[EDLING:202] EducationGuardian.co.uk: No experience necessary?

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No experience necessary?
Ross Davies went on a crash Tefl course and flew to Japan to teach English unprepared. Disillusioned, he tells his story
Friday June 08 2007
The Guardian


Like many new graduates pondering what to do after university, I enrolled on a Tefl course. Though the prospect of mixing travel with employment was alluring, I discovered I was ill-prepared.

I decided to try my luck as a Tefl teacher in June 2006, to combat the months of anti-climax after graduation. I picked up a brochure and read happy tales of life in Hong Kong, adventure in Africa and solace in Nepal. So exotic and glamorous it seemed, I gave the idea no second thought and soon found myself on a twenty-four hour intensive teaching course in Cardiff.

Training to be a Tefl teacher is exhilarating, especially when you have little or, in my case, no previous teaching experience. Directed by an inspirationally wise course leader loaded with anecdotes, I listened, participated in numerous learning activities and communicated well with the other debutants. At the end of the second day I sat in the hotel bar, certificate in hand with others from the course, feeling invigorated and liberated to go and experience any country in the world.

In a matter of weeks, reality kicked in: "But wait! I'm going to have to teach!" The thought suddenly stung my head halfway through the flight to Tokyo, my chosen destination. Surrounded by other newly recruited teachers, a sense of panic set in.

I had indulged so much into an imaginary life of adventure in Japan, the reason for my travels had slipped to the back of my mind. Travel books and holiday programmes have a habit of over-stimulating and warping thought.

Touching down, those pangs of anxiety experienced on the plane were replaced by waves of dizzy consciousness, caused by both the inevitable jetlag and the thought of being in the Land of the Rising Sun. The day after arriving and still groggy from sleep deprivation, another five days' training began, giving us information on everything from visas to how to teach toddlers. Being so dazed during that opening week, I can't give an opinion on how worthwhile the training was.

In essence, the week proved a good time to socialise, which seemed appropriate for anyone aspiring to be a Tefl teacher, a job so reliant on social skills and communication.

Unfortunately, those early days proved a high point, at least in terms of my working experience. Within a month of finishing training, I found myself not only disillusioned with the job but low on endorphins. I came to realise I was lacking one skill vital to the profession: I couldn't teach.

No training or books would have adequately primed me for teaching two-year-olds. You either have it or you don't with children, a reason why nurseries and primary schools are particular with employees.

I found myself at a loss of what to do for one hour lessons. Halfway through most of them, which took place late in the afternoon, the children were tired. Now if it had been like a nursery when the children, under supervision, can play and paint in a relaxed environment, it would have been manageable. One hour trying to enforce games was too much for kids with an average attention span of two minutes.

Profit

Many private English schools' profit in Asia comes from teaching young children. There is such demand, numbers and spaces need to be filled, however bad the teaching. The pretence of the school I worked for riled; claiming how high standards were and should remain for teaching young children. But to lead kids in a small classroom not only takes flair, but proper training in child psychology.

Obviously as experience grows, knowledge and skills increase and toddlers lessons did become slightly easier. Yet there were other aspects of the job that were starting to outweigh it. If I thought I was clueless on teaching young children, I felt more of a charlatan in the business classes I 'led'.

A 22-year-old graduate, whose knowledge of finance was drawn from the yearly trip to the bank to discuss the next installment of a student loan, should not be teaching business. However, with Tokyo being such a finance-orientated city, business learning adults are the second major source of income for private language school.

Like a form of bureaucracy, business jargon is not a form of English or any other language but a code taught by professionals, often for good sums of money. It was embarrassing as I stuttered and wriggled my way out of questions with condescending beginnings to answers such as: "The thing you have to understand about the stock market is..." Again, neither preparation from a book nor calling to my father who worked in banking was good enough to help my poor students.

Soon enough, one questions the morality of the organisation you represent. It was made worse by the large number of students in Japan who I considered friends. I couldn't help feeling I was betraying these students, so keen to learn their enthusiasm was childlike. I found it bewildering hearing them say how much they wanted to learn British English (it was a British English school) only to read the school monthly newsletter and discover words like 'candy', 'mom', and 'pants' instead of trousers.

Private language schools are crudely profit-driven organisations, which induct and lose teachers every year in an expendable cycle. My superiors never once inquired of my wellbeing apart from asking whether I had completed the administrative tasks they set.

I experienced long hours, often working from 1-11pm, arriving home at midnight to repeat the same the next day. This was alongside six-day weeks with additional pay for that extra day amounting to 500 yen, roughly £2. The school's demand for diligence was acceptable; being taken for a ride was not.

Tefl teaching will remain a popular avenue for graduates and those wishing to explore the world. Who can blame them? I went to Japan for the same reason. Yet many ex-teachers would caution against making the fundamental mistake of becoming so engulfed with the idea of travel and culture, the idea of teaching becomes a small, insignificant detail. That is until you enter a classroom and it hits you smack in the nasal.

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