivation and how this changes over time for a cohort of inter-
national students during their foundation programme and through their first
year of undergraduate university study. Information was collected using ques-
tionnaires and interviews on three occasions: at the beginning of their foun-
dation course, after one semester of their undergraduate course and at the end
of their first year.
English for academic purposes learners are interesting to consider from
a motivational point of view because they are engaged in both academic
learning and English language learning. English has become the lingua
franca of academic communication and so plays a vital role in students’
lives. For these students, the academic content they are studying is deliv-
ered in English, they are learning English and they are living in an English-
speaking country. For this reason, theorising in motivation from both an
academic perspective and a language learning perspective may provide a
clearer picture of their motivational profiles. This chapter considers the
motivation of these students in terms of their goal orientations and whether
this changes over time. In the first instance, issues concerning international
students are discussed. This is followed by a description of the research
project, which tracked the motivation of the students over 18 months. This
period included the transition from the foundation college to university
setting, from a language learning/content-based instruction setting to a
solely academic setting. Finally, implications for addressing the needs of
international students are discussed.
Universities worldwide are seeing a much greater diversity in the student
population than previously. Universities want to represent the full spectrum
117
118 Lindy Woodrow
of society, while young people are choosing to have an international expe-

rience as part of their education. The focus of this chapter concerns issues
relating to international students studying at Western English-medium
universities. These universities have an ever-increasing demand for places
from international students. This moves the learning of English as a second
language into a significant position worldwide. The chapter addresses issues
concerning English for academic purposes in Australia; however, such issues
are applicable to a range of academic settings that provide tertiary education
in English to speakers of other languages.
Australia is a popular destination for students from neighbouring Asian
countries who wish to receive a Western university education. The majority
of international students come from China. A Western education is highly
valued in these countries for a number of reasons. In the first instance, it
is easier to enter an Australian university than the top-tier universities in
countries such as China. The competition for places in Chinese universities
is fierce. Second, Australian universities like to recruit international students
because they bring in much-needed capital through fees. A further reason is
concerned with migration. Many students come to Australia with the inten-
tion of acquiring a permanent residents’ visa, which has many benefits. Some
intend to settle in Australia permanently. Yang (2007) found that the three
top reasons for Chinese students choosing Australia as a study destination are:
the perceived higher quality of education, future migration opportunity and
lower cost of living and tuition fees than other Western countries.
There are a number of university entry pathways for international undergrad-
uate students. Potential students need to meet academic and language entry
requirements. The academic university entry requirements must be bench-
marked with Australian school qualifications. These include international
certificates such as an international baccalaureate. However, benchmarked
standards are not available for many school qualifications in the Asian Pacific
region. A foundation programme can overcome this difficulty, since students
can enter the college with their local school qualifications and, providing
they achieve the necessary grades in the foundation programme exit tests,
they are assured of a place on their chosen university course. English profi-
ciency university entry requirements can be satisfied in many ways. Typically,
students need to achieve 6.5 on the International English Language Testing
Service test (IELTS). However, Coley (1999), for example, found no fewer than
61 different types of English proficiency measures as being acceptable. One
pathway is through a foundation programme. The language entry require-
ments for a foundation programme are lower than the university requirements
as the students receive English instruction. Again the students need to achieve
an acceptable grade in the foundation programme’s exit test.
The term ‘foundation programme’ needs further clarification to situate the
research described in this chapter. This study investigated students from a
EAP and Transition to University in Australia 119
university-affiliated foundation college. This college has approximately 800

students enrolled at any one time. It provides programmes for international
undergraduate students intending to study at universities in Australia. Most of
the enrolled students intend to study at the affiliated university. The college
offers three programmes: 34 weeks, 40 weeks and 59 weeks. Eligibility for the
programmes depends upon the student’s academic and English proficiency
entry scores. The programme is full-time with around five hours of instruc-
tion per day. Students receive English for academic purposes (EAP) instruction
in the areas of humanities, science or the arts, depending on their chosen
field. They also receive instruction in a range of subjects broadly related to
their intended undergraduate fields of study. However, the curriculum is not
directly informed by the intended academic subjects the students will study.
The teachers in the foundation programme are recruited to teach English or
specific subjects. While there is some link with the academic departments
in the university the teachers are not university academics. The majority of
students (40 per cent) enrol on business and economics degrees, and the largest
national group is from China.
The foundation type of programme is becoming more common as a
preferred method of pre-sessional training English language training
preceding academic courses for international undergraduate students both
within Australia and offshore. There is evidence that international students
who study on this type of programme are more likely to succeed academi-
cally than other international students (Wilson et al., 2008). Much attention
in the research literature has focussed on the primacy of English language
proficiency (Kerstjens & Nery, 2000; Woodrow, 2006). It is argued that while
adequate English proficiency is essential for academic success at university,
other factors play a part (Storch & Hill, 2008). This study addresses the issue
of motivation in light of university adaptation of a cohort of foundation
programme students as they progress from their pre-sessional course to the
end of their first year of undergraduate studies. These students are studying
in an ESL environment and come from neighbouring countries. When
considering language learning motivation, the majority of research focuses
on issues which may not be relevant to this group of language learners.
The obvious goal of this foundation college group is to successfully gain a
degree taught in English at a particular Australian university. This suggests
that issues concerning identification with the target language group in soci-
etal terms, an area central to much research in L2 motivation, may not be
salient. Previous research in language learning motivation has focussed on
goal orientations informed by cultural and linguistic factors. In the case of
pre-sessional EAP, these may not be sufficient. Two types of motivational
goals may be reflected in such learners’ profiles: that of language learning
and that of academic learning. Language learning motivation and main-
stream academic motivation have followed different research tracks and are
120 Lindy Woodrow
rarely considered together. This study adopts the conceptualisation of goals

based on self-determination theory. This conceptualisation has been applied
in both language and academic studies. It also uses goal-orientation theory
used in school education.
The majority of studies into English language learning motivation have
been conducted in either bilingual language environments such as Canada
or foreign language environments such as Europe and Asia, and much of this
research focuses on the social goals of language learners. Little research has
focussed on the large group of English language learners who elect to study in
English at universities in English-speaking countries. These learners have both
language and academic goals. Arguably, for this group of language learners,
motivation is very specific and cannot be accounted for by the previously
mentioned type of studies. These learners also have academic goals.
To investigate the motivation of foundation students, five types of moti-
vational goals were considered. These reflect theorising in language learning
and education. One important issue in motivational goals is the extent to
which they are internally or externally driven. In Deci and Ryan’s (1985)
self-determination theory, these are conceptualised as intrinsic and extrinsic
goals. An intrinsic goal orientation reflects engagement with a task based on
interest or pleasure gained from the task. An extrinsic goal orientation reflects
engagement with a task based on a desire to achieve a particular outcome. This
conceptualisation of goals has been applied in language learning by Noels and
colleagues (Noels et al., 2003).
While studies in academic motivation have also used intrinsic and extrinsic
goals, goal-orientation theory studies focus on slightly different learning
goals. Originally proposed by Ames (1992), the conceptualisation of goals
focuses on mastery goals and performance goals. Mastery goals (also known
as task and learning goals) are internal orientations very similar to intrinsic
goals. These goals reflect an interest in learning and pleasure derived from
academic tasks. Performance goals (also known as ego or ability goals) reflect
orientations to outperform others and to display knowledge. These orienta-
tions are self-referent and are classified as being approach or avoid. A perfor-
mance approach goal reflects a desire to be the best in the class and to gain
respect from teachers, whereas a performance avoid goal reflects a goal to
avoid looking stupid or incompetent (Midgley, 2002). Current research into
goal orientations indicates that individuals can hold multiple goals (Pintrich,
2000) rather than holding a mastery goal or a performance goal.
The study
Until recently the predominant approach to research in language learning

has been quantitative and cross-sectional. Typically a questionnaire is filled
out on one occasion. This instrument captures a static description of an

individual’s motivation. However, such methods fail to capture changes in
motivation over time and situation. The transition from school to univer-
sity is a time of great change for students, so a longitudinal research design
seemed more applicable for this study. The participants in this study face
changes in their lives, both in terms of transition from one level of educa-
tion to another, and also in terms of cultural adaptation moving from one
culture to another. The participants in this study come from different educa-
tional backgrounds that emphasise different skills and values. For example,
in an Australian educational setting, the emphasis is on developing critical
ability; whereas, in many Asian educational settings, the emphasis is on the
transmission and reproduction of knowledge (Ballard & Clanchy, 1997).
Therefore, transition to university presents new international undergraduates
with many challenges. To attempt to capture these changes as students move
from a foundation college programme to university, a longitudinal study was
conducted. Data were collected on three occasions through questionnaires
and semi-structured interviews. The first round of data was collected while
the participants were still at the foundation college; the second round was
collected at the end of the first semester. This was approximately six months
into their undergraduate study. The third round was collected at the end of
their second semester, which was approximately 12 months into their under-
graduate study.
The study reflected a range of variables considered important in academic
adaptation: self-efficacy, perceived difficulty, values, motivation, self-regulation,
academic performance and English performance. This chapter is concerned
with motivation in relation to adaptation to university. The questionnaire to
measure motivation orientation used a five-point Likert scale (1 = not at all true
of me; 5 = totally true of me) and included questions about goal orientations
from an academic and language learning perspective:
1 I want to learn new things (intrinsic/mastery).

2 I want my parents to be proud of me (extrinsic).
3 I want my teachers to think I am successful (performance approach).
4 I want to avoid failing (performance avoid).
5 I want to contribute to my country’s development (extrinsic).
6 I want to get a good job (extrinsic).
7 I want to be the best student in the class (performance approach).
8 I feel good when I am using English (intrinsic).
9 I feel good when I do well in my studies (intrinsic/mastery).
10 I feel good when I master something very difficult (intrinsic/mastery).
11 I feel guilty if I do not do well (performance avoid).
(alpha reliability: phase 1 = 0.83; phase 2 =0.88; phase 3 = 0.84)
122 Lindy Woodrow
In phase one at the foundation college the questionnaire was given to

students during regular class time. There were 341 participants (M = 158;
F = 179; missing = 4). In phase two and three, questionnaires were sent elec-
tronically to the students. Understandably, the response rate was much lower
because the students had dispersed upon completing their foundation courses.
In phase two 99 (M = 36; F = 63) of the original cohort responded, and in phase
three 91 (M = 37; F = 54) of the original cohort responded. The nationalities of
the participants were divided into four main categories. In the Chinese cate-
gory students from China, Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan and Singapore were
included. In the Asian category students from Korea, Thailand, Cambodia,
Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines and Japan were included. Middle Eastern
participants included students from Iran and Saudi Arabia, while the European
category included students with British nationality and Turkish students.
Table 7.1 shows nationalities of the participants.
After each questionnaire a number of students took part in interviews to
investigate more deeply issues of motivation. In phase one, 14 participants
were interviewed; in phase two, 27 participants were interviewed and in phase
three 23 participants were interviewed.
The data from the questionnaire was analysed using SPSS computer software.
In the first instance descriptive statistics were computed for each data-collection
round. Table 7.2 presents the descriptive statistics for this data. The results indi-
cate that there were differences in the means over the three rounds of data
collection with the scores generally going down.
To examine the changes in motivation more closely, the variables were
compared over the three phases. In the first instance data collected during the
phase-one foundation programme were compared to that collected in phase
two during the first semester at university. There were 99 matched participant
pairs. The questionnaire data was analysed for significant differences (p < 0.05)
using paired sample t-tests. To indicate the strength of the relationship between
the variables, effect sizes were calculated using eta squared. These are inter-
preted as 0.01 (small effect), 0.06 (medium effect) and 0.13 (large effect). The
analysis indicated significant differences between phase one and phase two
in terms of reported motivation orientations The results showed motivation
orientations were lower at university than at the foundation programme. Two
Table 7.1 Nationality of participants
Nationality Phase 1 Phase 2 Phase 3
Chinese 275 79 63
Asian 42 14 19
Middle East 15 3 6
European 4 2 2
Table 7.2 Descriptive statistics for questionnaire items
Item Phase 1 Phase 2 Phase 3
M SD M SD M SD
1 Learn new things 4.38 0.80 4.14 0.83 3.80 0.96
2 Parents proud 4.54 0.75 4.38 0.83 4.09 1.00
3 Teachers think successful 4.06 0.98 3.89 1.02 3.69 1.08
4 Avoid failing 4.43 0.91 4.38 0.81 4.09 0.94
5 Contribute country 3.81 1.02 3.67 1.08 3.61 1.04
6 Get a good job 4.70 1.20 4.50 0.80 4.28 0.86
7 Best student 3.70 1.20 3.47 1.19 3.28 1.14
8 Feel good using English 3.70 0.93 3.64 1.08 3.56 1.06
9 I feel good do well 4.53 0.77 4.34 0.80 4.22 0.861
10 I feel good master difficult 4.32 0.92 4.48 0.86 4.15 0.86
11 Feel guilty not do well 3.88 1.08 3.76 1.03 3.94 0.96
of the significant differences were with the intrinsic variable about learning
new things (t = 2.67, p < 0.05) showing a medium effect (eta squared = 0.06);
and the extrinsic variable referring to getting a good job (t = 2.149, p < 0.05)
showing a medium effect (eta squared = 0.05). There were also some variables
that indicated a moderate effect, however, the significance level did not quite
reach p < 0.05. These were extrinsic orientation of making parents feel proud
(eta = 0.04) and the intrinsic orientation of feeling good when performing well
(eta = 0.04).
A further t-test analysis was run comparing the data from phase two during
semester one of university and phase three at the end of semester two at
university (54 matched participant pairs). The results showed motivation
orientations were lower at the end of the first year at university than during
the first semester. The repeated measures t-tests indicated that three of the
motivation variables showed significant differences between phase two and
phase three. These were the intrinsic orientation to learn new things (t = 3.11,
p = < 0.05) showing a large effect (eta squared = 0.15); the extrinsic orienta-
tion of making parents proud (t = 2.08, p < 0.05) showing a medium effect (eta
squared = 0.07); and the extrinsic motivation of getting a good job (t = 2.15,
p < 0.05) showing a medium effect (eta squared = 0.08). The variable referring
to the intrinsic orientation of feeling good when mastering something diffi-
cult approached significance (t = 1.88, p < 0.05) showing a medium effect (eta
squared = 0.06).
The analysis clearly indicated that motivation dipped over the span of the
research. This unmistakably outlines the need for further support for such
students at both the pre-sessional and in-sessional level.
The questionnaire was followed up with interviews to provide more in-depth
insights into the motivation orientations and the adaptation of the participants
124 Lindy Woodrow
Table 7.3 Coding analysis of interview data
Motivation Intrinsic Extrinsic Perform approach Perform avoid
Phase 1
Strong 6 11 13 1
Weak 8 3 1 13
Total 14 14 14 14
Phase 2
Strong 21 18 17 7
Weak 6 9 10 20
Total 27 27 27 27
Phase 3
Strong 15 12 19 3
Weak 8 11 4 20
Total 23 23 23 23
to academic life. Semi-structured interviews were held on three occasions

during the 18-month period. The participants talked about their experiences
and aspirations during their studies. They talked about how they adapted to
university, the problems they encountered and how they felt during the period
in question. The interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed. The tran-
scriptions were coded in the first instance according to the variables in the
study. In this chapter the focus is on motivation. Table 7.3 presents the coding
analysis of participant responses.
In phase one (foundation college) the data showed an overall strong
motivation among students with a weighting towards extrinsic and perfor-
mance approach goals. In phase two (semester one) the respondents showed
high levels of intrinsic motivation indicating a developing interest in their
academic studies. In phase three (semester two) the participants reported high
levels of performance approach goals. This perhaps reflected a concern with
academic assessments. The following section considers each phase in more
detail.
During the phase-one interviews the participants talked about their hopes
and aspirations at university. In general, the students were all optimistic, confi-
dent and looking forward to their studies. The motivators they reported were
extrinsic, mostly linked to pleasing parents and the ultimate goal of getting a
good job:
I want to do better than my parents’ generation, have a nice job and get a
money and also I think that success is important because my life is only
once so maybe I can live better when I succeed. (Yong)
The reference to parents was constant throughout the three data-collection

sessions. Some of the participants felt pressure to perform well because their
parents had invested a great deal of money to enable them to be educated
in Australia. This was particularly true of the Chinese participants, who
often came from one-child families. Their parents were very proud of their
achievements and the students were motivated by this:
My parents spent a lot of money to let me study here and so I have to make
them proud. (Jane)
I’m the only child so I have to do good to make them proud of me ... and
they have sacrifices a lot of happiness of being with me, sacrificed a lot of
please and things. (Wang)
In my country they expected me to come with a certificate, with a good
mark, so that’s what keeps me try harder because I feel it’s not only for me
it’s for my parents as well. (Hamid)
Some of the participants referred to a feeling of a perceived temporary easing

of academic pressure at the foundation college. They indicated that getting
into university had demanded a lot of effort, and they expected the university
course to be very demanding, but at the foundation college they could relax
somewhat:
Because I have been very hard-working in the past year and very high
pressure, now I want to relax a bit. (Lin)
Yeah, actually after I come to Australia I feel more comfortable to
start ... ah. My home country there is too much push, push you. (Chen)
In the phase-two interviews the students seemed to be more strongly

intrinsically motivated in comparison to phase one. This contrasts with the
findings from the questionnaire and could be accounted for by self-selection.
Perhaps the students who volunteered to take part in the interviews were
more motivated generally.
I am quite enthusiastic when learning new things. I’m quite happy to get
to know more that’s all new. (Harry)
Wei reported an intrinsic drive despite the perceived negative consequences.

He clearly believed that his way would result in lower grades:
Some students just copy from other students material but I just did it on
my own and even though I didn’t get a really high mark, but it’s not low as
well. (Wei)
126 Lindy Woodrow
In phase two the participants seemed to have had lost their optimism and
were struggling to adapt to their new academic situation. They reported that
while the foundation course had prepared them well they were surprised by
the impersonal nature of university courses and the size of the classes. Many
had expected to make friends with local students but this did not happen.
They found the discussions in tutorial session particularly challenging:
It was not as easy as I thought. I was frustrated at the beginning. I hardly

understood the lectures. I am doing an Arts degree. The four units I enrolled
last semester are Anthropology, Sociology, Psychology and Economics.
What I found difficult is the English. It is hard to catch the words after
listening. Another difficulty are the concepts, especially in Sociology and
Anthropology. I was quite afraid in the tutorials, because students are all
from different countries, and speak fluent English. However, my English is
not very good. I communicated with them but not good at it. The interac-
tion was limited to greetings only, so I was not able to make friends with
them ... at the University, we had classes once a week, and I only met class-
mates for one hour. Unless I approached them very actively, it was hard to
make friends with them. (Ng)
From an extrinsic perspective the participants seemed concerned with their

grades. The foundation college grades did not seem to be in alignment with the
university grades, so some of the participants felt disillusioned because they
received low grades on their assignments:
I just keep gradually lower marks from what I have been expecting. Maybe
after one month during the exam I get quite high and I have an interest or
enthusiasm to keep studying but if I just like, what I thought, I get very low
mark and then I’m quite not happy. It just quite boring. (Xin)
Some referred to grades in light of the expectations of their parents:
Every weekend I tell them (parents) about my study, but to be frank for the
low marks I never tell then. I never tell my parents I just tell them about the
high marks. (Thuy)
In phase three the participants reported that the work was getting harder as
their courses progressed. Some participants had lapsed into a state of unmoti-
vated procrastination:
I’m not studying hard enough. Not hard enough this semester. I’m trying. I
failed at many things and I’m falling behind the level they teach ... I return
home I just play the guitar and then some stuff ... but after two or three week
you have do nothing and then you realise that you need to do something
and then you start doing the revision then you found that there’s a loss of
things. (Shirley)
If I don’t catch up with the work then I’ll just fall behind and I’ll be in big
trouble when it comes to the exam. So that’s kind of what motivates me as
an international. (Harry)
Other motivators showed up in the data with students thinking ahead to

winning scholarships or student exchanges:
I’ve applied for the exchange to America. I need to work hard in this year’s
subjects to get a good result in order to go to America. (Sophie)
Significant others emerged as a source of motivation, or even demotivation,

for some:
I met many students who are really passionate for their studying ... I’m the
kind of person who around me are very passionate then I’m going to be
passionate as well. (Nan)
She (his girlfriend) does help a lot. If I don’t work hard then she will feel
disappointed in me. Something like that. (He)
In terms of a lack of motivation:
I don’t feel passionate ... I have one friend from the same country she is the
same as me she is not really motivated she got into pharmacy because her
parents wanted her to do something like medical and stuff ... for most of the
students in pharmacy, it’s like that. (Tran)
Clearly from the data the participants held multiple goals, and over the
18-month period their goals and enthusiasm changed. However, all but one of
the participants passed all their courses and all adapted to their academic lives.
There were no failures and no dropouts from this group.
Theoretical and research implications of the study
Despite the large number of international students at Western universities and

the status of English as lingua franca of academic communication, there is
relatively little published research into this group of English learners/users.
The majority of Western universities have an increasing number of interna-
tional students. In Australia, international university students come from
128 Lindy Woodrow
neighbouring Asian countries, with the majority from China. Once these
students have achieved entry into university, many stop formal English
learning. Their language learning activity may be restricted to looking up
unknown vocabulary. However, they have not achieved native-speaker compe-
tence in English. As such, this group does not sit entirely within the language
learning motivational theoretical framework. By considering theorising from
educational psychology it may be possible to capture issues of learning faced
by this large and important group.
There are many obstacles for new undergraduate students when they start
university. However, in the case of international students this is greatly inten-
sified because they are not confident in English. Gu et al. (2010) refer to
learning shock which reflects the emotional strain and the social, cognitive
and affective problems international students face. The evidence in this study
focussed on two shifts in learning environment: that from studying in the
student’s home country to foundation college, then the shift from the foun-
dation college to the undergraduate course at university. The major academic
shifts may be accounted for by Ballard and Clanchy’s (1997) analysis of inter-
national students studying in Australia. They classified the teaching and
learning situation in Asian countries as being ‘reproductive’, with excellence
being represented by a recall of information as measured by formal exami-
nations. Students are not expected to question knowledge or the teacher. In
Western educational systems the emphasis is on developing critical skills, and
asking questions is a very important part of this. While the foundation college
courses focussed on academic reading and writing, there was evidence that the
students had problems with oral communication in tutorial settings in which
academic discussion is the main focus.
One significant result of this study is the support for motivation as a dynamic
construct. The study indicates fluctuations in motivation over the 18-month
period and shifts in the academic and social concerns of the participants. The
study shows that motivation is the drive behind academic engagement, and
this study confirms the view that motivation is dynamic in nature (Dörnyei
and Ushioda, 2011). There is a need for further research in this area to consider
in more depth the situated nature of motivation as influenced by contextual
factors. In this study, social influence emerged as a motivator, with reference
to parents and significant others. Parental influence on academic outcomes at
a university level is under-researched. This may be because Western students
are less likely to perceive parental pressure as a factor in their lives. However,
the majority of the respondents in this study came from Confucian heritage
cultures. One of the central tenets of Confucianism is filial piety whereby chil-
dren have an obligation to their parents. In the case of the current cohort
this was made more salient because the students were mostly funded by
their parents and so felt a strong obligation to succeed. It should be noted,

though, that the perception of parental pressure or influence can be perceived
as positive or negative (Woodrow, 2011). Since parents play such an impor-
tant role in international students’ lives, it is an area that would benefit from
further investigation.
This study measured five types of goal orientations. Intrinsic and extrinsic
goals have received some attention in the research literature, but the applica-
tion of mastery and performance goals is not widespread in language learning.
This study showed that such a conceptualisation is of value when examining
the motivation of international university students.
Practical implications of the study
The discussion of the practical implications emerging from this study focuses on
providing and maintaining a motivating experience for international students
at English-speaking universities. From a general academic perspective, students
are more likely to be motivated if they are presented with manageable but
challenging tasks and when they have control over the learning tasks (Schunk
et al., 2008). In the pre-sessional classroom this lends support to the notion of
scaffolding techniques whereby an individual learner is supported by teachers
and peers to achieve a challenging task. Support is gradually removed until
the student can complete the task alone. A sense of control may be achieved
by individual and group project work which develops a sense of pride on the
part of the student.
In the case of pre-sessional EAP students, perceived relevance is a moti-
vating force. The foundation students in this study were most comfortable
in their university classes when they had received some background instruc-
tion in the subject area, and were least comfortable when they enrolled in
a new academic unit with content outside their existing knowledge. This
suggests that the foundation programme should have a closer alignment
with the university programmes. In order to achieve this, a closer relation-
ship between the subject academics at university and pre-sessional students
via the pre-sessional institution would be beneficial. This could take the
form of attending lectures or of specific content-related reading and writing
tasks.
In this project the participants lost optimism and motivation when they
made the transition from the foundation college to university. This they attrib-
uted to unfamiliarity with the expectations of the undergraduate academic
experience. In the first instance they found the delivery of the courses
unfamiliar. They were required to take part in large impersonal lectures and
then to participate in tutorials. To help pre-sessional students it should be
130 Lindy Woodrow
possible to provide authentic academic experiences which could reflect the

lecture and the tutorial methods of course delivery. In the second instance the
grades in the pre-sessional course were not closely aligned with the univer-
sity grading system. The university grades were much tougher. While it is
acknowledged that it may not always be possible or desirable to change a
marking scheme within a language school, it should be possible to have some
tasks that accurately reflect university level grades.
The fluctuation of motivation and the reports of the experiences of this
group of students suggest that there is a need for continued support of inter-
national students. Pre-sessional courses tend to focus on the goal of achieving
English proficiency entry requirements of the university. Often, there may be
relatively little focus on the students’ future needs at university. The current
study suggests that ongoing support at least throughout the first year of
undergraduate studies would be beneficial. This support could take the form
of traditional in-sessional language and academic support provided by the
university or the setting up of a formalised peer mentoring system whereby
new students are partnered with experienced students who guide them
through the first-year experience. The results of this study point to the impor-
tance of social support and significant others. A peer mentoring programme
could contribute toward a satisfying academic experience in this regard.
In addition to this, attention should be paid to the grouping of students in
academic classes to develop social relationships. The use of out-of-class tasks
can also facilitate relationships.
The implications of this study centre on the dual focus of motivation for
language learning and motivation for academic study. Both pre-sessional
institutions and universities have the responsibility to develop and maintain
student motivation. To do this English teachers need to establish a closer link
between language learning activities and content learning activities and tasks
that are on university academic courses. How such a synergy may be actual-
ised is the focus of the engagement points below:
1. How can perspectives in academic motivation inform EAP practices?

2. How can pre-sessional EAP courses and universities collaborate to provide
more motivating academic training?
3. What are the benefits of peer mentoring for international students?
4. How do you think such a programme might be organised and monitored?
5. What are the major issues in group work that can influence motivation and
learning? What are the advantages and disadvantages of mixing local and
international students?

Schunk, D. H., Pintrich, P. R. and Meece, J. L. (2008). Motivation in Education: Theory,
Research and Applications (Third Edition). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson.
This book provides an excellent overview of motivation in educational settings. It is
particularly good in its consideration of the classroom implications of various moti-
vational constructs. Chapter 5 contains an overview of mastery and performance goal
orientations.
Woodrow, L. J. (2012). Three perspectives on goal orientations. In S. Mercer, S. Ryan and
Practice. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.
This chapter provides an overview of three conceptualisations of goal orientations: inte-
grative and instrumental; intrinsic and extrinsic; and mastery and performance goals in
English language learning.
Ballard, B. and Clanchy, J. (1997). Teaching International Students: A Brief Guide for
Lecturers and Supervisors. Deakin, ACT: IDP Education Australia.
This short book is informed by research conducted in Australia. It considers the
problems of adaptation faced by international students and offers some suggestions for
how lecturers can help.
References
Ames, C. (1992). Classrooms: Goals and structures and student motivation. Journal of
Educational Psychology, 84(3): 261–71.
Ballard, B. and Clanchy, J. (1997). Teaching International Students: A Brief Guide for
Lecturers and Supervisors. Deakin: Education Australia.
Coley, M. (1999). The English entry requirements of Australian universities for students
of non English speaking background. Higher Education Research and Development,
18(1): 7–17.
Deci, E. L. and Ryan, R. M. (1985). Intrinsic Motivation and Self-determination in Human
Behavior. New York: Plenum.
Harlow: Pearson.
Gu, Q., Schweisfurth, M. and Day, C. (2010). Learning and growing in a foreign context:
intercultural experiences of international students. Compare, 40(1): 7–23.
Kerstjens, M. and Nery, C. (2000). Predictive validity in the IELTS test: a study of the
relationship between IELTS and students’ subsequent academic performance. IELTS
Research Reports, 3: 85–108.
Midgley, C. M. (ed.) (2002). Goals, Goal Structures and Patterns of Adaptive Learning.
Noels, K., Pelletier, L. C., Clement, R. and Vallerand, R. (2003). Why are you learning a
second language? motivational orientations and self-determination theory. Language
Learning, 53(S1): 33–64.
Pintrich, P. R. (2000). Multiple goals, multiple pathways: the role of goal orientation in
learning and achievement. Journal of Educational Psychology, 92(3): 544–55.
Schunk, D. H., Pintrich, P. R. and Meece, J. L. (2008) Motivation in Education: Theory,
Research and Applications (Third Edition). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson.
132 Lindy Woodrow
Storch, N. and Hill, K. (2008). What happens to international students’ English after one
semester at university? Australian Review of Applied Linguistics, 31(1): 1–17.
Wilson, R., Hughes, J. and Anditomo, N. (2008). USPF Tracer Study Final Report. Sydney:
University of Sydney.
Woodrow, L. (2006). Academic success of international postgraduate education students
and the role of English proficiency. University of Sydney Papers on TESOL, 1: 51–70.
Woodrow, L. (2011). College English writing affect: self-efficacy and anxiety. System,
39(4): 510–22.
Woodrow, L., Hirsh, D. and Phakiti, A. (2011). Academic Performance of ESL Graduates
from USFP. Sydney: University of Sydney.
Yang, M. (2007). What attracts mainland Chinese students to Australian higher
education. Studies in Learning, Evaluation, Innovation and Development, 4(2): 1–12.
8
Digital Games and ELT: Bridging
the Authenticity Gap
Alastair Henry
Introduction
In this chapter I will suggest that in cultural contexts such as Sweden, where
English is an integral part of young people’s everyday lives and is encountered
and used in a range of out-of-school domains, a particular challenge facing
teachers is not so much generating motivation to succeed in long-term compe-
tency goals, but rather engaging students in day-to-day classroom activities.
Based on the idea that self-authenticity can have a motivating force (Gecas,
1991; Vannini, 2006; Vannini & Burgess, 2009) and drawing on James Paul
Gee’s recent work on affinity spaces (Gee, 2005; Hayes & Gee, 2010), I will
argue that teachers of English need to create learning opportunities whereby
students can experience the types of creative and self-relevant interaction
commonplace in digital gaming. This does not mean that teachers should look
to leisure-time domains with an eye to the wholesale import of youth culture
content into the classroom but, rather, that greater scope should be given to
aesthetic and personal expression in activity design. In arguing that there is
a growing authenticity gap between the English that students learn in school
and the English they use outside, I will begin the chapter by looking at the
sorts of things young people in Sweden do in their free time.
English inside and outside of school
From having been essentially just a school subject only a couple of decades
ago, English is now an integral part of the everyday lives of young people
in Sweden, particularly those who are frequent Internet users and digital
game players (Sundqvist & Sylvén, 2012). This shift in students’ encoun-
ters with English has serious implications for teaching, not least in terms
of motivation. In an alarming evaluation of the state of secondary school
English teaching in Sweden, the Swedish Schools Inspectorate (2011) identify
133
134 Alastair Henry
two entirely different cultures in which English is encountered – one in

school and one out of school – with very few crossovers between the two.
Echoing the view of Simensen (2010: 482), who contends that the currently
‘most pressing question from an educational point of view is the discrep-
ancy between the language pupils are exposed to in the media and society in
general, and the language they meet in the educational system’, the Schools
Inspectorate concludes that building bridges between these two cultures is of
the utmost importance.
The discrepancy between in- and out-of-school encounters with English has
real effects on classroom motivation and is something teachers are increas-
ingly confronting in their professional practice. In observations of nearly
300 lessons, as well as analyses of extensive interview and questionnaire data,
the Swedish Schools Inspectorate (2011) found that, for some students, English
lessons have little to offer in developing language competence and, instead,
provide a welcome opportunity during the school day to relax and switch
off. The nature of this disengagement is neatly summed up by one practising
teacher’s recent reflection on the motivational challenges she now encounters
in her daily work:
As a teacher, I often feel stunned by the miracle of learning; 12-year-old

pupils arrive to lesson one in a French course with almost no prior knowledge
of the language at all and then, after a few months, they are able to under-
stand texts and to communicate with others to some extent. Sometimes I
wonder how it happened. Since most pupils come across very little French
outside of school, I conclude that the pupils learn the greatest part of the
French they know at school and at home, doing homework.
Teaching English is different since the pupils have studied the language
for several years when I meet them, at the age of 13–16, and since they are
surrounded by English outside of school, watching TV, listening to music
or playing computer games, for instance. The miracle of learning that I
experience when teaching English is of a different kind; sometimes I am
amazed by the fluency and range of vocabulary some pupils demonstrate
when they leave school at the age of 16. The two hours of English provided
by school every week could hardly explain the level of some pupils’ profi-
ciency; it seems likely that they have also benefitted from contacts with
the language outside of school. This group of pupils sometimes seems
slightly bored at school; it is not always easy to create challenging English
lessons on different levels at the same time. (Olsson, 2011: 1)
That students learn lots of English outside the classroom is by no means a new
phenomenon. Ten years ago, in a national evaluation of Swedish secondary
Digital Games and ELT in Sweden 135
school education (National Agency for Education, 2004), more than 50 per
cent of students reported that they learned as much if not more English outside
of the classroom. At the same time, along with maths and Swedish, English
was rated as one of the most important subjects in school. Students reported
a pleasant classroom environment and, along with music, physical education,
home economics and crafts, English was rated as one of the most enjoyable
subjects. While the picture painted by the national evaluation is undoubtedly
a positive one, there are perhaps early indications even here that students are
beginning to take a rather relaxed approach to learning English in school. Its
ranking in terms of interest and enjoyment alongside other less demanding
and academically more peripheral subjects may be an indicator, as identified
by Olsson (2011) and the Schools Inspectorate (2011), that students’ growing
confidence in their ability to learn English in their free time means that, most
of the time, it is fine just to coast along in class.
So where might this rather laid-back approach to classroom work stem from?
What sorts of things are students doing in their free time that lead them to
believe they can learn more English outside school and can afford to sit back
and take it easy in class?
It is quite apparent that in the last 10 years the types of things young people
do in English have changed radically. Even though English-language interac-
tive games such as Sim City, Doom and Warcraft have been around since the
beginning of the 1990s, it was not until the mid-2000s with the increase of
affordable PC ownership and high-speed Internet connections, and advances
in graphic design in games such as The Sims (2000), World of Warcraft (2004)
and Counter-Strike (1999), that gaming lost its ‘nerdish’ tag and became a main-
stream activity for young people of both sexes. As we will see, digital gaming
(both role-playing and casual gaming) is today the most common leisure-time
activity among young people in Sweden.
Digital gaming
Quite a lot is known about the leisure-time activities of young people in

Sweden. Since 2005 the National Media Council (Mediarådet) has regularly
produced data on the population’s media use. As the most recent report clearly
shows, the biggest change in young people’s leisure-time activities over the
past five years has been the shift away from watching TV and DVDs, playing
console-based offline digital games and hanging out with friends in real time,
to online PC-based digital game playing and social networking via PCs and
mobile phones. While social networking – via, for example, Facebook and
MSN – takes place almost exclusively in Swedish, online and offline computer
and console-based gaming is done entirely in English. Before looking at the
136 Alastair Henry
types of digital games young people most commonly play, I will first look
more closely at some of the trends in young people’s media use and free-time
activities in recent years (Swedish Media Council, 2005; 2006; 2010).
t In 2005 38 per cent of 9–16 year-olds had a computer in their bedroom. In

2010 this figure had increased to 61 per cent. This can be compared to TVs
in bedrooms, which in both 2005 and 2010 was 55 per cent.
t Face-to-face after-school contact with friends has declined dramatically
over the period. In 2006 74 per cent of 9–16 year-olds reported that this was
a common activity. In 2008 this had decreased to 64 per cent, and in 2010
to just 58 per cent.
t Across the period, after-school Internet use has increased. In 2006
49 per cent reported Internet use as a common activity. In 2010 the corre-
sponding figure had risen to 59 per cent.
t Watching TV and reading books have both decreased substantially in recent
years. While in 2006 56 per cent of 9–16 year-olds reported watching TV as
a common after-school activity, only 47 per cent did so in 2010. For reading
books and magazines the number of students reporting it as a common
after-school activity fell from 30 per cent in 2006 to just 19 per cent in
2010.
t In 2010 24 per cent of boys were frequent users (more than 3 hours per day)
of computer/TV games; 24 per cent of girls were frequent users of mobile
phones.
t The most common Internet activities reported in 2010 were watching film
clips (72 per cent) and playing online games (64 per cent).
t Gender differences in all areas of media use have diminished over the
period.
It is evident, then, that rapid changes have been taking place in young
people’s recreational habits and patterns of socialising. While the total
amount of time spent in English-language environments might not have
changed quantitatively (children and young people have been watching
United States-produced TV programmes with Swedish subtitles and listening
to English language music for years),1 the sorts of things that they do in these
environments has changed a lot. Today, digital gaming not only provides
the greatest exposure to English, but also the most intense experiences.
Digital gaming is not just a pleasant way to pass the time, like watching TV
and DVDs. It offers more than this. Players interact intensively both with
other players and the game itself. As critical linguist and professor of peda-
gogy James Paul Gee explains, when playing well-designed digital games
‘players feel a real sense of agency, ownership, and control. It’s their game’
(Gee, 2008: 318).
The four most popular digital games played by young people aged 12–16 in
Sweden, all of which are English-language mediated, are Counter-Strike (CS),
which 18 per cent of young people report playing regularly; World of Warcraft
(WoW), 13 per cent; Call of Duty 2 – Modern Warfare (CoD), 10 per cent; and
The Sims 3, 7 per cent (Swedish Media Council 2010). In addition, 9 per cent of
young people report playing generic so-called ‘casual’ online games. Each of
the big four games has its own particular characteristics.
Counter-Strike is an online FPS (First Person Shooter) game played either with
opponents via the Internet or, commonly in Sweden, in specially designed
local area networks at so-called ‘LAN meets’. Players are assigned to two
teams – one comprised of terrorists and the other of special forces – who
fight against each other in a range of different environments.
Call of Duty is another online FPS where the action takes place in either
contemporary or WWII battlefield settings. Players control individual
soldiers who, either alone or together with other players, carry out military
operations.
World of Warcraft is a Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game
(MMORG) where thousands of players can be linked to a single server.
Players belong to a guild and together combine specialist individual knowl-
edge and skills to fight either against monsters in special dungeons or groups
of other players.
The Sims is a strategic relationship game in which players control the
daily activities and social lives of one or more virtual characters. Unlike the
other games there are no missions to be undertaken or points to be gained.
Originally developed for PCs, The Sims games can now be played on game
consoles or mobile phones.
Although a full analysis of these four games is beyond the scope of this chapter,
it is important (particularly for non-game-players) to appreciate the intensity
of the interaction that takes place when playing. All four games encourage, and
often demand, cooperation, communication and user-generated input. Because
players need to build up sophisticated repertoires of knowledge and skills, and
because in games like WoW single players cannot advance in the game without
the help of others, communication and cooperation are essential. In contem-
porary digital games interaction takes place not just with other players, but
with the game itself, something that, using terms such as ‘authorship’, many
researchers (e.g., Corliss, 2010; Gee, 2008) have emphasised. Analogous to the
Web 2.0 concept of ‘prosumerism’ (online activity that involves both ‘use’
and ‘production’, see e.g., Goddard & Geesin, 2011; Thorne & Black, 2008),
authorship refers to the unique input of individual players, and is a process
that is highly creative and reflexive. Players inhabit and interact in worlds they
138 Alastair Henry
themselves help to create. Like many other researchers, Corliss emphasises the
creative experience of digital gaming:
Through our interactions, we become part of the game, accumulating a

degree of authorship always mediated by the constant evaluation of (reward
or penalty for) our actions within the game world; these interactions are
intensified by a distinct physicality through which we come to embody our
digital play and our game learning. (Corliss, 2010: 7)
In a series of influential works in which he analyses the types of learning that

take place when playing digital games, Gee (2003; 2008; 2009) explains how
games develop deep feelings of agency. Amongst other things, good games, he
argues, mean that players:
t co-design the game through their unique actions and decisions;

t are encouraged to take risks, to explore and to try out new ideas;
t have the opportunity to customise the game to suit their own playing and
learning styles;
t become producers and not just consumers;
t learn to view the virtual world through the eyes and values of a distinctive
identity that is constructed ‘from the ground up’ (Gee, 2008: 318).
Classroom English
As we have seen, a new type of student seems to have turned up in the English
classroom in recent years. Surprisingly proficient in many aspects of English,
particularly vocabulary (Sundqvist & Sylvén, 2012), but also in processing
written information and sometimes also in oral production and interaction,
these students do not seem to feel the need to overexert themselves in class
(Swedish Schools Inspectorate, 2011). What sort of classroom environment,
though, do these students meet? Has there been much change in teaching
approach over the same period? The answer, as we might expect, is prob-
ably very little. Even though teachers in Sweden have extremely wide discre-
tion in terms of the choice of content, working approaches and assessment
methods, they are nevertheless heavily reliant on textbooks (Swedish Schools
Inspectorate, 2011), with three out of four English teachers using commercially
produced textbooks in essentially every lesson (National Agency for Education,
2006). Indeed, compared to teachers of other subjects, English teachers use
textbooks to a greater extent and generally tend to use a single book around
which they base their teaching (National Agency for Education, 2006). While,
like other subjects, individual project-type work has become common in
recent years, in the 2011 curriculum a return to more teacher-led classroom
instruction was clearly signalled. It is therefore no exaggeration to say that,

compared to the radical transformations that have recently been taking place
in young people’s free-time activities, it has been pretty much business as usual
in the English classroom. Practices that a decade or so ago captured students’
attention – when English outside the classroom was encountered mostly via
music, film and youth- as opposed to adult-oriented TV programmes (such as
the currently popular Family Guy, Desperate Housewives and 2½ Men) – may not
work as well now. A decade ago many of the most highly proficient students
probably owed their abilities to hard work in the classroom. Now, this may
not necessarily be the case. For students who spend hours in digitally medi-
ated English-language environments outside of school and, moreover, are
aware that this is where they gain much of their skills, the English of today’s
classrooms may by comparison seem less meaningful. Less ‘real’. A credibility
problem seems to be emerging. There would appear to be an authenticity gap
between the two different worlds.
How, then, should we as educators understand and address the emergent
phenomenon of a gap between English in school that is still primarily taught
as a foreign language (i.e., where textbooks dominate and the focus is on the
acquisition of vocabulary, production, reception and, of course, grammar),
and the English that outside of school forms the self-evident medium for some
of the most personally meaningful activities in which young people currently
engage? What does this mean for us as teachers, and what consequences does
this have for the way we design lessons? In the remainder of the chapter I will
address these questions, arguing that in many classrooms students will rarely
have the opportunity to engage in the types of self-congruent activities and
forms of learning that are characteristic of the digitally mediated environ-
ments they inhabit outside of school. I will begin, however, by briefly looking
at authenticity in the sense that it is traditionally understood in language
education.
Addressing the authenticity gap
That language classrooms poorly replicate patterns of interaction in real life

has long been recognised. Framed in terms of authenticity, academic debate on
the problem of the artificiality of classroom language use has largely centred
on language production, tasks, assessment and, most commonly, the content of
learning materials. Although very little research has been carried out, Gilmore
(2007) points to a widespread belief among researchers and teachers alike that
authentic learning materials have a positive effect on students’ motivation.
Justifications offered include the idea that authentic materials are inherently
more interesting because they are ‘real’ and have a ‘real’ message to convey,
that authentic materials can be selected to meet students’ specific needs and
140 Alastair Henry
that motivation is enhanced when students realise they can actually cope with
‘real’ texts. In studies that have been undertaken, results have, however, been
inconclusive, leading Gilmore (2007) to conclude that there is very little empir-
ical evidence in support of the claim that authentic learning materials have a
positive effect on motivation.
Even if we were to accept the idea that authentic texts – and, for that matter,
authentic tasks and authentic forms of assessment – have positive effects on
motivation, it is questionable, as a single strategy, whether a greater emphasis
on authentic materials is likely to make any inroads into students’ perceptions
of a credibility gap between leisure time and classroom English. As a means of
addressing this developing problem, the time may have come to start thinking
beyond the motivational effects attributed to the authenticity of artefacts
(texts, learning materials and tests), and instead consider how perceptions of
authenticity in engaging with the language might impact on motivation. By
broadening the focus in this way it may become possible to better understand
why it is that students who spend hours engrossed in English-mediated activi-
ties outside of the classroom – and who are convinced that such practices form
important sites for their learning – seem happy to disengage from classroom
activities.
Authenticity as motivation
As a result of Dörnyei’s (2005; 2009) recent work on the motivational func-

tion of future self-guides, the driving force behind the effort needed to learn a
foreign language is today understood in terms of the learner’s identification of
her-/himself as a future user/speaker of the target language. Pioneering in the
true sense of the word, Dörnyei’s research has offered new ways of thinking
about language learning behaviours and opened up new vistas of enquiry. In
particular, by reconceptualising motivation as a consequence of self-related
processes, Dörnyei has made it possible for L2 researchers to draw on a wealth of
theoretical and empirical research from mainstream psychology, thus making
it possible, as MacIntyre et al. (2009: 50) put it, ‘to map out new conceptual
linkages by taking the self as the starting point’. One area that could be usefully
explored using a self-based approach is the issue of authenticity – not in its
artefact/textual sense, but in the sense of engaging with the language. Let me
explain what I mean.
From an ‘artefact’ perspective, authenticity can be regarded as an evalu-
ative description of the extent to which we perceive something to be real or
genuine. Something authentic is what it purports to be: the real deal. Just as
authenticity can be used as an evaluation of an object, that is, an authentic
text, an authentic Ming Dynasty vase or an authentic Donna Karan shirt,
so too can it be used in the evaluation of the self or, more precisely, the
evaluation of the self at a particular moment in time and engaged in a partic-

ular type of activity. In both situations we are making an appraisal. When we
consider the authenticity of an artefact, the judgment we make would appear
to be fairly clear-cut – it either is or is not a Donna Karan shirt. This we do
on the basis of not only the evidence at hand – that is, the cut, the material,
the stitching and, importantly, the label and the tags – but also in relation to
an implied referent, that is, a similar shirt that would be hanging on a rail
in the Donna Karan shop on Madison Avenue. When considering possible
courses of action or when evaluating our engagement in ongoing actions, we
make similar assessments. We base our appraisal on emergent evidence – that
is, what we are doing, why we are doing it and for what purpose – which we
then compare with an implied referent. In such situations, the referent we
use to judge the authenticity of our actions is the collection of core concep-
tions that we hold about ourselves and which define who we are. Thus, when
we evaluate current courses of action, what we are doing is asking ‘is this
me?’ (Gecas, 1991; Vannini, 2006). This, as Vannini and Burgess (2009: 104)
explain, involves a contextual appraisal of our authenticity:
[T]he indicator of realness or authenticity is the degree of congruence

between one’s actions and one’s core self-conceptions – consisting of funda-
mental values, beliefs, and identities to which one is committed and in
terms of which one defines oneself. When actions are congruent with core
self-conceptions, one’s self is affirmed and one experiences authenticity;
when one’s actions do not reflect or affirm one’s core self, one feels inau-
thentic. This is not to deny that people do not rationalize self-incongruent
behaviors or find ways of accounting for such conduct. Rather, our claim
is intended to suggest that when actions are defined to be congruent with
one’s values one will feel affirmed and thus authentic.
From a psychological perspective, then, authenticity is the experience of being

true to one’s self in doing something that fits with who we feel we are, and
which coheres with our own particular view of the world. In this sense expe-
riences of authenticity are linked to other emotions and sensations, such as
pleasure, satisfaction, contentedness and self-esteem. And, just as with other
affective dimensions of motivation, we will be encouraged to do something if
we believe that the activity is authentic and involves things that cohere or are
congruent with our sense of self – see also Noels’ (2009) recent discussion of
authenticity from an Self-Determination Theory (SDT) perspective.
The polar opposite of authenticity is inauthenticity, which people struggle
to avoid because it involves negative feelings of self-contempt and meaning-
lessness (Gecas, 1991). However, because inauthenticity implies engagement
in senseless, meaningless activities, it is a self-state rarely encountered. Much
142 Alastair Henry
more commonly, as Vannini and Burgess (2009) explain, people experience a

sense of what they call frustrated authenticity. This arises when the individual
feels unable to act in congruence with her/his self-values and, as a conse-
quence, feels frustrated, agitated, dissatisfied and unfulfilled. Not surprisingly,
such feelings have a negative impact on the willpower and determination to
pursue the activity in question.
To be sure, many language students will have, among their set of core ideas
and self-concepts, conceptions of themselves as someone who, for example,
is responsible, goal-oriented and conscientious. And these types of self-
conception will, of course, generate motivated classroom behaviours. But this
is not the type of self-congruent behaviour that, according to Vannini and
Burgess (2009), generates feelings of authenticity. This is because authenticity
encompasses an additional element; an aesthetic dimension. Referring to the
work of Fine (1996), who suggests that feelings of being authentic in carrying
out working tasks are closely related to the aesthetic evaluation of the things
that are produced, Vannini and Burgess argue that that authenticity is expe-
rienced not just in any type of self-congruent behaviour but, specifically, by
engagement in activities from which aesthetic pleasure is derived.
If we now return to considering the way in which young people in Sweden
encounter English outside and inside school, the concept of authenticity –
and in particular Vannini and Burgess’ identification of the importance
of the aesthetic evaluation of the products of creative processes – seems to
form a useful lens through which to consider differential engagement in
English-medium activities.
In the creative activities involved in playing the most popular digital games
in Sweden (WoW, CS, CoD and The Sims), pleasure and satisfaction are derived
not simply from the sense of achievement (for example, in taking out bad
guys and destroying evil monsters), but also in the aesthetics of the game in
creating/customising appealing avatars and developing sophisticated strategies.
It is in this way that players can achieve a sense of congruence between core
values (who I am) and current activities (what I am doing). The self is affirmed,
the individual feels authentic and is motivated to continue with current and
similar activities.
But, of course, playing online or offline digital games is not the only arena
in which English functions as a creative medium in young people’s lives.
In the activities of the English classroom, steered by a curricular focus on
communicative competence, students are required to be creative in their use
of language when writing essays and book summaries, giving oral presenta-
tions, or participating in group discussions. However, these types of creative
process differ in the emotional resonance they have for the participants, and
herein, I suggest, lies one of the causes of the authenticity gap. Quite simply,
productive language use in the classroom is unlikely to match the more
deeply meaningful and self-relevant experiences that young people gain in

online environments. In particular, two important factors are often lacking;
the value placed on individual creativity and on the desire for satisfaction
with outcomes and end results.
Here, it is important to point out that the research carried out by Vannini
and Burgess (2009) was not with young computer gamers but with an entirely
different group of participants: middle-aged university academics. Although,
at first glance, playing multiplayer online role-playing games such as World of
Warcraft and Counter-Strike and doing scientific research might seem worlds
apart, they have much in common. Both involve immersion in highly complex
contexts. Both demand sophisticated problem-solving skills. Both require dedi-
cation and perseverance over long periods of time. Both presuppose an ability
to collaborate with others. Both reward innovation and creativity and, most
importantly, both activities are highly aesthetic practices that provide partici-
pants with ‘peak’ experiences of self–world fusion.
Turning to look more closely at Vannini and Burgess’ (2009) findings, two
specific motivational factors seem to emerge: the value of creativity and the
desire to achieve end-product satisfaction. When invited to consider the moti-
vational factors in their work, the researchers interviewed talked about, for
example, ‘the excitement of doing something new and creative’ and ‘the crea-
tive process and the beauty in the realised form as its ultimate expression’.
They also highlighted the ‘satisfying success of solving a difficult problem after
months or years of work’ and the pleasure gained in ‘arriving at results and
figuring things out’ (Vannini & Burgess, 2009: 110–11). Explaining how specific
motivational experiences gained in one context can impact on motivation in
others, Vannini and Burgess make the following important observation:
To suggest that the aesthetic pleasure associated with creation, innovation,

and discovery is a motivator is not the same as arguing that these are needs
or forces that drive all individuals, always and in all occasions. Rather, we
are simply suggesting that the meaningfulness of aesthetically appreciating
one’s work is significant enough and valuable enough to orient one toward
seeking similar experiences. (111) [my emphasis].
This, as I see it, seems to encapsulate not only the essence of the relation-
ship between authenticity and motivated behaviour, but also the sense that
there might be a gap between different types of activity. Just as the univer-
sity teachers did not view all of their work in the same way – research and
administrative tasks did not provide anything like the same levels of aesthetic
appreciation – so might it be the case that students’ experiences of their use of
English differ between the domains of digital gaming and school. Thus, it is
not the case that materials used, nor for that matter communicative activities
144 Alastair Henry
in classroom English, lack authenticity. Nor is authenticity lacking because

interlocutors are imaginary or topics of discussion lacking in salience. Rather,
the authenticity gap may result more from an orientation to seek similar experi-
ences to those gained in digital gaming and in a search for similar types of
self-congruent aesthetic experience.
Vannini and Burgess’ idea that people involved in aesthetically creative activ-
ities orient toward seeking similar experiences in others is an intriguing one
and resonates well with another discontinuity, namely Gee’s (Gee, 2005; Hayes
& Gee, 2010) identification of a gap between the sorts of learning processes
implicated in digital game playing and the learning processes that take place
in school. Approaching the authenticity gap from a different angle, I will now
take a closer look at Gee’s ideas and, in particular, his concept of the affinity
space.
Affinity spaces and authenticity
In his recent research, Gee (2005) has developed the notion of the affinity
space as an alternative to Lave and Wenger’s well-known concept of ‘commu-
nities of practice’ (Lave, 1996; Lave & Wenger, 1991; Wenger, 1998). As opposed
to a focus on the membership of a community, Gee instead chooses to focus on
the spaces in which people interact. In his critique, Gee’s point is that people
relate to, and form an affiliation with, the activity taking place within a partic-
ular space and not, in Lave and Wenger’s terms, with the other members of a
community (Gee, 2005).
So what is an affinity space? What does it look like? Although a comprehen-
sive discussion of the characteristics of affinity spaces lies beyond the scope of
this chapter (interested readers are referred to Gee, 2005), of the 11 features Gee
identifies, it is important in the context of the current discussion to highlight
the generative use of knowledge and the sharing of resources. Characteristic of
an affinity space is the ability for people to generate knowledge for particular
purposes, which can be used either by themselves or by others (Hayes & Gee,
2010). Knowledge is, therefore, not an exclusive accomplishment, commodity
or preserve. Rather, it is something generated in interaction with others and
shared, both directly and indirectly, with other individuals.
Although in developing the idea of affinity spaces Gee draws on his anal-
yses of real-time strategy computer games such as Age of Mythology (Gee, 2005:
Hayes & Gee, 2010) and the anime card game Yu-Gi-Oh (Gee, 2005), his project
extends beyond gaming and online environments. In his work, Gee is always
interested in the juxtaposition of informal and formal learning and the char-
acteristics of the environments in which they take place. In particular his aim
is to focus on differences in knowledge-generation processes in schools and
contemporary popular culture (Hayes & Gee, 2010). Thus, in his work the
affinity space functions as a counterpoint against which classroom practices

can be critically examined.
One of the most important differences between learning practices in school
and the types of learning that take place in affinity spaces concerns opportu-
nities for personal expression and creativity. As Gee explains, school envir-
onments tend not to encourage students to be innovative, imaginative and
creative, nor do they reward the types of personal expression and ‘thinking out
of the box’ commonly valued in affinity spaces:
Young people today are confronted with and enter more and more affinity
spaces. They see a different and arguably powerful vision of learning, affili-
ation, and identity when they do so. Learning becomes both a personal and
unique trajectory through a complex space of opportunities (i.e., a person’s
own unique movement through various affinity spaces over time) and a
social journey as one shares aspects of that trajectory with others (who may
be very different from oneself and inhabit otherwise quite different spaces)
for a shorter or longer time before moving on. What these young people see
in school may pale by comparison. It may seem to lack the imagination that
infuses the non-school aspects of their lives. (Gee, 2005: 231)
Thinking back to the previous discussion on authenticity, Gee’s point about

the differing role of imagination in schools and affinity spaces would seem
to resonate rather well with Vannini and Burgess’ notion of a frustrated
authenticity. In the same way that the highly regulated learning environ-
ments of school can limit opportunities for aesthetic creativity, opportunities
for students to be imaginative and pursue ‘a personal and unique trajectory’
are similarly restricted. But there is another and, motivationally speaking,
even more important similarity. Gee explains that rather than being obliv-
ious to, or uninterested in, the differing experiences and differences in
learning processes characteristic of most classrooms and most affinity spaces,
young people are fully attuned to such types of discontinuity. In particular,
he makes the point that because ‘many young people today have lots of
experience with affinity spaces [they] thus have the opportunity to compare
and contrast their experiences with these to their experiences in classrooms’
(Gee, 2005: 222).
To my mind it is the sense in which students are likely to cross-reference
experiences in leisure time and classroom domains highlighted by both Gee
and Vaninni and Burgess that, as teachers, we either fail to consider or we
conveniently overlook. It is also the reason why both self-authenticity and
affinity space theory seem to have particular relevance for English teaching.
For students who regularly play digital games, English is much more than
just a communicative medium. Everything – from studying online manuals
146 Alastair Henry
to communication with other players – takes place in English. English is a

non-dissociable part of the experience. Thus, when they make comparisons
between the communicative activities in the English classroom and the intense
and meaningful experiences gained in interacting with other players and game
architectures, it may not be surprising that feelings of frustrated authenticity –
in the sense of lacking the scope to use the language in the same meaningful
and self-relevant ways that it is used in gaming environments – may arise. Full
engagement in an activity that lacks the vitality of things done in English in
virtual worlds may, thus, become difficult to sustain.
Implications?
Before looking at some of the implications that digital gaming might have
on classroom motivation, let me first clarify a couple of points. In developing
these ideas, I have focused on a particular type of game: online, real-time,
multiplayer role-playing games. Although, as we have seen, large numbers
of young people in Sweden play such games – and some of them play them a
lot – this is not a universal leisure-time activity. While other forms of English-
mediated popular culture certainly involve aesthetic dimensions akin to those
envisaged by Vannini and Burgess and have some of the characteristics of
Gee’s notion of affinity spaces, I am not making any explicit claims in respect
of these activities; my focus here is on digital gaming.
It is also important to make clear that, in drawing parallels with self-
authenticity and affinity space theory, I am not suggesting that the
phenomena these theories describe or the processes they anticipate are
the same. Rather, my argument is that both provide useful lenses through
which, as teachers of English, we can try to better understand the experi-
ences that many of our students have outside the classroom and the ways
in which these experiences lead them to make comparisons with what they
learn in school.
So, if these theories can help us understand what young people might see as
an authenticity gap between English in school and English outside, what are
the implications for classroom teaching? And are there any pointers as to what
we can do to increase classroom motivation? I think that there are. However,
before outlining some ideas, I want to sound a cautionary note. While I have
argued that students are likely to make comparisons between the things they
do in English in their leisure time and what they do in school, and that, as
Hayes and Gee (2010) have argued, current popular culture constitutes a form
of competition for schools and education, the direct import of popular culture
into the classroom may bring problems of its own.
As we have seen in the earlier discussion on authenticity, there is a fairly
widespread belief among language educators that students respond better to
‘real’ texts, and many teachers and textbook writers – quite rightly – take
young people’s interests as a self-evident starting point in instructional design.
There is, however, a risk attached in saturating classrooms with the forms of
popular culture students are accustomed to in their leisure time. First – as, for
example, technology-enhanced learning researcher Mike Sharples has pointed
out – students do not, generally speaking, want school to intrude too far into
their personal lives. Thus, attempts by teachers to colonise young people’s
social worlds by, for example, bringing the technologies of social networking
into the classroom, may be met with resistance. Consequently, as Sharples
explains, there is a need to be clear about ‘where the bounds of school lie
and where it is not legitimate for formal education to intrude on childhood’
(Sharples, 2006: 22).
A similar point is made by the German youth sociologist, Thomas Ziehe
(2000). Ziehe’s argument is that it is important for young people to main-
tain identity boundaries between who they are in school, and who they are
outside. It is not the place of school, he argues, to encroach on the other life
spaces students occupy outside of school. Moreover, Ziehe argues that school
has an important role to play in enabling young people to develop differenti-
ated identities which, he believes, are necessary when orientating through the
complexity of modern life:
To be a student is just one dimension of a young lifeform. School cannot

possibly embrace the whole range of possible admissions to experience and
knowledge any more. And school has a valid priority only when it concerns
the young person as student, which is just part of the perspective. I believe that
the distinction between school/young people will and should remain. But
still school should work to build bridges. (Ziehe, 2000: 60) [emphasis in the
original].
In addressing binaries such as school/free time and formal/informal learning,

educational theorists have viewed the intersections between them as partic-
ularly fruitful areas for developing knowledge and skills. Not surprisingly,
structuring metaphors such as ‘bridge building’ abound in the literature. For
example, as a means of forging links between the formal/analytical activities
of school and the informal/experiential activities of leisure time, theorists
talk in terms of drawing on differing ‘funds of knowledge’ (Moll et al., 1992),
creating ‘third spaces’ (Bhabha, 1994; Gutiérrez, 2008) and, in an L2 context,
developing ‘bridging activities’ (Thorne & Reinhardt, 2008).
From the range of different theories and approaches based on the idea of
making connections between different learning/knowledge domains, I have
chosen to consider a number of propositions made by Elizabeth Moje and
her colleagues (Moje, 2006; Moje & Hinchman, 2004). One of the reasons for
148 Alastair Henry
doing this is that Moje, a literacy researcher, takes specific account of motiva-
tion in her handling of third-space pedagogies. Another is that, in extrapo-
lating ideas from third-space and literacy development theory to the particular
settings of English-language classrooms, Moje’s propositions for what she and
Hinchman call ‘responsive teaching’ (Moje & Hinchman, 2004) seem particu-
larly interesting.
Responsive teaching involves the recognition that students’ experiences are
a necessary part of the processes of knowledge acquisition. However, rather
than a ‘now and then’ filtering of young people’s experiences into the class-
room, in responsive teaching cross-referencing is systematic:
This perspective on culturally responsive pedagogy argues that it is not

enough to bring cultural experiences into classrooms as a way of helping
students to connect more effectively to new ideas or as a way of engaging
and motivating students, despite the fact that these are important aspects
of culturally responsive pedagogy. Instead, this perspective wants to make
a permanent space in the classrooms and schools for knowledges and
Discourses that have been traditionally marginalized. (Moje & Hinchman,
2004: 326)
In advocating a ‘responsive teaching’ approach that can build bridges and

create spaces in between school knowledge and ways of knowing that are not
normally valued in school, Moje and Hinchman argue that teachers often
view the young people they work with in rather reductive terms on the basis,
for example, of their ethnic and/or socio-economic backgrounds. Responsive
teaching, they explain, means moving beyond basic positional categories and,
instead, branching out and attempting to incorporate the different social prac-
tices that each young person individually engages in into the teacher’s overall
understanding of the student. This means being aware of the broad spectrum
of knowledges and different ways of knowing that are characteristic of young
peoples’ home environments, their social and ethnic communities and, most
importantly, the popular cultural practices they engage in. Thus, in responsive
teaching, not only is there a recognition of different types of knowledge and
different types of practice, but also of different identities. Responsive teaching,
therefore, means merging ‘the needs and interests of youth as persons with the
needs and interests of youth as learners of new concepts, practices and skills’
(Moje & Hinchman, 2004: 322). Using responsive teaching as a blueprint, and
by combining the need for intersubjective relationships identified by Moje and
Hinchamn (2004), the motivational importance of self-congruent aesthetic
creativity explained by Vannini and Burgess (2009) and the learning poten-
tial of affinity spaces described by Gee (2005; 2008), Hayes and Gee (2010),
I will now make some suggestions for the development of a pedagogy that,
in drawing on students’ out-of-school experiences, can enhance classroom

motivation.
The first step: a better understanding of young people’s

cultural experiences
One of the problems facing teachers is developing a better understanding of
youth cultural practices. While we usually have a good idea about the types
of things our students do in their free time – digital gaming, playing team
sports, interacting with friends on social networking sites – often we know
very little about what this involves. Unless we ourselves or people in our
immediate social environment have similar free-time interests, we are left to
media reports, second-hand information and our own speculation as to what
our students actually are up to. As language teachers it is important that we
inform ourselves about the things that our students are doing in their free
time that involve the use of English. If, as an initial step, we are able to gain
greater insights into the activities and language use associated, for example,
with playing MMORGs, we will be better attuned to opportunities to bridge
between school and free-time English.
There is however another reason why the lack of a nuanced and in-depth
knowledge about the types of things our students do can be problematic. As
Moje and Hinchman (2004) explain, lack of insider knowledge can mean that
we devalue youth cultural experiences, particularly those different from our
own. In the case of English there is a particular risk that the type of commu-
nicative competence we aim at in teaching can function in a way that puts
the informal and highly adapted forms of language used, for example, in
digital gaming, on an unequal footing. However, by explicitly recognising the
value of non-standard language forms and adopting an inclusive approach to
different types of language use, we avoid the risk of appearing to stand exclu-
sively for one particular form of English – school or ‘proper’ English – which,
moreover, is a form pupils rarely encounter outside the classroom. Indeed, if
as teachers we expect students to be able to navigate between different types
of English that are appropriate in different domains, should not we also be
able to do so?
Linking youth culture experiences to target concepts

While there is, of course, a limit to the knowledge we can reasonably be
expected to possess about our individual students’ free-time activities, an
understanding of common, yet for many of us culturally distant, practices is
essential in making specific links between target concepts and English-medium
activities outside school. As Moje and Hinchman (2004) explain, pulling as
many cultural experiences into the classroom as possible may not be particu-
larly effective (cf., Sharples, 2006; Ziehe, 2000 above). Even though students
150 Alastair Henry
might become temporarily very engaged in a particular activity, it is often

difficult for them to make connections between out-of-school experiences and
the learning objects that are in focus. For deep content learning to take place,
the experiences drawn upon need to be relevant to the target concepts (Moje &
Hinchman, 2004: 342).
So, what might this idea mean for the classroom teaching of English? I will
try and give some examples. In introducing new vocabulary, the rich virtual
worlds of digital games could be used to provide contexts in which new words
can be situated and described in terms of references to characters, landscapes,
activities, processes and so on. Similarly, in written production, different types
of composition – for example argumentative, descriptive, contrastive and
narrative texts – can be effectively scrutinised and practised using examples
from the complex worlds of digital gaming. For instance, important concepts
in written communication, such as different forms of text coherence, could
be exemplified by looking at good and bad examples found in online strategy
manuals.
Placing a greater focus on creativity and personal expression

As we have seen, digital gaming rewards resourcefulness, intuition and imag-
ination. When playing good digital games there is always a demanding yet
ultimately achievable challenge. And, in more sophisticated games such
as World of Warcraft and The Sims, great value is placed on authorship and
aesthetic creation. The sense of being engaged in a self-congruent activity –
playing ‘my game’, doing something that ‘is me’ – creates the sort of motivated
behaviour rarely encountered in schools (Gee, 2005). While it would be naïve
to imagine that classroom teaching, no matter how innovative, meaningful
or ‘authentic’ it might be, could replicate such levels of engagement over
sustained periods, a greater focus on creative activities involving personal
expression, such as creative writing and role-playing may be important.
This is a point Ushioda (2011: 206) also emphasises, arguing that the more
teachers are able to create opportunities for students ‘to engage and express
their own preferred meanings, interests and voices’, the more likely effort will
be invested in learning.
Similarly, innovation and creative thinking need to be properly recognised
and more fully rewarded. As Gee (2003) explains, risk-taking and experimen-
tation are fundamental in digital gaming. Thus, it may be important that in
designing classroom activities we explicitly encourage students to test bound-
aries and to use the language in creative ways. Greater scope for creativity in
individually chosen or individually moulded activities such as personalised
blog and Wiki compositions may also enhance feelings of self-congruence and
authenticity.
Developing networks with affinity space features

In his critique of contemporary classroom practice, Gee (2005) makes the
point that, compared to affinity spaces, classrooms reward individual rather
than collective achievement, favour individual rather than distributed
knowledge, and rarely provide students with opportunities for networking
with each other. Given that students’ primary use of English is in network
environments, this is an area that teachers can and should develop as an
important part of their methodology. Setting up student discussion or
working groups on the Internet or on the school’s intranet, with the teacher
as a participant, could be a particularly fruitful initiative. This type of initia-
tive would resonate well with the so-called ‘Dogme’ approach to communi-
cation in which authentic learner-driven conversational interaction between
teachers and students is regarded as crucial in developing language skills
(Ushioda, 2011). In such environments groups of students could work with
either teacher-generated or self-generated problem-solving tasks or cases.
Having many affinity space characteristics – such as collaborative working –
which students recognise from free-time online activities, students’ voices
and identities can emerge in student–student and student–teacher interac-
tions in ways that can feel authentic, meaningful and self-congruent.
Conclusion
In this chapter I have argued that in countries like Sweden classroom moti-
vation may be negatively affected by students’ perceptions that, compared to
personally more meaningful leisure-time activities such as digital gaming,
working with English in school can create a sense of frustrated authenticity.
Because students are likely to compare in- and out-of-school learning expe-
riences, teachers of English would profit from a better understanding of
young people’s leisure-time activities. This would enable links to be made
between target concepts and culturally situated experiences. Further, because
as individuals we orient towards activities that provide us with feelings of
self-congruence and authenticity, I have suggested that, when designing
instruction, teachers need to provide students with greater opportunities for
creativity and meaningful self-expression.
Although the in-school-English/out-of-school-English dissonance highlighted

in this chapter may not be a universal phenomenon (although see also
Taylor, Chapter 3, and Ushioda, Chapter 13, in this volume), the issues raised
concerning the extent to which classroom educators should draw on students’
152 Alastair Henry
experiences of language use outside the classroom are nevertheless likely to

be relevant for teachers of most age groups in most contexts. For teachers
of English, the ability to critically engage with students’ free-time English-
language activities, and to know how and when to incorporate aspects of out-
of-class English in everyday instruction, are skills that are likely to become of
increasing importance. The following are just some of the many issues teachers
need to address:
1. To what extent, if at all, might there be a gap between in- and out-of-school
English in the part of the world where you live and work? How do you
see future trends? How do you see the future development of in-school/
out-of-school discrepancies in exposure to, and use of, English?
2. Might there be other ways of addressing the gap between school and
free-time English than those suggested here?
3. Is it always necessary to try to bridge between the different domains of
English use/exposure when teaching? What about the case of students who
are academically motivated? What about students who have little contact
with English in their free time?
4. In what sense might the gap suggested here be a gendered phenomenon?
Might, for example, ‘frustrated authenticity’ be more of a problem for
boys?
5. As discussed in the chapter, commentators such as Ziehe (2000) argue that
there should be clear dividing lines between school and free time, and that
it is not the place of education to colonise leisure-time domains (see also
Stockwell, Chapter 9, in this volume). Do you agree? By extension, is there
not a case for arguing that there should be a clear distinction between the
English that is learnt in school and that acquired outside?
Note
1. In 2010 the most popular TV programme for children and young people aged 9–16
was The Simpsons. Family Guy and 2½ Men were popular among boys, while Desperate
Housewives was the most popular programme for girls aged 12–16. Hanna Montana
was the most popular programme for girls aged 9–12. All of these programmes,
with the exception of Hanna Montana, which is dubbed, are English language with
Swedish subtitles.

Gee, J. P. and Hayes, E. (2010). Women as Gamers: The Sims and 21st Century Learning.
New York: Palgrave/Macmillan.
In this recent publication, James Paul Gee and Elizabeth Hayes continue their work on
the ways in which digital games stimulate deep learning, here based on a series of case
studies of women who play The Sims.
Readers interested in Gee’s work on learning are recommended to visit his website –
jamespaulgee.com – where many of his extremely accessible and thought-provoking
publications are freely available to download. In addition to the publications listed in
the references section below, his article ‘Getting over the slump: Innovation strategies
to promote children’s learning’, although aimed at L1 teachers, also makes very worth-
while reading for teachers of English as a second language.
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9
Technology and Motivation
in English-Language Teaching
and Learning
Glenn Stockwell
Introduction
Advances in technology have made it easier for teachers and learners of English
to access a wide range of resources in terms of authentic input and commu-
nication with native and non-native speakers of English around the world.
From the early days of computer-assisted language learning (CALL), there has
been discussion of how technologies can play a role in motivating learners in
learning a language (e.g., Warschauer, 1996), and as technologies have become
more sophisticated, the growing range of uses of technology in and out of the
classroom increases the potential for enhanced motivation. My own teaching
context is a large private university located in central Tokyo, where one might
expect that technological advances are far more than those of many other
countries around the world, including Europe and the United States. In my
experience in discussions with colleagues and attending international confer-
ences, there are more commonalities than differences in problems that are
encountered regarding implementing technology for learning purposes and,
for this reason, I have kept this discussion at a more general level, as the impli-
cations are likely to be of relevance to teachers regardless of where they are
based.
As Dörnyei (1999: 525) very rightly argues, ‘motivation is one of the most
elusive concepts in applied linguistics and indeed in educational psychology in
general’. There has been a great deal of discussion about motivation in language
learning over the past half a century or more, but the last few years have seen
a renewed interest in motivation in the field, and a number of books have
appeared recently (e.g., Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2009; 2011; Murray et al., 2011),
laying testimony to its importance. Increased motivation has often been given
as the justification for the introduction and use of technology in language
156
Technology and Motivation in ELT Across Contexts 157
learning environments, but what is the nature of the relationship between

motivation and technology? And what are the characteristics of the motiva-
tion for using technology for learning a second language? To address these
questions, it is important to examine research into CALL and how it explicitly
and implicitly refers to motivation, not only in the learning process, but also in
the selection and use of technologies. Obviously, research into CALL is excep-
tionally broad, but there is a body of research which looks at why teachers use
CALL, and how technology can assist learners to build and maintain their
motivation in learning English.
Thus, this chapter looks at how technology can be used in the English-
language classroom, and how these uses can link to motivation. It begins
with looking at general issues associated with technology and motivation,
including a brief discussion of the so-called inherent motivational bene-
fits of using technology. It then considers the issue of motivation for using
technology from both the teacher’s and learner’s perspective, followed by
an overview of communication technologies that have come into the main-
stream in English-language teaching and learning, and how these can impact
motivation. These include writing for a real audience through blogs and social
networking tools (e.g., Lee, 2009) and the potential benefits of anonymity
that may be seen in different types of communication tools such as virtual
worlds (e.g., Deutschmann et al., 2009). The chapter continues with an exami-
nation of mobile technologies for language learning, and explores the concept
of private and studying spaces (cf., Stockwell, 2010). The chapter concludes by
considering the local and global issues associated with using technology for
English-language learning, and how motivation may be affected by the tech-
nologies that are available in both more- and less-technologically advanced
regions.
Technology and motivation
Inherent motivational effects of technology

The issue of the inherent motivating effects of technology in education is hardly
new, and teachers have long held the view that introducing new technolo-
gies into language learning environments has the potential to boost learner
motivation. Apart from the novelty effect of engaging with a new technology
(e.g., Fox, 1988), such claims were founded on the idea that computer-assisted
instruction allowed for more individualised instruction and provided opportu-
nities for learner control and rapid, non-judgemental feedback (see Warschauer,
1996 for a discussion). While much of the early research came from general
education environments that did not focus specifically on second language
learning, the predominantly drill-based vocabulary and grammar activities
meant at the time that it maintained its relevance to computer-based language
158 Glenn Stockwell
learning activities as well. Developments in networking technologies, however,

enabled language education to take on a somewhat different nature, and envir-
onments emerged in which students were not constrained to work alone or
in small groups on standalone machines, but could be linked to teachers or
other students, increasing the potential opportunities for communication.
Initially, this was limited to synchronous exchanges within a single classroom
(e.g., Kelm, 1992), but was followed shortly by studies investigating new tools
as they appeared, such as email (e.g., Warschauer, 1995), Internet Relay Chat
(IRC) over the World Wide Web (e.g., Hudson & Bruckman, 2002), and text-
based virtual worlds known as MOOs (Multi-user domain Object Oriented)
(e.g., Shield, 2003). Aside from the obvious benefits of interacting with a wider
range of interlocutors both in and out of the classroom, networked communi-
cation tools were linked to motivational increases through interacting with a
real audience (Hoffman, 1994), and reduced anxiety through more anonymous
exchanges (Beauvois, 1995). In addition, learners indicated that they could feel
part of a community and overcome isolation, and that they could learn about
different people and cultures (Warschauer, 1996), all of which were deemed as
enhancing motivation. The technologies listed above formed the foundations
for the majority of the technologies that are in use today, although current
research into communication technologies for language learning has taken on
a slightly different slant that goes beyond the simple view of equating task
engagement with motivation, as is discussed later in this chapter.
Although the reasons above are not unrelated to the intrinsic nature of the
motivation to use the various technologies described, to a large degree they
do refer to the tasks and activities which are performed through these tech-
nologies rather than to the technologies themselves. In returning to the issue
of the inherent motivational effects of technologies, it is important to consider
the reasons behind the view that technologies motivate students to learn a
language. As stated above, earlier research referred to a novelty effect of learning
through technology (also see Murray, 1998), whereby the initial enthusiasm for
using a new technology was compared to a child with a new toy. The learners
were at first attracted to the so-called ‘bells and whistles’ of learning through
a means that was unfamiliar to them, but what about the long-term effects of
this attraction? In addressing this question, it is helpful to consider the context
in which this early research took place. In the early 1990s, desktop computers
(which made up the overwhelming majority of studies at the time) were still,
for the most part, prohibitive to members of language classes and, as a result,
many learners only had access to them in educational settings. This was often
during class time and frequently under supervision, and the amount of time
that learners were able to spend at the computer tended to be quite short. In
many cases there were insufficient computers to enable one student to sit at
a computer, and learners were required to be put in pairs or small groups or,
alternatively, simply engage in other non-computer activities while waiting

their turn. While, of course, the functionality of computers at the time was far
less than it is today, even with this comparatively limited amount of access to
computers, learners quickly became aware of what they could and could not
do, and motivation waned according to the degree to which their expectations
were (or were not) met.
If we compare this situation to our current day and age, we can see that there
is a completely different demographic of both teachers and learners. In these
early days of learning through technology, the teacher tended to be absolute
in regard to control over the technology (i.e., predominantly only in the class-
room and only doing what the teachers said) and to the skills and knowledge
possessed regarding the technologies used. Needless to say, learners today are
far more discerning about the technologies they use and the ways in which they
use them. While Prensky’s (2001) ‘digital natives’ concept has received some
criticism in terms of its generalisability (see Bennett et al., 2008), studies have
shown that young adult learners are, for the most part, highly technically savvy,
at least as far as mainstream technologies such as computers, mobile phones
and email are concerned (Kennedy et al., 2008). Indeed, specific studies have
shown ownership of technologies to be very high in some countries, such as
98.5 per cent of United States university students owning a computer (Winke &
Goertler, 2008), and 100 per cent of Japanese university students owning a
mobile phone (Stockwell, 2008). These figures imply that the vast majority of
learners will view technologies as something that is natural to possess and use
on a daily basis and, as a result, they are unlikely to be impressed with a new
technology unless it meets or exceeds their expectations based on their experi-
ences with using the technologies around them. What can be concluded from
this is that if technologies in themselves have an inherent motivating effect,
this effect is likely to be relatively short-lived, and certainly not long enough
for any kind of meaningful language learning to take place.
Regarding sustained use of technologies, studies have given mixed results,
but they have generally shown that it is easier to ensure that learners continue
to engage actively in activities under supervised conditions than when outside
of class. In an examination of learners in Spain and English engaged in tandem
email exchanges, Appel and Mullen (2002) found that individual students
working with a tandem site outside of the classroom environment sent steadily
fewer messages as time progressed compared to those working with the site
during class. Many students stopped sending messages altogether, and only
‘very highly motivated students’ (p. 200) continued with the exchanges until
the end of the project. Despite the fact that the same technology was used by
the learners, the students who used it outside of class were far less likely to
maintain their motivation to continue with the exchanges than were those
who undertook the activities in class. This in itself becomes a stark reminder
160 Glenn Stockwell
that it is not the technology that motivates learners to study, but the manner
and the context in which the technology is used.
It should also be noted that while the teachers had an expectation that
learners would continue with the exchanges in much the same way in both
the in-class and out-of-class environments, the reality was that learners did not
do so unless there was immediate and constant pressure on them. In this situa-
tion, one would imagine that the teachers would have decided to ask learners to
engage in the exchanges because of the anticipated benefits for their language
learning, and that learners would be aware of this fact. Why, then, did learners
fail to use the system outside of class? It is possible to envisage that there ended
up being a discrepancy between what teachers’ expectations for learners were
and how the learners perceived the activities that they were asked to do. If
this is the case, we can see that problems arise with adopting a technology
for learning a language when there are gaps between the teacher’s view of
what and how technologies should be used and views held by the learners. The
following section considers this issue in more depth.
Motivation for using technology
What is it that drives teachers and students to engage in technology use for
language learning? As alluded to in the above section, while the ultimate goal
of success in acquiring a second language is likely shared by both teachers
and learners, there is indeed a range of other factors that must come into play.
There are at least three main considerations which need to be kept in mind
regarding the use of technology for language teaching:
1. the motivation for teachers to initiate and maintain use of a technology;

2. the motivation for learners to use (and keep using) a technology;
3. whether and how a technology supports or facilitates learners’ motivation
to learn the language.
Each of these factors is dependent upon the background and experience of

individual teachers and learners, as well as the specific characteristics of the
learning environment – all of which merge together to form the language
learning context. The context in which language learning occurs greatly
affects the players within it, and this in turn will have a significant effect
on how both learners and teachers select and identify with technologies. The
complex range of factors that make up the context occur at individual, institu-
tional and societal levels, each of which interplays with the others to construct
the individual circumstances in which teachers and learners find themselves
(Stockwell, 2012). The motivation for teachers and learners to use technologies
is then a product of this complicated context.
Teacher perspectives
There are several reasons that might be considered as contributing to why
teachers would choose to adopt technology in their language teaching envir-
onments. In very broad terms, teachers may choose to use technology due to
pressure from external sources or, alternatively, they may be self-motivated
to use it in an attempt to add something to their language learning envi-
ronment (see Levy & Stockwell, 2006 for a discussion). Whether the moti-
vation is externally initiated or internally initiated will have a large effect
on what technologies are used, how they are used, how they are viewed and
even the longevity of their use. Externally initiated pressure invariably comes
from the institution in which they are teaching, often as a result of the intro-
duction of technologies – such as a CALL lab, a Course Management System
(CMS), or laptop computers – more often than not at quite some expense, and
management of the institution is keen to see the outcomes as a result of this
outlay. Alternatively, and this is particularly the case in ESL and EFL settings,
numerous job descriptions put a requirement on having technology skills,
and teachers feel that they must use technologies in order to keep themselves
competitive (Kessler, 2006). In these situations, it is quite easy to imagine that
the teacher might be an unwilling user of technology in the classroom, a rela-
tive novice with technology who has had pressure to use it applied to him or
her. Success in implementation of technologies for education tends to be quite
varied, and while there is a range of contributing factors, it tends to be very
difficult for teachers to introduce technologies, particularly if they attempt to
do so without support (Stockwell, 2009). Their motivation to continue using
the technology is often a direct result of how long the pressure is kept on them
and, in many cases, the degree to which they experiment with technologies
remains limited. Ertmer (2005), for example, found that practising teachers
who were required to use technologies in their teaching environments were
limited to low-level tasks such as word-processing and Internet research, and
that their use of technology was directly related to their underlying beliefs
about the usefulness of technologies. That is to say, in order to start to use
technology and to use it in the long term, teachers must have both the support
to do so, as well as see for themselves how technology can play a role within
their own specific settings.
In contrast, teachers who are internally motivated tend to have different
characteristics from those who are externally motivated, but they also tend
to fit into two main categories: those teachers who have a desire to change
the environment and feel that technology can help them to achieve this, and
teachers who have an interest in technologies (or a specific technology) and
wish to use them in their teaching environments. Some teachers will approach
the task of introducing technology with preconceptions of what a specific tech-
nology can do to motivate their students, such as using hypermedia structures
162 Glenn Stockwell
to improve language learning structures (Hémard, 2006), introducing informa-

tion and communication technologies (ICTs) to promote interaction (Gallardo
del Puerto and Gamboa, 2009) or build rapport between teachers and students
(Jiang & Ramsay, 2005) or using a CMS to enhance autonomy (Sanprasert,
2010). In each of these examples, teachers have clearly indicated that they
believe that the technology of choice will play a positive role in improving
the motivation of their learners, and as such it is possible to conclude, then,
that the motivation for using the technology is still largely focused on the
learners themselves. While also highly motivated to use technologies, teachers
who are interested in a specific technology are often curious to see whether or
not the technology works in their given environment. This may be some type
of system that they have developed themselves (e.g., Baturay et al., 2010), or
it may be a new or emerging technology such as Second Life (e.g., Peterson,
2010). In either case, the motivation to use the technology starts with a curi-
osity, and continued use of the technology is often dependent upon the life-
span of the project (as might be the case with self-developed technologies), or
until the technology fades out of popularity.
Dörnyei and Ushioda (2011) identify four main elements with regard to
teacher motivation: it has a central intrinsic component, is linked with contex-
tual factors, is subject to change over time, and is subject to negative influ-
ences. Linking this to technology use, the potential relevance is immediately
obvious. For example, when teachers see success in their environment in terms
of positive learner attitudes or achievement of desired learning outcomes as
a result of technology, this may serve to motivate them to continue in their
use of the technology. Contextual factors have been touched on above but,
specifically, teachers may find difficulties in maintaining motivation if they
feel overworked or not appreciated for the work that they do. Thus, if teachers
perceive that it is too difficult to become competent users of technology, or
if there is a lack of training or support, motivation to use technology would
be greatly diminished (see Pelgrum, 2001). Most teachers, like many profes-
sionals, feel a need to advance in their career over time. If technology can
provide a means to promotion or other professional development, the motiva-
tion to use it would naturally be stronger. Finally, teacher motivation is likely
to be negatively affected by a range of other factors, such as the stressful nature
of teaching jobs, an inhibition of teacher autonomy (i.e., lack of freedom to
express individuality in their teaching), insufficient training, repetitiveness
and inadequate career structures (Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2011). To sum up, then,
when teachers make the decision to introduce technology, they do so based
on a range of factors that will go beyond the immediate classroom situation.
Teachers themselves are individuals who face daily pressures from the insti-
tution as well as having their own personal goals, and it is a consolidation of
these factors which will dictate how motivated teachers are to use technologies
in their language learning environments.
Learner perspectives
As described above, discussions regarding technology use and learner motiva-
tion primarily revolve around two main aspects: the motivation for learners
to use a technology for language learning, and the relationship between tech-
nology use and motivation in language learning. These two factors (and indeed
teacher motivation) are by no means mutually exclusive, and it is possible to
see that there is in fact a bilateral relationship between them. Motivation to
use a technology could very well lead learners to develop motivation to learn
a language (although unlikely automatically) and, conversely, sustained moti-
vation to learn a language could result in a desire to use technology. Learners
who are interested in Facebook, for example, may see that this tool allows them
to interact with speakers of other languages all over the world. While they
did not previously have an interest in learning a specific language, they may
find that through interacting with others, they want to relate with speakers
of a language and converse with them in that language. In this case, while
language learning was not the primary objective, it has developed over time as
a result of using a certain technology. In contrast, learners who already possess
high levels of motivation to learn a language may find that they are looking
for alternative ways to increase their opportunities for interaction in the target
language, and they join online communities such as Second Life, where they
are able to converse with native speakers of the language. In each of these cases,
although there were different starting points, ultimately both learners have
ended up using technology as a means of improving their target language.
Given that learners may have their own motivations to use technologies,
as in the examples above, how is learners’ motivation to use technologies
sustained? Learners may use technology for language learning in two ways:
language learning may take the form of a course that is dictated by a teacher
either inside or outside of the classroom, or it may involve spontaneous use by
learners acting on their own volition. When learners are in class, it is easier
to be monitored by teachers to ensure that they remain on task and complete
what is required of them as expected (see Appel & Mullen, 2002), but what
happens when teachers are not immediately present is somewhat less clear. In
a study of learners of English enrolled in e-learning courses in South Korea,
Jung (2011) found that the single most-important factor was interaction – most
importantly with other students in the course, but closely followed by interac-
tion with teachers. Learners valued opportunities for both asynchronous and
synchronous online interaction, indicating a need for the freedom to contact
others when they were available, but at the same time to reply to immediate
needs as they arose. Learners also cited support as being a key factor, but this
is an aspect that has often been found lacking in many e-learning situations.
Learners who choose to use technology for their own independent language
learning tend to apply a different set of criteria when choosing technologies.
164 Glenn Stockwell
According to Lai and Gu (2011), in a study of university students from Hong

Kong studying a range of foreign languages, learners were more likely to use
social networking sites (SNS), such as Facebook, if they set clear goals in their
language learning, felt familiar with the technologies and possessed suffi-
cient language skills. Many learners were wary about interacting with others
online, opting to give private information only to people that they trusted,
but they were then more likely to maintain interactions once they had devel-
oped relationships with their online interlocutors. Thus, while clear learner
goals certainly contributed to learners making the decision to engage in online
interactions, it was the development of interpersonal relationships that was a
determining factor in their sustained use.
What of the potential of technologies to sustain motivation to learn a
language? Warschauer (1996) argued that students who used computers for
writing essays online felt that they were able to learn better and more indepen-
dently, with more control over their learning and more opportunities to prac-
tise English, which ultimately led them to write better, more creative essays.
What was it about writing online that led learners to this perception? One of
the key points was the fact that they were able to interact with real people,
which made the language feel real rather than as something that was simply
undertaken in class. When learners are able to see a clear relationship between
what happens in their language classes and interactions with speakers of the
language they are learning, it follows that they can feel a sense of achieve-
ment which can lead to heightened motivation (see Atkinson & Raynor, 1974).
Related to this is the notion that technology which is designed to cater to a
variety of learners’ styles, interests and skill levels can lead to sustained motiva-
tion (Strambi & Bouvet, 2003). Language learning systems that track learners’
progress and provide feedback about what they have achieved can make it
easier to see how they have progressed. Whereas progress in many environ-
ments may be relatively unseen, systems equipped with record-keeping facili-
ties that enable learners to see what they have learned and what they still need
to study can boost student motivation to sustain their efforts in studying the
language.
The literature has also revealed cases in which the use of technology can have
an adverse effect, resulting in a reduction in motivation. For example, Chen
and Cheng (2008) examined EFL learners enrolled in a writing class in Taiwan
who were required to use automatic writing evaluation software to assist them
with essay writing during class time. They found that when the learners were
expected to use the system without teacher intervention, they became frus-
trated, finally forming negative opinions of the writing system. In another
example, Castellano et al. (2011) required their learners to undertake Internet
searches in class, but ultimately concluded that when the learners were required
to sift through large amounts of authentic target-language information on the
Internet, they were overwhelmed with the volume of information and were
not able to perform the task as expected. Both of these examples illustrate the
potential pitfalls of using technology in the classroom and give us insights
into what is necessary to avoid inadvertently damaging learners’ motivation
to study using technology. In the first case, learners lacked the skills to be
able to deal on their own with problems as they arose, and required assis-
tance from the teacher, but did not receive it. In the second case, the level of
language proficiency required to undertake the task was insufficient for the
task they were assigned. What this tells us is that, above all else, the teacher
needs to be aware of learners’ current ability regarding both technology and
language proficiency, and must take care to select tasks which are suited to
them. Furthermore, it also tells us that before placing expectations on learners
to work unsupervised, sufficient time needs to be dedicated to training them
to ensure that they can deal with difficulties as they arise.
Technologies in language teaching and learning
The last decade has seen an explosion of new technologies becoming available
to the general public – technologies which add to the already quite-impressive
list of tools with which we engage on a daily basis. As described earlier in the
chapter, teachers – including language teachers – have been relatively quick
in adapting into their educational settings new technologies as they appear.
This has had an enormous effect on the language learning environments
in which teachers are involved and, of course, this is very true of English
language teaching settings as well. This section deals with some of the more
mainstream technologies in the CALL literature. The first two, communi-
cation technologies and social technologies, specifically look at tools that
encourage interaction between learners and their teachers, other students
and the wider community, while the last, mobile technologies, considers how
learners can capitalise on the tools that they carry with them to enhance
their language learning opportunities. It should be pointed out that in recent
years, both communication and social technologies are also used through
mobile technologies, in particular, smart phones and tablet computers, but
the discussion below maintains a more generic view which is applicable to
both mobile and non-mobile settings.
Communication technologies
As pointed out in the beginning of the chapter, communication technologies
have occupied a central role amongst the range of technologies which are used
for language teaching. Some of these have been around for quite some time,
such as email and online chat, although research has taken on slightly different
characteristics in recent years. While early research into communication tools
166 Glenn Stockwell
like email was primarily concerned with language skills, such as vocabu-
lary and grammar, that could be acquired through interactions with native
speakers (e.g., Stockwell & Harrington, 2003), more recent research has moved
towards examining how a wider range of learner attributes can be developed.
In one such example, Fisher et al. (2007) investigated how learners of French
and English used an electronic bulletin board system (BBS) in order to interact
with native speakers of the other language. They found that the learners not
only continued with the interactions without intervention from the teacher,
but they also mimicked the formatting of greetings, asked linguistic ques-
tions and formulated expressions in the target language to encourage as many
responses as possible to questions that they had posed on the BBS.
Increased bandwidth has also seen an increase in other communication
tools the use of which has been implemented in language teaching environ-
ments as well. Where video-conferencing tools were often plagued by tech-
nical difficulties and problems with slow connections, modern video tools
are relatively foolproof in terms of installation, and they provide very clear
images and sound to users. Using one such system, Adobe-Connect, Jauregi et
al. (2012) found that beginner and intermediate learners of Dutch were moti-
vated by being able to see and orally interact with native-speaking partners.
While learners at both levels indicated concern regarding being able to succeed
in their interactions, they indicated a sense of achievement when communica-
tion was successful. In this study, however, it is important to note that learners
were interacting with experienced interlocutors who applied specific strate-
gies to encourage the learners in their interactions. Given the comparatively
low levels of proficiency of the learners compared with that of other studies,
the stance adopted by the researchers was no doubt extremely important in
ensuring success in the project.
Social technologies
Social technologies have probably been among the most noticeable develop-
ments over the past several years, moving from simpler technologies such as
blogs and Wikis, through to more sophisticated ones such as Facebook (see
Stockwell & Tanaka-Ellis, 2012 for a discussion). Given that the concept of
motivation is being shaped by recent theories which seek to examine how
learners consider who they are, their relationship with their social world and
their goals for the future (Ushioda, 2011), it would seem that social technolo-
gies are in an important position to assist learners in achieving their language
learning goals. Indeed, a lot has been written about the potential advantages
of these social tools that enable learners to move their audience from beyond
the relatively limited scope of their classroom or pre-determined groups to the
wider community in general. Newer technologies such Facebook are thought
to promote motivation through the interpersonal networks created through
them, but there is still very little actual research available at this stage. In
saying this, however, research from more established technologies suggest its
potential as a language learning tool. Apart from the motivational increases
which have been attributed to interacting with an authentic audience, blogs,
for example, have been associated with improved autonomy. Pinkman (2005)
found that Japanese learners of English were willing to post spontaneously
to their blogs, and reply to comments from others, even when the comments
were of a negative tone, while Bhattacharya and Chauhan (2010) concluded
that through blog-writing learners became more able to take responsiblity for
learning strategies and over time achieved a greater degree of independence
from their teachers. Wikis have also had a favourable response from teachers
and learners, with students taking the initiative to pay attention to form,
making corrections not only on Wikis written by themselves, but also by other
students in the class (Kessler, 2009). With this greater desire to take responsi-
bility for producing and correcting language output, the potential of SNS such
as Facebook would seem to be quite promising.
In addition to these types of sites, learners may also interact with one
another in virtual worlds, otherwise known as multi-user virtual environ-
ments (MUVEs). Some of the benefits which have been associated with
learning through MUVEs such as Second Life include the potential for
anonymity, through hiding behind avatars, and increased participation
(Deutschmann et al., 2009). While many learners experienced technical
difficulties in the early stages (Peterson, 2010), learner perceptions of interac-
tions through these environments have been very positive. Like other social
technologies, participation in MUVEs has also been thought to contribute to
learner autonomy. Collentine (2011) found that learners of Spanish involved
in two murder-mystery tasks in a MUVE, called Unity, produced language
of increased complexity and accuracy as a result of the decisions that they
made during the tasks. It is important to bear in mind, however, that social
technologies such as the ones listed here do not have any outcomes within
themselves (see Stockwell & Tanaka-Ellis, 2012) and, if used specifically for
educational purposes, depend on teachers to decide how learners interact
with themselves or others. In the case of the study by Collentine, the virtual
environment enabled learners to be put in situations that would normally not
be possible in classroom settings and, as a result, learners were able to benefit
from the variety of environments that can be created in MUVEs. If MUVEs are
used independently of institutional learning contexts, however, learners may
find that they gain for themselves extra opportunities for interactions with
the people that they meet while online. This is particularly so for learners of
English, where the default language in many of these social environments
tends to be English, although there are, of course, pockets of users of other
languages as well.
168 Glenn Stockwell
Mobile technologies
Mobile technologies have also become an everyday part of the lives of people
around the world, and the reduction in costs and increasing functionalities
of tools such as mobile phones make them a very attractive tool for language
learning. So familiar have mobile technologies become these days that many
people actually see them as an extension of themselves (Ros i Solé et al., 2010)
and feel uncomfortable when they do not have immediate access to them.
Mobile devices these days take many shapes and forms, ranging from mobile
phones – including smart phones – to tablet computers, wireless laptops, PDAs
and portable MP3 players. An important consideration of mobile learning,
however, is that it takes place predominantly under unsupervised conditions,
which means that if learners encounter difficulties there is a greater chance
that they will reduce usage or even reject it altogether (see the discussion above
regarding learner perspectives on motivation for language learning). One of
the greatest attractions of mobile learning, particularly with mobile phones,
is that, in most developed countries at least, almost all students already own
these devices, making it easier to encourage learners to make the most of any
spare time that they may have for their language learning.
A potential pitfall of mobile learning, however, is the concept of private
and studying spaces (cf. Stockwell, 2008; see also Henry, this volume). While
teachers may be enthusiastic about having their learners use their mobile phones
or other devices for learning purposes, some learners have expressed resis-
tance to having their own private space being used for educational purposes.
When given a choice between using a mobile phone or a desktop computer
for learning English vocabulary, Japanese students showed an overwhelming
preference for using the desktop computers, indicating that the environments
in which one would expect to use mobile phones (in transit, in a restaurant,
etc.) were not conducive to learning. There has been, however, a slow increase
in the number of learners who opt to use their mobile phones for learning
(Stockwell, 2010). As the idea of the mobile phone as a universal tool becomes
more acceptable, we would expect to see a gradual increase in the number of
learners who actively embrace learning through their mobile devices.
Developments in technologies such as the three examples of technologies
that have been provided here have done much to expand not only the times
and places that learners can engage in learning a language, but also to alter
who they interact with and how they do it. As teachers, it is important to
be aware of what technologies learners are using and to consider how these
could – and in some cases should – be applied to language learning contexts.
This can only be achieved, however, through having a sufficient understanding
of the various affordances and potential limitations of these technologies for
learning a language, and selecting the appropriate technology for specific
learning needs.
Local and global issues in teaching English with technology
Learning English has its own special considerations when compared with
many other languages, such as Japanese, Indonesian or Arabic. While, of
course, there are also individual characteristics of certain communities and
regions in users of languages such as these, it is difficult to associate English
with a specific target group. As Lamb (2004: 3) argues, ‘English loses its asso-
ciation with particular Anglophone cultures and is instead identified with
the powerful forces of globalisation’, meaning that English is not learned
specifically to converse with native speakers from Canada, New Zealand
or England but, rather, it is used as a ‘lingua franca between speakers from
different language backgrounds’ (Ushioda, 2006: 150). This means that the
backgrounds of learners of English are exceptionally broad, from technolog-
ically highly developed countries such as France or South Korea, through to
less-developed countries such as Vietnam or Bangladesh. At a societal level,
there are great differences between the availability and costs of technologies
(access to wireless Internet, Internet speed, etc.), the technological standards
(SMS in Europe and the United States compared to mobile email in Japan),
and access to relevant information and organisations (access to training in
technology and links with academic organisations) (Stockwell, 2012). All of
these aspects will have a large impact on the technological options that are
available to both teachers and learners, as well as the individual views held
towards technology for language learning.
While, of course, there are problems with the so-called ‘digital divide’,
which refers to the ‘troubling gaps between those who use computers and the
[I]nternet and those who do not’ (Mehra et al., 2004: 782), technology has also
had a remarkable stabilising effect as well. Resources for teaching English, in
particular those produced by commercial publishers, tend to be quite prohib-
itive in terms of cost for people in less-developed regions. Technology, then,
means that through the Internet, resources in English are far more accessible to
many. Computers have seen a reduction in price over time, but even lower-end
machines are often beyond the reach of learners in some countries. However,
the last few years in particular have seen a spread of smart phones, not only in
developed countries, but also in other regions as well. This type of technology
has the advantage of not requiring the cost of setting up expensive cabling
which is needed for computers, as well as the fact that many people choose to
own one even without consideration of educational purposes. In this way, the
spread of technology has the potential to make English more accessible, and
this in turn is likely to result in greater opportunities for learning. There is a
large range of free resources for learning English available on the Internet, such
as Randall’s ESL Cyber Listening Lab (www.esl-lab.com) and BBC’s Learning
English site (www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/learningenglish/), to name just two.
170 Glenn Stockwell
If these are utilised by both teachers and learners, despite the huge gap between
the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’, technology allows access to learning for a wider
global audience with little extra financial outlay.
It is also natural that we would approach our different teaching envir-
onments in different regions in different ways. Even in countries where
similar levels of technology are available, one would expect to see these
technologies used in different ways, depending on the characteristics of
both the learners and the teachers. Using technology to teach English (as
a second language) in the United States, for example, would vary greatly
from using similar technologies to teach English (as a foreign language)
in Japan. Not only are there the obvious logistical differences between
teaching in ESL and EFL contexts, but we also see large differences in the
expectations of what technology is to be used for. In the United States, the
primary SNS is Facebook, which eclipses any alternatives by an enormous
margin. In Japan, in contrast, many young people prefer to use a Japanese-
based system called Mixi, which has similar functionality to Facebook but
allows for more interaction in closed communities. Using Facebook as a
supplement to English classes in the EFL setting would be considered fairly
normal, but to require learners in Japan to do so may at first meet with
some resistance from learners who are more familiar with Mixi. Facebook is
used by some learners in Japan, but typically this tends to revolve around
those learners who either have experience living in an English-speaking
country, or who are sufficiently motivated to try a different platform. There
is no easy answer to the question of how to deal with these differences in
concept but, at the very least, it requires teachers to have an understanding
of the differences in learners’ views towards technologies, and to make deci-
sions based on what suits not only their pedagogical needs but also their
individual and collective preferences.
Conclusion
The potential for technologies to enhance motivation of both teachers and

learners of English is certainly powerful. Of course, it is important to be aware
that technology use does not result in automatic motivational increases in
teachers or learners, particularly where there is stress regarding availability of
technology and skills in using them effectively. Learners are often more likely
to adopt the latest personal-use technologies than are teachers, meaning that
teachers are left with trying to bring themselves up to a comparable level with
the learners, not infrequently within institutions that are reluctant to commit
to the outlays required to not only update their technological resources, but
also to train teachers to use them properly. Despite this, technologies have
certainly become a more natural part of our everyday lives, and to that end to
see their usage extended beyond daily uses to meeting our language learning
needs is in one sense just a matter of time. When technologies do become the
norm in our learning environments, however, it is possible to see that new
challenges will be faced. For example, in a day and age when technologies are
commonplace, in one sense it becomes more difficult to maintain learner curi-
osity (see Arnone et al., 2011), which will place a greater onus on teachers to
think of innovative ways that will keep their learners engaged with the tech-
nologies that are available at the time. One of the most fundamental points
to bear in mind, as Felix (2003) very rightly argues, is that technology should
not be used as an alternative to good teaching practice. This leaves a great
responsibility on the shoulders of teachers to consider how they can contribute
to encouraging and maintaining learners’ interest in learning the language.
Given the speed of technological development and penetration into society,
technology most certainly will have a role to play in accomplishing this, but
it should not do so at the expense of the various goals held by both teachers
and learners.
Technology has had an enormous impact on the teaching and learning

environment, but there is still a good deal to consider regarding its effect on
various aspects of motivation. Further discussion of the relationship between
technology and motivation would need to consider: the ways in which tasks
can be both designed and implemented, the motivation leading teachers and
institutions to adopt technologies, the motivation for learners to choose to
use technology to assist them in learning a language and the variation in
views towards technologies on both regional and individual levels. While not
exhaustive, some specific areas of discussion are as follows:
1. What features of technology-based tasks might be considered as contrib-

uting to enhancing learner motivation to use the technology? In other
words, how can a task be created such that it promotes learners’ sustained
engagement with the technology?
2. Teachers’ motivation to use technology for language teaching is a relatively
under-researched area. Given that many students these days possess modern
technologies, is it acceptable for teachers to refuse to use technology in their
teaching environments?
3. Institutions often put pressure on both teachers and learners to use certain
technologies. What steps should institutions take both before and after
introduction of a technology to ensure greater usage?
172 Glenn Stockwell
4. Is it possible for a technology to enhance learners’ motivation to learn a

language? If not, why not? If so, how would the technology need to be used
to achieve this?
5. Is it possible to have standard online resources for learners of English that
would be applicable on a world scale? What features would be necessary to
ensure that students of different backgrounds would be motivated to use
them?

Chapelle, C. (2003). English Language Learning and Technology. Amsterdam: John
Benjamins.
Although nearly a decade has passed since this book was published, it remains an impor-
tant piece of work looking specifically at the way in which technology has affected the
learning of English. While it does not have a specific section on motivation, Chapelle
remains aware of its underlying importance, and as such makes reference to it at several
points throughout the book.
This article provides a discussion of the way in which motivation in learning a second
language is being reconceptualised through contemporary theories of self and identity,
and considers how digital technologies may play a role in shaping learners’ motivation
and their identities.
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10
Motivated by Visions:
Stories from Chinese Contexts
Xuesong Gao
Introduction
The rise of English as an international language has always been a controver-

sial issue. Its critics condemn the global dominance of English as a form of
linguistic imperialism, in which hegemonic powers like Great Britain and the
United States extend their influence and interests by promoting the teaching
and learning of English (e.g., Phillipson, 1992). In contrast, others have observed
that the ascension of English as an international language has been supported
by individuals in various contexts who appropriate the language as a means to
pursue their localised interests and agenda (e.g., Canagarajah, 2007). Research
has also documented various ways in which individuals in many contexts are
empowered by their English competence and see the language as an integral
part of their identity (e.g., Lamb, 2007). These individuals’ experiences raise
intriguing questions for further research on the interplay between the indi-
vidual creativity and contextual conditions under which English has spread as
an international language. Such research helps reveal how individual learners
motivate themselves and sustain their motivation in their autonomous efforts
to develop English competence in particular contexts.
Language learning research has consistently demonstrated that autonomous
language learners sustain their learning with a strong motivation, beliefs in
what works in learning, and strategies that help them achieve their language
learning objectives, all considered essential components of autonomous
language learning (Oxford, 2003; 2008; Wenden, 1998; 2002; Yang, 1999;
Zhang, 2003). In the light of this growing attention to individual learners’
contextualised learning efforts, recent research has challenged the conceptual-
isation of motivation as an enduring psychological characteristic of the learner
and begun to place greater emphasis than ever on its socially constructed,
dynamic nature (e.g., Al-Shehri, 2009; Gao, 2006; 2007; 2010; Ushioda, 2011;
Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009). These studies have argued for the centrality of ‘ideal
176
Stories from Chinese Contexts 177
self’ as a motivating incentive in regulating language learners’ efforts to learn

English in particular contexts, as the globalisation process has made compe-
tence in English a highly valued asset for many in these contexts.
In this chapter, I draw on two empirical studies of autonomous learners’
experiences in China – where real-life opportunities to use the language are
scarce – and explore how these learners’ visions of ‘ideal self’ operated with
supportive social groups as powerful motivational forces underlying their
autonomous language learning efforts. The first study (Gao, 2010) is about
a physically disabled learner of English in the early 1980s, and the second
(Gao, 2007) is about learners in the twenty-first century. Both studies docu-
mented how these learners transformed their engagement with a globalisation
process into localised pursuit of ‘ideal self’ and English competence, which
subsequently guided and sustained their autonomous learning efforts. Before
I present these findings from the two studies, I shall first explore the shifting
focus towards the ‘ideal self’, conceptualised as ‘the representation of the
attributes that someone would ideally like to possess – that is, a representation
of personal hopes, aspirations or wishes’ (Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009: 3) – in
research on language learners’ autonomous learning.
The ‘ideal self’ in autonomy research
The shift towards the ‘ideal self’ in motivation research has been related to
recent efforts to problematise the conceptualisation of learner attributes such
as motivation and beliefs as ‘static’ features. As advanced by Ushioda (2011),
such problematisation has led to a shift from a theoretical abstraction of learner
attributes towards
a focus on the agency of the individual person [ ... ] with an identity, a

personality, [ ... ]; a person with goals, motives and intentions; a focus on
the interaction between this self-reflective agent, and the fluid and complex
web of social relations, activities, experiences and multiple micro- and
macro-contexts ... (Ushioda, 2011: 12–13)
Recent studies, especially those endorsing socio-cultural perspectives that

highlight the mediation of contextual conditions on language learning, have
also supported this shift with views that perceive language learners’ emerging
motivation as associated with an interactive process between shifting contex-
tual conditions and learners themselves (e.g., Gao, 2008; 2010; Lamb, 2007;
Palfreyman, 2003). Socio-cultural perspectives on language learning ‘view
real-world situations as fundamental, not ancillary, to learning’ (Zuengler &
Miller, 2006: 37) and, as a result, language learning should be regarded not
only as metacognitive and cognitive activities in individual brains but also as
178 Xuesong Gao
social acts that are meaningfully related to learners’ identity formation. From
this perspective, learning ‘combines personal transformation with the evolu-
tion of social structures’ through learners participating in those communities
(Wenger, 2000: 227); it is also ‘both a kind of action and a form of belonging’
for learners (Wenger, 1998: 4). In the meantime, it can be argued that language
learners’ successful execution of these efforts to acquire linguistic competence
hinges upon the visions of ‘ideal self’ to which they commit themselves (see
Al-Shehri, 2009; Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009).
Such emphasis on learners’ visions of ‘ideal self’ as motivational forces under-
lines the critical role that learners’ agency – their power of self-consciousness,
reflexivity, intentionality, cognition, emotionality and so on (e.g., Giddens,
1984; Sealey & Carter, 2004) – has in the learning process. Individual learners
reveal their agency through the exercise of their capacity and willpower to
‘achieve desired and intended outcomes’ in the language learning process
(Giddens, 1984: 15). To facilitate their autonomous language learning, they
also need to effect local changes and construct supportive social networks
within their immediate learning settings as they pursue their visions and
English competence ‘within the constraints of reality’ (Al-Shehri, 2009: 165).
These ‘constraints of reality’ include contextual conditions, consisting of mate-
rials (artefacts) and discourses distributed through myriad social networks,
which profoundly mediate language learners’ learning efforts and pursuits of
‘ideal self’ (Oxford, 2003; Palfreyman, 2006). For instance, in the context of
Chinese learners, this focus on language learners’ pursuit of ‘ideal self’ may be
seen as similar to the emphasis on individuals’ ‘efforts’ and ‘perseverance’ in
their pursuit of ‘self-actualisation’ and ‘self-realisation’, reflecting the profound
influences of traditional Chinese cultural discourses and contemporary educa-
tional practices (Gu, 2003: 97; see also Gao, 2008; Jiang & Smith, 2009; Shi,
2006).Therefore, as language learners are seen as social agents who are able to
‘reflect upon’ and ‘seek to alter or reinforce, the fitness of the social arrange-
ments they encounter for the realisation of their own interests’ (Sealey &
Carter, 2004: 11), an examination of such efforts reveals how their visions of
‘ideal self’ work together with supportive social networks in mediating their
autonomous language learning efforts.
In the coming sections, I shall draw on the data collected in the two studies I
have undertaken with regards to autonomous language learners in the Chinese
context (Gao, 2007; 2010). The first study (Gao, 2010) examined how a phys-
ically disabled Chinese learner imagined another self with whom she could
engage in English conversations as she struggled to learn English in extremely
deprived conditions because of her disability. The second study (Gao, 2007)
explored how a group of learners came together to practise English and
founded a community for self-assertion, which sustained their efforts to use
English together.
A story of a disabled Chinese learner
The first study (Gao, 2010) examined the genesis of one legendary language
learner’s success in learning English by interpreting her published diaries,
letters and autobiography. Zhang Haidi, the learner concerned in the inquiry,
was promoted nationwide by the Chinese government as a role model on the
Chinese mainland in the 1980s and influenced millions of Chinese of her time
(Landsberger, 2001; Zhang, 1999). Born in 1955, she became a paraplegic at
the age of five and survived ‘four operations for the removal of tumours in her
spine’ (Landsberger, 2001: 554). Although she could not go to school because
of her paralysis, she ‘taught herself medicine, acupuncture, and classical liter-
ature’ (Zhang, 1999: 115). Near the end of the Cultural Revolution (1966–76),
she began to learn English and other foreign languages and reportedly had, by
1983, ‘translated over 160,000 words in foreign books and reference materials’
(Zhang, 1999). She later became a nationally famous author and because of
her soaring success as language learner, translator and author, was appointed
to be the chairperson for China’s Disabled Federation. It must be noted that
the source texts used in Gao (2010), mostly biographical accounts and diaries
published by the propaganda departments in the 1980s, cannot be regarded
as factual representations of Zhang Haidi and her language learning efforts.
Most of the texts were published when Zhang was being promoted to be a role
model nationwide on the Chinese mainland. Given this particular historical
time, these texts included obvious ideological stances, such as calls for young
people to work for a better socialist future. However, the essential elements of
Zhang’s language learning narratives were confirmed by her autobiography
in 2004, after the Chinese mainland witnessed dramatic changes in terms of
social, cultural and ideological conditions.
As identified in the analysis, narratives in the source texts were found to
have consistently portrayed Zhang as a highly motivated language learner
committed to socialist ideals and pursuit of ‘ideal self’. Her commitment to the
pursuit of ‘ideal self’ was seen to have sustained the unique ways that she used
to overcome the contextual constraints and her physical disability in learning
languages. It was also noted in the inquiry that she made tireless efforts to form
supportive social networks facilitating her language learning efforts despite her
physical predicament.
The importance of ‘ideal self’

Due to her physical disability, Zhang needed unusually strong willpower to
initiate and sustain her efforts to learn English. Her willpower, as reflected in
her motivational discourses, was found in the analysis to be associated with a
powerful vision of ‘ideal self’ in line with socialist ideals, the dominant polit-
ical ideology in the 1980s.
180 Xuesong Gao
According to her published diary, the catalytic event that made Zhang
determined to learn English took place in a county hospital where she was a
temporary medical worker in the acupuncture section. Because of her reputa-
tion for learning new things, ‘an old comrade’ approached her with a request
regarding the English instructions on an imported medicine for cardiac
problems:
I took the medicine and looked at it. I had to apologize to my comrade:

‘[ ... ] I have never learnt English’. This old comrade was very disappointed.
[ ... ] After she left, I felt really ashamed of myself. [ ... ] I started thinking: [ ... ]
Why can’t I learn English? If I learn English, I can have one more means to
serve my people. [ ... ] I must learn it. (Gao, 2010: 584)
In this particular extract, Zhang also expressed a strong desire to become a

‘useful’ member of society, which was closely associated with the ideological
discourses of her time with an emphasis on serving the needs of ‘our people’
(Zhang, 1999). In spite of the obvious ideological imports, this desire to be
‘useful’ is also suggestive of her pursuit of an ‘ideal self’ underlying her language
learning efforts (Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009). In the meantime, her motivational
discourses about learning English also include a pragmatic orientation as a
crucial component since she saw the language as a means to acquire advanced
technology for the benefit of the country. Due to her physical predicament,
she considered translation one of the few means for her to make meaningful
contributions. As a result, in her diaries and letters to her friends she made
frequent references to her translation works:
[ ... ] my efforts to learn English continue. Now I can [ ... ] translate the
instructions for some of the imported medicines. I have sent the translation
of The Encyclopaedia of Canine together with the English original to the
Science Press through comrades. [ ... ] I will be preparing to translate another
book, an English novel called ‘Surgery by the Sea’. (Gao, 2010: 584)
By undertaking these translation efforts, Zhang began to see the learning of

English as an additional means for her to prove herself as a competent member
of society. Moreover, her visions of ‘ideal self’ were identified in the inquiry
(Gao, 2010) to be a crucial motivational force sustaining her language learning
efforts. From the very beginning, she projected another ‘self’ onto the confined
world where she spent time learning English:
I finally decided to find an English friend for myself. She is the me in the
mirror. In order for me to practise English conversation with her, I wrote
down two scripts, one for a girl from China and the other for the English
girl. I began to talk to the me in the mirror [ ... ] (Gao, 2010: 584)
This reference (in the biographical texts published in the 1980s) to another
‘me’ was presented as a strategy that Zhang adopted to overcome her physical
disability and learn to speak English. In her recent memoirs in 2004, however,
this ‘me’ has acquired more features and substance, revealing the critical play
of her powerful imagination in the learning of English. First of all, this ‘me’
had an English name, as recorded in one of the imagined conversations as
follows:
Who are you, please?

I am Mariana. (Gao, 2010: 584)
‘Mariana’ in due course has also more visual representations and ‘she’ is
described in one of Zhang’s diary entries as follows:
Perhaps you have read Jane Eyre. My home village is near the place the story
occurred. Here it was winter. The sky was gray and the weather was cold. All
tree leaves fell early before and the fields seemed vast and solitary under the
cover of white snow. (Gao, 2010: 584)
The rich details Zhang added to this ‘Mariana’ in her autobiographical account
suggest that she might be also another ‘ideal self’ that Zhang acquired through
the process of learning English and might have been the ‘self’ with whom she
identified for years. By creating and investing in this imagined self, Zhang
sustained the motivational level necessary for her to overcome various diffi-
culties in the process of learning English (see also Al-Shehri, 2009; Li, 2009;
Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009). It also helped her relate her language learning
efforts to a process of ‘self-cultivation’ and ‘self-realisation’, which has been
encouraged by traditional educational discourses (Gu, 2003: 97; Shi, 2006).
Supportive social networks

While Zhang’s personal writings show how she committed herself to the
learning of a language in pursuit of her visions of ‘ideal self’, I also showed
in my analysis that she displayed an awareness of sustaining her committed
learning efforts by creating supportive networks. Even though it was difficult
for her to socialise with other language learners because of her medical condi-
tion, she still managed to create a social network of learners and teachers that
supported her language learning. For instance, she solicited every possible
help from any visitor who knew some English and who could help her learn
English (however small their contribution), as follows:
Zhang keeps putting questions about learning English to anyone visiting her
who happened to know some English. Many of them became her English
teachers for one single letter or word. (Gao, 2010: 588)
182 Xuesong Gao
She started to learn English at a time when China was still in political turmoil
because of the ongoing Cultural Revolution, but she still managed to find an
English teacher, one who had been exiled to a neighbouring village because of
his overseas connections, considered then a sign of disloyalty to the nation.
This teacher reportedly refused her requests at first but was finally moved by
her insistence and decided to help her out secretly. Zhang conveyed her excite-
ment about this achievement in a letter to a close friend, who was also learning
English:
I have improved my pronunciation because I am learning English from a

teacher whose English was taught by an English woman (Zhang’s original) in
a church school in Beijing. He has also been to countries such as the US and
the UK. He also helped me with my grammar. (Gao, 2010: 588)
The reference to the teacher’s visit to ‘countries such as the US and the UK’
indicates that Zhang was also motivated to learn English as a means of enabling
her to have global engagement. The ‘English woman’ in the extract not only
gave the teacher the authority as an English teacher, but she was associated
with the vision of ‘ideal self’ as embodied by ‘Mariana’, to whom Zhang wished
to relate through the teacher’s help.
Zhang continued her efforts to find social support for her learning of English.
Her letters and diary entries record how she invested heavily in establishing a
social network in relation to her language learning. In many of these letters,
she made requests such as the following for help concerning English learning
materials:
I hope that you could do me three favours: 1) Could you lend the two books
(about learning English, author’s note) again after you finish learning
them? 2) When you buy any English book, could you also buy me one? [ ... ]
3) I hope that you can write to me regularly so that I can learn about your
progress and learning methods. [ ... ] (Gao, 2010: 588)
In fact, Zhang obtained almost all the learning materials through the help of
her friends. She also returned their favours. As a result, she was able to create
a supportive social network in the process of learning English. This group of
‘friends’ played an important role in sustaining Zhang’s efforts to learn English
and other foreign languages.
In summary, Gao’s (2010) analysis revealed the importance of the ‘ideal self’
as a motivational incentive for Zhang to sustain her language learning efforts.
Its findings also suggest that the ‘ideal self’ is associated with supportive social
networks to aid her efforts to acquire linguistic competence and realise this
‘ideal self’. The importance of such social networks also emerged to be a central
theme in learners’ autonomous learning as recorded in the second study,

conducted among a group of learners who voluntarily gathered together to
practise English on the Chinese mainland (Gao, 2007).
A tale of an English learners’ community on the Chinese mainland

Gao (2007) documents and examines a creative way many Chinese learners
address the lack of real-life opportunities to interact with English speakers
in their pursuit of oral English competence. To overcome this contextual
constraint on learning English, many learners ingeniously organise them-
selves into ‘English corners’, ‘having as a defining characteristic non-native
speakers’ efforts to interact with each other in English’ (Gao, 2007: 260). The
study explored the discursive construction of an English club in a European-
style café, called Blue Rain, in a medium-sized developed coastal city on the
Chinese mainland by those who participated in it. In July 2005, when the
English club decided to move its venue from Blue Rain Café to other loca-
tions, a participant posted a series of messages in an online discussion forum
to commemorate the days that they had spent together in the café – messages
which instantly attracted hundreds of responses from other participants who
used to attend or were still attending the club’s events. Narratives about the
café became the focus of the analysis in Gao (2007), which revealed the impor-
tance of supportive social networks and visions of ‘ideal self’ in sustaining
language learners’ autonomous learning efforts.
The importance of community

As can be seen in the first message posted by the person who initiated this
discussion, the club was seen as a crucial means for many individuals to pursue
their ‘ideal self’ through socialising in English:
I came to know that there was a place called ‘Blue Rain Café’ on the Internet
by accident. A few months later, I [ ... ] came upon a cafeteria on the road-
side. It was Blue Rain Café. [ ... ] I decided to walk in and met the legendary
Steve and Mr. Chen and a group of people who are interested in English in
this city. [ ... ] While smiling and talking, hours passed away. And I never
felt so much at ease. [ ... ]. It seems that every person present and every
discussion topic fitted in with décor as if they were all part of it. The place
strengthened what we shared as individuals and pushed us together. [ ... ]
We had the same pursuit. And we also spoke Chinese, which gave us courage
in communicating with each other, because we did not have to worry
about whether we could be understood or not. Well, humans are gregar-
ious creatures. [ ... ] Before my eyes, they all appeared to be relaxed and
were seriously discussing topics chosen at will, using their body language
too. They all seemed to enjoy it very much. [ ... ] Maybe English gave us a
184 Xuesong Gao
sense of self-protection and security when using this non-mother tongue

to communicate with others. [ ... ] So I decided to stay on. I remember that
I was a winner in virtual city building games like No. 9 City when I had
little desire to talk to people. [ ... ] But what I had before my eyes was totally
different. This was real. [ ... ] We all desire to be accepted and acknowledged
by others. [ ... ] There is nothing more interesting than actively displaying
what is not well known to others in me before each new but unique indi-
vidual while enjoying a cup of tea. (Gao, 2007: 262–63)
As constructed in this data extract, the English club at the café appears to
have several attractions for those who are ‘interested in English’. First of
all, the club is full of individuals who worked together in pursuit of English
competence in a supportive and relaxing manner. The ultimate aim of their
efforts was to enjoy each other’s presence and ‘display what is not well known
to others in me before each new but unique individual while enjoying a cup
of tea’. The mutual support that members of the club gave to each other
can be also sensed in the following extract, posted by a high school student
who, when he first went there, was extremely nervous about his inadequate
command of English:
In comparison with the others, my brothers and sisters, I am relatively a

stranger and do not have many stories at Blue Rain Café. [ ... ] When I came
here for the first time, I was quite nervous and also excited. I thought that
with my clumsy English I would make a spectacle of myself. I did! Haha.
What I did not expect were your responses. You did not sneer at me or look
down upon me. You responded to my poor performance with empathetic
smiles and encouraging eyes. I made up my mind that I should be part of
Blue Rain Café. By and by, I started feeling that I came to Blue Rain Café not
only for practising oral English, but also to listen to your reflections on life
(which can be surprisingly pleasant). As for me, I cannot learn all of those
things from my textbooks (many thanks!!!) (Gao, 2007: 265)
Because of ‘empathetic smiles and encouraging eyes’ from other participants,

the high school student found a friendly supportive group for his learning of
English and a socialisation site in the club, where reflections on life experi-
ences were safely shared. In such exchanges, whenever an individual’s English
fails to communicate the intended message, they are allowed to use Chinese as
a backup so that they do not have to endure the stigma associated with these
communication failures, as recalled by another participant:
Out of curiosity, I decided to find out what the English corner was. [ ... ]
Afterwards, I went there quite frequently and made quite a few friends.
[ ... ] When I see new faces now, I start feeling that I am an old-timer. Blue
Rain café, for me, is a place for relaxation. If I am in a good mood, I will
talk non-stop. It is also a pleasure to sit there and listen to others when not
in a talking mood. [ ... ] If I want to speak English, I will speak English. If
I do not, then I can use Chinese. There is no rule at Blue Rain café. (Gao,
2007: 266)
In the meantime, the participants felt emboldened to use English to commu-

nicate with each other. Indeed, they felt that English gave them ‘a sense of
self-protection and security’ even if it was not their mother tongue. It can be
argued that the quality of human relationships overrides the importance of
providing language learning opportunities in the perceptions of individual
participants at the club. As a result, the club became an important platform for
the participants to use English, and a safe site for them to seek self-actualisa-
tion ‘within the constraints of reality’ (Al-Shehri, 2009: 165).
In pursuit of ‘ideal’ individuals

The supportive social network as identified in the analysis of the discus-
sion posts relating to the Blue Rain Café encourages various participants to
pursue the learning and use of English. It was also found in the analysis that
the supportive learning community attracted participants because it has core
members whose attributes reflect the visions of ‘ideal self’ that these partici-
pants had in learning English. In fact, it was noted that many discussants might
have strongly identified themselves with the two coordinators of the club (Steve
and Mr. Chen, pseudonyms). In spite of its extremely fluid membership, central
figures such as Steve and Mr. Chen played an important role in maintaining
community cohesion and guiding the participants to pursue the objective
of making friends through using English together. They both had a ‘perfect’
command of English, which enabled them to undertake any conversation topics
in English as recorded by the following participants’ discussion posts:
Mr. Chen can talk about anything with you. He can make everything enjoy-
able for you. Everyone likes him and welcomes his participation. His experi-
ence and knowledge enable him to take on any topics with anybody. Every
newcomer will stay with Mr. Chen for a few minutes so he is greeted by a lot
of people each time. [ ... ] (Gao, 2007: 264)
It was quite a dramatic experience to talk to Steve. The first time I came
to Blue Rain Café, I was ill at ease in a corner, listening to others. There
were [ ... ] repeated references to Steve, which made me look forward to
meeting him. [ ... ] Then he appeared in the café. [ ... ] I rushed to talk to
him wondering whether this skinny man was the legendary Steve. [ ... ] I
asked him a question quite directly: ‘So ... you are Steve? What makes you so
186 Xuesong Gao
famous?’ He [ ... ] laughed, ‘Because I’m ugly!’ I could not think of an imme-
diate response (Gao, 2007: 265).
It is not difficult to detect signs of admiration that other club participants had
for the two coordinators in the above two extracts. One might see that the
two stood for the kind of ‘ideal’ self that other participants wanted to pursue
in their efforts to socialise with others in English. In many senses, Steve and
Mr. Chen represented the successful middle-class in the city, which increas-
ingly benefits from China’s deepened engagement with the world. They were
also found to have embodied a variety of competences, qualities and skills,
together with remarkable proficiency in English. In particular, they had valu-
able professional exposure and life experiences, which made them role models
for other aspiring participants. They also had attractive personal qualities and
were easy to get along with.
Participants in this club also found that this was a place for self-assertion. In
the club, the participants had many opportunities to assert what they wanted
to be before strangers in this new social group. They were susceptible to the
enticing prospect of having free conversations on anything without revealing
too much about themselves. Their portrayal of deep conversations with like-
minded people in the club is suggestive of the respondents’ strong desire to
assert who they wanted to be as distinct from what they had already been
perceived as being in other arenas of life. Opportunities to satisfy such desires
in human exchanges were undoubtedly appealing to these participants, who
found it trivial to suffer boring questions related to their personal history
(what they were) in comparison with the gains in being what they wanted to
be, as can be seen in the following extracts:
The purpose of going there for me is to find someone who I could have a
deep talk with for sharing the same interests. [ ... ] It’s better on a dull rainy
day, [a] few people sit opposite each other talking about films and music. I
think it’s better not to ask too much about private matters such as what do
you do or what’s your name in the forum. Just find something in common
and exchange personal ideas. After leaving, you will recall this chat the
whole week and you would expect to meet such a friend next time (Gao,
2007: 266).
[I] agree with Mayflower for each time I went to EC (author’s note: English
corner). I was asked the same questions by different people, like name, occu-
pation ... I’m really sick of such questions but still wonder how can I be so
patient to answer them again and again. But for compensation, I can always
meet with different interesting people, have a nice and enlightening talk
every time. That’s the driving-force for me to put up with those boring ques-
tions. But I didn’t mean any offence here. (Gao, 2007: 266–67)
All these messages indicate that these participants were attracted to the
community because they were given opportunities to become self-assertive
individuals. As a result, this learning community had an inevitable impact
upon the participants’ self-perceptions and feelings of belonging, which in
turn enhance the community’s cohesion. As in the narrative of Emily, she even
changed her English name to be identified with a group of participants with
whom she continued to practise English beyond their participation in the club.
The development of ‘J-Group’ in the following quote illustrates the way stran-
gers of yesterday became members of today’s English learning community in
the English club:
I found that I fell in love with it. I practised my oral English a lot and at the
same time I made a great many good friends there. The first time I went
there, I had a great time with Jett, Joy, Jason and Jane. It happened that four
of us five had names that started with the letter J, so we came up with an
idea to form a group, jokingly named J-Group. And I changed my original
name Emily to Jemily and then became a member of the group. [ ... ] We
formed such a group to help us all practise English well. We had fun chat-
ting in English. [ ... ]. We not only chatted in the English corner but also on
the internet. (Gao, 2007: 267)
As can be seen in the above-mentioned extracts, the learning community

emerging from the English club not only allowed individual participants to
pursue their visions of ‘ideal self’, they also had effects on their self-perceptions;
this in turn might have helped sustain their desire to continue collaborating in
English learning activities at and beyond the club, including forming English
learning partnerships through online discussion and so on.
Discussion and conclusion
In this chapter, I have drawn on and re-examined two empirical studies on

Chinese learners’ experiences and re-examined the writing extracts related to
how these learners were motivated to learn English autonomously in contexts
in which real-life opportunities to use the language are scarce. The findings
from the two studies illustrate how autonomous learners invest learning efforts
when motivated by powerful visions of ‘ideal self’, and how they sustain
their learning efforts through maintaining their access to supportive social
networks (Al-Shehri, 2009; Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009). Although the first study
(Gao, 2010) is about a learner in the late 1970s and the second (Gao, 2007)
about learners in the twenty-first century, both studies reveal that the learners’
localised use of English enabled them to pursue their ‘ideal self’, which subse-
quently guided and sustained their autonomous learning efforts with new
188 Xuesong Gao
visions. It is noteworthy that in both studies language learners transformed

their engagement with the global process into local constructions and mainte-
nance of supportive communities, which profoundly mediated their pursuit of
‘ideal self’ when learning English.
In the first study (Gao, 2010), Zhang, as a disabled language learner, achieved
language learning success almost impossible even for learners with no medical
condition such as hers. It was noted that she projected different versions of her
‘self’ in sustaining her autonomous efforts to learn English. The narratives about
her published in the 1980s portray her as someone who is physically disabled
but wholeheartedly committed to serving the society and nation as a young
socialist. Zhang, in her own accounts, also saw English competence as a crucial
part of her pursuit of being a young socialist who could serve the society and
nation in spite of her physical disabilities. Her more recent autobiographical
account also includes an imagined self, embodied as ‘Mariana’, which appears
to be much more private and less political. In addition to this resourcefulness,
Zhang was also found to have persistently involved other language learners in
forming supportive networks, which is indicative of the significance of these
social networks for her pursuit of ‘ideal self’ and English competence. In the
second study, learners were found to have come together to practise English,
and in their efforts to use the language together they developed a strong sense
of community in an English club. These learners were identified in the study
to have also envisioned the use of English in their community as an important
part of their ‘middle-class’ self identities. They have among themselves a few
individuals embodying these desirable qualities of new individuals, such as
the coordinators of the English club, who were both local and global in their
outlook. In the community, the participants established a social space where
they supported each other in creating new selves and pursuing such imag-
ined selves. In other words, the club was a socialisation site where, in their
perception, a sense of belonging brought and kept the participants together
in a close-knit learning community. It was also a social community of English
learners, where non-native speakers of English attempted to satisfy their inner
needs for social exchanges and self-assertion in English (see also Chapter 8,
this volume, for Henry’s analysis of the digital game communities formed by
Swedish learners of English).
Further reflections on the data also help show that these learners’ visions
of ‘ideal self’ emerge from their interactions with shifting contextual condi-
tions. The highly politicised situation in the late 1970s imbued the learner’s
construction of ‘ideal self’ with socialist discourses, while language learners
were imbued with a strong spirit of seeking pleasure and status in the relatively
open Chinese society of the new century (Landsberger, 2001; Shi, 2006; Zhang,
1999). However, participants in both studies were found to have valued the
importance of supportive networks in motivating and sustaining their efforts
to learn English. These findings suggest that language learners need to believe
in the localised use of English, the global language, to express their personal
meanings and experiences so that they can continuously invest efforts in the
learning of English. For these reasons, in such contexts I contend that language
teachers can have a pivotal role to play in utilising language learners’ visions of
‘ideal self’ and encouraging them to undertake efforts to construct local social
networks in their learning efforts to pursue competence in English, the global
language.
These findings suggest that critical examination of language learners’ visions

of ‘ideal self’ provides valuable opportunities for researchers to study how indi-
viduals see the language as a crucial part of their identity and how they can be
empowered by their English competence. Further research into such engage-
ment by learners will reveal the dynamic interaction of learners’ visions and
contextual mediation, which in turn can inform language teachers’ pedagog-
ical efforts to assist their pursuit of English competence as motivated by visions
of ‘ideal self’. The findings also provide a few priority issues for language
teachers to address in their professional practice. In particular, they may get
their learners to reflect on the following questions in order to help enhance
their capacity for autonomous language learning:
1. How is English competence related to learners’ visions of ‘ideal self’? This

may help them to identify what would motivate and sustain their learning
efforts.
2. Which individuals closely resemble the ‘ideal self’ in their visions? The
efforts to answer this question may help them realise that their visions
are not fantasies. Critical engagement with this question also makes them
appreciate the challenges that lie ahead in pursuit of their visions.
3. Who may share similar visions of ‘ideal self’ to theirs? The answer to this
question decides whether it is possible for them to initiate and sustain
supportive social networks for their language learning efforts.
4. What sorts of social networks are available in their learning context? With
reference to Henry’s (Chapter 8, this volume) analysis of digital game commu-
nities formed by Swedish learners of English, language teachers need to
broaden their understanding of language learning beyond classrooms. With
a better understanding of out-of-class learning, language teachers then can
encourage language learners to find and form their own supportive learning
networks.
5. How might these social networks be utilised to motivate their language
learning? It is important that language teachers support language learners
190 Xuesong Gao
with the language needed to enhance their participation in these networks.

In other words, all the pedagogical efforts should focus on enabling language
learners to use their imagination and foster social community so that using
English could be made a meaningful and transformative experience that
profoundly mediates their pursuit of ‘ideal self’.

This is an excellent collection of studies that illustrate an entirely new direction in moti-
vation research informed by self and identity perspectives.
Wenger, E. (2000). Communities of practice and social learning systems. Organization,
7(2): 225–46.
This article presents a concise but informative overview of the principles and procedures
as to how we may develop social networks to support learning in general.
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11
Social Identity and Language
Learning Motivation: Exploring
the Connection and Activating
Learning
Lane Igoudin
Immigrant pathways to the language classroom are manifold. Some may

have arrived in their new homeland as children and now need additional
training to enhance the quality of their language. Others may have come later
in life with some rudimentary exposure to their second language, but with
an educational degree, a career in their native country and the presence of
learning skills and strategies they entail. Still others might have come without
much prior schooling and are now building their strength in their second
language from the ground up.
Teaching in a large, urban English as a Second Language (ESL) programme
in Southern California, I see all these types of students. These learners have
mastered enough English to survive, but still come back to school to study,
filling up our evening ESL classes after long hours at work, some still in their
nursing scrubs and checked restaurant kitchen trousers. What drives them?
What makes them commit to the challenges of learning despite, or on top of,
the pressures of earning a living, taking care of children and elderly parents,
and supporting extended families in their countries of origin? Why are they
in my class?
Social context of motivation for language learning
To fully understand the social framework of adult language learning, we have

to reach across the disciplinary boundaries into the fields of behavioural and
educational psychology as well as sociology.
Research in educational psychology postulates that adults’ engagement in
learning activities is tied directly to their view of themselves and their place
192
Social Identity and ESL Motivation in California 193
in the society. Due to important physical and psychological developments in

adult life, factors that have direct bearing on adult learning include: possession
of reasons for learning, the adult concept of the self, timing of learning expe-
rience to life events, need for application of knowledge to real-life situations,
and the internal origin of the desire to learn (Knowles, 1990). Motivation, here,
is the impulse, the energy that under the right circumstances may translate
into an effort to learn. Adult education is fundamentally a choice and, thus,
my preferred definition of motivation is: ‘the choices people make as to what
experiences or goals they will approach or avoid, and the degree of effort they
will exert in that respect’ (Keller, 1983: 389).
Adult participation in learning may arise from a variety of reasons origi-
nating in their social lives. To identify and classify those reasons, in one well-
known research project, an Education Participation Scale (a 40-item interview
instrument) was administered to more than 12,000 participants around the
world (Bolshier & Collins, 1983). Based on the participants’ responses, the
researchers proposed six fundamental psychosocial motivational orientations
guiding adult participation in educational activities:
t cognitive interest (enjoyment of learning for its own sake);

t community service (advancement of one’s family and community);
t external expectations (participation due to a requirement, professional or
otherwise);
t professional advancement (employment/career-oriented reasons);
t social contact (interest in group activities and relationship-building);
t social stimulation (education as an escape from boredom or frustration).
From the behavioural psychology standpoint, motivation, like other learning-

associated behaviours, is an expression of two general tendencies: to master
and to belong (Jones, 1968; MacKeracher, 1989). The tendency to master moves
a person to achieve the central, powerful status in his/her social context, to
organise it and control his/her actions and interactions within it ‘in order to
enhance survival and self-esteem’ (MacKeracher, 1989: 191). Being informed
and skilled reduces the uncertainty of new experiences and assures the indi-
vidual’s identity and integrity. The tendency to belong moves the individual to
join a social unit in order to enhance security and the sense of connectedness
with others. This sense of connection is desired both at the temporal (past and
future) and social levels, as in successful interpersonal relationships and inclu-
sion in activities and membership in self-selected groups.
This notion clearly applies to immigrant language learners, who as newcomers
standing outside of the dominant language society have to make an effort to
master their social situation, in part by acquiring the language that allows them
to access power in the L2 society, and to integrate into it, that is, to belong.
194 Lane Igoudin
As seen above, learning is inseparable from the socio-cultural context in

which it takes place. Jarvis (1987) and Mezirow (1981) suggested a correlation
between the adults’ potential to learn and the harmony between them and the
environment in which they function. ‘When there is disharmony or discon-
tinuity – both subsumed under the idea of disjuncture – then people have to
seek to adjust (learn), so that harmony can be re-established’ (Jarvis, 1987: 79).
Learning activity may occur as a proactive, relevant, and meaningful response
of the adult to the conflict generated by disjuncture.
Lastly, it is important to keep in mind that motivation for learning is not
a stable condition. Keller (1983) pointed out the relevance of the learning
situation as a prerequisite to sustaining motivation over time. Failure in a
learning situation dissolves a student’s motivation, causing learned helpless-
ness (Bandura, 1982; DeCharms, 1984; Weiner, 1984), or amotivation. Relating
this condition to the adult self, Crookes (2003) asserted that a student who
has experienced such failure in language learning would likely attribute it to
his/her own shortcomings, rather than to problems with the course content
or materials. Relevance extends beyond the learner’s goals in the classroom to
include the fulfilment sought from the learning process for the psychological
needs of achievement, affiliation, and, ultimately, power.
Observing motivation in the language classroom
In the classroom context, motivation is a cyclical, interactive process between

the learner and the learning environment. Motivation initiates the student’s
actions in the class and is influenced by the feedback and behaviours of others
in the classroom. ‘In directing and coordinating various operations towards
an object or goal, motivation transforms a number of separate reactions into
significant action’ (Julkunen, 2001: 30; see also Crookes & Schmidt, 1991;
Pintrich & Schunk, 1996). The interaction between the learner and his or her
peers also affects their motivation, in that being in a positive group encourages
enthusiasm for learning, while being in a negative group inhibits it (Chang,
2010: 149).
When observed in a classroom, the learner’s actions signifying interest and
engagement in the learning process can be used as evidence of motivation. A
motivated learner, for example, may employ meta-cognitive learning strategies
that make learning more effective, such as asking for help or practising with a
friend (Dörnyei, 2005). Crookes (2003: 129) defines temporal manifestations
of motivation as persistence, which occurs when a person focuses action on the
same thing for an extended period of time.
Recently, qualitative methodologies for motivation research have begun
to emerge, employing interviews and observation in the study of language
learning motivation (Guilloteaux & Dörnyei, 2008; Song, 2006; Syed, 2001;
Ushioda, 2001). These methods support a vision of language learning motiva-

tion as a dynamic, longitudinal process in which the learners’ cognitions and
beliefs, social context, and the relevance of the curriculum to the learners’
interests directly affect involvement in learning. Syed’s study, in particular,
showed that student motivation is affected by classroom atmosphere, turn-
taking practices, teacher-student interaction, and learning activities used in the
course, while Song’s study of failure in a community college ESL course showed
socially derived factors, such as family and job responsibilities, contributing
significantly to students’ failure in the course.
The socio-educational model of second language acquisition focusing on
the integrative/instrumental dichotomy (Gardner and Lambert, 1972) laid
the groundwork for contemporary research on language learning motiva-
tion and, despite considerable criticism (Au, 1988; Canagarajah, 2006; Peirce,
1995), continues to influence the field. The last 20 years saw a surge of interest
in language learning motivation, following Crookes and Schmidt’s (1991)
article ‘Motivation: Reopening the research agenda’ in Language Learning.
Only recently, however, did linguists begin to distinguish between second
and foreign language learners in the study of motivation, and to suggest that
‘the dynamics involved in learning these two different types of language may
be quite different’ (Gardner, 2001 in Dörnyei & Schmidt, 2001: 11). So far,
however, most research done in the field – including an array of important
volumes that summarise current research in language learning motivation
(e.g., Dörnyei, 2003; Dörnyei & Schmidt, 2001; Ushioda & Dörnyei, 2009) – has
focused overwhelmingly on foreign, rather than second language learning.
This is quite unfortunate, as ESL students – the bulk of whom are immigrants
learning English in an English-speaking (L2) society – find themselves in a
very different learning situation from EFL learners, with the social context,
realities, and pressures of living in an L2 society directly affecting their moti-
vation and the ways in which language educators can address it. That is to
say, an adult immigrant from Mexico will be learning English in Kansas City
under vastly different social circumstances than a language student taking an
English class in Mexico.
Compared to other adult students, ESL students have an additional challenge
in not only learning the language, but also socialising into the L2 society’s
culture (Florez & Burt, 2001). The ESL programmes, curricula, and teaching
styles may sometimes be a difficult fit with the immigrant’s cultural experience
and expectations. Resistance, failure, and disengagement are not uncommon
results of the interaction between an English learner and the educational
process. From the academic point of view, L2 proficiency for ESL students does
not stop at the language alone, but affects other skills necessary to succeed in
the college environment, such as math, reading, writing, and learning skills
(Fulks & Alancraig, 2008). Knowing how to address the underlying student
196 Lane Igoudin
motivation issues is, therefore, crucial to providing quality education to ESL

students.
The need for more research into motivational processes within the ESL
population is clear, and some studies of L2-learning immigrants in English-
speaking countries such as Australia, Canada, and the United States have
begun to appear (Bernat, 2004; Noels et al., 1999; Paper, 1990; Reynoso, 2008;
Skilton-Sylvester, 2002; Song, 2006; Waterman, 2008).
Driven by my own interest in adult student motivation – both as a linguist
interested in psychological and social factors affecting L2 acquisition, and as
a classroom practitioner – I conducted a research project (Igoudin, 2008) that
looked into why adult immigrants choose to take an advanced L2 course, and
what are the factors that foster or inhibit their desire to learn. Conducted in
one semester-length advanced ESL reading course taught by another instructor
at a Southern California community college, the project investigated motiva-
tional processes among ten adult immigrants who were enrolled. The study
employed a combination of qualitative and quantitative methods, including
individual interviews that elicited in-depth descriptive data on student beliefs
and attitudes, and an attitude motivation test battery (AMTB), which tested
the strength of various components within the participants’ motivation for
language learning. Interview and survey results were triangulated with 15 hours
of classroom observation that highlighted students’ motivational behaviours
in real-time classroom, and relevant, socio-cultural data, including participant
demographics and projected goals, as well as analysis of course documents
(syllabus, attendance records, and grades). Some findings from the study are
cited throughout the chapter.
Adult ESL pathways to formal language learning in California
The learning landscape an adult immigrant enters in California requires

considerable knowledge. While the state’s public policy supports the integra-
tion of immigrants into the mainstream society, the educational tracks that
lead to formal language acquisition are hardly straightforward; they frequently
overlap or show gaps, mostly due to the discordant priorities and funding
sources of English-teaching programmes.
Historically, adult education schemes have tied the learning of English as a
second language to the importance of the immigrant’s employment attainment
and career development. Note, for example, the central position of employ-
ability in the California Department of Education (CDE) definition of ESL in
its Adult Education Handbook for California (1997): ‘education for adults whose
inability to speak, read, or write the English language constitutes a substantial
impairment of their ability to get or retain employment and to function in
society’ (AEHC, 1997: 203).
Since its beginning in the mid-nineteenth century, adult education in

California (and in the United States at large) has been divided into two path-
ways, vocational and academic, ‘in recognition of [their] distinctive purposes,
ethos, policies, organisation, and forms of provision’ (Titmus, 1989: 93). Today,
state-sponsored adult ESL education is delivered primarily through a system
of adult schools, as well as credit and non-credit programmes at the state’s
112 community colleges, the largest college system in the world. While the
ESL statistics are hard to separate from remedial English and math in the
state’s basic skills data (one reason being that many ESL students take remedial
math as well), the magnitude of this population is staggering: In the academic
year 2006–07 alone, 719,482 students in the California Community College
system took at least one basic skills and/or ESL course (Board of Governors of the
California Community Colleges, 2008: 7).
In a real-life application of such division, ESL educational schemes at
community colleges are often separated into two programmes. Vocational
ESL programmes primarily offer L2 education at lower levels as part of basic
adult education and citizenship preparation. Its courses are usually free and
non-credited, funded by local and state budgets, as well as by federal grants.
Academic ESL programmes, on the other hand, are geared towards higher
levels of language proficiency, in particular to college writing and reading.
Language education, here, serves as the first step on the education ladder
leading to academic degrees (Associate, Bachelor and graduate) or certifi-
cated vocational education. The ESL courses in this track offer college credit,
including some that are transferable for university credit. Nor are they free,
although many students, particularly in poorer districts (which are also those
with higher concentrations of immigrant populations) qualify for financial
aid. The funding of these programmes comes primarily from the state.
The system is anything but uniform and is often confusing to the language
learner. Whether a particular community college offers credit and/or non-credit
ESL classes, their organisation, number, curricular content, and the unit credit
they earn vary widely from one district to the next. In some programmes,
ESL courses are dual-listed as credit and non-credit, drawing both groups of
students. Moreover, since assessment procedures vary between 72 commu-
nity college districts, placement is district-specific, and transfer between ESL
programmes of (and sometimes within) different districts is limited. The point
of exit out of ESL and into the mainstream English programmes is also decided
by an individual community college district and, sometimes, a particular
college within the district as well.
In recent years, the need for more college graduates to sustain California’s
economy, compounded by unprecedented cuts to the state budget, have led
to reconsideration of educational priorities in the state’s community college
system. Whereas these colleges had traditionally served multiple types of
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student populations, the high-school graduate population, college-bound

and requiring minimum remediation, appears to be the one favoured by the
state policymakers. As a result, funding for adult education and non-credit
ESL programmes has been significantly reduced, and the remaining ESL
programmes (as well as the colleges at large) are under pressure to produce data
that shows student persistence, programme completion, and increased transfer
rates to four-year colleges and universities (SSTF, 2012: 7–9).
Viewed as a remedial service, college ESL has been under unprecedented
attack. A recent legislative proposal grouped ESL with remedial English and
math and called for ‘a clear strategy [ ... ] to move students from educational
basic skills to career and college readiness’ (SSTF, 2011: 44), leaving it in the
hands of the state government to determine where these programmes should
be placed (p. 46), and opening the door to cutting credit ESL courses at the
college level. After considerable protests from the students, faculty, and unions
throughout the state (see, for instance, ASCCC, 2011), this recommendation was
removed, for the time being, from the final reform proposal, but the overall
political climate remains unfriendly to ESL.
Into this complex language education landscape steps an immigrant learner
with his/her own multifaceted set of needs, desires, and aspirations.
Student self-concept in second-language acquisition
Who am I?
Why am I taking this class?
Why do I need to be here?
Who will I be after I finish this course?
These questions are at the centre of the adult students’ engagement in a learning
process and are often mirrored by the teachers’ wondering:
Why are they in my class?

They seem to want to learn the language, but why aren’t they interested?
Why do they take it all so personally?
As we will learn in this chapter, answering these questions, which are rarely
made explicit, is crucial to understanding student motivation and success in
the language classroom. Furthermore, what we know about our students’ ideas
of themselves can help us activate important motivational processes within
them.
Origin of motivation and the self

Self-concepts are ‘individuals’ mental images of themselves’ (Reeve, 1997:
240). In ongoing interaction with others, humans receive feedback which
they process in relation to their view of their selves. Often this communica-
tive loop concerns language skills, a sensitive issue with the second language
learner. Consider these observations made in class by my students:
t Yesterday, I had to repeat my words twice at work because my customers

could not understand my accent.
t Today I had to ask my nephew to help me write a letter to the landlord
because my writing skills are limited.
t My neighbour only says hello to me, but talks more to my wife because her
English is better.
While the recollection of each experience may be lost, the experiences

themselves solidify, over time, into conclusions people have about themselves.
For example, an adult relates these generalisations to the important aspects of
his or her life: academic competence, intellectual ability, friendships, romantic
relationships, and moral conduct (Harter, 1990). Studies show that once an
acceptable view of oneself in a particular domain is established, the self is
very resistant to contradictory information that challenges it (Markus, 1983).
The contradiction produces emotional tension and the motivational energy to
resolve it.
Let’s look more closely at how the processes within the self generate
motivation. According to Reeve (1997), the self produces motivational energy
in two ways:
1. To direct the individual to behave in the ways that ensure the positive
relationship between the self-view and the social feedback it receives. The
contradictory feedback, for example, a person’s generalisation that his or
her particular language skill is inadequate, will motivate the adult to restore
the harmony.
2. To achieve a different, or desired self-concept. In a similar vein,
Ushioda & Dörnyei (2009) reconceptualised language learning motiva-
tion as a part of an internally driven move from the current, deficient
self-concept to the ideal self whose desirable attributes include second
language proficiency.
It should be noted that while we can sense a motivational potential in these

contexts, it may not necessarily lead to the act of engagement in learning,
which depends on other factors and circumstances.
My study (Igoudin, 2008) shed light on one particular place in which the
social context and motivation for language learning intersected. Prompted by
the question, ‘Has anything happened in your personal life that sparked your
interest in studying English?’, participants often produced narratives illus-
trating how their motivation originated in specific instances of disjuncture
200 Lane Igoudin
between their L2 proficiency and the needs arising from the social context of
their lives. Here, again, motivation moves an individual to restore harmony
between the self and his/her environment. Let us consider the following
excerpts from the interviews with five out of ten study participants.
In the first example, Tomas, who had completed his university education and
worked as an engineer in Mexico, wanted to recapture his academic success in
the United States: ‘If I want to get a master’s degree, I need English. If I want
to keep studying here, I need to speak good English to understand and write
and listen’. His English language proficiency, however, stood in the way of his
achieving his goal.
Another student, Lucia, felt isolated in her social circle. Her friends spoke
fluent English and had to switch to Spanish when addressing her. The sense
of separation and embarrassment motivated her to resume her English
studies:
Lucia: I’ve been meeting people; they are from Central America or South
America. They are here living probably 15–20 years already, so they speak
English very well. So, one of them, we are friends, but sometimes I feel
like we cannot be together, we cannot be friends because I’m not at the
level she is. Sometimes, that push me down, really down, because I feel
like we are the same age, we love each other, but I feel like, I have a big,
big difference because she speak English very well and Spanish, and I
don’t. [ ... ] That happened, like, 6 months ago that I decided to come to
college. I had started already another school, I finished 3 years and then
I stopped.
Interviewer: Why did you start again?
Lucia: Because of her and other friends. Sometimes when I go out with
her and her friends, all of them speak English. and she has to sometime
translate to me something, and I feel embarrassed, so embarrassed.
Poor job prospects in her native El Salvador led Blanca to planning an educa-
tion and a career in the United States. English was an integral step on her way
to achieving that goal:
Blanca: In my country, there are many professionals, many engineers and

many people that have their careers, but they can’t find any jobs. So I
said, what are you going to study here? If one day I have my degrees,
where am I going to work? So I said, I better go another place to study and
then maybe find a better job.
Interviewer: How would you describe your reasons for learning English?
Blanca: Because I’m in a different country, not in my country, I have to
learn English.
Anabel’s poor English skills were detrimental to her career growth. To her,
learning the language and moving up the employment ladder has since gone
hand in hand:
Anabel: First thing I want to know the language, everything that is

English – all the pronunciation, I want it get better because my work.
I get this right, speak with everybody, and I want to be able to under-
stand, sometimes I don’t understand some words. That is why I’m here
and I want to get my degree, administrative assistant. [ ... ] I’m moving
up because my English and my school.
Interviewer: Because your English is better?
Anabel: Yes, because before I start in the warehouse and then I jumped to
the QC [quality control], then went to the clerk, and now I’m revenue
auditor.
Chibith, a Cambodian who was born in the United States and grew up bilingual,
also felt a disconnect when assessing her command of English. Fluent orally,
Chibith was nonetheless unsatisfied with her communicative, writing, reading,
and listening skills. At the time of the study, she was attending her fourth ESL
class and preparing to transfer into the mainstream English curriculum. Her
gains in language education proved to her that she could fill the gaps.
I have a problem communicating. Now that I’m in class and learning, I

have a better communication style. [ ... ] I have listening problems too, like
retaining information. I always have to ask people 2–3 times what they say
for me to know what they’re saying. I got better reading too. Before I had
to read the text 2–3 times to understand the information. Now I read it one
time and understand the whole thing. And with writing – I used to hate
writing. But ever since I took my ESL 56 class in the summer, I think I have
a better writing style and I enjoy it.
Social identity and language learning

The interview excerpts above highlight specific instances of misalignment
between an individual’s language proficiency and his/her social environment,
which eventually led towards language learning. Further exploration revealed
the student’s social identity – a person’s definition of his or her ‘meaning in the
world’ and value to others (Eckert, 2000) – to be an important factor shaping
his/her motivation. Both identity formation and learning originate and
develop in interaction with the learner’s social context, but also with each
other, making their relationship a shared, dialogical process (Ligorio, 2010).
Recent studies have exposed additional links between language learning
and the learners’ changing perspectives of themselves in a new language
202 Lane Igoudin
environment. Applying Pierre Bourdieu’s socio-economical paradigm (1991)

to language learning, Peirce (1995: 17) introduced the concept of invest-
ment in learning a dominant language as a means to ‘acquire a wider range
of symbolic and material resources [and] increase the value of [the learners’]
cultural capital’. Two recent qualitative studies, of six Dominican and four
Cambodian adult students (Reynoso, 2008; Skilton-Sylvester, 2002, respec-
tively), confirmed the interconnectedness of the social and cultural identities,
on one hand, and the investment and persistence in taking adult ESL courses
on the other. Meanwhile, Sfard and Prusak (2005) suggested language learning
itself to be the closing of a gap between the learners’ actual and designated, or
desired, identities.
Similarly, a strong correlation emerged in my 2008 study between a partic-
ipant’s inclusion of L2 culture in their social identity and high integrative
content in their motivation for language learning. Indeed I found it difficult
to separate the study of the participants’ integrative motives from the study
of their changing identity. Advanced language learning clearly served a dual
purpose to these students: as a means to improve mastery of a language (which
is what the educators are traditionally concerned with), and as a transitional
step on the path towards achieving their social goals, including integration
into L2 society and attainment of a desired, integrative identity.
The interviews, in particular, highlighted the relationship between the
‘designated identity’ (Sfard & Prusak, 2005) or the ‘ideal L2 self’ (Ushioda &
Dörnyei, 2009) – an internal perception of one’s anticipated self as a speaker of
L2 – and language learning as a path towards it.
For example, Tomas who said he wanted to talk as if he ‘were like an American’,
produced a high score (83 per cent) in his attitudes towards the L2 speakers and
culture and the highest overall score for the (integrative) section of the survey
(91 per cent). He also showed 2:1 weighting of integrative versus instrumental
motives. This is how he explained it:
Tomas: I like English, the language, and I like to read most of the articles in
the magazines, everything. And I like to meet people, I like to understand
them, I like to learn, but good English ... I’d like to talk like if I were like
an American.
Interviewer: That makes sense. But do you have reasons like you want to
get a job?
Tomas: Yeah, but if I speak good English, of course, I will get a job.
Likewise, Lucia, who scored high (84 per cent) on the integrative motives
overall, showed a strong pull towards the new culture. She wanted to function
actively in it, certainly not as an outsider, saying: ‘I want to be part of this
culture. If you don’t learn English, it’s like I’m not here. It’s not just about work,
it’s not just about school, I wanna be part of this culture, and without English
it is not gonna happen’.
On the other hand, Chibith, concerned with retaining her Cambodian
identity, scored only 60 per cent in her integrative orientation. Her attitude
was in no way negative, and she appreciated the benefits language proficiency
would bring her, yet she was keen on keeping an equilibrium between her
‘Americanised’ and Cambodian selves. The fact that she was born in the United
States was a likely factor in her identity struggle.
I’d like to be seen as Cambodian. [ ... ] All these new generations coming up,
they don’t understand, they don’t know who they are. And that thing pisses
me off, you know? All they know how to speak is English, and they should,
because ... They forget themselves, and I don’t want to be like them. So I’m
trying to learn English, at the same time, remember my own culture and
who I am. [ ... ] I want to advance as far as I can and try to be Americanized,
and, at the same time, know who I am, and what culture my parents came
from.
As socially constructed identities change, balancing first and second

language identities becomes more complicated. The surveyed students’
socio-cultural context of learning was markedly bilingual. Though it was
possible for most study participants, as Spanish speakers residing in greater
Los Angeles, to function entirely in their native language, the cumulative
picture which emerged from the surveys and interviews showed that most
students commonly used both languages off-campus while use of their native
languages was limited primarily to their family networks.
Furthermore, the subjects’ desired workplace language environments have
shown the move from bilingual to English-only. Of the eight employed students,
four worked in bilingual environments. Two were employed in English-only
and two in Spanish-only workplaces. At the same time, six projected their
long-term careers in English-only environments and three others in bilingual
workplaces. In one such example, the young, entrepreneurial Daniel sought
both integration in the English-speaking culture and respect for his roots.
There is a tinge of stigma about his perception of Spanish speakers, something
he clearly wants to overcome:
Daniel: Actually, you speak like everybody thinks [you are] like. If you
speak Spanish, it’s gonna be like, ‘Oh, you’re Mexican or something.’ So
I’m in America, so I have to speak a little bit of English. And speaking
English, just like the teacher say, changes yourself. So if you start
speaking English, you start understanding Americans living here, you
get into the culture.
204 Lane Igoudin
Interviewer: How do you want to be seen?

Daniel: I’d like to be seen like ... a Mexican who made it in America!
[laughs]
A brief theoretical analysis

Adult second language learning is inherently a voluntary process, in partic-
ular, at the more advanced, post-survival stages of language acquisition. Set
in a social context, thus, adult learning is not simply a process of passive
acquisition of knowledge, but also one of externalisation of experience.
The desire to be in the classroom may originate within the adults’ vision
of who they are and who they want to be. Psychologically, the student is
continuously engaged in defining and redefining his or her self, relating it
to the society at large, and discovering, developing, and fulfilling personal
potential.
Applying these generalisations to the adult immigrant experience, it seems
likely that fundamental life changes brought about by immersion in a society
communicating in an unfamiliar language, compounded by the necessity to
function in it, may cause disjuncture in these adults’ lives and prompt them
to seek language education in order to adjust to these changes. Some immi-
grants may seek language education immediately upon arrival, whereas for
others the language disjuncture may occur later in their lives when higher
levels of language proficiency (i.e., beyond the survival skills) may be desired.
Deficiency of knowledge combined with an evolved self-concept set in
a specific socio-cultural milieu may then generate a new need – a need to
learn.
Applying the understanding of motivation to pedagogical practice

The purpose of the previous sections of this chapter has been to briefly outline
the multifaceted interaction between the student’s self and the social context
in which adult ESL learning takes place. The following section is dedicated to
turning this applicable (that is relevant to the classroom practice) knowledge
into actionable knowledge (Argyris & Schön, 1974), in this case, sound strate-
gies for working with student motivation based on the scholarship above. In
Social context
Disjuncture Advanced
in social Motivation language
identity learning
L2 language
proficiency
Figure 11.1 Socially situated model of adult language learning motivation

both practical and theoretical terms, our goal is to use the power of student
motivation to foster second language learning through both:
1. changing our classroom practices as teachers;

2. changing our students’ beliefs and behaviours that affect their learning.
Supporting this idea, a recent study of language teachers’ use of motivational

strategies in the classroom linked such practices with the increased levels of
student motivation and the improvement in the observable classroom behav-
iours, such as higher participation, volunteering, and attentiveness in class
(Guilloteaux & Dörnyei, 2008).
With so much already known about adult motivation for language learning,
how can we intervene pedagogically to address its complexities in a way that is
both logical and effective?
Core values in motivating the adult self

Understanding the processes within our students’ selves is a good first step
towards engaging adult students in learning. Applying this knowledge to
teaching practices, we should capitalise on those motivational techniques that
positively reaffirm adults’ ideas of their selves and help them restore harmony
through learning. To do so, I propose the following core values that should
guide our teaching strategies and actions:
t respect
t fairness
t responsibility
Respect
Adult students expect to be treated with respect and, in turn, offer respect to
their instructors. A rude, condescending, or paternalising treatment in a volun-
tary learning situation will, at least, decrease adults’ motivation to learn and, at
worst, make them abandon language learning altogether.
How can we signal respect to our students? First of all, we can do this by
assuming that the instructor is an integral part of the group of adults partic-
ipating in the learning process, even if our roles in it are different. It is some-
times easy to forget that the instructor functions within, not above, the social
milieu of the adult classroom. Sharing some information about us – and, in
particular, about how our backgrounds led to teaching language – will commu-
nicate to students their worth as an equal audience while not undermining our
authority.
Meanwhile, making an effort to learn about our students will signal interest
in their backgrounds as well. ‘English language learners’ abilities, experiences,
206 Lane Igoudin
and expectations can affect learning. Get to know their backgrounds and goals
as well as proficiency levels and skill needs’ (Florez & Burt, 2001). This can be
done, for example, as part of a first-day writing diagnostic or through initial
introductions in an oral skills class.
Furthermore, an encounter between unfamiliar adults usually begins
with formal greetings and small talk which establish the friendly, mutually
respectful atmosphere for the subsequent communication. While we cannot
always greet our students individually, we can certainly welcome students
as a group at the beginning of any class session. Povlacs (1987) also suggests
personalising it on the crucial first day of class by greeting students at the
classroom door.
Much research has been done on the importance of the use of names in the
learning process. ESL students’ names, however, can be often hard to pronounce
to a native English speaker. Asking a student informally about the correct way
to say his or her name, and apologising in advance for mispronouncing it, can
defuse a potentially demotivating situation.
During the course, it is also important to use the name preferred by the
student, be that his or her native, English, middle, married, maiden, or double
name, or a nickname. I once had a student in a writing course who liked to
be called ‘89’, a nickname referring to his birth year. While it generated a few
laughs at first, after a while ‘89’ was just another name in the class, but using
it showed my respect for his unconventional name choice. Finally, once a
student’s name is learned, other students should be encouraged to learn it and
use it as well.
Fairness
Few things can signal lack of respect to an adult student as being treated
unfairly or unequally. Perceived preferential treatment communicates a vari-
ation in the value of the adult students in the eyes of the teacher. ‘If teachers
are unfair, they will be negative factor [in student motivation],’ wrote one of
my students. ‘ESL students will feel dispirited and leave ESL class’ (Igoudin,
2009).
Additionally, adjusting grading or other class expectations to the individual
student’s needs or abilities actually erodes the instructor’s authority and makes
the students take him or her less seriously, lessening their enthusiasm for the
class itself. On the other hand, instructors who are clear and consistent in their
classroom policies send the message of respecting their students and having
a firm control over the course of the class. Measured by the same standard,
students are led to believe that their problems in the class are caused by their
own deficiencies in their learning, not by the instructor’s subjective opinion
of them.
Classroom equity (Armstrong, 2009) can be further supported by the

following course management strategies that emphasise transparency:
t Posting class policies such as grading, absences, late work, testing proce-
dures, and general decorum in the syllabus. Equally essential is to adhere to
these policies later.
t Including grading criteria into the task description, for example, in an essay
or a presentation assignment.
t Using content management software which provides ongoing student access
to current grades, or printing out and distributing to students their grades
throughout the course, to take the mystery out of the final grade.
Responsibility
Who is responsible for student learning? The simple answer is students. But
while the responsibility is ultimately the students’ own, there is quite a lot we
can do to support their efforts. On a larger scale, we need to work consciously
to change the teaching paradigm to one that increases the learner’s indepen-
dence, rather than reliance on the teacher, both in and out class. The more
adult learners are involved in a course, the more they see themselves as being
in control. According to Hallberg and Hallberg (2011), a strong sense of respon-
sibility is a top factor for student success in college. A learner-centred course
helps students to take more control of their education by engaging them in the
following types of learning (Doyle, 2008):
t first-hand learning;
t collaborative learning;
t practising;
t reflecting and self-evaluating;
t teaching of others;
t developing skills for lifelong learning;
t developing meta-cognitive skills.
Assigning students from different L1 backgrounds to work together – for

example on a group presentation for a speaking class – will require them
to use L2 to mediate the desired communicative meaning, apply L2-specific
standards of politeness, and practise the L2 vocabulary – knowledge and
skills that will come in handy in future academic subject classes and work
situations.
This learner-driven shift in student behaviours and learning activities may
clash with the students’ anticipation of how they should learn and act in
the classroom. This contradiction is culture-based in that ESL students and
208 Lane Igoudin
teachers may perceive the appropriateness of classroom behaviours in the

context of their native cultures:
If the American adult ideal is to be self-reliant, at ease in expressing and

defending personal opinions, and interested in personal advancement,
teachers will expect to provide instruction addressed to these goals and
may unconsciously attribute these same goals to their students. (McGroarty,
1993: 1)
The first step to helping students adjust to learner-centred teaching is to explain

why this approach is the best possible way to not only acquire language in
interactive, deeper ways, but also to enhance academic success. Adults need
to know why they are asked to do a task, especially when they are expected
to do more. The explanation could include references to available research
and evidence of peer success in learner-based settings, or examples from past
classes.
Another way to motivate the student’s sense of responsibility is to use a
self-assessment which engages students in reflection on their involvement with
the learning process. Quick and efficient, such assessment can be completed
at the beginning of a course and be followed by a class discussion. The Basic
Skills Handbook (Fulks & Alancraig, 2008), which focuses on teaching practices
that promote student success, offers an interesting example of such assess-
ment developed at Crafton Hills College in California. The assessment rubric
statements cited below are designed to highlight behaviours and attitudes
that lead to college success:
Responsibility
t I realise that ultimately, I am responsible for my own success in college.

t I make decisions and take timely action to advance my own educational
goals.
t When I make mistakes or bad choices, I take time to learn from these
experiences.
Motivation
t I am determined to graduate from college and be successful. I have person-

ally important reasons to succeed.
t I am motivated to do my best in classes, and I have strategies that work
for me.
t My desire to be successful helps me to overcome any obstacles I encounter.
A similar ‘college success’ self-assessment given to ESL (and other students)

at Cypress College uses a five-point Likert scale to engage the student in
the evaluation of their college study effort, goals, and practices (Hallberg &
Hallberg, 2011). This 100-statement self-survey, which also can be completed
online, includes statements like: I am the one who drives myself, and I try to
be very involved in my school/college activities.
Emphasising continuous assessment and monitoring of student motiva-
tion, On Course, written by Skip Downing, a fellow U.S. community college
instructor, has been a bestseller with community college faculty and counsel-
lors alike. Now in its sixth edition, On Course (2010) takes a direct approach to
student motivation, appealing to students’ instrumental motives and focus-
sing on hands-on activities designed to boost student motivation throughout
a course.
Putting these ideas into practice, the adult ESL education programme at
Santa Barbara City College began to offer a special ‘student success’ course in
which ESL students practise goal-setting, study skills, learning strategies, and
time management, and learn about peer success and role models. In addition,
students are encouraged to sign contracts committing to attending the ESL class
they are enrolling in. These new approaches, along with curriculum changes,
are believed to be the reason for the 18 per cent improvement in retention and
14 per cent improvement in attendance (Lavigne & Bailey, 2008).
Nobody rises to low expectations. Rising to high expectations, however,
communicates to students the educator’s belief in their potential, regardless of
their backgrounds, and refocuses the expectation on their effort:
The first factor that affects a student’s motivation in ESL is that the class is
too easy. If a student thinks a class is too easy, they would not study hard.
As a result, for them not studying hard, they might fail a test because they
take it for granted that the test would be too easy and think they don’t need
to study for it. (Hyun, a student, in Igoudin, 2009)
The 2007 Community College Survey of Student Engagement, which surveyed

more than 330,000 community college students in the United States and
Canada, identified setting and communicating high expectations among several
strategies that motivate students in educational settings (CCSSE, 2007). With
high expectations, the study found, students who need developmental educa-
tion (which includes English language learners) ‘start to believe, some of them
for the first time, that they are capable of college-level work’ (CCSSE, 2007: 3).
High expectations are meant for both the students and the teachers: while
we expect students to maximise their own effort in class, including their atten-
dance, completion of assignments, preparation, and participation, students
expect us to offer an academically rigorous curriculum, demand high-level
understanding and skills, maintain high grading standards, and be available
to help students outside of class (CCSSE, 2008).
210 Lane Igoudin
Summary of motivational strategies
1. Review course content for the opportunities to include or expand

learner-centred teaching techniques.
2. Where possible, include the teaching of skills and strategies that support
the student’s responsibility, such as goal-setting and time management
into ESL curriculum.
3. Explain why student-centred learning is important, especially if some
students in class resist it.
4. Support fairness and transparency in grading and other policies by
including them in the syllabus and course assignments.
5. Introduce yourself to your students and explain the reasons how and why
you decided to become a language teacher.
6. Make an effort to learn about your students in writing or orally.
7. Learn the proper pronunciation of students’ first names and use them
throughout the course.
8. Set high academic expectations for the course and be passionate about
students’ achieving them.
9. Keep students apprised of their progress throughout the course.
10. Use self-assessment to encourage students to evaluate their responsibility
for learning.
Implications of social identity for language learning motivation are plentiful.

Acquisition of a second language can arise as a need, and later be developed,
abandoned, or ignored – all in relation to the processes within the student’s
self-concept. From the tension within the self rises the motivational energy
which may ultimately direct and shape the resulting behaviour. Appropriate
pedagogical interventions, including those listed in this chapter, can support
the second language students’ desire to learn and turn their motivational
energy into effort and accomplishment. Still, just as many areas remain open
to exploration. Among these are:
1. Much research on motivation is tied to task, course, and/or programme

completion, and overall student success. Can it be that this viewpoint of
motivation is driven primarily by the needs of the educational system itself,
rather than the learner’s?
2. Individual success seems to be at the core of current motivational research.
How much of what we know of motivation is derived from the cultural,
specifically, Western point of view?
3. The social scene upon which the learner acts does not end at the class-
room door. How can the social context of the classroom itself affect student
motivation?
4. Going back to the student’s reporting her feeling of embarrassment as part
of her drive to take L2 classes (Lucia in Igoudin, 2008), what is the role of
emotive factors in student motivation?
5. It is not uncommon for ESL students to change or discover their career
interests while taking ESL courses. How does student motivation evolve
in response to the evolution of the learner’s goals during the learning
process?
6. Few ESL students, especially at advanced levels, take only ESL courses.
How does engagement in non-ESL curriculum affect their motivation for
language learning?

Downing, S. (2010). On Course: Strategies for Creating Success in College and in Life (Sixth
Edition). Orlando, FL: Houghton Mifflin.
The author engages student motivation hands-on to solve challenges in academic
courses. Though his largely instrumental approach may not work for all language
learning populations, the book, supported by professional workshops, has been very
influential in U.S. academia. For more information and an extensive database of student
success strategies, visit www.oncourseworkshop.com.
Florez, M. and Burt, M. (2001). Beginning to Work with Adult English Language Learners:
Some Considerations. Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics (CAELA).
Available at: http://www.cal.org/caela/esl_resources/digests/beginQA.html [Accessed
08/30/12].
The Center for Adult English Language Acquisition (CAELA), affiliated with the U.S.
Department of Education, presents an easily accessible digest of ideas and strategies that
apply relevant adult psychology research to effective second language instruction.
Reeve, J. (2008). Understanding Motivation and Emotion (Fifth Edition). Orlando, FL:
Harcourt Brace.
This comprehensive textbook goes deep into the psychological underpinnings of human
motivation and relates it to the environment and culture.
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12
‘Native Speaker’ English
Language Teachers: Disengaged
from the Changing International
Landscape of their Profession
Pamela Aboshiha
Introduction
Traditionally, the field of English language teaching has conceptualised the

‘native speaker’ English language teacher as an ideal speaker, teacher, trainer
and expert. In fact, the label ‘native speaker’ teacher communicates much more
than simple information about linguistic ability in the field of English language
teaching. In the opinions of several scholars (for example, Canagarajah, 1999;
Holliday, 2005; 2006; Kubota, 2002; Pennycook, 1994; Phillipson, 1992), the
label and its associated discourse reflect, not just the language proficiency of
the ‘native speaker’ English language teacher, but a litany of opinions, prac-
tices and prejudices which have developed into a deep-rooted and extensively
referred to ELT ideology. Indeed, Nayar (2002), in his analysis of hundreds of
English language teacher comments posted on a website, concludes that the
‘native speaker’ is identified as a teacher who is in control, with all the answers,
an authority on both grammar and universal acceptability, a representative
of correct language, of sound thinking and, Nayar opines, even proper social
behaviour in English. This same theme is continued by Holliday, who sees
‘native-speakerism’ as being so deeply embedded in TESOL that people are
‘standardly unaware of its presence and its impact’ (2005: 10). Indeed, ‘native
speaker’ English language teachers have traditionally obtained employment and
much influence in international educational institutions, with the discourse of
their training becoming not only their own dominant professional paradigm,
but also the dominant professional paradigm for many ‘non-native speaker’
English language teachers worldwide. Indeed, it seems the ‘native speaker’
teacher has ‘remained as a central part of the conventional wisdom of the
English Language Teaching profession’ (Phillipson, 1992: 199).
216
‘Native Speaker’ English Language Teachers Disengagement 217
Problematising the ‘status quo’
However, globalisation has created a need for an international lingua franca,

and it has adopted English to fill the role, with Graddol predicting that ‘those
who speak English alongside other languages will outnumber first language
speakers and, increasingly, will decide the global future of the language’ (1997:
11). Crystal notes as well that ‘it is plain that no one can now claim sole owner-
ship [of English]’ (1997: 139) and adds poignantly, ‘The loss of ownership is of
course uncomfortable to those, especially in Britain, who feel that the language
is theirs by historical right; but they have no alternative’ (Crystal, 1997: 130).
Within this landscape, forward thinking academics in Applied Linguistics
(such as Llurda, 2004; Holliday, 2005; Jenkins, 2000; Kirkpatrick, 2007; McKay,
2002; Rajagopalan, 2004; Seidlhofer, 2001) insist that this changing ownership
of English is already upon us and suggest that we are now in the process of
moving away from a position in which learners aspire to the norms of the ‘native
speaker’ English language teacher in the areas of phonology and culture.
Specifically, there have been debates over the appropriateness of the language
teaching methodology currently practised by ‘native speaker’ English language
teachers (for example, Bax, 2003; Brown, 2002; Canagarajah, 2002; Holliday,
1994; Prabhu, 1990), and these challenges are added to by Jenkins’ (2000)
belief that a less ‘native speaker’ related English is what should be taught to
learners who need to communicate internationally. She theorises that the
growth in English as an international tool of communication points to a need
for a change in learners’ pronunciation needs and goals, calling for ‘a radical
re-think in terms of the role of pronunciation norms and models for classes
aiming to prepare learners for interaction in (international) contexts’ (Jenkins,
1998: 119).
Furthermore, as English becomes an economic commodity and a passport
for entrance to the global world, the language can no longer be viewed as a
particular symbol of identity or nationality. Seeing English as an instrumental
tool for communication seems also to affect people’s need to be taught any
specific ‘native speaker’ culture which arises from a particular speech commu-
nity. Consequently, in terms of cultural awareness (the knowledge people
have acquired as members of their social group), McKay (2002) suggests that
the users of English internationally no longer need to internalise the cultural
norms of, for example, the United Kingdom, the United States, or Australasia,
in order to use the language effectively.
These academic predictions of increasingly dominant ‘non-native speaker’
interaction in English and the handing over of the language from ‘native
speaker’ to international proprietors thus serve to highlight the importance
of problematising the traditional role and practices of the ‘native speaker’
English language teacher. If English is now used and owned internationally,
218 Pamela Aboshiha
the hitherto celebrated professional status of the ‘native speaker’ teacher, and
what and how they teach, is inevitably open to critique.
However, these are scholarly predictions about the current and possible
future landscape of ELT, made by Applied Linguists or English Language
Teaching academics usually working in universities, and classroom teachers
have a history of scepticism regarding the role of theoreticians in enabling the
development of the practice of English language instruction (Kinginger, 2002).
Thus, whatever might be written about in academia may well find little reso-
nance in the world of the ‘native speaker’ practitioner. For this reason I now
give a brief overview of the relationship between English language teachers
and their academic counterparts.
English language teachers and academia
First, there has been substantial discussion regarding the existence of an

unequal relationship between practitioners and academics involved in English
language teaching and the extent to which this relationship ‘emphasises the
primacy of theory and theoreticians’ (Kinginger, 2002: 193). On one side of the
hierarchical dichotomy are the scholars, producing codified knowledge in the
form of academic papers and texts about English language teaching and, as we
have seen above in relation to globalisation, the thinking which underpins,
problematises and moves the profession forward. However, these academics
do not practise language teaching themselves. On the other hand, there are
the English language teachers in classrooms who, it is expected, read scholars’
work as part of preparation for the profession, but who do not themselves
generally produce codified knowledge. Moreover, these practitioners appear to
uphold a set of priorities different to that of scholars in their professional lives
(Freeman & Johnson, 1998). This habit of the profession of demoting teachers
to consumers of knowledge, rather than co-constructors of theory, has caused
Clarke (1994: 9–10) to surmise: ‘Because the individuals involved in developing
theory are seldom full-time language teachers themselves, the theory/practice
distinction creates a strata of expertise in which teachers are considered less
expert than theorists’. At the same time he somewhat radically suggests that
‘the only real solution [to this problem] would be to turn the hierarchy on
its head, putting teachers on the top and arraying others – pundits, profes-
sors, administrators, researchers, and so forth – below them’ (Clarke, 1994: 18).
Sharkey & Johnson (2003: x) illustrate this reversal in an incident that occurred
as they (English language teachers) were working towards their doctorates:
However, the professor told us that if we wanted to make it in higher educa-

tion, we had to stop talking about teaching. The professor drew a triangle
on the board, with theorists at the top and practitioners, including black
feminist writer, bell hooks, on the bottom. If we wanted to do theory,

according to this model, we had to leave teaching, and our teacher identi-
ties behind. Several of us, all women, did not accept either the hierarchy
or the theory practice split. Were the two not always present? Were we
not theorising our practice through analysis of our classrooms? Further,
the discussion on issues of knowledge and power were situated in the
traditional rigid academic hierarchy of professor as knower and student
as lump of clay.
The sidelining of teachers in knowledge creation is also taken up by Crookes

(1997: 96) when he bemoans the fact that teachers’ voices are, on the whole,
‘absent from the published record [and] should indicate its weakness [ ... ] the
words of teachers rarely appear in academic journals related to teaching or
learning – a conspicuous silence with obvious implications’. Johnson and
Golombek (2002: 1) complain of the same positioning:
Teachers have been viewed as objects of study rather than as knowing

professionals or agents of change. Teachers have been marginalized in
that they are told what they should know and how they should use that
knowledge.
This understanding that teachers must learn from academic theory ‘what
they should know and how they should use that knowledge’ seems to derive
from the widespread societal concept that one aspect of a profession is a body
of codified knowledge, that is the expert, legitimate, received knowledge of
a particular field. Access to such powerful and influential codified discourses
which, according to the discourse itself, inevitably influence and define peda-
gogy, seems therefore imperative for teachers. However, much ‘professionalism’
in teaching is seen as based on experience and ‘knowing-in-action’ (Szesztay,
2004). Teacher knowledge, rather than something which is codified, is normally
tacit and hard to articulate, and is in a dialectical relationship with the teachers’
world of practice. It is often told in stories which are disseminated along mainly
oral channels and, generally, ‘teachers are primarily concerned with developing
insights for the practice of language instruction’ (Kinginger, 2002: 193).
Thus, teacher knowledge remains majorly unrecorded, with few teachers
participating in the codification of their understandings based on practical
insights, or pushing forward their own research agendas, or creating new
knowledge – despite the recognised gap and an avowed aim of developing ‘a
systematic and rigorous body of knowledge about teaching’ (Cochran-Smith
& Lytle, 1990: 2). Moreover, the claim by Freeman and Johnson (1998) that
priorities and values of the powerful, codified knowledge of academics are not
necessarily shared by teachers has the potential to further damage the already
220 Pamela Aboshiha
prickly interface between academics and practitioners. Certainly, then, the

‘native speaker’ English language teachers described at the beginning of this
chapter may well fail to appreciate, or empathise with, academic views of a
changing English language teaching scenario.
Thus, when reading what academics write about practitioners, it seems that
there exists a stratified profession in which academia relishes superior status
yet recognises a need for teacher knowledge grounded in practice. There is
also little willingness on the part of academia to upturn the ‘status quo’ in
order to accommodate teacher contribution, and there is the continued expec-
tation that teachers consume and implement scholarly ‘dicta’. That teachers
are considered consumers of received knowledge but are mainly engaged in
acquiring practical perspectives, consequently leads to a thorny question with
regard to the recounted academic challenges. What are the implications for
the future of English language teaching if the prediction of a shifting para-
digm, away from the supremacy of ‘native speakers’, is not seen by teachers
to ‘articulate easily or cogently into classroom practice’ (Freeman & Johnson,
1998: 413)?
A study with some ‘native speaker’ teachers
The questions
Thus, as the literature reveals an uneasy academic/practitioner relationship,
and and extensive debate among academics continues to problematise the role
of the ‘native speaker’ English language teacher, it seems timely to investigate
the extent to which such teachers are conversant with the arguments that their
status, methodological, phonological and cultural norms are being queried. It
also seems appropriate to investigate the extent to which the ‘native speaker’
teachers are prepared to reflect on, and possibly implement, changes to their
roles and practices if they are to play a less dominant role in the future of ELT.
In Aboshiha (2008) these questions are posed, alongside an attempt to explore
the answers of a group of such experienced ‘native speaker’ English language
teachers working in a variety of international institutions. The earlier part of the
study focussed on what the teachers thought about specific academic predic-
tions, such as Jenkins’s notion of teaching a ‘core lingua franca’. However, as
the research unfolded it became apparent that the small group of teachers I
was interviewing and e-mailing experienced an unhealthy, unproductive rela-
tionship with academia. They were not motivated to read academic products,
or interested in whether academia had the ability to guide teachers in their
daily practices or to help them understand their professional identities. Far
from following the ‘dicta’ of academic work, the ‘native speaker’ teachers in
the study seemed disinclined to read, were furtive in acknowledging that they
either failed to read or to implement what they had read, and were dismissive of
the codified knowledge of their profession and the challenges this knowledge
was laying down. In fact, the teachers seemed almost completely focussed on
their own teacher knowledge, derived from classroom practice. I now describe
part of this study.
The respondents and data-gathering tools

The aim of the study was to explore the reactions of ‘native speaker’ EFL
teachers towards the academic views of the current landscape of English
language teaching, as outlined at the beginning of this chapter. In order to
do this, I interviewed and then undertook e-mail correspondence with eight
experienced ‘native speaker’ practitioners who, at the time of the interviews,
were teaching English in Portugal, France, Abu Dhabi, Japan, Saudi Arabia and
the United Kingdom. These teachers had also taught English in Turkey, Poland,
Italy, Libya, Ecuador, Egypt, Romania and Cyprus, and each had a minimum
of eight years’ experience in the profession. Three further teachers were later
added to this core group. All had recognised British EFL qualifications, such
as Cambridge ESOL DELTA (Diploma in English Language Teaching to Adults)
or a Trinity Diploma, and most had an MA TESOL. This group was typical of
a large number of British-trained teachers who have made EFL or ESOL their
careers and who spend their professional lives teaching English internationally,
gaining employment readily in worldwide institutions because of the consid-
erable longstanding opportunities afforded them by their ‘native speaker-
ness’. Besides their general English language teaching, two of the teachers had
experience of teacher training, one had taught business English, one young
learners, one had co-authored a book about teacher training, and one had a
Postgraduate Certificate of Education. I interviewed them all in the United
Kingdom during their summer holidays and continued sporadic e-mail corre-
spondence with them when they returned to their places of work.
As a practising EFL teacher, with an MA TESOL and international teaching
experience myself, I also became part of the group of interviewees in the study,
and I kept field notes in my English language teaching institution over the
research period. Then, with the collected data from the 11 teacher interviews,
their e-mails and my own field notes, I was able eventually to piece together
some understanding of the relationship between these ‘native speaker’ English
language teachers and the specific predictions of academics about the future of
ELT, and also their relationship with academia in general.
The ‘native speaker’ teachers’ views

Reactions to the specific pedagogical implications for change
Initially, when questioned as to whether the ‘native speaker’ teacher might
adapt his/her teaching of certain aspects of phonology in order to allow greater
intelligibility between speakers of English internationally, the teachers were
222 Pamela Aboshiha
not just dismissive of this idea of Jenkins, but they expressed irritation with the
academic as well. For example, the teachers used language such as ‘a crackpot
idea’, ‘ludicrous’, ‘unworkable’, revealing that they had little respect for both
the idea and for the academic who had made the proposal. They also indicated
that that they did not wish to be ‘dictated to’ in terms of implementing such
phonological alternatives in EFL classes and, with such comments, positioning
themselves as inferior to academics, whom they saw as doing ‘the dictating’.
In other words, not only was the idea of adapting to alternative phonological
norms uncomfortable for the teachers but the academic voices through which
this idea was disseminated also appeared unpopular. Moreover, this initial
unease with the specific arguments being put forward by academics about the
role and practices of ‘native speaker’ EFL teachers in a globalising world was
seen to be only the ‘tip of the iceberg’, as the research began to uncover a
substantial rift between these classroom teachers and the codified knowledge
of English language teaching.
Reading is not useful

The teachers claimed, quite defiantly, that they knew nothing about the liter-
ature of the field or what ELT academics had written, and they also stated that
the work of academics was of no particular interest or relevance to their profes-
sional lives and daily practice. What is more, none of the teachers admitted
to reading about what was happening in their field in connection with future
developments (in which their own role might be less secure). In fact, there were
comments to indicate that they actively disliked reading about issues to do
with their profession, and that what they read was not practical enough. One
interviewee, Basil, exemplifies this when he says: ‘I’m not a book reader – not
an EFL book reader. I wouldn’t read Applied Linguistics’. He continued: ‘We’re
pretty bad about tuning in to what’s going on’ Aboshiha, 2008: 163 [Basil].
Another, Rosa, said, ‘I haven’t read anything professionally for ages and I don’t
want to’ (Aboshiha, 2008: 163 [Rosa]). She also stated:
... when I was trying to sort of learn, but even then, it wasn’t the theory so
much as the actual practical tuition on how to teach, you know the method-
ology in practical terms rather than what came out of books. So I don’t know.
I’m a bit sceptical when it comes to books. (Aboshiha, 2008: 163 [Rosa])
The teachers determinedly identified themselves as people who ‘practised’,

almost deliberately uninfluenced by academia and its literature and, during
the interviews, there was no indication that the literature of the field served
to heighten or deepen their understanding of what was happening interna-
tionally in their profession of EFL and how this might impact on their prac-
tice. The teachers seemed to perceive reading about professional matters as
an activity they would do, or had done, only to get further qualifications,
like a master’s degree, or such reading as an activity they had undertaken or

begun to undertake on their pre-service courses, when they were completely
inexperienced practitioners. But even that initial reading did not appear to be
particularly highly valued unless it was ‘practical’, that is, unless it told them
how to do something in the classroom.
Academics are disconnected from classroom reality

These ‘native speaker’ teachers, focused on their daily classroom practice,
dismissed academics and their writing as unconcerned with the everyday
classroom realities. They positioned themselves in another classificatory
system with, this time, they themselves, the teachers, as practical people able
to work at the ‘chalk face’ of language classrooms and not connected with
those who, to their mind, could not cope with the real world of language
teaching, but who still wrote about it. When talking about academics no
longer working in a language classroom, the comments were made disparag-
ingly; for example: ‘Academia bubble, babble, sounds good but doesn’t actually
work’ (Aboshiha, 2008: 161 [Vera]); ‘Academics have to justify their salaries’
(Aboshiha, 2008: 161 [Jane]); ‘Can’t they say things simply, it’s just meaning-
less stuff for the sake of it. I’ve read the paper. There are a lot of words and
paragraphs but it doesn’t really say much. When would I ever use this? Why
can’t we have something that is useful in the classroom’ (Aboshiha, 2008: 161
[Field Notes]); ‘You know, I think these people, they lose touch with teaching
EFL [ ... ] they tell us how you should do this, this and this. And you think,
how many years ago did you do this?’ (Aboshiha, 2008: 161 [Nuala]). Alex also
related the reasons for his lack of respect for academics:
This ... this is probably going to get me slayed or slain. I tend to think a lot
of academics have run from the classroom because they can’t cope in the
classroom. And they don’t relate their experiences in the classrooms to their
theories. People I’ve worked with, they write well. I don’t necessarily agree
with their ideas but then I also find out that a lot of these people are not
teaching because they can’t do it. So, if they can’t do it in the classroom,
why should I be listening to what they write? It’s very broad and a general-
isation ... . Of course there’ll be some people who are absolutely brilliant in
the classroom and have the energy and insight to go and write brilliant stuff.
But there are an awful lot of second rate people who want to be academics
who can’t hack it in the classroom, so why should I listen to them outside
the classroom? (Aboshiha, 2008: 161 [Alex])
He also commented:
But I do think it [the literature] is all based on the fact that you are going
to be walking in and have 14, 15 really dedicated, motivated students. I
have never had a class like that. I’ve always had one or two, three or four, or
224 Pamela Aboshiha
five or six, or seven or eight who really don’t want to be there. (Aboshiha,
2008: 165 [Alex])
Rob also described in detail the ‘reluctant learners’ of his particular context. He
felt these learners and the reality of their social context were ‘not considered’
by academics in their work:
There are 2 levels of resentment: a) Social Engineering – unemployed youth

are coerced into training situations that they do not want to be in – by the
government, to avoid social and civil unrest, by their fathers to help provide
for the family, by their peers. Result – reluctant learners. We have trainee
aircraft technicians not at all interested in aircraft. Therefore, course mate-
rials, specifically designed to meet their needs, do not meet their interests
or desires.
b) Anti-foreignness – This second level of resentment refers to the fact
that some of them may genuinely be interested in aircraft but, possibly
quite legitimately, question the need for this training to be done in English.
Result – reluctant learners. (Aboshiha, 2008: 165 [Rob])
Also, I recorded an incident in my research diary about ‘real world’ teaching,

and what I perceived as the impossibility of reading or thinking in any way
about my new role in teaching English in a world in which English had become
a ‘lingua franca’, when all I was doing was what I termed ‘fire-fighting’ just to
stay afloat in my daily life:
Back after the summer break

My first day back after a summer break. Today, the list of students
supposed to be in my class did not resemble the students sitting in the
class. My Director of Studies said that this class has used every book on the
shelf in their previous classes and I’d be hard pressed to find something!
As for the afternoon examination class, nobody seems to have a clue about
which books they have used or what they can move on to or who will be
in the class. The worst thing is the materials and what I can do. I spent the
break and my lunch-hour, without a drink or food, literally running all over
the place to try to find a working photocopier to copy pages. Chaotic and
exhausting!!! How can one manage to think about wider issues in ELT when
this is going on? I was shattered and angry when I got home and quite ready
to walk out. (Aboshiha, 2008: 166 [Field Notes])
Another teacher, Nuala, complained about her desire to find application in

theoretical work, yet at the same time she is wary of anything being ‘too
theoretical’:
Sometimes, especially after writing my MA dissertation I really feel prac-

tice and theory, there is a huge gap between those two. But at times, you
read certain kinds of journals and you think ‘Ah, this is a bit more down to
earth and, maybe, I can apply this to my class.’ But when you start reading
those books and you think ‘How is this going to help me?’ I think we should
still be doing some reading. I think we all need theory. But I think at the
same time it is something that isn’t too theoretical ... something that can be
applied to the class (Aboshiha, 2008: 166-167 [Nuala]).
Another teacher, Ned, complained of the ‘intellectualisation’ of the subject

matter in a practical profession:
There was some new information on the Dip [Postgraduate Diploma TESOL
course] as well and many of those things were useful for me but I also
started to encounter a lot of information which I thought was just people
being academic for the sake of that in itself. This is a very practical thing
we do and there’s only so far you can go with the theory, you know if you
are trying to break it down into a science, there’s not really that much to it,
in my opinion (Aboshiha, 2008: 167 [Ned]).
This same point was further illustrated by one of my colleagues, standing by

the photocopier, chatting about the field of EFL in general. He said: ‘Well,
there’s not that much really to know[;] it’s not rocket science – I mean there’s
just so much to uncover, and it seems like we’ve pretty much done as much as
we can’ (Aboshiha, 2008: 167 [Field Notes]).
Perceptions of academic discourse from literature

and daily comment
Moreover, the teachers seemed to see the production of papers, texts and the
giving of conference papers as a way of maintaining status and power for the
academics, rather than, in their opinion, any genuine attempt to develop and
explore ideas for the benefit of practitioners in the field of English Language
teaching. Ken and Rosa viewed it in the following ways:
But perhaps there is something wrong in academic culture, not with

specific academics but the general culture is not pushing forward new
theory, pushing forward boundaries, it’s more looking after themselves
in a community. It’s being done to maintain their position and maintain
the community as a whole, I mean, everybody going to each other’s talks.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a good talk but they’ve written a book and they
came to your talk so you go to theirs. That’s what I see. (Aboshiha, 2008:
163 [Ken])
I don’t believe for a moment that academics write for the sake of teachers;
they write for themselves, to get published and look good on the CV.
(Aboshiha, 2008: 163 [Rosa])
226 Pamela Aboshiha
Mike declared, too: ‘If someone writes an article it’s going to be for other
people in their positions in other universities round the world’. (Aboshiha,
2008: 164 [Mike])
Such comments by these ‘native speaker’ teachers reflected a general feeling
of disillusionment about academia and a feeling of marginalisation for the
teachers. In my field notes, I recorded an incident which revealed my own
feelings of inadequacy when confronted by an academic who also seemed
preoccupied with maintaining status vis-à-vis a classroom teacher:
Academic discourse at work

Jon, a new academic colleague came to see me working with some trainee
EFL teachers on a pre-service course. It was perhaps the worst day he could
have come. Two trainees were facing failure on the very intensive course
and everyone was tired. What’s more I had needed to reduce the seminar
to about 50 minutes, an impossibly short time for the work I needed to
cover.
As a teacher, though, I felt if I refused it would ‘look bad’ and Jon would
either think I had something to hide or believed I wasn’t doing my job
properly.
Jon came to the session and did not sit quietly at the back, watching, as I
would have expected (and hoped for) but sometimes, when the trainees were
working together, walked around and chatted and commented. Once, when
a trainee made a comment that Jon disagreed with, Jon started a discussion
to ‘correct’ the trainee. I felt my space and working relationship with the
trainees had been rudely invaded and that Jon was attempting to ‘position’
himself as an expert, although he knew nothing of the course or its require-
ments or anything about the trainees’ successes and failures.
After the ‘observation’ Jon commented ‘that must be so difficult, weaving
discourse, teaching methodology and new knowledge into a session’. Jon
then paused and added, quite pointedly: ‘Of course, I’m working at Master’s
level’. (Aboshiha, 2008: 164-165 [Field Notes])
Here, as an EFL teacher and trainer, I believed I observed a deliberate attempt

by an academic to assert power when sharing a classroom with a practitioner.
The invasion of the classroom and learner’s space, the interrogation and criti-
cism of the learner, while my ‘practitioner’ lesson was supposed to be going on,
were all evidence of this.
Also, still acknowledging the discourse of power in the literature, some
reading was seen as ‘not accessible to the average reader’ (Aboshiha, 2008:
163 [Ken]). Another teacher commented:
I remember thinking how difficult the reading was, after I came into the
field from my original degree, history. It is often difficult to read and I think
the academics who are easy to read, like Thornbury, are people who’ve
moved out of teaching. (Aboshiha, 2008: 163 [Jenny email])
Thus, academics were seen by this group of ‘native speaker’ teachers

as attempting to exert a superior status in the field of EFL, both through
the discourse of academic papers and, as well, in everyday discourse. The
academics, at least through the teachers’ eyes, used publications to assert
power, saying that when they, the teachers, experience the codified discourse
of academic English, they view the genre as a way for theoreticians to assert
a more dominant identity over them. High social distance seemed to be
created, as Ken said, ‘to maintain the community’ and cement the academics’
own dominant identity. In this way the teachers felt they were seen to be a
subordinate group and ‘inferior’ to the academics, despite contrarily asserting
their own ‘status’ as practitioners who could cope with the real world of the
classroom.
Comments
Almost exclusively, this small group of ‘native speaker’ English language
teachers failed to engage with the academic arguments problematising the
traditional status and role of ‘native speaker teachers’. More concerningly,
these experienced, qualified ‘native speaker’ teachers of English not only
failed to engage with the arguments, they evidenced much disenchantment
with the work of academics and showed no motivation to read scholarly works
about such topics as these current challenges to their position and practice
as English language teachers. The teachers seemed to perceive academics as
using the legitimate, codified discourse in publications to maintain status over
classroom practitioners, writing about topics which, to the teachers’ minds,
did not address their everyday realities and pedagogical concerns. Thus, a
major finding from the study (Aboshiha, 2008) was a worrying gap between
academic problematising of changes to the traditional supremacy of ‘native
speaker’ teachers in ELT and the same teachers’ lack of interest (and igno-
rance) that this was being written about. A second finding was that the ‘native
speaker’ EFL teachers exhibited a disquieting relationship with academia,
academics, and their literature. The experienced teachers in the study hardly
valued the codified knowledge of the profession as having the potential for
guiding teachers’ practice and understanding of their role as English language
teachers in the wider world. On the contrary, it appeared the teachers very
much viewed their identity as ‘practical practitioners’, capable of, or needing
to be capable only of, dealing with everyday realities and also not finding
that academic insight aided this in any constructive manner. The teachers
also attempted to position academics as out of touch with the real world of
the EFL classroom, both specifically in the case of academic predictions, such
228 Pamela Aboshiha
as Jenkins’ ideas about a ‘core lingua franca’, and generally with regard to
academic understanding as a whole.
One unfortunate conclusion that may be drawn from the study is that these
‘native speaker’ EFL teachers appear to read the literature of their profession
only when they undertake study to obtain advanced qualifications, and then
they promptly forget what they have read or consign it to a ‘useless for the
classroom’ pile. The motivation to read further in order to enhance or think
about practice, or to view reading academic articles or texts as valuable in
updating knowledge and perspectives on ELT was, in this study, conspicuously
and worryingly absent. This seems to leave the work of ELT academics and
the world of ELT practitioners as two separate endeavours, with the codified
academic genre failing to inform the practices and roles of teachers in any
meaningful, substantial or consistent manner. Also, the study raised the issue
of the lack of codified teacher knowledge, which may, as noted by Freeman and
Johnson (1998), resonate with teachers more than does academic work because
it would more harmoniously encompass the priorities they relate to. Finally,
this lack of motivation to read scholarly works related to the ELT profession
occurred, despite the warning to teachers by Kinginger (2002: 94) that ‘to deny
access to these genres would be as disempowering as to demand unconditional
reverence and subservience to them’.
Suggestions for teacher training and teacher education
What then could be done to smooth this rough and unhappy interface between
such teachers of the English language and the academics writing about the
profession, especially in view of the current changing paradigm? How might
teachers see codified knowledge as contributing more to their daily lives and
teaching roles? How might the teachers be more motivated to read and keep
abreast of scholarly thinking? And how might teachers be encouraged to record
their own knowledge?
One starting point could be on initial pre-service teacher training courses
for ‘native speaker’ teachers such as Cambridge CELTA (Certificate in English
Language Teaching to Adults), a recognised and valued preparatory course
for an overwhelming majority of ‘native speaker’ English language teachers.
Perhaps on this course, teachers need to start out by being more encour-
aged to read about their profession, with this reading viewed as intrinsic
to learning about teaching, and where reflection on the role and position
of ‘native speaker’ English language teachers’ methodological and phono-
logical norms becomes core to the course. On CELTA, pre-service teachers
have the opportunity to obtain excellent classroom skills, basic informa-
tion about lesson types and some teaching practice, but the focus remains
almost exclusively practical and unquestioning of the power and influence

of the ‘native speaker’ teacher, or of the pedagogical approach enshrined in
the course. This prioritising of practice over theory at the outset of a teach-
er’s career sends a clear message that it is acceptable not to engage with the
thinking of the profession. It is interpreted as ‘practice is the only thing that
matters’ in EFL. I contend that unless such neophyte ‘native speaker’ teachers
are introduced to the relevance and importance of thinking about ELT and
its wide and changing role in the world, the profession runs the risk of rele-
gating its teachers to narrow-minded, unthinking implementers of classroom
tasks and activities.
Secondly, when teachers have begun to practise, they often attend in-service
workshops set up by local or national institutions. These workshops inevitably
focus on the practical – extending and refining teachers’ existing repertoire
of, for example, vocabulary teaching, or ideas for using IT in the classroom.
While these practical workshops undoubtedly add to the range and richness
of teachers’ classroom techniques, they might well be profitably balanced with
academic papers to read. These would encourage intelligent discussion of wider
issues and, in the longer term, replenish English language teachers intellectu-
ally, rather than allowing them to stagnate some years after a severely restricted
diet of in-service ‘practical teaching tips’.
Thirdly, directors of studies, or others in academic management roles who
normally direct such ‘in-service’ workshops, need to be convinced of the
importance and relevance of the developmental aspects of reading what is
being written about by the profession. They, too, need intelligent and stim-
ulating updating, not one more new idea for ‘teaching the present perfect’ to
disseminate to teachers.
Finally, academics, aware of this unproductive divide, need to make some
genuine attempt to engage with practitioners. They might find ways of writing
themselves, or of co-authoring work with teachers, which could make scholarly
papers more palatable and relevant to classroom teachers. This, of course, is if
at the end of the day academics are convinced that their work should be rele-
vant to practitioners on a consistent and meaningful basis.
This small study raised some provocative and interesting issues regarding the
interface between academia and practitioners involved in TEFL, and with
which it seems the profession needs to engage. The ‘native speaker’ study
problematised whether, and to what extent, the published work of academia
resonates in the daily lives of practitioners and, indeed, whether there is moti-
vation for academics to design work which has practical implication. The
230 Pamela Aboshiha
former revelation led, I believe, to the imperative need for some investigation
into genres of academic publication which might resonate productively with
EFL practitioners. An equally important further need is for research into how
practitioners might best be motivated to engage with academic theory about
the profession of ELT. The following questions may be useful starting points
for such engagement.
1. Is a central concern of teacher education the transfer of knowledge from one

domain to another, or is teaching English an endeavour different to writing
about issues related to the profession?
2. Is the lack of motivation towards reading academic papers and texts
a phenomenon related solely to ‘native speaker’ teachers, or to all EFL
teachers?
3. What suggestions that have been made in this chapter might motivate EFL
teachers to engage more with academic papers?
4. What other strategies might motivate teachers to engage more with academic
publications?
5. How could teachers themselves be motivated to write more articles which
are not just concerned with ‘classroom tips’?

Borg, S. (2006). Teacher Cognition and Language Education London: Continuum.
This book explores what pre-service and in-service teachers think, know and believe. It
also gives ideas about how teachers could research this cognition, and this might inspire
teachers to investigate and write about their own ‘theories’.
Fenton-Smith, B. and Stillwell, C. (2010). Reading discussion groups for teachers:
connecting theory to practice. English Language Teaching Journal, 65(3): 251–59.
This article describes one practical way, a reading discussion group, which could help
teachers engage with ideas.
References
Aboshiha, P. (2008). Identity and Dilemma: The ‘Native Speaker’ English Language Teacher in
a Globalising World. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of Kent, Canterbury.
Bax, S. (2003). The end of CLT: a context approach to language teaching. English Language
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232 Pamela Aboshiha
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129–36.
13
Motivation and ELT: Looking
Ahead to the Future
Ema Ushioda
Global trends, motivational dissonances
At a 2012 conference in Austria hosted by the International Association of

Teachers of English as a Foreign Language (IATEFL) Learner Autonomy Special
Interest Group, I presented a paper in which I drew together emergent issues
and insights from the draft chapters of this volume and explored their reso-
nance with English language teachers and educators working in various
European contexts (Ushioda, 2012a). According to the European Commission
(2006), English is the most widely used lingua franca across the countries of
the European Union, and dominates foreign language curricula in mainstream
education in Europe (Eurydice, 2005). Yet, as several contributors to this
volume have highlighted, the unquestioned importance ascribed to English in
global, national and educational policy terms does not simply translate into
unquestioned positive motivation for learners of English, and this dissonance
presents significant challenges for teachers at a local level.
Indeed, at the conference in Austria I heard numerous accounts from
teachers that many students seem to dislike studying English or invest little
effort in their formal English lessons, even if they may engage with English
informally outside school. This clearly echoes the arguments put forward by
Henry (Chapter 8) and Taylor (Chapter 3) regarding motivational dissonances
between students’ in-class and out-of-class contexts of encounters with English.
These dissonances represent a significant critical challenge for teachers working
in settings in which English has become a major medium of youth culture,
entertainment and recreational activity. As teachers from several European
countries (e.g., Austria, Denmark, Germany, Slovenia) remarked at the confer-
ence, in addition to a general sense of boredom with school English lessons,
a motivational by-product of young people’s engagement in English-mediated
entertainment and leisure-time activity is an assumed comfortable fluency in
English and concomitant lack of motivation to focus on developing higher
levels of grammatical control and accuracy.
233
234 Ema Ushioda
Furthermore, in some countries, such as Finland, where attainment of

high levels of English proficiency is increasingly the norm, teachers speak
of a growing motivational divide between those who peak at such ‘normal’
high levels of proficiency and those few who succeed in achieving superla-
tive degrees of mastery at the upper reaches of C2 (highest proficiency level)
in the Common European Framework of Reference (CEFR) levels of language
proficiency (Council of Europe, 2001). In such contexts, the bar is being raised
where optimal levels of English proficiency are concerned, affecting access
to the more elite academic and professional career pathways and impacting
on the motivation of otherwise competent English users who find the bar,
nevertheless, beyond their reach. In short, even in contexts where high levels
of English proficiency are very much standard, we see English continuing to
exercise a significant gatekeeping role in determining academic, career and
social progression, just as in other local, national and international settings
in which the English language bar may be comparatively lower. As illus-
trated in this volume, such settings include, for example, the context of ESL
for adult immigrants in the United States (Igoudin, Chapter 11), English for
medical purposes in the Arab Gulf region (Malcolm, Chapter 6), or English for
academic purposes in Australia (Woodrow, Chapter 7).
Professional challenges
Broadly speaking, then, the challenges for teachers are to find ways of
addressing such motivational dissonances between young people’s informal
engagement with English outside school and the formal English lessons they
experience in school; between their personal goals and interests, and the goals
and demands of the curriculum; between their developing fluency in English
and the effort needed to achieve accurate control over form; and between their
existing levels of proficiency and the exacting standards required for access to
desired academic, social and career pathways. Of course, as evidenced in Gao’s
stories of autonomous and self-motivated learners of English in China (Chapter
10), there are initiatives that learners themselves can take to deal with some of
these dissonances and to find ways of enhancing their motivation and learning
opportunities outside the classroom. Inside the classroom, however, the peda-
gogical responsibility clearly lies with teachers to engage students’ interest and
work with them to address these motivational dissonances in constructive
ways. As the arguments put forward by Banegas (Chapter 5), Henry (Chapter
8), Igoudin (Chapter 11) and Taylor (Chapter 3) suggest, valuable steps in this
regard would seem to include giving students voice in expressing their interests
and identities, facilitating their autonomy in negotiating ideas and preferences,
and encouraging them to build their own personally relevant connections
between what they do in class, their lives outside class, and their aspirations
Looking Ahead to the Future 235
and desired identities for the future (for further discussion on the pedagogical
interactions among motivation, autonomy and identity, see Ushioda, 2011a;
2011b).
However, it is not my purpose in this concluding chapter to present a
consolidated set of pedagogical recommendations gleaned from the various
contributions to this volume. After all, a key message in this collection is that
the global ELT landscape is complex and diverse and that contexts of learning
are both localised and fluid, rendering it increasingly difficult to characterise
the interactions among motivation, context and pedagogy in a generalised
sense. Rather, the value of a collection of this kind is that it opens windows
onto different contexts, experiences and practices and raises locally produced
insights and questions which may resonate in various ways with ELT practi-
tioners in other contexts, as was the case with the teachers I addressed at the
conference in Austria.
Yet, ultimately, if there is a generalisable implication to be drawn from the
various chapters in this collection, it is perhaps the rather simple and unsur-
prising one that teachers can have a significant impact on students’ motiva-
tion. This is clearly a double-edged sword, since our impact as teachers can
be negative as well as positive, as evidenced by the growing body of research
on demotivation in language learning in which teachers and their instruc-
tional practices emerge as significant negative factors (for an overview of L2
demotivation studies, see Dörnyei & Ushioda, 2011). Obviously the profes-
sional challenge we face is to make our impact on students’ motivation as
positive as we can. How we achieve this will depend very much on our profes-
sional skills and experience, as well as on our understanding of our learners,
of the contexts we work in and of the resources at our disposal, including
the motivational and language learning potential of various technologies (see
Stockwell, Chapter 9).
While highlighting the impact of teachers and instructional practices on
student motivation might seem like stating the obvious, the issue of real
significance here is the emphasis this brings to the local micro-contextual
dynamics of teacher–student interactions, relations and classroom practices
where motivation is concerned. In other words, whatever generalised prom-
inence learning and using English may have in the prevailing discourses of
globalisation and global education, in national or regional curriculum policy
or across society at large, at a fundamental level it is what happens (or does
not happen) in each individual classroom, as orchestrated by the teacher, that
will have a critical bearing on how students are motivated (or not) to invest
effort in learning English. This seems to be a common insight across many
of the chapters in this volume, as highlighted for example in Kuchah’s anal-
ysis (Chapter 4) of Francophone children’s and parents’ motivation to opt for
English-medium schooling in Cameroon. As he shows, it is the rich quality
236 Ema Ushioda
of children’s day-to-day learning experiences with Anglophone teachers that

has a pivotal role to play in influencing motivation to choose English-medium
education this regard. Similarly, the classroom vignettes portrayed by Lamb
and Budiyanto (Chapter 2) and their analysis point to the significance of
this localised level of teacher-orchestrated activities, interactions and experi-
ences in shaping students’ affective engagement with English in a provincial
Indonesian ELT setting in which English language communication opportuni-
ties outside class are limited.
As I outlined in Chapter 1, with the changing global landscape of ELT and
the increasing diversity of settings in which learning English is situated, local
contexts of learning assume particular importance for discussions of motiva-
tion. In light of the concluding analysis in the current chapter, I think it is
important to amplify this argument by emphasising the point that, by local
contexts of learning, we mean more than just the physical, social or virtual
setting, however defined. Local contexts of learning embrace also the micro-
level of dynamic interactions, relations, practices and shared histories and
experiences in particular classrooms as shaped and orchestrated by particular
teachers. As illustrated in many of the chapters in this volume, it is at this
very localised level of students’ learning experience that the real potential for
engaging (or disengaging) their motivation may lie. This places a premium on
the teacher’s skills, understanding and readiness to respond to the challenge.
Future lines of research inquiry
From a theoretical and research perspective, these arguments also place a

premium on teacher- and classroom-focused empirical studies to investigate
how teachers’ instructional and interactional practices contribute to shaping
processes of motivation in their classrooms. As I have discussed elsewhere
(Ushioda, 2012b), richly detailed analyses of motivation grounded in actual
classroom events and interactions remain very rare in a field where methods
of inquiry have typically relied on self-report instruments such as question-
naires and interviews. While qualitative research interviews may allow for
richer individual perspectives to emerge than questionnaire methods, the
interview context is necessarily different from the classroom context under
focus in terms of interactants, purpose, temporal perspective and (more often
than not) physical setting. Our understanding of how motivation is experi-
enced and engaged through specific classroom events, interactions and prac-
tices is limited to what teacher or student participants can usefully tell us and
rationalise retrospectively in response to our probing questions.
There is clearly scope here for developing a more richly grounded and
multidimensional in situ analysis of how processes of motivation evolve
through particular classroom events, interactions and practices. As I have
suggested (Ushioda, 2012b), this could entail capturing (i.e., through video
and audio recording as well as observational field notes) the events under
focus, such as students’ interactions in a group work task, processes of
teacher feedback on student performance, or critical episodes in a lesson.
Through a detailed multimodal analysis of the event (taking into account,
for example, aspects of classroom discourse, non-verbal interactions, off-task
behaviours), we can develop our interpretative perspective as informed by
our theoretical and analytical insights in relation to processes of motivation.
Our interpretative perspective might then be triangulated with teacher and
student participants’ own retrospective accounts through stimulated recall
interviews (Gass & Mackey, 2000), enabling us to build an integrated anal-
ysis of motivational processes and practices at work in the classroom from
multiple perspectives.
Another important line of research inquiry lies with teachers themselves,
since they are ideally positioned to understand their learners and have a vested
interest in knowing how best to engage their motivation. Surprisingly, perhaps,
teacher research on motivation in relation to their own classroom practice
remains rather scarce in the field. Among the contributors in this collection,
for example, only Banegas (Chapter 5) reports on a practitioner research study
grounded in his own classroom experiences and practices as well as those of
his colleagues participating in collaborative action research.
Aside from more general practical and ideological reasons why language
teachers may be reluctant to engage in or with academic research (for detailed
discussion, see Borg, 2010; see also Aboshiha, Chapter 12), there may be more
specific perceived barriers to teacher research on motivation in relation to their
own classroom practice. In particular, teachers gathering self-report data on
classroom motivation from their own students may feel that the reliability of
such data is questionable. After all, students may refrain from voicing their
true opinions out of respect for (or fear of) the teacher, or because of unclear
evaluative consequences. Teachers may also feel concerned that the methods
they use to investigate motivation in their classrooms may unduly influence
students’ motivation itself (thereby raising the vexed issue of data validity or
contamination), or that such research processes may interfere with the teaching
process and their pedagogical priorities and responsibilities (see, for example,
Li, 2006).
One way forward for teacher-researchers in this regard may be to consider
an integration rather than separation of their teaching and researching
objectives. Accordingly, the tools they use to ‘investigate’ their students’ moti-
vation might be regarded as functioning simultaneously (and primarily) as
pedagogical tools designed to enhance students’ voice and involvement in
learning and thus to engage their motivation. One example would be the
practices reported by Banegas (Chapter 5) to involve students in suggesting
238 Ema Ushioda
and negotiating lesson topics and, subsequently, to invite their personal eval-
uation of these lesson experiences. Another example might be the use of
students’ language learning stories or histories in class. These can function
on the one hand as pedagogical tools to engage students in communicating in
English while encouraging reflection on language learning processes, and on
the other as investigative tools for the teacher to enable better understanding
of individual students’ experiences and motivation (for discussion of language
learner stories from pedagogical and research perspectives see, for example,
Benson & Nunan, 2005; also Kalaja et al., 2008). After all, if engaging our
students’ motivation is a key professional challenge and priority, then all
aspects of our classroom practice that can contribute to this have pedagogical
value and validity, including the (research) opportunities we create to listen
to what students have to say.
As this concluding chapter has emphasised, across the changing global land-
scape of ELT, the localised practices and skills of teachers working in partic-
ular classrooms with particular learners seem pivotal in shaping processes of
motivation. As a field of inquiry, research on motivation in language learning
will be significantly enriched through a sharper empirical focus on these
classrooms, practices and teacher–student interactions, and such empirical
insights, in turn, can undoubtedly contribute to informing future theory and
local practice.
References
Benson, P. and Nunan, D. (eds) (2005). Learners’ Stories: Difference and Diversity in Language
Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Borg, S. (2010). Language teacher research engagement. Language Teaching, 43(4):
391–429.
Council of Europe (2001). Common European Framework of Reference for Languages:
Learning, Teaching, Assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Harlow: Pearson.
European Commission (2006). Europeans and their Languages. Special Eurobarometer
243. Available at: http://ec.europa.eu/public_opinion/archives/ebs/ebs_243_en.pdf
[Accessed 18/06/12].
Eurydice (2005). Key Data on Teaching Languages at School in Europe. Brussels: Eurydice
European Unit.
Gass, S. and Mackey, A. (2000). Stimulated Recall Methodology in Second Language Research.
Kalaja, P., Menezes, V. and Barcelos, A. M. F. (eds) (2008). Narratives of Learning and
Teaching EFL. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.
Li, N. (2006). Researching and experiencing motivation: a plea for balanced research.
Language Teaching Research, 10(4): 437–56.
Ushioda, E. (2011a). Language learning motivation, self and identity: current theoretical
Ushioda, E. (2011b). Motivating learners to speak as themselves. In G. Murray, X. Gao

Multilingual Matters, 11–24.
Ushioda, E. (2012a). Learner Autonomy as the Answer to Motivation in the Era of Global
English. Plenary paper presented at IATEFL LA SIG Conference, University of Graz, 1–2
June 2012.
Ushioda, E. (2012b). Motivation: L2 learning as a special case? In S. Mercer, S. Ryan and
Practice. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 58–73.
Index
academic motivation, see motivation, education, types of

types of adult education, 24, 31, 192–211, 221,
action research, 89–93, 237 228, 234
affinity spaces, 144–6, 148, 151 bilingual education, 2, 6, 60–78, 86
agency, 82, 85, 136, 138, 177, 178 English-medium education, 2, 5, 6,
amotivation, 194 60–78, 111, 117–31
assessment, 36, 41, 46, 47, 49–51, 53–4, primary/elementary education, 7, 11,
95, 124, 138, 139, 140, 197, 209 26, 39, 42, 62–3, 66–78
see also examinations/tests; grades/ private sector education, 8, 20, 30, 37,
marks 62, 82, 84, 110
authentic materials, 86, 90, 93, 95, secondary/high school education, 6–7,
139–40 20–32, 38–54, 62, 63, 66, 73, 75,
authenticity, 8, 133, 139–46, 150–2 82–95, 98–9, 104, 106, 108, 110, 113,
autonomy/autonomous learning, 9, 37, 43, 133–5, 138–52
44, 86, 112, 162, 167, 177–8, 234–5 university education, 5–6, 11, 101–14,
117–30, 159, 164, 197
behaviourism/behaviourist educational change/reform, 6–9,
approaches, 44–7, 49 38–40, 86, 198
biculturality, 19–20, 28, 31, 32 effort, language learning, 10, 25, 51,
101, 102, 112, 125, 140, 150, 164,
choice, 6, 45, 60, 64, 66, 73, 76, 77, 168, 193 176–84, 187–9, 193, 207, 209, 210,
classroom dynamics, 76, 85, 93, 235–6 233, 234, 235
collaborative learning/working, 7, 88, emotions, 23, 25, 26, 29, 31, 44, 51, 91,
89, 95, 151 128, 141–2, 178, 199
communicative language teaching, 11, English, types of
26, 27, 39, 48, 83 for academic purposes (EAP), 11,
see also teaching methodology 98–114, 117–31, 234
computer-assisted language learning as a foreign language (EFL), 3–4, 18–32,
(CALL), 147, 156–8, 161, 165 35–54, 82–95, 133–52, 161, 164, 170,
see also digital gaming; technology 176–90, 195, 221–3, 225–9
content and language integrated as a global/international language, 2–3,
learning (CLIL)/content-based 9, 13, 28, 64, 176, 189
instruction, 7, 82–95, 117 as a lingua franca (ELF), 9, 19–20,
creativity, 72, 138, 142–4, 148, 150–1, 25, 39, 117, 127, 169, 217, 220, 224,
164, 175, 183 228, 233
culture, cultures as a second language (ESL), 3–5, 9, 99,
cultural content of learning/target 118, 119, 161, 169, 170, 192–211, 234
culture, 9, 25, 31, 32, 87, 100, 195, examinations/tests, 2, 11, 26–7, 39–40,
202–3, 217 46, 49, 50, 53, 68, 69, 73–4, 84, 99,
youth/popular culture, 8, 133, 104, 106–8, 110, 111, 118, 126–8,
144–51, 233 140, 207, 209
see also assessment; grades/marks
demotivation, 112, 127, 235 extrinsic motivation, see motivation,
digital gaming, 8, 133–52, 188, 189 types of
241
242 Index
family/family influences, 31, 100, 102–4, instrumental motivation, 4, 63–5,

108, 110–11, 114, 195, 203 100–2, 111, 195, 202, 209, 217
see also parents/parental influences integrative motivation, 4, 9, 64–5,
feedback, 5, 47, 49–51, 90, 91, 157, 164, 100–2, 195, 202–3
194, 198–9, 237 intrinsic motivation, 8, 26, 29, 40, 93,
94, 120, 121, 123–5, 158, 162, 228
goal orientation theory, 117, 119–21, 129 see also teachers, teacher motivation
grades/marks, 38–9, 45, 49–51, 99, 104, motivational change (motivation as
105, 107, 108, 111, 112, 114, 118, dynamic), 7, 93, 100, 117, 121, 122,
125–6, 130, 196, 207 128, 130, 162, 176, 195
see also assessment; examinations/tests motivational strategies, 1, 66, 74, 140,
grammar learning/teaching, 11, 18, 26, 166, 204–5, 209–10
40, 45, 48, 85, 91, 92, 95, 99, 139, 157,
166, 216 native speakers/native speaker models,
12, 13, 20, 22–5, 29–30, 32, 128, 156,
identity 163, 166
identity goals, 9–13, 18, 201–4, 210, see also teachers, native speaker versus
234–5 non-native speaker
identity processes/work, 10, 18, 21,
24, 26–32, 40, 53, 68, 74–6, 91, 138, oral skills, see speaking skills
147, 178 out-of-class environments/learning, 8, 99,
linguistic/cultural identities, 18–20, 25, 130, 133–4, 149–52, 160, 189, 233
63–5, 176, 189, 217
see also teachers, teacher identities parents/parental influences, 60,
immigrant (language learners), 4, 193, 62–70, 72–4, 76–7, 82, 84, 101, 121,
195–8, 204, 234 123–9, 235
information and communication see also family/family influences
technologies, see technology peer influence/support, 35, 194, 209
instrumental motivation, see motivation, pronunciation, 99, 110, 182, 201,
types of 210, 217
instrumentality-prevention/promotion,
101–2, 111 reading skills, 26, 48–9, 71, 87, 104, 128,
integrative motivation, see motivation, 129, 195, 196, 197, 201
types of
intercultural awareness/learning, 12, self-actualisation, 178, 185
27–9, 30, 31 self-assessment/evaluation, 207, 208, 210
international students, 5, 63, 117–31 self-concept, 10, 12, 113, 142, 198–9,
intrinsic motivation, see motivation, 204, 210
types of self-determination theory, 11, 120, 141
self-efficacy, 36, 121
learner-centred approaches, 37, 53, 70, self-esteem, 7, 99, 102, 104–6, 110,
207, 208, 210 112–13, 141, 193
learning strategies, 167, 194, 209 self-regulation, 101, 121
listening skills, 26, 91, 126, 201 self-related goals/representations
future (possible) self, 10, 100–1, 140
mobile technologies, 157, 165, 168 ideal L2 self, 10, 31, 101–2, 111, 176–7,
motivation, types of 179–83, 185–90, 199, 202
academic motivation, 37, 119–20 imagined self, 181, 188
extrinsic motivation, 120, 121, 123–4, ought-to L2 self, 10, 101–2
126, 129 self-image, 28, 70, 104, 108, 110
Index 243
social constructivist approaches, teacher knowledge, 220–1, 228

36–7, 44–7, 49, 53 teacher motivation, 41–4, 85,
social networking (technologies), 8, 40, 93, 162–3
135, 147, 149, 157, 164 teaching methodology, 38, 41, 44, 47, 52,
social networks, 6, 10, 178–9, 181–90 72, 138, 217, 226
speaking skills, 21, 26–9, 32, 38, 48, see also communicative language
49, 88, 91, 109, 112, 128, 138, 142, teaching
183–4, 187, 206, 207 technology (information and
student voice, 36–8, 45, 77, 89, 150–1, communication technology), 2, 3, 5,
234, 237 8, 63, 75, 133–52, 156–72, 235
see also computer-assisted language
tasks/task-based learning, 29, 37, 48, learning; mobile technologies; social
86, 94, 120, 129, 130, 139, 140, 151, networking (technologies)
158, 165, 167, 171, 207, 208, 210, textbooks/coursebooks, 19, 20, 22, 25–7,
229, 237 31, 39, 45–6, 84–7, 89–93, 95, 109,
teachers 138–9, 147
native speaker versus non-native
speaker teachers, 12–13, 29–30, 32, vocabulary learning/teaching, 11, 26, 48,
216–30 87, 91, 99, 128, 134, 138, 139, 150,
teacher autonomy, 44, 162 157, 166, 168, 207
teacher development, 89, 162
teacher education, 77, 228–30 writing skills, 23, 25, 28, 129, 142, 150,
teacher identities, 13, 220, 227 157, 164, 167, 199, 201, 206

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International Perspectives

Language Learning and Professional

Forthcoming titles in the series:

Sarah Rich (editor)

List of Illustrations vii

Notes on Contributors viii

Series Editors’ Preface x

List of Abbreviations xii

1 Motivation and ELT: Global Issues and Local Concerns 1

2 Cultural Challenges, Identity and Motivation in State School EFL 18

3 Listening to Romanian Teenagers: Lessons in Motivation

4 From Bilingual Francophones to Bilingual Anglophones:

5 The Integration of Content and Language as a Driving

6 Motivational Challenges for Gulf Arab Students

7 Motivation and the Transition to University 117

8 Digital Games and ELT: Bridging the Authenticity Gap 133

9 Technology and Motivation in English-Language

10 Motivated by Visions: Stories from Chinese Contexts 176

11 Social Identity and Language Learning Motivation:

12 ‘Native Speaker’ English Language Teachers: Disengaged

13 Motivation and ELT: Looking Ahead to the Future 233

11.1 Socially situated model of adult language learning motivation 204

3.1 Participant details 40

Pamela Aboshiha is Senior Lecturer at Canterbury Christ Church University,

Martin Lamb is Senior Lecturer in TESOL at the University of Leeds, U.K.,

As series editors we were delighted to find that in her introduction to this

AGU Arabian Gulf University

SMS short message service

What is distinctive about this book: starting

Motivation is widely recognised as a significant factor influencing success

In contrast, what makes the current volume distinctive is that it takes

Motivation, contexts and the changing global

Traditional analyses of ELT contexts and motivation

Lambert’s initial programme of research focused more on learners of French

indigenised varieties of English (i.e., world Englishes) in postcolonial contexts,

Motivation and the fluidity of today’s learning contexts

and the setting up of transnational overseas campuses by a growing number

Motivation and the growth of English in

At another level, on the other hand, the complexity of the associations

Across the world, the mainstreaming of English language education is also

language education can create a further set of motivational challenges for

2009). In order to address these motivational dissonances, what seems impor-

Motivation, identities and the role of English

Reframing L2 motivation in relation to self and identity

Murray, Gao & Lamb, 2011). A particularly influential theoretical framework

What English and learning English mean for students

Furthermore, even where students recognise the pragmatic value of acquiring

Motivation, identities and implications for ELT teachers

Concluding remarks on the structure of this book

t classroom practices (Lamb and Budiyanto on English lessons in provincial

While grounded in different local contexts and concerns, the discus-

and Practice in Second Language Teaching. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,

struggle to gain a foothold in new L2 communities (e.g., Norton, 2000;

motivation. The chapter then presents further descriptions of language

Three vignettes from the Indonesian junior high school

On the following page is a beautifully designed Valentine’s Day card.

Identity and the school English language learner

More typical English language learning activities

Promoting identity change in the classroom