Although second language teaching is in many other ways like all other teaching, the morality of this form of teaching also has certain qualities unique to our field. For example, to an extent not usually experienced in general education (or at least not acknowledged in its literature), values in second language teaching are virtually by definition negotiated across cultural boundaries. Given the centrality of values in culture, this fact becomes a huge influence on the moral contours of the classroom. Second, profound ambiguities attend this cross-cultural meeting of values in various
contexts. Though these ambiguities are present in all language teaching, they are often particularly salient in English language teaching in both ESL and EFL contexts. In EFL, we are faced with the problem of presenting, explaining, and, in many cases, justifying cultural practices that we ourselves often believe to be either superior or inferior to those of the students’ culture. Native speakers become unwitting representatives for their own “national culture” as perceived by others (Duff & Uchida, 1997; B, Johnston, 1999a). In other cases they are called on to fulfill roles that run counter to their own culture: An American colleague of mine who taught in a Japanese middle school, for example, found himself constantly wrestling with the expectation in Japan that schoolteachers intervene consciously and overtly in the moral lives of the children—for example, upbraiding the children for transgressions of behavior in ways that in the United States are reserved for the parents of the children concerned (see also Hadley & Evans, 2001), Non-native
speakers, on the other hand, who constitute the great majority of the world’s teachers of English, find themselves called on to act as representatives of the cultures they teach. In ESL we have the problem of balancing respect for the home cultures with our responsibility as teachers to facilitate integration into the new cultural environment (I present an example of a moral dilemma arising from this problem shortly). Third, for many of us who work primarily with adults, there is the additional fact that our learners should not be treated as if they need to be overtly educated in moral matters but should be assumed to be in charge of their own moral development. The overt moral instruction that accompanies the teaching of children is absent. At the same time, for immigrant and refugee learners in particular we may believe that they do need to learn different values. Let me share with you an example of this dilemma: I once spoke with an adult literacy tutor in a small Indiana town who found herself having to explain to one of her Russian students that in America one is expected to wear a clean shirt to work each day and not to wear the same shirt 2 or more days running. While this is, objectively speaking, true about “American culture,” it also constitutes an infringement of another basic American rule: that one does not comment on the personal hygiene and habits of other adults. The teacher found that she felt morally obligated to transgress this second law in the interests of supporting her student’s success and acceptance in the new environment. I find this example particularly telling because it reveals not just the moral underpinnings of ELT but also the complex and ambiguous nature of those underpinnings. In this case, the teacher’s moral duty to do well by her students as students is balanced by her moral duty to treat them with respect as human equals; the infantilism always lurking beneath the surface of adult ELT is all the more problematic because while in an abstract, humanistic sense our learners are fully fledged adults, in many practical ways—especially their command of the language and their grasp of cultural norms of the target culture—they do in fact resemble children.3 (In chap. 5 I look at another example of the moral complexities of teachers “interfering” in the personal lives of students.) Last, the very nature of the language teaching profession is often significantly different from that of general education. Unlike many occupations, it is international virtually by definition and thus cannot comfortably rest its morality on conventional national cultural models (even setting aside the problematic nature of such models).
contexts. Though these ambiguities are present in all language teaching, they are often particularly salient in English language teaching in both ESL and EFL contexts. In EFL, we are faced with the problem of presenting, explaining, and, in many cases, justifying cultural practices that we ourselves often believe to be either superior or inferior to those of the students’ culture. Native speakers become unwitting representatives for their own “national culture” as perceived by others (Duff & Uchida, 1997; B, Johnston, 1999a). In other cases they are called on to fulfill roles that run counter to their own culture: An American colleague of mine who taught in a Japanese middle school, for example, found himself constantly wrestling with the expectation in Japan that schoolteachers intervene consciously and overtly in the moral lives of the children—for example, upbraiding the children for transgressions of behavior in ways that in the United States are reserved for the parents of the children concerned (see also Hadley & Evans, 2001), Non-native
speakers, on the other hand, who constitute the great majority of the world’s teachers of English, find themselves called on to act as representatives of the cultures they teach. In ESL we have the problem of balancing respect for the home cultures with our responsibility as teachers to facilitate integration into the new cultural environment (I present an example of a moral dilemma arising from this problem shortly). Third, for many of us who work primarily with adults, there is the additional fact that our learners should not be treated as if they need to be overtly educated in moral matters but should be assumed to be in charge of their own moral development. The overt moral instruction that accompanies the teaching of children is absent. At the same time, for immigrant and refugee learners in particular we may believe that they do need to learn different values. Let me share with you an example of this dilemma: I once spoke with an adult literacy tutor in a small Indiana town who found herself having to explain to one of her Russian students that in America one is expected to wear a clean shirt to work each day and not to wear the same shirt 2 or more days running. While this is, objectively speaking, true about “American culture,” it also constitutes an infringement of another basic American rule: that one does not comment on the personal hygiene and habits of other adults. The teacher found that she felt morally obligated to transgress this second law in the interests of supporting her student’s success and acceptance in the new environment. I find this example particularly telling because it reveals not just the moral underpinnings of ELT but also the complex and ambiguous nature of those underpinnings. In this case, the teacher’s moral duty to do well by her students as students is balanced by her moral duty to treat them with respect as human equals; the infantilism always lurking beneath the surface of adult ELT is all the more problematic because while in an abstract, humanistic sense our learners are fully fledged adults, in many practical ways—especially their command of the language and their grasp of cultural norms of the target culture—they do in fact resemble children.3 (In chap. 5 I look at another example of the moral complexities of teachers “interfering” in the personal lives of students.) Last, the very nature of the language teaching profession is often significantly different from that of general education. Unlike many occupations, it is international virtually by definition and thus cannot comfortably rest its morality on conventional national cultural models (even setting aside the problematic nature of such models).
These sources are very useful