As an English teacher working with a group of low-proficient ESL students, there are certainly frustrations. From their limited English vocabulary and inability to form basic sentences to the visible struggle of searching for words in the target language, the challenges are clear. After providing ample guidance—whether through writing or speaking templates, word banks, or engaging classroom activities—there are moments when I wonder,
"Where did I go wrong as an
English teacher?"
I was pacing around the classroom, as usual,
monitoring their progress on the task I had assigned. Thirty minutes had passed
since I gave them the instructions, but one student's workbook was still empty.
My typical reaction would have been to ask,
"Why haven’t you done anything?
You should’ve started 30 minutes ago."
I hated
sounding like a broken record, repeating the same lines over and over. I had
become one of those teachers who resorted to nagging whenever a situation like
this arose. I could feel my frustration growing, my eyebrows furrowing in
annoyance, but I managed to stop myself from saying the usual words.
The boy just gave me a guiltless smile and looked
away without saying a word. At that moment, I realized that my typical
reaction, before I stopped myself, stemmed from my own experience of having had
the social and cultural capital to learn and acquire the English language
easily when I was younger. I had the expectation that he should be able to
obtain the language just as easily as I did. But if he isn’t surrounded by the
language 24/7, how can he even begin to grasp the basics? I only see him for
seven periods a week, which is about three and a half hours in total.
The irony is that I’ve been reading about how
social, cultural, and economic capital facilitates language acquisition, along
with intrinsic drive and motivation. But it wasn’t until this incident—one of
many—that it finally hit me. The theory became a reality in front of my eyes.
As his English teacher, I am part of the cultural capital he needs, which made me
question again,
“Where did I go wrong as an English
teacher?”
Whenever I ask myself this, I feel like I’m
gaslighting myself, always assuming I’m at fault. In doing so, I overlook other
factors contributing to his lack of proficiency, no matter how many
resources I provide. After all, individuals can only operate within the limits
of the ecological environment they are placed in.
Still, I am his cultural capital in the
classroom. So, I must continue teaching him and offering resources suited to
his proficiency level. But this time, I won’t gaslight myself. There is only so
much I can do as his cultural capital. In fact, even as a cultural capital, while important, has its limits and competes with other factors in his life. Whatever his outcome may be, I am just
one small part of the equation, and I have no control over the rest.
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