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Autonomy in Language Learning and Teaching New Research Agendas ( PDFDrive )

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AUTONOMY IN
LANGUAGE
LEARNING AND
TEACHING
New Research Agendas
Edited by
Alice Chik, Naoko Aoki
and Richard Smith
Autonomy in Language Learning and Teaching
Alice Chik • Naoko Aoki
Richard Smith
Editors
Autonomy in
Language Learning
and Teaching
New Research Agendas
Editors
Alice Chik
Educational Studies
Macquarie University
North Ryde, NSW, Australia
Naoko Aoki
Graduate School of Letters
Osaka University
Kobe, Japan
Richard Smith
Centre for Applied Linguistics
University of Warwick
Coventry, UK
ISBN 978-1-137-52997-8 ISBN 978-1-137-52998-5
https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5
(eBook)
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© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2018
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Kingdom
Contents
1Introduction 1
Alice Chik, Naoko Aoki, and Richard Smith
2Learner Autonomy in Developing Countries 7
Richard Smith, Kuchah Kuchah, and Martin Lamb
3Language Teacher Autonomy and Social Censure 29
Xuesong Gao
4Learner Autonomy and Groups 51
David M. Palfreyman
5Learner Autonomy and Digital Practices 73
Alice Chik
6Researching the Spatial Dimension of Learner Autonomy 93
Garold Murray
Index 115
v
Notes on Contributors
Naoko Aoki is a professor of Graduate School of Letters, Osaka
University, where she teaches Japanese as a second language pedagogy.
She started practising and writing about learner autonomy in the early
1990s and earned a PhD on that topic from Trinity College Dublin. She
is a founding co-coordinator of JALT’s Learner Development SIG and
was a co-convenor of AILA’s Learner Autonomy Research Network from
2011 to 2014. Her publications include Mapping the Terrain of Learner
Autonomy published by Tampere University Press in 2009, co-edited with
Felicity Kjisik, Peter Voller and Yoshiyuki Nakata; “Defending stories and
sharing one: Towards a narrative understanding of teacher autonomy” in
Pemberton, R., Toogood, S. & Barfield, A. (Eds.); Autonomy and
Language Learning: Maintaining Control published by Hong Kong
University Press in 2009; “A community of practice as a space for collaborative student teacher autonomy” in O’Rourke, B. & Carson, L. (Eds.);
and Language Learner Autonomy: Policy, Curriculum, Classroom
(pp. 63–78), published by Peter Lang in 2010.
Alice Chik is a senior lecturer in Educational Studies at Macquarie
University. Alice’s primary area of research examines language learning
and multilingual literacies in digital environments. She is especially interested in exploring how language learners construct and direct their autonomous learning in informal contexts. Alice is a leader of the Macquarie
Multilingualism Research Group. Her particular interest in multilingualism is public discourse, representation and narratives of everyday multilin-
vii
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NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
gual experience. She is the lead co-editor of The Multilingual City: Sydney
Case Studies (Routledge, 2018). Her recent projects can be found on
www.multilingualsydney.org.
Kuchah Kuchah has been involved in ELT research and teacher education for over 18 years. He is currently a lecturer in TESOL at the University
of Bath, UK. Previously, he worked as a teacher, teacher trainer and policy
maker in his home country Cameroon and, later, as a teaching fellow at
the Universities of Warwick and Sheffield in the UK. He has served as a
consultant on language policy and pedagogy with the Council of Europe
in Albania and with UNICEF and WTI in South Sudan and was recently
recognised as one of TESOL International Association’s “30 upcoming
leaders” in ELT. Kuchah’s research interests include teaching English to
young learners, English medium instruction, context-appropriate methodology and teacher education. He is co-editor of International Perspectives
on Teaching English in Difficult Circumstances (forthcoming, Palgrave
Macmillan) and has published in Innovation in Language Learning and
Teaching, Issues in Educational Research, ELT Journal and Comparative
Education.
Martin Lamb is a senior lecturer in TESOL at the University of Leeds,
UK. After a brief stint in sales and marketing, he taught English in Sweden,
Indonesia, Bulgaria and Saudi Arabia, before moving into teacher training
and institutional development on various British Council projects. At
Leeds he teaches on undergraduate and postgraduate courses in language
teaching methodology, the psychology of language learning and language
assessment. His main research interests are in learner and teacher motivation, especially how it relates to identity, social context and pedagogy. His
articles have appeared in the academic journals Language Teaching, TESOL
Quarterly, Language Learning, System and others, and he is currently
working on Handbook of Motivation for Language Learning for Palgrave
Macmillan.
Garold Murray is an associate professor in the Center for Liberal Arts
and Language Education at Okayama University. His research interests
focus on learner autonomy, social learning spaces, semiotics of place and
imagination in language learning. He is the editor of the book The Social
Dimensions of Learner Autonomy (2014), and co-editor of Identity,
Motivation, and Autonomy in Language Learning (2011, co-edited with
Andy Gao and Terry Lamb), Social Spaces for Language Learning: Stories
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
ix
from the L-café (2016, co-edited with Naomi Fujishima) and Space, Place
and Autonomy in Language Learning (2018, co-edited with Terry Lamb).
David Palfreyman is an associate professor in the Department of English
and Writing Studies at Zayed University, Dubai. Since 1995 he has worked
in higher education at undergraduate and postgraduate level in Turkey
and the UAE. His research interests include learner autonomy, the development of academic biliteracy and the contributions of sociocultural context (particularly the family and peer groups) to learning. He has presented
research at numerous international conferences and has published his
work in journals and books. He is the editor of Learner Autonomy Across
Cultures (2003, with Richard Smith), Learning and Teaching Across
Cultures in Higher Education (2007, with Dawn L. McBride) and
Academic Biliteracies (2017, with Christa van der Walt); he also edits a
journal titled Learning and Teaching in Higher Education: Gulf Perspectives.
He is currently coordinating a cluster of research projects on “Languaging
and higher education in bilingual contexts”.
Richard Smith is a reader (associate professor) at the University of
Warwick, UK. He co-founded the JALT Learner Development SIG in
1994, and formerly edited both its newsletter Learning Learning and
IATEFL Learner Autonomy SIG’s publication, Independence, subsequently co-convening the AILA Research Network on Learner Autonomy
(2008–2014). His publications include Learner Autonomy Across Cultures
(co-edited with David Palfreyman, 2003), as well as chapters and articles
on teacher-learner autonomy, pedagogy of autonomy as appropriate methodology and the relationship of teacher-research and teacher autonomy.
Recently he has been focusing on work with teachers in developing countries in this latter area as academic coordinator for teacher-research mentoring schemes in Latin America and India. His related innovative, open
access e-books include (for the British Council) Champion Teachers: Stories
of Exploratory Action Research and Children and Teachers as Co-researchers
in Indian Primary English Classrooms, as well as (for IATEFL Research
SIG) Teachers Research!
Xuesong Gao recently joined the School of Education, the University of
New South Wales, as an associate professor. He used to teach at the
University of Hong Kong and Hong Kong Institute of Education. His
research and teaching interests include language learner autonomy, language teacher education, language policy, reading, second language
x
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
a­cquisition and sociolinguistics. His publications appeared in journals
including Applied Linguistics, Asia Pacific Education Researcher, Asia
Pacific Education Review, Educational Studies, Journal of Education for
Teaching, Journal of Language, Identity and Education, Journal of
Multilingual and Multicultural Development, Language Awareness,
Language Teaching Research, Modern Language Journal, Studies in Higher
Education, System, Teacher Development, Teaching and Teacher Education,
TESOL Quarterly and World Englishes. He co-edits the System journal and
the Springer book series on English Language Education.
List of Tables
Table 6.1
Table 6.2
Multiple timescales at the L-café
A research agenda for the spatial dimension of
learner autonomy
98
107
xi
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Alice Chik, Naoko Aoki, and Richard Smith
Abstract This introductory chapter provides background to and outlines
the main arguments for exploring new research agendas in autonomy in
language learning and teaching research. As research on autonomy in language teaching and learning approaches the four-decade mark, the field is
rapidly moving in different directions. However, the most recent overview
of the field was published ten years ago (Benson, Lang Teach 40:21–40,
2007). Picking up from Benson’s (Lang Teach 40:21–40, 2007) state-of-­
the-art article, this introductory chapter overviews various relatively recent
developments in autonomy research with learners and with teachers and
briefly summarizes the contribution of each chapter.
Keywords Learner autonomy • Research agenda
A. Chik (*)
Educational Studies, Macquarie University, North Ryde, NSW, Australia
N. Aoki
Graduate School of Letters, Osaka University, Kobe, Japan
R. Smith
Centre for Applied Linguistics, University of Warwick, Coventry, UK
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5_1
1
2
A. CHIK ET AL.
Ten years ago, Benson’s comprehensive review of research into autonomy
in language learning and teaching (Benson, 2007) showed that the field
was flourishing and outlined several future research directions. The first
involved expanding the definition of autonomy to cater better for social
processes. Secondly, Benson also suggested greater exploration of relationships between autonomy and other student-focused constructs such as
self-regulation, self-motivation, agency and identity. Finally, he argued for
a stronger base for empirical understanding of the various ways autonomy
is actualized in different contexts and settings. These suggestions were
proposed in response to the emerging research trends in the field at the
time. Since 2007, while the field of autonomy is still flourishing, we have
witnessed changing perspectives on language learning and teaching in
general. New research agendas are needed.
There are various detailed definitions of learner autonomy, but for this
chapter, we will start with the definition of it as ‘the capacity to take control of one’s learning’ (Benson, 2011, 58). Inevitably, questions about
who, what, when, where and why emerged. Who is taking control? Taking
(or retaking) this control from whom? What types of control? When do
the learners exercise control? And in what places and spaces do learners
take control? Clearly, such questions invite further exploration and thinking about new dimensions of autonomy.
In this volume, the order of chapters to some extent matches the order
of these who, what, when, where and why questions. The first chapter
addresses the question of how suitable the concept of autonomy is in
developing countries and under-resourced learning and teaching contexts.
‘For whom is it feasible and desirable?’, in other words. Then we see how
language teachers and social censure might impact on conceptualizations
of autonomy. Another, less frequently discussed dimension of autonomy is
group and group dynamics. The reimagination of groups in the discourse
on learner autonomy also brings into question the fundamental nature of
interaction and space. In our contemporary world, the most popular
spaces for group interaction are certainly digital rather than physical. As
we rethink new learning affordances, a discussion of spatial dimensions
provides much needed expansion in the field.
Autonomy has been argued to be a Western concept, but Aoki and
Smith (1999), Littlewood (1999) and others have disputed this falsely
constructed binary with regard to East Asian contexts. Instead, these writers argue, autonomy needs to take into consideration the characteristics
and needs of learners in specific contexts, and learners should not be
INTRODUCTION
3
s­ tereotyped. Expanding the discussion further, Smith, Kuchah and Lamb
in this volume critically examine the relevance of the concept of autonomy
in developing countries. Rather than viewing autonomy as culturally limited, they propose availability of resources as a critical criterion for engagement of learners and teachers with autonomy. Developing countries differ
in cultural, social, linguistic, religious, political and educational systems,
but one commonly shared factor could well be a constraint on resources
for language learning and teaching. From this starting point, Smith,
Kuchah and Lamb outline various perspectives for understanding of and
research into autonomy.
Of course, resources are not the only constraint. Autonomy also
involves interdependence between learners and teachers. What happens
when teachers feel that they not only have to deal with institutional constraints (e.g. curriculum, public examinations) but also social censure?
Gao, in his chapter, discusses impacts of public scrutiny and censure on
teachers’ professional identities and sense of autonomy. Public censure of
teachers is increasingly gaining traction in the media, especially in teaching
contexts where English is viewed as an important tool for academic and
social advancement. In addition, with the ever-prevailing permeation of
social media platforms, the general public also appears to have extremely
high expectation for language teachers beyond their professional duties.
This might have been tended to be true in East Asian contexts, especially
in countries where there are clashes between more traditional Confucian
expectations and modern education consumerism. Gao provides a detailed
discussion with examples drawn from Hong Kong and China and suggests
possible ways forward.
Another dimension in autonomy that has raised questions is the role of
groups. By association, autonomy has often been framed as a learner’s
lone quest to forge his/her learning journey. The concept of ‘group’ may
appear to counter that of autonomy, but in his chapter here, Palfreyman
examines different facets of groups, grouping and group dynamics to
argue for their benefit in fostering autonomy among learners. This is an
especially important issue to consider as contemporary learning theories
emphasize that learning does not just happen within the learner. Learning
happens from interaction and that requires consideration to be given not
only to contexts but also other learners in the learning environment. In
addition, institutional learning is still pretty much designed for groups of
learners, not necessarily individually tailored. So the examination of groups
in the conceptualization and development of autonomy is essential.
4
A. CHIK ET AL.
An additional reason for considering the role of groups in autonomous language learning and teaching is that one of the fastest areas of
growth for group interaction is certainly in digital space. Historically,
work with autonomy has benefited from technological advancement,
especially when the technologies were designed for independent use. In
more recent times, user-generated Web 2.0 content has certainly enabled
greater access to target language communities and learning content
(Reinders & White, 2016). Chik’s chapter in this volume adopts an
autoethnographic approach to examining the learning on language
learning social network sites—the affordances and the constraints. Using
an analytical framework for informal language learning on Duolingo,
Chik suggests how further empirical knowledge can be acquired regarding how learners autonomously direct their learning pathways while
engaging in different digital practices.
While digital spaces might provide new affordances, there is also a new
call for rethinking the spatial dimension of learner autonomy, taking consideration of the social dimension of learner autonomy a step further. On
the basis of a case study of a learning space in a Japanese university language centre, in the final chapter in this volume, Murray argues that new
configurations of space will create new learning, and, by the same token,
new forms of learning call for new kinds of space. Changes in space and
learning impact social relationships, which in turn impact the conceptualization and exercise of autonomy. To conclude, Murray proposes the
adoption of an ecological approach to examining innovations in and symbioses between space and learning.
The research agendas suggested in these five chapters are not meant to
be exhaustive. And, as we deepen our understanding of autonomy and
how it is conceptualized and manifested in various learning contexts, these
research agendas will themselves be taken into new directions and require
renewal.
Acknowledgement The research agendas presented in this volume began life as
moderated discussions on the AILA Research Network for Learner Autonomy
discussion board, AUTO-L, when we were joint coordinators of the network
(2011–2014). They benefitted considerably from feedback at the 2014 AILA
Congress in Brisbane, Australia, and subsequent peer review. We thank all those
who have helped with their feedback in the process of construction of this
volume.
INTRODUCTION
5
References
Aoki, N., & Smith, R. (1999). Autonomy in cultural context: The case of Japan.
In S. Cotterall & D. Crabbe (Eds.), Learner autonomy in language learning:
Defining the field and effecting change, Bayreuth contributions to glottodidactics
(Vol. 8, pp. 19–28). Frankfurt am Main, Germany: Peter Lang.
Benson, P. (2007). Autonomy in language teaching and learning. Language
Teaching, 40, 21–40.
Benson, P. (2011). Teaching and researching autonomy (2nd ed.). London: Pearson
Longman.
Littlewood, W. (1999). Defining and developing autonomy in East Asian contexts. Applied Linguistics, 20(1), 71–94.
Reinders, H., & White, C. (2016). 20 years of autonomy and technology: How far
have we come and where to next? Language Learning & Technology, 20(2),
143–154. Retrieved from http://llt.msu.edu/issues/june2016/reinderswhite.pdf
CHAPTER 2
Learner Autonomy in Developing Countries
Richard Smith, Kuchah Kuchah, and Martin Lamb
Abstract Learner autonomy may have special relevance now in developing countries, where a dissonance often exists between what formal education offers and what many learners want or need. Globalization and its
technologies are providing new means of accessing knowledge, but
school language lessons remain largely unchanged. Almost by default,
successful language learners in developing country contexts are autonomous learners who can exploit out-of-school resources, while some of the
most effective pedagogy involves promoting autonomy as a means of
confronting low-­
resource challenges. This chapter argues for more
research into both these phenomena, in order to increase understanding
of them and to enable identification of principles for practice. It also
emphasizes the need for such research to be conducted with and by local
teachers and learners.
R. Smith (*)
Centre for Applied Linguistics, University of Warwick, Coventry, UK
K. Kuchah
Department of Education, University of Bath, Bath, UK
M. Lamb
School of Education, University of Leeds, Leeds, UK
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5_2
7
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R. SMITH ET AL.
Keywords Learner autonomy • Developing countries • Difficult
circumstances • Appropriate methodology • Mobile learning •
Teacher-research • Researching with children
Introduction
Learner autonomy as a concept has its origins in Europe and, for a time,
there were even questions about whether it had relevance for educational cultures elsewhere. This chapter suggests that it may, in fact, have
particular relevance now for learners in developing countries, and specifically in less well-­resourced contexts. We should recognize at the start
that ‘developing countries’—using the broadly accepted, though not
unproblematic (see, e.g. Khokhar, 2015), definition of such countries as
those with a lower standard of living, undeveloped industrial base and
moderate-to-low Human Development Index (HDI) relative to others—are themselves highly diverse contexts, presenting stark contrasts
between urban and rural areas, for example, and between private and
public institutions. Our focus in this chapter will be mainly on those settings within developing countries which are less well-resourced, and
where official provision of education (whether publicly or privately
funded) is currently most deficient in enhancing the life chances of
young people. In this chapter, we report on some of the research which
has been undertaken with as well as ‘into’ learners and teachers in such
contexts, and we highlight areas which would benefit from further
research.
Evidence of Autonomy in Developing Country
Contexts
In the past, ‘learner autonomy’ has often tended to be associated with
technology-rich self-access centres (‘resource centres’), and with technology in general. Indeed, autonomy research has been mainly carried out
with learners in well-resourced Western or East Asian settings. In apparently
‘under-resourced’ contexts, its importance may have seemed less salient.
Nevertheless the affordances that are available in such settings should not
be underestimated, as we shall see. At the same time, it seems particularly
important to study autonomy in developing country contexts, given its
relevance in many learners’ lives.
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
9
Signs of Autonomy in Learner Beliefs and Behaviours
As part of a broader study in Cameroon, Kuchah (2013) set out to elicit
from state school primary children aged around 11–12 what they thought
were good English language teaching practices. Through the use of various
participatory approaches to data collection, children, in both urban and rural
contexts, were found to be able to identify a number of practices as either
good or bad and, in each case, provide reasons for their judgements. For
example, they wanted teachers to encourage them to work in groups or pairs
to develop their own ideas. They did not like teachers who explained every
detail to them, but instead wanted to be challenged to think for themselves:
JosephineB5: I like when the teacher is explaining something, but she
should not explain it all. I like that she should allow some for us to go and
find out and come and explain in class.
[…]
GraceG1: If she ask us to go and find out, it will make me to make an
effort to learn […] it is not good when the teacher tells us everything; it is
good that we should also do our homework so that we can learn on our own
and understand. (ibid, pp. 149–150)
Among the good practices identified by children, a few were particularly
absent from the practices of their teachers. Children’s desire for homework
which would enable them to engage in independent learning outside the
school environment was one case in point. Another was the desire of some
children to be involved in providing teaching materials/aids because they
thought the process of producing or finding such materials would help
them develop a better understanding of what they study in class:
AlbertoG5: If we bring the things to class, it will be more interesting because
we will see if we can remember the names of all the things that we need to
cook [the food] […] then it will be easier for us to understand how to write
the composition because we already know how to cook it. (ibid, p. 151)
Hamid and associates’ work in Bangladesh (Hamid & Baldauf, 2011;
Hamid, Sussex, & Khan, 2009) has pointed to a similar dissonance
between state provision of English and what young people desire:
Students’ voices help us to understand how the discourses of the benefits of
English lead learners in developing areas to struggle with English with their
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R. SMITH ET AL.
limited resources and how the teaching and learning of English have come
to rely on non-curricular and non-methodological means (i.e. private tutoring) in the context of poor performance of the public sector English teaching. (Hamid & Baldauf, 2011, p. 214)
Given the social inequities of this state of affairs—with only children of
the better off likely to achieve any meaningful proficiency—Hamid and
Baldauf (2011) call for more research into the lives and learning behaviour
of young people in disadvantaged areas.
Indeed, while researching the motivation to learn English of young
people just entering junior high school in a provincial town in Indonesia,
Lamb (2004) was immediately struck by the important role of out-of-class
learning. A wide range of activities were reported which involved the use
of English: listening to radio programmes in English, listening to and
learning pop songs, watching English language films or TV shows (sometimes with subtitles covered), playing computer games, reading English
language teenage magazines and novels, studying independently at home,
practising English conversation with friends. Even at the age of 12–14,
these learners were able to distance themselves from their school English
classes, often casting a jaundiced eye over events there: apart from the dull
lessons, they were aware that some teachers in the school struggled to
speak English fluently themselves. Indeed, the teachers were aware that
many learners studied the language independently. One teacher who had
done some action research commented:
It’s the interesting [idea] that I got from my research at that time, that the
students want to study based on their […] activity, they don’t want only to
wait […] on the teacher. (cited in Lamb 2004, p. 238)
Most school teachers were not familiar with the concept of ‘learner
autonomy’, and there was little evidence, either in their talk or their
teaching, that they deliberately promoted it. Yet, as Lamb’s findings
reveal (see also Lamb, 2002), students were able to improve their English
language by independent means.
In a later study, in a relatively remote rural area, Lamb (2013) again
found that the most motivated Year 8 learners of English exhibited considerable levels of autonomy (as revealed through a large-scale survey in three
village junior high schools). Like their urban counterparts, they too listened to English language songs, watched English TV and used computers
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
11
in internet cafes, but their real enthusiasm was for the affordances of
mobile phone technology, which by now allowed for relatively easy and
cheap access to the internet. They put this facility to various uses: everyone
thereby had access to a good quality dictionary, and many also sought out
language learning websites to supplement school lessons. Pre-eminently,
though, the technology enabled them to set up Facebook pages and
establish their own social networks, which sometimes included foreign
contacts with whom they would communicate in English. Some were
even starting to use English words and phrases in their text messages to
Indonesian friends. Lamb (2013) suggests that ‘because of its capacity to
reach across national borders, [online] social networking appears to legitimate the use of English when in more local domains it may be considered
pretentious’ (p. 25).
The concept of learner autonomy may, then, have a particular kind of
relevance in the developing world, partly because there is such a dissonance between what formal education offers, or can offer, and what many
learners want and actually attempt to gain for themselves. In rural parts of
Indonesia, as Lamb’s research has shown, globalization and its technologies are having the effect of increasing the desire for English among young
people and providing novel means of accessing it, while their school
English lessons remain largely unchanged, dependent on the textbooks,
assessments and the professionalism of their class teacher. This kind of
­dissonance is probably found in most developing world contexts right
now, and how it affects learners’ sense of autonomy and their autonomous
learning and use of English is worthy of much more study.
Use of ICT as a Possible Focal Point for Research
In connection with out-of-class learning, a particularly important focus for
research in developing country contexts would seem to be the use of technology to enhance learning in remote rural contexts. This was vividly
brought to the attention of the ELT profession by Sugata Mitra’s plenary
talk at the IATEFL conference in April 2014. He shared descriptions of
the famous ‘hole in the wall’ experiments, where children in Indian villages
apparently learned how to use computers by themselves, and without any
form of scaffolding by adults, and he also drew attention to his more
recent work which shows how groups of seven-year-olds can use the internet to teach themselves physics to the level of first year undergraduates.
He showed a clip from inside a hut in a poor Indian village, where a
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R. SMITH ET AL.
mother is heard saying about her infant son ‘we really want him to become
an educated person but it’s difficult because of the state of the school’.
Mitra’s big claim is that cloud technology is now allowing us to bypass the
school, which he regards as an anachronistic legacy of Victorian Britain’s
need for clerks to serve its expanding empire.
The talk provoked a storm of protest among some delegates who
believed he was demeaning the status of the teacher, but it raised the interesting question of whether new technologies by themselves can engage
and develop learner autonomy in young people. It may be possible to see
this happening in rural Indonesia, where relatively cheap smart phones are
being used by learners to learn English, or, rather, they are using their
English resources to connect to the world via their smart phones and in
the process are expanding those resources, almost as a muscle is expanded
through regular exercise. How widespread is this phenomenon? Does it
occur only where mobile phone technology is relatively cheap? What are
young people actually doing in English? Is it only certain individuals, for
example those from better off homes, who are using mobile phones in this
way, or is it a more general phenomenon? And where does this leave the
school teacher, who is not going to lose her job any time soon but may feel
threatened by this wave of technical innovation which her pupils can master much better than she can? It is quite possible that further research
elsewhere would uncover a similar spread of mobile technology as found
in rural Indonesia (see above), with a similar democratizing effect on
access to English (for relatively recent evidence, see Tyers, 2015).
The discussion in this section leads us to the first clear research need we
wish to highlight:
Research Priority 1 There is a need for more studies of learning and learner
autonomy in out-of-class settings in developing countries, with a particular focus on the affordances of mobile phone technology and other types
of access to the internet. Such research will have major implications for
grant-aided development initiatives, for teacher training and for teaching
in such contexts.
Engaging Autonomy as Appropriate Pedagogy
The picture we have so far been painting has been one of some—perhaps
many—learners engaging and maybe developing their autonomy in out-­
of-­class language learning in situations where schools and teachers are
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
13
struggling to cope. We now look at the frequently very challenging circumstances of classroom learning in developing country contexts, and at
how a pedagogy of autonomy has, in some cases, been found to emerge as
a kind of ‘rescue solution’ (Fonseka, 2003).
Difficult Circumstances for Classroom Learning and Teaching
The state of formal teaching and learning in developing countries is certainly not optimal from participants’ points of view, as revealed in a candid
account by Lie (2007). Like those in so many developing countries,
Indonesian educators face numerous structural problems:
• A rapidly expanding and increasingly diverse pupil population: Lie
(2007) compares the privileged students of high-quality schools in
metropolitan cities like Jakarta and Bandung to their counterparts in
‘the jungles of Kalimantan and Papua’ (p. 10) and asks how any centralized curriculum could be expected to meet needs in both settings. Indonesian state school classes typically have around 40 pupils,
presenting a wide spectrum of proficiency levels and making it difficult for teachers to establish close relations with individual pupils.
• Pay and conditions for teachers have improved over recent years, but
this has followed decades of underinvestment in education, and in
teacher professional development in particular (Chang, Shaeffer, Al-­
Samarrai, Ragatz, de Ree and Stevenson, 2014). Language classroom methodology remains largely traditional, with teacher-centred,
textbook-based lessons aimed at the staged learning of grammar,
vocabulary and reading comprehension, while oral practice is limited
to rote repetition of textbook dialogues and teacher-pupil question
and answer routines (Marcellino, 2008).
• A third major constraint that Lie (2007) identifies in the formal language education system is a lack of resources, for example in terms
of available textbooks, audio/visual materials and ICT support.
Although other contexts in the developing world may be much
worse off, she argues that the EFL setting, where English is rarely
used in the social environment, makes the lack of attractive supplementary learning resources relatively acute. In fact, this situation is
changing rapidly, as English is increasingly used in public advertising
and signage (Chern & Dooley, 2014) and mobile phone-based internet services spread rapidly through the country (see above), but
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teachers are not trained to exploit this material and may feel that
venturing into these unfamiliar domains could undermine their
authority as the fount of language knowledge.
The British educationalist Michael West (1960) coined the phrase
‘teaching in difficult circumstances’ in relation to settings like these, which
are prevalent across the developing world but which have tended to be
neglected by language teaching theorists and researchers. This neglect has,
indeed, been ‘dysfunctional’, if we consider that most teaching in the
world occurs in such circumstances, as argued by Smith (2011). Of course,
classrooms in the public sector in developing countries vary in many ways,
but they also tend to share sufficient similarities (relatively low resourcing,
large classes, etc.) to be comparable across contexts and to benefit, for
now, from their specificities being highlighted with the catch-all term ‘difficult circumstances’.
At first glance, the difficult circumstances of teaching and learning in
classrooms in the developing world such as those we have described do not
seem promising territory for the promotion of learner autonomy. With
regard to African contexts, it has been suggested (e.g. by Ampiah, 2008)
that because of resource challenges and a lack of appropriate and sufficient
training for most teachers in rural communities, transmission-­
oriented
‘chalk and talk’ pedagogies are the norm, rendering the notion of autonomy distant from local realities and, potentially, a culturally alienating one.
Indeed, for those who view the concept of learner autonomy as essentially a European one, the very notion of promoting autonomy in developing countries might appear culturally imperialistic, or even neocolonialist,
in inspiration—akin, perhaps, to the kind of inappropriate, paternalistic
development initiatives described in Zambian economist Dambisa Moyo’s
(2009) Dead Aid: Why Aid Is Not Working and How There Is Another Way
for Africa. Such concerns may have been one reason why, in one of the
few articles to consider learner autonomy in relation to an African context,
Sonaiya (2002) described it as a form of individualism which was typically
western and incompatible with the community-oriented cultures of the
Yoruba people.
We now wish to show, though, how the above propositions can be
turned on their head. In fact, we shall argue, it is precisely because the
teaching and learning circumstances in developing countries tend to be so
challenging that engaging and developing learner autonomy can be a
pressing priority for participants concerned.
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
15
Practical Reasons for Engaging and Developing Autonomy
On a dark, chilly evening in November 1812, the Yorkshire mill owner
Joseph Rogerson recorded in his diary: ‘Mr Humphreys at my father’s
tonight talking on the best way of establishing a School on the Madras
System at Bramley’ (cited in Crump, 1931). Mr Humphreys, the pastor at
Bramley chapel, was, like many of his contemporaries, struggling to devise
a way to teach ever-increasing numbers of children, as the urban population of England surged. The Madras system that he was thinking of
importing into his chapel school may have had its origins in a traditional
Tamil form of literacy teaching, where a master would instruct older children in how to draw letters and words in sand, and they would then help
younger children to write and pronounce them, thereby enabling far more
children to learn to read and write than would be otherwise possible. By
1820 there were over 12,000 schools in England using the Madras system, and the man who popularized it, Andrew Bell, has a tomb in
Westminster Abbey.
There are many aspects of this system which today we would find
oppressive—Bell’s primary aim after all was ‘instilling principles of religion and morality into the minds of the young’ (1797, p. 6)—but the
notion that children might learn more from active collaboration with
their (near-)peers than by listening in obedient silence to their teacher
was one that impressed early-nineteenth-century educators in Britain. In
a chapter in which we argue for the importance of learner autonomy in
developing country settings, it is worth remembering that the exchange
of educational ideas has a long history and is two-way; in fact, as Thompson
(2013) points out, in the globalized twenty-first century, it is ongoing
and multidirectional, whether it involves ‘a Nigerian educator recommending presentational strategies to teachers in the UK or a Brazilian
practitioner explaining Freirean approaches in China’ (p. 48). Within
most global societies there exist diverse, competing agendas for education, and we should not be any more surprised to find evidence of relatively learner-centred pedagogy being practised in African settings, for
example, than we would be to hear a British minister of education advocating the return of more teacher-centred whole-class learning
(Department for Education, 2013).
Indeed, as Smith (2002) has previously written, autonomy can take different shapes in different cultures and historical contexts, and ‘teaching
students to learn’ is not simply the latest language teaching fashion but
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R. SMITH ET AL.
can be related to deeper, older educational conceptions and traditions. He
cites, for example, Quick (1890, p. 421):
The highest and best teaching is not that which makes the pupils passive
recipients of other peoples’ ideas (not to speak of the teaching which conveys mere words without any ideas at all), but that which guides and encourages the pupils in working for themselves and thinking for themselves.
In the history of western education, then, a focus on developing learner
autonomy is not as new as is commonly supposed, nor should we be surprised to find cases of teachers outside western countries engaging and/or
developing students’ autonomy without having been influenced by the
post-1970s ‘learner autonomy movement’.
As the early-nineteenth-century example at the head of this section also
shows, in developing country contexts where education is in a rapid state
of development and where teachers and physical resources are in short
supply (in these respects, England was at the time, after all, the epitome of
a ‘developing country’), teachers may actually need to tap into and engage
the existing autonomy of students to a greater extent than in better-­
resourced settings. Indeed, certain educationalists have previously highlighted the particular relevance to large classes in developing country
contexts of what we might nowadays recognize as an autonomy-oriented
approach. Michael West himself emphasized that:
the larger the class and the more difficult the circumstances, the more
important it is to stress learning as the objective. And the higher the elimination [i.e. ‘drop-out’], the more necessary it is to do so: if a pupil has learnt
how to learn he can go on learning afterwards. (1960, p. 15)
Thus, engagement of learner autonomy can be seen as an eminently appropriate approach in difficult circumstances, for example, large classes with
diverse student needs (see Smith, 2003) and/or few resources (see Fonseka,
2003). With regard specifically to problems posed by large classes, Zakia
Sarwar has emphasized the value of group work and project-­based learning
in Pakistan (see Sarwar, 2001; Smith, 2008). Latterly, she explicitly came
to ally this approach with the autonomy movement, as has Amritavalli
when describing a successful practice of ‘maximising learner autonomy’ by
enabling choice of extensive reading materials in the ‘deprived circumstances’ of an Indian primary school (Amritavalli, 2007). As what he calls
a ‘rescue solution’ in a situation of lack of printed materials, Sri Lankan
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
17
educator Gamini Fonseka (2003) also came to theorize from an autonomy
perspective his experience of getting children to memorize songs and work
with these as a source of language learning input.
As documented and discussed further in Kuchah and Smith (2011), the
practical worth of an autonomy-oriented approach is borne out by the
experience of one of the authors of this chapter—Kuchah Kuchah—in
Cameroon. Sonaiya’s (2002) argument about the incompatibility of
autonomy with an African ‘communal aspect of learning’ (cited above)
was disproved in this experience, since it was precisely via a collective effort
that Kuchah and his students were able to develop autonomous learning
as a rescue solution to the challenges they faced, namely, large classes of
more than 200 teenagers in temperatures above 46 °C and with almost no
textbooks to rely on. Students were enabled to work with learning materials they had helped provide as well as with negotiated pedagogic practices
that helped them and their peers to attain learning objectives that were
both relevant to them and consistent with the syllabus requirements.
Thus, a number of educators familiar with the difficult circumstances of
classrooms in developing country contexts have, at different times, developed and advocated autonomy-oriented practices as a way to overcome
practical difficulties, even though they were not, in most cases, actually
inspired by learner autonomy theory. Thus, they were engaged in pedagogies of autonomy though not for autonomy, according to the distinction
made by Kuchah and Smith (2011).
It is probable that there are many other such cases, yet to be described
and identified, whose documentation would be of great use within the
kind of context-sensitive ‘enhancement approach’ to teacher development
described in Kuchah (2013), advocated by the Teaching English in Large
Classes research and development network (bit.ly/TELCnet-home) and
promoted in the current University of Warwick ‘Teacher-research for difficult circumstances’ impact initiative (warwick.ac.uk/trdc). Along with
Kuchah (ibid.), Smith, Padwad and Bullock (forthcoming) provide
examples of how stories of success can usefully be shared in a teacher
development workshop situation, while Lamb and Wedell (2013) have
highlighted the value of capturing and sharing the experiences of what
they term ‘inspiring teachers’ in China and Indonesia.
Taken together, these concrete examples constitute a firm argument
against the idea that autonomy-oriented pedagogy is inappropriate in developing country contexts or that it is necessarily an imposed western ideal—in
fact, we have seen the argument reversed: a pedagogy of autonomy can be
18
R. SMITH ET AL.
very appropriate indeed, precisely because it works with the ‘social autonomy’ (Holliday, 2003) that learners bring to the classroom. Thus, a pedagogy of autonomy can be viewed as a kind of ‘becoming-­
appropriate
methodology’ par excellence, as Smith (2003) has previously argued.
To be quite clear, we are not advocating any specific form of pedagogy.
Subscribing to the contextualist paradigm of educational reform (Elliott,
2014), which emphasizes the cultural situatedness of all educational practices, we are well aware of the difficulty in transferring teaching approaches
from one context to another, and indeed of the long history of failure in the
export from the west of ‘learner-centred’ educational approaches
(Schweisfurth, 2011). Rather, we are suggesting that autonomy—as the
ability to take control of one’s own learning—is an essential characteristic of
all successful learners and can be found everywhere if we know how to look.
A previous volume (Palfreyman & Smith, 2003) showed how learner
autonomy can and does take varied forms in different national, institutional
or sociocultural settings, and can be cultivated in diverse institutions and
classrooms. As Holliday (2003, 2005) points out, however, it is often missed
by educators, especially those looking with western eyes, because it may not
be displayed in forms that they recognize (e.g. assertive ­expression of personal ideas), or in the educational contexts that they expect (e.g. classrooms), nor articulated in the same terms by teachers. Sometimes it can be
seen outside the classroom as countering what goes on in the classroom (as
in the preceding section), but it can also be tapped into within the classroom by certain educators, as we have illustrated in the present section.
Research Priority 2 There is a need for more research into and sharing of
success stories of teaching in low-resource classrooms, to assist in building
appropriate methodology from the bottom upwards. Cases of successful
teaching should be viewed and analysed on their own terms, but can also
provide fertile ground for understanding how ‘social autonomy’ can be
engaged in particular contexts.
Needs for Bottom-Up Research with and/or
by Teachers and Learners Themselves
We have argued that identifying and describing cases of autonomy outside
class and inside class is useful, our underlying assumption being that this
will not just help to fill a ‘theoretical’ gap but can have significant practical
implications, especially where teacher development—as touched on in the
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
19
last section—is concerned. However, the question arises of who should do
the research that is needed if learner autonomy is to be better understood,
engaged and enhanced in outside-class and classroom contexts in the
developing world.
The question is an important one partly because there is an everpresent danger of inappropriate imposition of ideas onto educators in the
contexts concerned. For example, however well-intentioned he may
individually have been, and however experience-based his ideas, Michael
West was himself a colonial educator (in what is now Bangladesh), and
some of his suggestions come across as rather paternalistic for this reason
(Kuchah, Padwad and Smith, in process). There are needs for self-conscious decentring, indeed decolonizing of English language teaching
methodology and discourse, in particular (ibid.), and this is not necessarily best served by academic studies emanating from northern/western
universities. Locating the control of research in the hands of academics
from the countries concerned is not by itself adequate as a solution
either, although it may be a step in the right direction, since there has
been a worldwide ‘­neocolonization’ of English language teacher development by applied linguistics, even as former colonies have gained political independence. Divorces between theory and practice are therefore
just as prevalent in developing countries as elsewhere (see, e.g. Clarke
1994), and overly academic studies, even if carried out by researchers in
the countries concerned, are unlikely to have much resonance with or
impact on people there.
Adopting a participant-centred approach to research and to associated
teacher development therefore appears necessary, indeed appropriately
autonomy-oriented, in developing country contexts. This might involve
two aspects, relating to participation and actual control by teachers and by
learners themselves, considered now in turn.
Research with and by Teachers
One possibly appropriate alternative to purely academic research is
‘Teacher Association (TA) Research’, as developed by Smith and Kuchah
(2016) with the Cameroon English Language and Literature Teachers
Association (CAMELTA). By analogy with ‘teacher-research’, TA research
is defined as ‘systematic inquiry which is derived from members’ expressed
priorities and officially endorsed by a TA, and which engages members as
active participants in what they see as a collective project to improve
20
R. SMITH ET AL.
understanding and practice’ (Smith & Kuchah, 2016, p. 215). Academic
expertise can be enlisted in the service of such a project, as has occurred in
the Cameroonian case, but control of the ongoing research remains in the
hands of the TA itself, assuring relevance to the lives of members. So far,
in line with research priority 2 (above), CAMELTA research has uncovered a large number of success stories and solutions to common classroom
problems which, shared across the membership, provide useful starting
points for members’ continuing professional development. The idea
emphasized above, that successful practice in difficult circumstances is
often relatable to engagement of learner autonomy, appears to find strong
support in the data gathered so far (see the CAMELTA website, http://
camelta-cameroon.weebly.com/resources--useful-links.html). TA members have given some quite clear indications, additionally, that they feel
their own autonomy has been enhanced via engagement in the project
(see, for example, Smith and Kuchah, 2016).
The engagement and enhancement of teachers’ own autonomy in
relation to their professional development can, of course, be seen as a
major aim of practitioner research generally (cf. Dikilitaş & Griffiths,
2017; Smith & Course, 2014). A major issue, though, is whether teacher-­
research is actually feasible, in particular in the kinds of difficult circumstance we have been describing (one aspect of such circumstances often
being the high number of hours teachers have to devote to teaching and
marking, and the fact that they may need to engage in private tutoring
and/or work at more than one institution in order to make ends meet).
While collective, open-ended questionnaire-based TA research was developed in the Cameroon case as an alternative to more individualistic, possibly unfeasible teacher-research, a happy medium appears to have been
struck in another recent Teacher Association project, this time one organized by the All-India Network of English Teachers (AINET) in
2015–16. Here, the difficulties of lack of time and support for individual
teacher-research in difficult circumstances appear to have been successfully addressed via volunteering and much collaborative activity within
the association.
Other approaches to making teacher-research appropriate in relatively
difficult circumstances have included the discussion-based practice
described by Naidu, Neeraja, Ramani, Sivakumar and Viswanatha (1992)
(again, a collective, collaborative approach); Exploratory Practice, as
developed in Rio de Janeiro (see Allwright & Lenzuen, 1997; Allwright,
Lenzuen, Mazzillo & Miller, 1994); and Exploratory Action Research, as
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
21
developed originally in the context of the Chilean Champion Teachers
programme (Smith, 2015; Smith, Connelly & Rebolledo, 2014). In all
three of these approaches, clarification and exploration of a problematic
situation or puzzle is prioritized over action for change, and research procedures are not presented as an additional burden but as something teachers can integrate into a busy teaching schedule, while nonacademic,
teacher-friendly sharing of findings is also emphasized. Thus, not only
teaching but also teacher-research requires procedures to be specifically
tailored to difficult circumstances.
Research with and by Learners
As with research involving teachers (above), a genuinely autonomy-­
oriented approach to research in developing country contexts would
involve not so much research on or into learners as research with them, and
even by them. As already indicated above, Kuchah’s (2013) research
involved participative, child-friendly research methods enabling rich data
to be gathered which revealed signs of autonomy in inside-class and
outside-­class language learning (see also Kuchah & Pinter, 2012). As
would be expected, many of the children indicated that they liked lessons
in whose practice exercises they scored good marks. But the excerpt below
shows something different:
KinivoB1: This is my best lesson… I had a zero in the exercise.
Harry: So it was your best lesson because you had a zero?
KinivoB1: No, because [the teacher] did not tell us what to do, so I had
zero. But after, my friend explain[ed] to me what I was supposed to do, and
I know it very well now.
Harry: Wait a minute. Who helps you to understand more? Your friend or
your teacher?
KinivoB1: I understand better when my friend explains to me. (Kuchah,
2013, p. 136)
Whether we look at this as an example of peer support, collaborative
learning or whatever terminology we assign to it, the point is that it was
the child’s personal decision to seek for help from her friend and, in doing
so, she was able to understand the lesson better. In a large class of 103
10-/11-year-olds, this is just one instance of autonomous (or teacher-­
independent) learning which could be built on further.
22
R. SMITH ET AL.
Pedagogies of autonomy can, indeed, be built up on this basis of accessing learners’ voices in a child-friendly and context-sensitive manner. Of
course, this is not a new finding for teachers who have been engaged in
pedagogy of/for autonomy, but if more research findings can be shared
which highlight the existence and rationality of students’ opinions regarding their learning, more teachers could be expected to take notice.
Teachers can and do—of course—discover learners’ autonomy for themselves, and one way this discovery can occur is, precisely, via the kind of
teacher-research approach we have described above. Engagement in teacherresearch which involves exploration of students’ perceptions can lead teachers to understand learners better for themselves—perhaps the major outcome
of the Chilean Champion Teachers project, for example, has been that
teachers learn to listen to and thereby understand their students better than
before (see Rebolledo, Smith & Bullock, 2016; Smith et al., 2014).
Indeed, in recent manifestations of Exploratory Practice (e.g. Allwright
and Hanks, 2009), the learner is conceived of as a researcher—or explorer
of classroom life—just as much as the teacher. Pinter, Mathew and Smith
(2016) have additionally shown that pre-teenage children can be engaged
appropriately and successfully in activities whereby they themselves act as
coresearchers, in the context of teacher-research activity in Indian primary
classrooms. Not only are interesting findings produced for a wider readership, the children themselves also benefit from the research process in that
their autonomy is engaged and developed even as it is explored. Thus,
finally, we wish to emphasize the importance in autonomy-oriented
research of considering in whose interests the research is taking place and
ensuring that participants’ interests are both protected and well-served,
ideally via involvement of them in controlling and carrying out the
research, to their own immediate and/or long-term benefit.
Research Priority 3 Engage teachers and learners themselves in research
which both respects and contributes ethically to the development of their
own autonomy, enabling expression of their voices and engagement of
their agency, and avoiding research simply ‘on’ or ‘into’ them.
Conclusion
We have indicated some studies which have begun to treat the area of
learner autonomy in developing countries, but we have also pointed out
that much remains to be researched, shown why it is worthwhile to do
LEARNER AUTONOMY IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
23
such research and indicated how it might be approached. We think there
is justification in considering ‘developing countries’ as a distinct type of
context which has so far been under-researched, despite the dangers of
essentialization involved.
As we have seen, cases of success from teachers’ and learners’ own perspectives can be usefully gathered, analysed and disseminated with a view to
enhancement of professional practice. One central issue worthy of further
reflection and research concerns the role of teachers: does it matter whether
they actually do try to foster learner autonomy deliberately or whether
learner autonomy is a kind of by-product of the limitations of school language education? Another important area for research concerns the potential benefits of using ICT to enhance learning in remote rural contexts.
Research in these areas will, crucially, need to involve teachers and
learners themselves. Indeed, a central theme has been the importance of
participants becoming involved centrally as actors in research, ­appropriately
to an autonomy paradigm, not just having research done ‘into’ or ‘onto’
them. We have, in other words, highlighted the value of learners and
teachers themselves being engaged in explorations of their learning and
teaching lives—especially in the light of concerns that autonomy should
not be just the latest in a long line of fashionable academic concepts to be
‘dumped’ inappropriately in the developing world. As autonomy researchers we need to be conscious of the power relations involved in research
and not just in teacher education and pedagogy.
Finally, in this chapter, we have mainly discussed how aspects of the
situation in developing countries might form a context for the development of learner and, to some extent, teacher autonomy. However, it would
be interesting to consider, additionally, to what extent a greater engagement and enhancement of learner and teacher autonomy could contribute
to the overall development of the countries in question. After all, the word
‘developing’ implies a more positive perspective than the deficit indicators
which are typically used to define a ‘developing country’ (lower standard
of living, undeveloped industrial base and moderate-to-low Human
Development Index (HDI) relative to other countries). The relationship
between learner/teacher autonomy and developing standards of living, an
improved industrial base and raised HDI measures, attainment of
Sustainable Development Goals in the area of quality of educational provision and the identification of paths for development which are internally
generated, could usefully be considered as additional areas for further
investigation.
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R. SMITH ET AL.
Acknowledgement We are grateful to David Palfreyman for originating the
thinking in the final paragraph, by means of his useful comments on an earlier
draft of the chapter. We also acknowledge the support of the United Kingdom
Economic and Social Research Council (grant number ES/M500434/1).
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CHAPTER 3
Language Teacher Autonomy and Social
Censure
Xuesong Gao
Abstract Teacher autonomy has been acknowledged as central to teachers’ efforts to promote learner autonomy. However, language teachers’
exercise of autonomy has been increasingly undermined by shifting sociocultural conditions and educational reforms. Drawing on data collected in
studies on teachers’ professional vulnerability, this chapter explores how
language teachers’ autonomy and professional practices are undermined
by bureaucratic management and marketization of education that drove
various educational reform initiatives. These findings indicate that it has
become critical for language teachers to address the challenge of social
censure in pursuit of being autonomous language teachers. Further
research is needed to collect teachers’ experiential narratives and deconstruct the sources of professional vulnerability in these narratives with
them so that they can be better prepared for the challenge of being
autonomous.
Keywords Teacher autonomy • Social censure • Professional vulnerability •
Paradox of power • Agency • Educational reforms
X. Gao (*)
School of Education, University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5_3
29
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Introduction
Language teacher educators have long acknowledged the importance
of promoting autonomy or ‘the capacity to take control of one’s learning’ among language learners (Benson, 2001, p. 61). As language curricula incorporate the notion of autonomy in many contexts, language
teacher educators have also appreciated the critical role that language
teachers play in implementing innovative pedagogical practices that
help enhance autonomous language learning (e.g. Benson, 2010;
Lamb, 2008). In light of recent advances in sociocultural perspectives
on language learner autonomy, teachers are also being seen as key
agents in mediating learners’ autonomy development (e.g. Deters, Gao,
Miller & Vitanova, 2014; Lamb & Reinders, 2008; Murray, Gao &
Lamb, 2011). Consequently language teachers are expected to assume
multiple roles such as learning facilitator, learner developer and counselor, in addition to the traditional pedagogical roles in delivering
English lessons.
The assumption of these new roles constitutes a significant professional challenge for many language teachers who have had little experience of the type of learning they are expected to provide or who do not
have the relevant skills or capacities for executing these roles. For this
reason, language teacher educators committed to promoting learner
autonomy have devoted discussions to the connection between learner
autonomy and teacher autonomy, or teachers’ ‘capacity to improve their
own teaching through their own efforts’ and ‘freedom to be able to
teach in the way that one wants to teach’ (Lamb, 2008, p. 275; also see
Benson, 2010; Little, 1995; Smith, 2003). These discussions have usually reached the conclusion that a close link between teacher autonomy
and learner autonomy exists since teachers who did not experience
autonomy in learning and do not have capacity for critical reflection on
prior learning experiences are unlikely to support language learners’
autonomous learning (e.g. Lamb & Reinders, 2008). They also recognize the complex nature of teacher autonomy with emphasis upon the
profound influences of prior learning experiences and commitment to
professional development on teachers’ acquisition and development of
relevant skills and capacity for promoting autonomous learning (e.g.
Little, 1995). It has also been noted in these discussions that teachers’
exercise of autonomy takes place in particular contexts and is mediated
by a variety of contextual processes and conditions. In this chapter, I
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
31
would like to argue that language teacher ­educators devote much more
attention to these contextual processes and conditions when preparing
language teachers for teacher autonomy.
In many contexts, ironically, the very educational reforms that rely
on teacher autonomy to promote better, autonomous learning among
students undermine teachers’ autonomy and their capacity to take control of teaching. Specifically, educational reforms often create a relentless accountability system, which constrains autonomy (e.g. Codd,
2005). Educational reforms together with marketization of education
and shifting sociocultural conditions in these contexts have made
teachers increasingly vulnerable to societal censure of professional
practices, which is likely to weaken effective control of learning and
teaching (Gao, 2008; Gordon, 2005). In contexts such as China, where
competence in strategically important foreign languages such as English
is highly valued, language teachers are subject to even closer public
scrutiny of their professional practices. It has become critical for language teacher educators to address the challenge of such social censure
in order to help these language teachers assert themselves as autonomous language teachers. Drawing on my own studies of social censure
of teachers’ professional practices in Chinese contexts (Gao, 2008,
2011), this chapter presents such social censure as a serious challenge
for language teachers to remind language teacher educators of the
intricate contextual constraints that language teachers need to address
in achieving teacher autonomy. To this end, this chapter briefly discusses what researchers have learned about language teacher autonomy
and how shifting contextual conditions may mediate the exercise of
autonomy.
Language Teacher Autonomy and Educational
Reforms
In language learning and teaching research, teacher autonomy is often
‘viewed more as a professional capacity’ (Benson, 2010, p. 263). An
autonomous teacher, in Little’s (1995, p. 179) theorization, has ‘a strong
sense of personal responsibility for their teaching, [exercise] via continuous reflection and analysis the highest possible degree of affective and
cognitive control of the teaching process, and [exploits] the freedom that
this confers’. Little (1995) further contends that ‘learner autonomy and
32
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teacher autonomy are interdependent’ and ‘the promotion of learner
autonomy depends on the promotion of teacher autonomy’ (ibid).
Drawing attention to the mediating effects of contextual conditions,
Benson (2010, p. 263) argues that teachers exercise their capacity to control teaching within multiple constraints such as ‘school rules and conventions, textbooks and curricula, educational policy and conceptions of
language as an educational subject matter that condition what counts as
foreign language teaching and learning’. For this reason, it is important to
note that teacher autonomy also entails teachers’ freedom as a necessary
condition. In other words, teacher autonomy should be understood both
as teachers’ ‘freedom and internal capacity’, which has the following
dimensions in relation to professional action and professional development (Smith, 2003, p. 4):
1. In relation to teachers’ professional action, teacher autonomy refers
to teachers’ ‘self-directed professional action’, ‘capacity for self-­
directed professional action’ and ‘freedom from control over professional action’.
2. In relation to teachers’ professional development action, teacher
autonomy refers to teachers’ ‘self-directed professional development’, ‘capacity for self-directed professional development’ and
‘freedom from control over self-directed professional development’.
Unfortunately, many language teachers work in conditions where they
enjoy little freedom in relation to their teaching and professional development. They often work with undermined professional authority under
challenging conditions where ongoing educational reforms and shifting
sociocultural conditions make them increasingly vulnerable. In spite of the
critical role that teacher autonomy has in promoting learner autonomy,
language teachers’ autonomy has been increasingly undermined by educational reforms that strengthen bureaucratic management of teaching and
escalate the marketization of education, which subject teachers’ practices
and performance to close social scrutiny (e.g. Codd, 2005; Elliott, 2004;
Gao, 2008, 2011).
In addition, recent educational reforms have created a structural condition in which many teachers feel threatened as they are ‘questioned by
others (principal, parents)’ about their ‘professional identity and moral
integrity’ and lose ‘control of the processes and tasks they felt responsible
for as teachers’ (Kelchtermans, 2005, p. 997). These reforms often create
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
33
a tightened regime of accountability, which scrutinizes teachers’ professional competence with externally developed performance standards (e.g.
Codd, 2005). As marketization of education has resulted in the need for
parents to invest more in their child’s education, both parents and students have been transformed into consumers who can legitimately censure
teachers’ performance (e.g. Codd, 2005; Gao, 2008).
Shifting sociocultural conditions have also challenged teachers’ professional authority, which is fundamental for them to initiate and sustain
cooperative relationship with students in delivering classroom activities
(e.g. Gao, 2008; Kelchtermans, 2005). As a result, these educational
reforms have made teachers feel both deskilled and threatened by reinforcing an accountability system and allowing vociferous parents to critically
scrutinize teachers (e.g. Elliott, 2004; Sachs, 2001; Troman, 2000). In
the Chinese context, public scrutiny of teachers has been exacerbated by
cultural traditions supposed to empower teachers with professional authority (Gao, 2008). Although the Chinese cultural traditions bestow a high
social status on teachers, it also burdens them with heavy societal expectations because of the cultural heritage that reveres teachers. This phenomenon is summarized by Schoenhals (1993) as a paradox of power, which
‘places the higher status individual under a great burden to conform to
society’s moral norms, and make them more vulnerable to being named
and shamed in the event of failure’ (Schoenhals 1993, p. 199).
Previous research in the Chinese context has identified that good teachers are expected to be not only experts in their subjects but also caring
figures to the students (Gao, 2008). They are also expected to be morally
and ethically impeccable so that they can be role models and mentors for
students (e.g. Gordon, 2005; Ouyang, 2003; Wong, 2001; Yang, 2004).
The ideological propaganda of the government in mainland China has
consistently portrayed teachers as ‘soul engineers’, responsible for cultivating moral qualities among students (e.g. Boyle, 2000; Hu, 2002; Ouyang,
2003), or ‘silkworms’, diligently spinning silk thread till death, or ‘candles’, selflessly burning themselves to light others (e.g. He, 2002). These
metaphors stress the importance of teachers being altruistic and self-­
sacrificing. The public closely scrutinize the professional practices and
private behaviors of teachers, including those of language teachers, with
reference to these highly demanding cultural expectations. Failing to
­comply with such cultural norms, the public can criticize and pressurize
teachers, adding an additional spectrum of professional vulnerability to
teachers in the Chinese contexts as shown in my analyses of Internet
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­ iscussions concerning teachers and language teachers (Gao, 2008, 2011).
d
They draw language teacher educators’ attention to these constraints on
language teachers’ assertion of teacher autonomy, which language teachers need to be prepared for.
Data Sources
This chapter draws data from two studies on teachers’ professional vulnerability and critical societal censure in mainland China and Hong Kong.
Both studies were based on Internet discussions concerning teachers and
language teachers (Gao, 2008, 2011). The study by Gao (2008) is an
examination of discussions in an online teachers’ community where teachers shared their professional experiences. The researcher collected 8398
strands of online discussions with 44,645 responses over three months.
The focus was on identifying whether a discussion was related to teachers
and what feelings these identified posts expressed about teachers. The
analysis was facilitated by the researcher’s observation of online discussion
activities for 6 months prior to it, which helped him become familiar with
the topics and netizens’ (Internet citizens) behaviors. Gao’s (2011) study
is an interpretive inquiry into netizens’ comments on an online newspaper
story on the results of Language Proficiency Attainment of Teachers of
English (LPATE) test, a high stakes test that grants English language
teachers permission to teach English in Hong Kong’s public schools. The
newspaper story mentions the spelling and grammatical mistakes that a
few English test takers had made in the LPATE test before asking netizens
to respond to a provoking question: Do you think that teachers should be
held responsible for the ‘falling’ language standards among our students?
The researcher collected 650 responses from 350 netizens in five days.
Many responses were apparently from teachers, students and parents.
Most of the responses were about English language teachers, but some
were also related to Chinese language (Putonghua) teachers. The analysis
categorized these responses into three major categories, including expectations of teachers, educational reforms and contextual changes that affect
the pedagogical process. Although the two studies were conducted in two
different contexts with different research objectives, both studies reveal
how teachers are becoming increasingly vulnerable because of critical societal censure. In Gao’s (2008) study, teachers shared and discussed ­negative
professional experiences, but their sharing was constantly interrupted by
non-teacher netizens (‘Internet citizens’) who believed they had no
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
35
grounds for complaint. Gao (2011) documented how non-teacher netizens zealously criticized language teachers for failing to discharge their
duties properly while teachers and language teachers tried their best to
defend their professional integrity.
Language Teachers’ Professional Vulnerability
and Undermined Autonomy
The data collected from two online sites revealed that performance and
practices of teachers and language teachers are undermined by the general
public’s critical censures in mainland China and Hong Kong. A close
examination of the discussion posts also suggests the sources of teachers’
professional vulnerability and confirms that many teachers struggle with
the bureaucratic control of professional practices, consequences of marketization and a cultural paradox of ‘power’ in their professional lives.
Mainland China and Hong Kong have quite different educational systems
and sociocultural conditions, but the ways teachers and language teachers
are censured by the public appear to be no different, suggesting the ‘cultural paradox of power’ associated with the Chinese cultural tradition can
be used to understand the societal censure of teachers in both contexts.
Bureaucratic Control of Teachers’ Professional Practices
Autonomy researchers have stressed that teachers should have freedom to
follow professional practices as an integral part of teacher autonomy (e.g.
Benson, 2010; Smith, 2003). Unfortunately, teachers’ experiences posted
in the mainland Chinese online forum reveal that professional lives are
subject to increasingly tight administrative monitoring. Bureaucratic control of teachers’ professional practices adds a huge amount of workload as
they are required to fill up numerous forms and submit countless reports
to school administrators. One teacher reported a primary school teacher’s
death caused by heavy workload, as follows:
Extract 1
We have recently learnt from the Internet that a primary school teacher died
suddenly when preparing evaluation materials. We have heard many rumors
about the cause. However, only those who have worked as teachers in
schools know the real cause behind the death. Just look at the list of m
­ aterials
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needed for our work evaluation at the end of an academic term: (1) homeroom class teacher’s work plan, (2) homeroom class activity plan, (3) subject
teaching plan, (4) improvement plan for underachieving students, (5) IT in
classroom teaching plan, (6) subject teaching research plan, and (7) materials for Green Campus movement and so on. These are the materials we have
to prepare for the inspectors to evaluate us; they just have a casual look and
put them aside. In addition to the materials preparation, we have to teach,
prepare for teaching, mark student assignments, help students in learning
and prepare for all kinds of exams, assessment, evaluation, training and performance competitions. (Gao, 2008, pp. 159–160)
The long list of duties, including many administrative chores, leads one
to infer that teachers had a really challenging time in coping with the workload at school. It is worrisome that teachers not only sacrifice health but also
spend valuable time for teaching in response to the administrative monitoring mechanism in mainland China. In Hong Kong also, teachers do not
have better working conditions. One netizen, apparently a teacher in Hong
Kong, made the following comment on his or her professional lives:
Extract 2
The teachers’ main duty is to teach. However, teachers nowadays have no
time and energy for teaching. They are pushed to upgrade their professional
knowledge, do self learning and self-evaluation and promote their schools,
etc. (85, translated from Chinese). (Gao, 2011, p. 493)
Language teacher educators may find it comforting to know that teachers in Hong Kong are driven to ‘upgrade their professional knowledge’
and pursue professional development. However, these professional development efforts can be counterproductive if teachers ‘have no time and
energy for teaching’. This teacher does not see these professional development activities as something meaningful for his or her teaching. Instead,
the teacher thought that these activities were meant to help promote their
schools and can be regarded as a means for school administrators to control his or her professional lives. These administrative measures do not
create more room for critical reflection on professional enhancement. In
contrast, they deprive teachers of the valuable time and space needed for
critical reflection and pedagogical improvement. In some mainland
Chinese schools, as reported in the online discussion, school principals
have assumed great control over their professional activities, leaving no
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
37
room for teachers to act on their own. One netizen used a doggerel verse
to capture his or her professional experience as follows:
Extract 3
The principals become the Lord and the numbers of leaders multiply.
We become slaves for our students and work overtime day and night.
Collegiate relationships are tense and regular work checks are tight.
Better treatment is a joke and in reality, teaching shortens our life. (Gao,
2008, p. 160)
This verse also reveals an increasingly complex school administration
structure with multiple ‘leaders’, which is seen by these teacher participants as a mechanism to enslave teachers through regular monitoring of
their work. The general public perceive teaching as a highly secure profession, but educational decentralization in China means schools have autonomy to manage their own finances and principals the right to hire and fire
teachers (Wong, 2004). This must have created complex relationships
between school principals and teachers. As reflected in the mainland
Chinese teachers’ sharing, some principals use the rhetoric of educational
reform and accountability to pressurize teachers to work even harder.
Echoing the message in Extract 3, the following extract indicates the rising pressure on teachers at workplace:
Extract 4
The principal acts like an emperor. We had a three-hour meeting today. In
three hours, he referred to ‘your contract will be terminated’ over a hundred
times! This is how he forces us to work even harder, without complaining.
Otherwise, you will be fired. (ibid)
It is unclear whether this teacher works in a private school and how
representative his experience is. The large number of posts on the Internet
creates an impression that the educational reforms and initiatives have led
to a situation in which ‘schools are factories, teachers are workers and
­students are products’ (Gao, 2008, p. 161). Teachers are increasingly
being deskilled and devoid of room and space for exercising autonomy.
While teachers are constrained by their institutional set-up, the general
public, including parents and students, are becoming increasingly vocal
and articulate in criticizing teachers’ professional practices.
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Voices of Educational Consumers
The vocal criticism of teachers by the general public is indicative of a widespread consumer mentality, in which ‘educational consumers’ are always
right in demanding good quality service from teachers. They also project
teachers as providers of educational service who need to be held responsible if they fail to deliver the expected service. For instance, one netizen
emphasizes language teachers’ responsibility for failing to promote better
language learning among students in Hong Kong:
Extract 5
Teachers should take full responsibility. If they cannot ignite students’ hearts
for learning and lead them well in the learning process, students should not
be held responsible for their learning failures. Students actually put more
efforts into the learning process than teachers … We even have students who
committed suicide because of heavy work (106, translated from Chinese).
(Gao, 2011, p. 490)
This is a response to the question ‘who is responsible’ that guided the
entire discussion. As can be seen from the above extract, this netizen
believed that students work harder than teachers in the learning process
and should not be responsible for ‘their learning failures’. The extract also
suggests that those who fail to motivate and guide students well in the
process are not competent teachers. In both contexts, the analysis identifies that a similar myth about unqualified and incompetent teachers is
being circulated in the discussions. The myths ridicule language teachers’
accents in speaking the national standard spoken Chinese (Putonghua)
and associated teachers’ accents with poor educational outcomes.
Extract 6
Mr. Yang went to a party with his son, where his son was asked to do a poetry
reading. After his son started his performance, Mr. Yang became very angry
because he found that his son spoke with a strange accent. He felt that he
was deeply humiliated in public. Later, he found out that his son picked up
his accent from his school teacher, who was originally from a rural place. Mr.
Yang was very angry at his discovery and told the reporter, ‘I sent my child
to school, hoping that the school could develop my son into a qualified professional. Now, my son speaks with a strange accent. How can he be a qualified professional? If a company sells a product of ersatz quality to a consumer,
the consumer has the right to refuse to buy it and ask for c­ ompensation.
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
39
What if our school produces unqualified graduates, where could their parents ask for compensation? Who will make up the loss that my son and I
suffered and will suffer? I want to sue the teacher!’ (Jiang Nan Times, 2005,
translated by the researcher from Chinese). (Gao, 2008, p. 154)
Mr. Yang’s story (Mainland China) reflects the main character’s awareness
of his right to protest poor teaching and demand access to quality education.
He presents his educational rights as a consumer in an unmistakable manner
when he refers to ‘a company’ selling ‘a product of ersatz quality to a consumer’ clearly violates the consumer’s rights. He laments the fact that he was
not able to demand compensation from the school for the ‘low-quality’ education his son received, and for this reason, he was determined to ‘sue the
teacher’. In contrast, the netizen in Hong Kong did not declare that he
wanted to punish the teacher, but it is clear that this netizen was extremely
unhappy about the Putonghua education that his son received in his school.
Extract 7
Teachers are responsible for teaching their students the wrong things. My
son studies in a CMI (Chinese as medium of instruction) school. His
Putonghua became a laughingstock. I initially thought that it was his problem. Then there was a school gathering where all the students tried to use
Putonghua to do some readings. They all had the same mistakes … Please
do not teach us those strange tongue. (Gao, 2011, p. 490)
These two extracts are indicative of the rising consciousness of being
educational consumers among Chinese parents in mainland China and
Hong Kong. They also challenge the stereotypical images of teachers
being figures of authority in Chinese cultural discourses. These extracts
project two parents who would not give up their rights and would cause
further disturbance by challenging their children’s teachers. In Extract 7,
the parent was probably invited to observe the school gathering by the
school, suggesting that the school management wants to work closely with
parents and teachers’ professional practices are often monitored closely,
per se. The netizens in Hong Kong further attributed the low quality of
teachers to the low admission standards of teacher education programs:
Extract 8
The problem is due to the fact that teachers are not qualified to teach …
They are ONLY school graduates, who had low school grades. They did not
40
X. GAO
have education themselves. How could they teach our next generation? …
If they were intelligent enough, they could have already done their studies
abroad. (Gao, 2011, p. 491)
This netizen’s critique was not groundless. Research in many contexts
has found that ethnic Chinese students are less willing to become teachers
(e.g. Gao & Trent, 2009). Those who have attended teacher education
programs in Hong Kong usually have lower academic results than those in
other academic programs in universities. The observed unwillingness to
become teachers may have been related to a variety of factors including
low pay, poor working conditions and unpromising career prospects.
Research has also noted that Chinese students’ unwillingness is also related
to a ‘cultural paradox of power’, in which teachers are not only given high
social status but are also required to fulfill high societal expectations
(Gordon, 2005). The pressure to conform to societal expectations might
have discouraged students from joining the teaching profession.
The Cultural Paradox of Power
In accordance with the Chinese cultural traditions, teachers are expected
to be morally impeccable and ethical in their professional and private lives.
Such expectations may constitute further challenges for many teachers in
mainland China as the society becomes increasingly materialistic.
Educational decentralization also allows parents to have school choices
though at their own cost. There are also irregular professional practices
among teachers in some schools, such as taking expensive gifts from parents and moonlighting by offering chargeable private tutorials to students
they teach in schools. All these have justifiably caused much anger among
the public, making teaching one of the most ‘disgraceful’ professions for
many netizens:
Extract 9
I have a colleague, who wanted his child to go to a better school. Since his
residence school is not a key primary school. He had to pay 8000 RMB
(1000 USD) to get his child to go to the key primary school. After the child
entered the school, the parents had to give expensive gifts to please the
teachers. These so-called soul engineers would accept these gifts. I know,
when my kid goes to school, I will have to pay tributes to teachers, too. The
root cause for this phenomenon may not be related to teachers. However,
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
41
teachers, particularly those in key schools, did not hesitate to take advantage
of their positions. Moreover, their income is not low at all. Their average
annual income is 150% of the average urban residents’ annual income or
more. They can also have pay increases when the public servants’ salary is
adjusted upward. It makes me wonder why teachers in this forum complain:
what else do they want to have? You have three months vacation for a year.
Two days off in a week. On average, you can make 3000 RMB (375USD) a
month. And do you want to own a bank. (Gao, 2008, p. 162)
I have no intention to defend these malpractices of teachers. However, it
must be noted that many teachers have to cope with challenging conditions and spend long hours at work. Some teachers’ malpractices do not
mean that all teachers lack legitimacy when sharing their professional
experiences and complaining about professional issues in an online teachers’ community. The netizen’s rebuttal against teachers’ sharing and complaints reflects the deeply entrenched beliefs in which teachers are expected
to be selfless and should not complain. Another netizen in Hong Kong
makes this cultural expectation quite explicit in the following comment:
Extract 10
Our educational system fails in general. Our teachers care too much for their
own interest. […] Although they do not use violence, their behaviour is
more violent than that of gangsters … How could you expect them to be
moral and ethical in their profession. (Gao, 2011, p. 491)
This netizen was commenting on teachers’ protests about job insecurity in Hong Kong. He or she even associates the failing education system
with teachers caring ‘too much for their own interest’ and lacking moral
integrity. Some netizens are much against teachers’ public demonstrations
asking the government to give teachers ‘pay rise’:
Extract 11
They complain about low pay rise. Our great teachers would even go onto
the streets to protest. Well, they say that low pay affects their morale. But
they do not talk about their low standards. (ibid)
Since the public expects teachers not to be concerned about their own
material interests, they are intolerant about teachers’ demands for better
42
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pay. For this reason, netizens applaud teachers who observe the cultural
and societal expectations. For instance, mainland Chinese netizens have
promoted the story of a teacher who had helped many students with great
care before her death:
Extract 12
In her twelve years of teaching, many students, whether they were students
from her own classes or not, received much warm caring from her. Any students who were in need of warm clothes, she would give them clothes from
her and her husband’s wardrobes. She would even pay the tuition of those
who were from poor families. She never locked her door except when she
was asleep. And students could always find hot water in her room if they
were thirsty. (Gao, 2008, p. 162)
It is rather ironical to see that the public extolls this highly self-less but
tragic teacher who helped so many students and died in poverty. Education
has been culturally conceived as a means for the public to achieve upward
social mobility and wealth. However, teachers are not supposed to benefit
from it since they are expected to act like ‘selfless’ candles, burning themselves to provide light for others.
Discussion
So far this chapter has presented a rather depressing picture of contextual
conditions for exercise of autonomy, especially language teachers in the
Chinese contexts where English competence is widely regarded as a strategically important asset for individuals to achieve upward social mobility.
The analysis of two Internet-based discussions about educational issues
identified three major sources of constraints on teacher autonomy: tight
bureaucratic control of teachers’ professional practices, educational consumers’ critical censure and a cultural tradition that imposes high expectations on teachers and subjects them to public scrutiny with reference to
expectations. These constraints constitute a structural condition that
makes teachers feel vulnerable by considerably weakening their professional authority and position. Such structural conditions debilitate teachers’ agency, or their ‘will and capacity’ to act otherwise, and are most
unconducive to exercise of autonomy in professional practices (Gao,
2010). It is possible that the online discussion sites were dominated by
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
43
individual netizens of particular profiles which might have introduced
some biases in the results of analysis. Therefore, it is difficult to generalize
the findings from the two studies (Gao, 2008, 2011) to individuals who
do not habitually voice their opinions and experiences in virtual spaces.
Nevertheless, it must be noted that the anonymity of virtual space might
have encouraged teachers and non-teacher netizens to voice their opinions. For this reason, the findings do draw language teacher educators’
attention to the three sources of teachers’ professional vulnerability, which
need to be addressed in helping teachers achieve teacher autonomy.
Research on language teaching has long focused on the pedagogical
approaches that language teachers can adopt to effectively enhance students’ learning. Autonomous teaching requires language teachers to not
only reflect on their own pedagogical agenda and beliefs but also examine
the contextual conditions that can facilitate or constrain their professional
practices and professional development actions (e.g. Benson, 2010; Smith,
2003). This means that language teachers need to appreciate the limited
room for control permitted by the contextual conditions at workplace
before they can creatively identify paths for asserting teacher autonomy.
The findings suggest that such room for teacher autonomy is ever more
precious as waves of educational reform initiatives that expect teachers to
take up multiple roles also subject them to a tight and rigorous regime of
accountability (e.g. Extracts 1 and 2). Teachers are often micro-managed by
this regime of accountability in their professional practices, having little say
in what to teach and how teach, since this accountability often uses external
standards to determine what is valued and constitute good teaching in
schools (e.g. Benson, 2010; Codd, 2005). In addition, as noted by the
teacher in Extract 1, they have to spend time compiling reports and filling
up forms to document their professional activities in detail so that their
professional practices can be closely and ‘accurately’ monitored. Such documentation is obviously time-consuming and further reduces the amount of
time available for teaching. Alternatively, teachers might be driven to take
professional development activities so that the school can be rated well by
educational administrators as in Extract 2. However, such professional
development activities, not chosen by teachers of their own volition, mean
little to help teachers improve teaching. Teachers’ inability to make their
own professional choices and decide professional development actions
reflects their weakened professional positions and undermines professional
authority that teachers, including language teachers, have in schools. This
requires language teacher educators and language education researchers to
44
X. GAO
identify ways to empower teachers for addressing the mounting challenges
they face, which will be elaborated later in the concluding section.
Apart from coping with the bureaucratic control of professional practices, teachers including language teachers also need to deal with the general public, especially parents, who have become more involved than ever
before (e.g. Gao, 2008; Schoenhals, 1993). The general public’s involvement in educational process is a positive change in many ways as the broad
society can assist language teacher educators in providing an all-round
education to students. However, marketization of education in the Chinese
and other contexts has created a rising number of parents and students
who see themselves as educational consumers. It often impedes exercise of
professional judgment if parents are guided by certain ideological beliefs
about education and language education. For instance, parents’ critical
comments on teachers’ ‘accents’ in Extracts 6 and 7 are indicative of a
popular ideological belief in the primacy of native speakers in language
teaching, but they are against the sound principles that good language
teachers need to follow, to be good teachers in the first place; their professional authority should not be compromised because they are not native
speakers of the target language. In contexts where parents or those who
pay for education have more say in determining who should be recognized
as good teachers, ideological beliefs about accents constitute a long-­lasting
structural condition that can make many language teachers feel vulnerable.
Critical censures of teachers’ professional competence may in turn discourage potential graduates from joining the teaching profession. In fact, in
Chinese contexts like Hong Kong, those who apply to study in teacher
education programs do not necessarily have better academic results than
many other academic programs at university (e.g. Gao & Trent, 2009).
The challenges they need to deal with in schools are also likely to undermine their commitment to teaching (e.g. Gao & Xu, 2014). Therefore, it
is crucial for language teachers and researchers to work out strategies that
teachers and language teachers can use to effectively engage with the community, including parents, so that positive school-­community dialogues
and teacher-parent conversations can help enhance students’ learning.
In addition, together with rising consumer awareness, the well-noted
cultural paradox of ‘power’ involves a deeply entrenched cultural expectation that many teachers, including language teachers, find it difficult to
address in the Chinese contexts. This is probably the most challenging condition that teachers need to overcome in pursuit of teacher autonomy. The
public has unswerving beliefs in teachers’ moral and ethical ­impeccability,
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
45
which is foundational to the authority teachers are bestowed by the cultural
tradition (e.g. Extracts 9 and 10). Such beliefs impose heavy expectations
that teachers need to meet and are subject to critical censure if they fail.
However, as educational decentralization and reform initiatives add complications to teachers’ professional practices and collegial relationships at
workplace, teachers inevitably need to articulate their views and have them
heard. They may express their views and demands to improve their professional practices or protect their interests, but they are often seen as violating
the cultural expected norms (e.g. Extracts 9 and 11). It is also difficult for
the public to see that teachers are also in need of improved working conditions so that they can better enhance students’ learning even though education is regarded as a means for individuals to achieve upward social mobility
and pursue material gains. Therefore, it is important for teachers to take
extreme care when dealing with these cultural expectations as they very
likely undermine their professional position instead of empowering them
with professional authority.
Possible Ways Forward
This chapter has outlined three sources of constraints that make teachers and
language teachers experience professional vulnerability and undermine
autonomy in professional practices. If teacher autonomy and learner autonomy are interdependent (Little, 1995), the effective promotion of autonomous language learning depends on how language teacher educators and
researchers help language teachers negotiate these constraints to identify and
seize room for teacher autonomy. Although the picture of the contextual
conditions that this chapter has presented in the Chinese contexts is depressing, it must be noted that there have also been examples of successfully helping language teachers overcome these constraints, in pursuit of autonomous
professional actions and professional development actions (see below).
Educational administrators are unlikely to relinquish the tight control
over teachers’ professional practices in mainland China, Hong Kong and
many other contexts. For this reason, while teacher educators and researchers should persist in calls for greater freedom in terms of professional practices, language teachers need to work together and collectively reduce the
negative impact that bureaucratic control of teaching has on students’
learning. This means that teachers in particular geographical locations or
beyond particular locations through technology form communities
(Wenger, 1998) which support freedom from controls over teaching. In
46
X. GAO
such communities, they may share their professional experiences and strategies in response to constraining contextual conditions. Alternatively, they
may collaboratively search for solutions to the problems that they encounter in teaching and at workplace. Initiatives to support teachers in groups
have been experimentally tried in the form of ‘RICH (an acronym for
Research-based study, Integrative curriculum, Community learning and
Humanistic outcome)’ among a group of Chinese teachers, who overcome
constraining contextual conditions for exploratory professional practices
(Wu, 2006, p. 336). In order to assert that teachers’ professional authority
should take precedence over bureaucratic control, supportive communities
of teachers have better chance than individuals. Language teacher educators need to promote such professional communities as the key to language teachers’ exercise of autonomy in challenging conditions.
As mentioned earlier, language teachers may see increased parental
involvement and the public concern about education as a threat
­undermining their professional position and authority. In fact, effective
parental involvement can help teachers assist their students’ informal and
out-of-­class learning. Research has also noted that parents can be of great
help to their children in the language learning process (e.g. Gao, 2006,
2012). This means that language teacher educators need to help language
teachers develop relevant knowledge and appropriate competence in communicating with parents so that constructive teacher-parent dialogues can
be established. Language teachers’ efforts to engage with parents require
cultural traditions to be critically examined in language teacher education
courses. Language teachers need to be made aware of the double-edged
cultural tradition and its impact on their professional positioning. It
requires ongoing efforts and enormous care from language teachers to
address this cultural challenge, and this chapter offers no easy solution to
it. Instead, I conclude with a list of questions that need to be answered by
research in the future so that better understandings of these contextual
conditions can be achieved for identification of possible solutions.
With regard to contextual constraints, including the bureaucratic control of professional practices, researchers need to explore the following
questions:
1. How language teachers can effectively form and sustain professional
communities in support of each other?
2. What elements will make such communities a success and sustain
their success?
LANGUAGE TEACHER AUTONOMY AND SOCIAL CENSURE
47
In relation to increased public involvement in the educational process,
researchers should examine:
3. How language teachers can establish and sustain constructive dialogues with parents and other stakeholders?
4. How can language teachers be supported in their endeavors to
establish and sustain these dialogues?
5. What knowledge about language learning and teaching is needed by
parents and other stakeholders so that they can constructively participate in the educational process?
As for the deeply entrenched cultural tradition, researchers need to
closely monitor cultural shifts and investigate:
6. How can various stakeholders be brought together to think of ways
to improve language education?
7. What factors have been influencing the stakeholders’ views and
beliefs about language learning and teaching?
In other words, language teacher educators need to help language
teachers look beyond classrooms to identify the likely positive mediators
of their professional practices and how these positive processes and conditions can be reinforced to support their exercise of autonomy. Language
teacher educators need to help language teachers fully appreciate the challenges and barriers ahead and work out ways to transform these into
opportunities for professional learning and development that lead to
teacher autonomy.
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CHAPTER 4
Learner Autonomy and Groups
David M. Palfreyman
Abstract Working in groups is a popular teaching strategy associated with
communicative, task-based and other approaches in ELT. Learner autonomy has also become an influential concept and has been linked to groupwork. However, ideas about how learner autonomy (often seen as a set of
skills in an individual) might develop through groupwork have tended to
develop by practice and intuition more than through research. This chapter will consider some relevant questions about learner autonomy and
groupwork, for example, individual autonomy in a group, learner support,
autonomy development, group autonomy and conditions for group and
individual autonomy. It will also discuss research approaches which have
proved useful in other fields and how these might be applied in language
learning and teaching contexts.
Keywords Learner autonomy • Group work • Social autonomy •
Collaborative learning
D.M. Palfreyman (*)
English and Writing Studies Department, Zayed University, Dubai, UAE
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5_4
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D.M. PALFREYMAN
Introduction
Group activity is ingrained in human life in general and in many educational methodologies, such as communicative language teaching. It is a
vital element of current developments discussed elsewhere in this book
(e.g. networked technology), and is a resource which may be drawn on
when other resources for learning are in short supply (Kuchah & Smith,
2011). Groups can be formally constituted (intentionally assigned and
given meaning by an institution of some kind, e.g. a class in a school) or
informal (a group of friends chatting or studying together); groups can be
large (100 people or more) or small (two people); groups can persist for a
matter of minutes or years, tightly knit or more loosely connected; they
can also work well or not so well. The value of groupwork (including pair
work) is one of the key tenets in modern approaches to language education, and learner autonomy has also come to be seen as of self-evident
value; both group work and autonomy are widely promoted by curriculum planners and teachers. However, the theoretical and research basis for
a connection between groupwork and learner autonomy has tended to be
less clear.
The concept of learner autonomy has historically been associated with
‘independence’ (from a teacher, from a classroom, from formal educational contexts), but has recently been developed to take more account of
social processes integral to the development of autonomy and to the
nature of autonomy itself. Pedagogy for autonomy necessarily involves a
teacher role in learner autonomy and has also tended to embrace collaborative learning (Dam, 1995), owing partly to the importance of collaborative activities in communicative language teaching, and partly to the
focus on interaction between learners in sociocultural approaches to learning (e.g. van Lier, 2004). Thus, Little (2007) characterizes learner autonomy as “learners doing things not necessarily on their own but for
themselves” (p. 14), while Allwright (1990) describes it as a dynamic balance “between maximal self-development and human interdependence”
(p. 12). These explanations couch autonomy in universal terms, but collaboration and interdependence have also been seen as particularly important in certain (notably Asian) cultures. In contrast, Smith (2001) raised
interesting questions in this regard, pointing out that students or teachers
may find groupwork helpful for (valid) reasons related to control or choice
or sociability rather than because it fits a cultural or educational tendency
with which the learners are familiar. It is only quite recently (most notably
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
53
in the contributions to Murray (ed., 2014)) that a social perspective on
learner autonomy has been systematically taken up in research on learning
and teaching, thus establishing some connection with the use of groupwork in practice.
The study of groups as understood in this chapter is at the interface
between a ‘micro’ level of analysis (with regard to specific interactions
between individuals) and a ‘meso’ level, which focuses on communities,
organizations and smaller, persistent social groupings. The aim of the
research agenda suggested in this chapter is to understand better how
autonomy and groups can work and develop together in practice. How do
group characteristics or processes reflect, support, hinder or develop those
of individual members of the group? What do “learning” and “autonomy”
mean in the context of a group of learners working together? How can
elements of autonomy such as agency, freedom, strategies or motivation
be understood on the level of the individual learner and on the level of the
group? These are significant questions because of the importance of
groupwork and learner autonomy in influential approaches to teaching
such as communicative language teaching, task-based learning, cooperative learning or peer instruction, and also because people live most of their
lives in social environments for which these questions have implications.
There is relevant existing research on aspects of the above issues in various
areas of education and in the study of learning more generally (e.g. in
business contexts); this chapter will draw together concepts and findings
from this research and relate them to the learning of languages specifically,
which involves language as the medium and/or the focus of collaborative
learning. It will also discuss research approaches which might be applied in
language learning and teaching contexts.
Individual Autonomy in Social Context
Learning is clearly something which happens at least partly in individual
persons, and learner autonomy—“the capacity to take control of one’s
own learning” (Benson, 2001, p. 47)—is associated with certain individual dispositions and skills. The concept of ‘self-regulated learning’ focuses
mainly on these individual qualities, such as the ability to plan one’s learning and use suitable strategies to tackle learning activities. Important elements in both autonomy and self-regulation include agency (the capacity
to act), freedom, skills and strategies, reflection, decision-making and
motivation, all of which are often associated with the individual.
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D.M. PALFREYMAN
These individual qualities are of course constrained by the environment. Clearly, freedom and decision-making may well be limited by the
way a classroom, school or society is structured. The national qualifications framework of the United Arab Emirates (National Qualifications
Authority, 2012), for example, contrasts autonomy (in the sense of individual initiative) with responsibility (to those around us: colleagues, stakeholders, institutions or society more generally). In this case individual
autonomy is recognized as important but needing to be balanced with
‘fitting in’, involving an awareness and application of social norms and
agendas. This is reflected in educational systems throughout the world,
often with the assumption that “It’s easier to teach compliance than initiative” (Godin, 2010).
Perhaps a more positive perspective on social context is to focus on
engagement with communities (White, 2011) as an essential element of
learner autonomy. White (2011, p. 20) talks of a “critical adaptive” learning approach, whereby a learner is aware of the norms and structure of
his/her current context and the needs of others, and adapts to these as far
as necessary, but with a critical awareness of their possibilities. This resembles van Lier’s (2004) characterization of autonomy as “socially produced”
(p. 8) by the learner interacting with others, but “appropriated and made
one’s own” (ibid.)—that is, the learner engages meaningfully with those
around her/him on the basis of some personal commitment and
authenticity.
From this point of view, social norms and structures, rather than being
a confining frame (or needing to be ‘balanced with’ individual autonomy),
can be viewed as affordances: essential elements which (may) form the basis
for real cases of autonomous action and learning. Writing on learner
autonomy (e.g. Benson & Cooker, 2013; Oxford, 2003; Palfreyman,
2014; Ushioda, 2015) has highlighted that each of the elements mentioned above (agency, freedom, skills and strategies, reflection, decision-­
making and motivation) is not simply influenced or constrained by context,
but is, inherently, socially mediated—exercised and developed in interaction between the learner and others; indeed, it is practically impossible to
separate them from these interactions. In educational contexts, formal
curricula (including materials, planned activities or assessments of all
kinds) may or may not support learning and autonomy, depending on the
discussion that goes on around them and the use that is made of them by the
teacher and learners for promoting reflection, awareness, responsibility,
informed choice and so on. This interaction between people is particularly
important in the context of language learning because communication is
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
55
a key element of language use, and so part of the content as well as the
medium of learning.
Returning to the role of an individual learner in these interactions, the
social element of autonomy can be viewed in terms of the individual learner’s critical adaptive ability and capacity for making the most of interactions for learning purposes. Tassinari’s (2012) model of learner autonomy,
for example, includes a social dimension which runs through the other
areas of autonomy (action, (meta)cognition and affect). This dimension is
associated with learning outcomes such as:
• When I don’t understand something I can ask my interlocutor to
speak more slowly, to repeat something or to explain something.
• When I work together with others I can listen to the others (e.g. in
order to understand their stance), express my stance, compare my
stance with the others and, where applicable, modify my stance to
reach a group decision.
The model also includes ‘metasocial’ abilities which involve thinking
about social interactions:
• I can decide whether it is better for me to complete a task with others, rather than on my own.
• I can recognize when I need to discuss something with a learning
advisor.
Given this dialectic perspective on the relationship between the individual and the social context in learning and autonomy, let us consider
what is known about the role of groups in learning.
Groups and Learning
Working as part of a group is highly valued as a ‘soft skill’ in modern life
and is increasingly made an explicit goal of education (e.g. [UAE] National
Qualifications Authority, 2012; [UK] Department for Education, 2014).
The Cambridge English Teaching Framework (Cambridge English, 2014)
includes descriptors for teacher collaboration which are comparable with
the social autonomy skills listed above by Tassinari (2012), but which
reflect different levels of knowledge and skill for different stages of professional development. The Cambridge knowledge descriptors range from
“awareness of the need for collaboration and teamwork” (Foundation
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level) to “a sophisticated understanding of how teams work and why this
is important” (Expert level). Their skill descriptors show a progression
from interacting with immediate colleagues to seek guidance (Foundation
level) to initiating collaboration on a more equal basis with a wider range
of colleagues (Proficient level) and then to taking a facilitating/leadership
role in collaboration with peers and less experienced colleagues (Expert
level).
Research on groups in various contexts has shown some features of
their organization and processes. A diverse group of people can, given
certain circumstances, develop a ‘small culture’ (Holliday, 1999) which
provides a common basis for understanding and action and distinguishes
it from other groups. The group may also undergo various processes as
this culture evolves, including ‘forming’, ‘storming’, ‘norming’ and ‘performing’ (Tuckman & Jensen, 1977). Group cohesion is linked also to
perceptions of ‘out-group’ members, with groups often defining themselves in contrast to some other (perceived) groups.
It seems that in certain circumstances groups may be able to do some
things more effectively than any of their individual members—the phenomenon of ‘collective intelligence’ (Heylighen, 1999). However, enthusiasm for teamwork is often based only partly on empirical evidence, and
the benefits of group activity may be felt in terms of positive affect rather
than, necessarily, high performance (Allen & Hecht, 2004). Benefits
depend on various features of the group and its process; for example, the
‘Delphi Technique’ (a type of focus group) is structured in a particular
way so as to make the process of reaching decisions or predictions more
effective. Alignment and cohesion within the group seem to promote
effective action (Meirink, Imants, Meijer & Verloop, 2010), and the composition of the group is also an important factor. For example, a group’s
performance on a range of tasks has been found to correlate with the average ‘social sensitivity’ (but not the average IQ) of its members, which is in
turn associated with the proportion of female members in the group
(Woolley, Chabris, Pentland, Hashmi & Malone, 2010).
Wenger’s (1998) concept of a community of practice has been used to
explain how groups (especially larger, more persistent and perhaps more
diffuse ones) organize themselves through shared engagement in particular practices, imagination of possibilities and alignment of meanings as
well as the use of language or other semiotic means (Lamb, 2013). The
community of practice concept has proved useful to understand how
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
57
i­ndividuals come to commit to, internalize and/or clash with prevailing
values of a group.
In classroom contexts, some common forms of collaborative learning
include peer review of written or other work, peer testing (e.g. of vocabulary), group brainstorming or group assignments. The theoretical basis for
such activities is the Vygotskian sociocultural perspective on learning (e.g.
Lantolf, 2013), whereby learning happens in interaction and is only then
internalized. In this view, social mediation (by a more capable peer, or at
least one who can act as a ‘sounding board’ and encourage verbalization)
enables learners to venture into their zone of proximal development and
expand their range of competence. In sociocultural theory learning from/
with peers is seen as a natural process, and it may be formalized in educational contexts. For example, Lamb and Smith (2013) have commented
on the ‘monitorial’ method of education used at times in nineteenth-­
century England (on the basis of experience in schools in India), whereby
older/more able students supervise and support groups of their peers.
They point out that grouping students and appointing one in each group
as a ‘monitor’ (who then represents the group to the class as a whole) is a
viable strategy proposed by teachers of large classes in low-resourced contexts today.
Another influential approach to collaborative learning in modern
Western education is based on positive interdependence (Johnson, Johnson
& Holubec, 1998): ensuring that it is in the interest of each group member to improve the other members’ performance. Johnson et al. suggest a
range of ways in which this can be set up, including goal interdependence
(learners share a common goal for the activity); resource interdependence
(learners have partial resources such that they cannot complete the activity
without combining resources); identity interdependence (learners collectively choose a team name or slogan for their own group); and even outside enemy interdependence, whereby the teacher sets up competition
(‘negative interdependence’) between groups. It is important for the success of the approach that the learners in a group are aware of and embrace
these conditions; and a culture of ‘promotive interaction’ (mutual help
and support) should be fostered in the group.
One example of a collaborative activity is a test which learners revise for
as a group but take individually; then one of the members is chosen at
random and his/her score is given to all members of the group. Jensen
(1996) used such an approach, and found that the students involved not
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D.M. PALFREYMAN
only gained higher scores than another group which had worked
­individually but also had more positive attitudes towards the test and the
class, and were more likely to meet with their classmates outside class.
Jensen, Johnson and Johnson (2002), using a similar approach, found that
the interaction within the group was also more supportive than among
students who worked together but knew that they would get an individual
grade.
Research on the effectiveness of groups has identified some ways in
which groups may work less well (e.g. Warfield, 1995). One issue which
comes up concerning collaborative learning in general is that some members may get a ‘free ride’ (intentionally or not), becoming dependent on
the other group members (Meirink et al., 2010), and social skills may need
to be built into a course to pre-empt this (Johnson & Johnson, 1989).
Collaboration may also be aimed at reducing individual workload rather
than achieving learning outcomes—for example, in the case of a ‘group
presentation’ which is prepared and delivered in unconnected sections by
individual members of the group.
The potential strength of groups is that they combine and synergize
a diversity of approaches and perspectives; however, social processes
within groups can work against the kind of critical engagement involved
in this. Wegerif and Mercer (1997) distinguish types of talk which are
associated with discussion in groups. Exploratory talk involves critical
engagement with each other’s ideas, reasoned challenges, explanations
and listening among the participants and seems to underlie more complex thinking in the group. On the other hand disputational talk
involves a good deal of disagreement without discussion or following
up of ideas, and cumulative talk involves agreement and running over
familiar ground, without exploring alternative possibilities or views.
While cumulative talk (and even disputational talk) may serve group
dynamic purposes, it tends not to be associated with more complex
thinking in the group; more generally, collaboration seems to benefit
from a balance of cooperativeness and assertiveness among group
members (Maylone, Ranieri, Quinn Griffin, McNulty, & Fitzpatrick,
2011). Indeed, Howe (2013) considers that in order to promote longterm learning which can be applied in new situations, scaffolding has
the vital role of supporting the reconciliation of conflicting
perspectives.
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
59
Learner Autonomy in Groups
As described above, groupwork is a popular teaching strategy associated
with communicative, task-based and other approaches in language teaching over the last 50 years, supported by constructivist trends in education
more generally. The practice of groupwork has also been associated with
pedagogy for learner autonomy, from Dam’s (1995) seminal work
onwards; and recently understandings of how autonomy relates to social
context have to some extent caught up with this practical orientation.
As was also mentioned above, the various elements of learner autonomy
(agency, freedom, skills and strategies, reflection, decision-making, motivation) have come to be seen as entwined with social context. This has
been part of a general ‘sociocultural turn’ in studies of language learning
and is reflected in the relative roles that researchers give to three constructs: learner independence, dependence and interdependence. Boud
(1981), for example, saw learners as progressing from dependence (especially on a teacher) to greater independence (from the teacher) and only
then to interdependence (especially with other learners, but retaining an
autonomous orientation). More recently, Vygotskian perspectives led to a
reconfiguration of these terms: interdependence is seen as a necessary, initial stage; a learner is first able to engage in some (behavioural or mental)
activity through interaction with others (including teachers or other learners)—what Hadwin and Oshige (2011) term ‘coregulated learning’,
whereby a ‘more capable other’ eases the learner’s transition to greater
self-regulation. With this scaffolding, the learner then gradually becomes
able to ‘self-regulate’ and engage in the activity more on her own terms
(Lantolf, 2013). This does not mean that any kind of social involvement
in learning will lead to autonomous language learning or use: control by
others (whether imposed or invited) may well limit rather than support
the development of autonomy (Ding, 2015). However, it suggests that
guidance and support are integral elements of learning, and that without
interaction of some kind autonomy is unlikely to develop.
Liang, Jin and Cortazzi (2013) describe how a primary teacher in
China systematically promotes peer help among learners from the beginning of the school year, making judicious use of one-to-one peer tutoring
(pairing a weaker with a stronger student), intergroup competition
(between students of similar level) and mutual help in pair work (supported by the class slogan ‘the prosperity of our class is my responsibility’).
This approach involves classroom culture (highlighting the establishment
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of shared values); the initiation of assistance by peers (indicating agency on
the part of other learners, if not of the one being assisted); and a range of
kinds of assistance (from monitoring and scaffolding understanding of
content to regulating behaviour and affect). The spontaneous assistance
observed during groupwork also showed learners trying to offer assistance
while respecting their peer’s self-regulation and ‘face’: they used the semiotic resources of their context to support their peer in “say[ing] what
[they] want to say rather than producing the language of others” (Macaro,
2007, p. 60). As well as supporting the autonomous use of language by
the less able learner, peer assistance seems to have benefits in terms of
autonomous learning for the provider of help: Kao (2011) found that peer
tutors in a more formalized system of tutoring reported feeling more
responsible, more motivated, more critically aware and more confident in
their own learning and use of English.
Wilkinson (2010) describes a more formalized use of groups over an
academic year with the aim of fostering autonomy among learners at a
university in Spain. This was based on three principles: (a) changing
learners’ understanding of learning, (b) through (peer) interaction and
(c) within an environment of trust. Activities included discussion of
beliefs about learning, peer evaluation of writing, social book reviewing,
regular homework sharing (cf. Dam, 1995) and group evaluation of language portfolios based on goals set by the learners; data from the course
indicated increased student self-awareness and confidence in language
learning, as well as an improved classroom dynamic and development in
language proficiency. Wilkinson’s approach may be viewed in terms of
Littlewood’s (2002) distinction between group activities oriented to
reactive (more teacher-controlled) autonomy and those associated with
proactive (more learner-controlled) autonomy. In what Littlewood terms
‘cooperative learning’, learners work in groups with activities and/or
aims set up by the teacher, in order to improve their language skills;
Wilkinson’s homework sharing would be an example of this. What
Littlewood calls ‘collaborative learning’ involves learners making more
of the decisions; Wilkinson’s use of the language portfolio would be
more towards this end of the continuum. It is notable that although
Wilkinson’s students enjoyed reviewing their own portfolio and found it
useful, they were not so keen on the group evaluation of the same portfolio. From their feedback, it seems likely that movement from
Littlewood’s ‘cooperative’ to ‘collaborative’ activities would involve
(among other things) an affective ‘infrastructure’ of mutual trust and
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
61
respect in the group (cf. Lewis, 2014; Mideros & Carter, 2014; O’Leary,
2014)—which is more easily achieved in a smaller group or pair.
Writing about teacher collaboration, but drawing parallels with learner
collaboration for change in learning beliefs and practices, Meirink et al.
(2010) found that teachers were most likely to learn from collaborative
activities if they contributed and experimented with practical ideas and
concrete materials in order to solve a shared problem (as opposed to swapping teaching ideas in a more general way). This involved having a sense
of a group project, of individual responsibility to the group, but also of
individual freedom to make some decisions about both content and process of collaboration. The aims in this case were for the teachers to have
some cognitive and affective investment in the collaboration process, and
to be able to apply what they learn in other contexts; as Meirink et al.
point out, this has clear analogies with the development of student
autonomy.
Directions for Research
As noted in the introduction, groupwork is a staple of ‘progressive’ teaching methods, but its relation to learner autonomy in particular is under-­
researched, especially in language learning. Both learner autonomy and
collaborative abilities are important and valued and often need to be
developed. The research in the previous sections provides some parameters for practice and research, and suggests what is possible in terms of
learning and groups; but we need to know more about how these two
concepts work under different conditions. From the perspective of self-­
regulation theory, Boekaerts (2011) states that although research has
shown how social factors affect individual learning, there is a need for
further investigation of how social context dynamically influences motivation and strategy use in collaborative learning.
Boekaerts (2011) identifies in particular a need to clarify constructs
used to understand collaborative work. As noted earlier, terms may vary in
different academic fields (e.g. self-regulation/autonomy), and terms such
as ‘interdependence’ may be used in different ways. Boekaerts also calls for
more research on the processes of collaborative work and self-/co-­
regulation (how exactly do group members manage each other’s motivation, for example?), as well as more research, preferably longitudinal, to
understand how these group/individual processes play out over time:
through a lesson, a week, a term, an academic year or a whole programme
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of study—and indeed, in view of the connection made between autonomy
and lifelong learning, beyond the educational experience.
More recently, Murray (2014), in a review of studies on the social
dimensions of autonomy in language learning, highlights a need for
research on emotional aspects of autonomy in social context (which are
addressed to some extent in the work on self-regulation in groups), as well
as spatial and political aspects. He suggests ecological learning theory,
complexity theory and mediated discourse analysis as helpful frameworks
for investigating these aspects of autonomy. He also notes that researchers
should distinguish between the capacity for autonomy and manifestations
of this capacity and should look out for diverse forms of autonomy which
emerge from interaction among learners and particular contexts.
All of the above issues are pertinent to group autonomy, but have
tended to be framed as general theoretical questions. Here I will discuss
some more specific research questions about learning, autonomy and
groups which could usefully be investigated around this topic.
How Does an Individual Learner Exercise Autonomy in a Group?
As discussed in the previous sections, it seems that an autonomous individual learner in a group may show agency—for example, by initiating
activities or directions not limited to those prescribed by a teacher, or by a
tendency to ask for help in order to learn how to solve a problem rather
than asking someone else to solve it (Komissarouk & Nadler, 2014). S/he
may make use of his/her freedom and respect others’ (Lewis, 2014); make
use of learning strategies to benefit from materials, interlocutors and other
resources (Palfreyman, 2014); reflect on individual and group activity and
progress; make decisions and contribute to group decisions; and manage
his/her own motivation and that of the group (in this context, ‘freeriding’
in a group may be seen as a lack of autonomy on the part of a group member). In such situations, researchers could identify manifestations of individual autonomy which emerge from interactions with the group
context.
How Do Groups Support (or Hinder) Individual Autonomy?
Given that individual learners in groups can exercise autonomy in this situation, next one could investigate the processes by which the group context
supports (or hinders) such autonomy. Research on effective/ineffective
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
63
groups shows some practices (such as co-regulation, co-learning, exploratory talk) which might enable and support greater autonomy on the part
of individual learners, as well as others (e.g. ‘spreadthink’ (Warfield, 1995),
‘storming’ or cumulative talk) which may tend to close off such possibilities. Different learners (e.g. higher or lower achievers) could reflect upon
their experiences of collaboration and sense of learning and autonomy, to
help identify what they had learned from working in a group or pair, and
how this happened (Tassinari, 2013).
Group culture could be another focus of research. Conner (2009)
found that two successive cohorts of students took quite different
approaches to the same International Baccalaureate Theory of Knowledge
course, with one taking a more autonomous and the other a less autonomous approach. She attributed this to a difference in ‘cohort culture’, led
and focused by key individuals within each cohort and reinforced by teachers’ responses to them. Research could investigate how such a culture
becomes established, how it shapes the autonomy of individual learners
and how it can change over time, in smaller or larger working groups.
Does Being Part of a Group Make Unique Contributions
to the Exercise/Development of Autonomy?
A further step is to ask whether groupwork can make a contribution to
individual autonomy which would not occur outside the group. Greenaway
et al. (2015) have discovered that feeling part of a group actually makes a
person feel more in control of their own life. If this is also the case in learning situations, then group identification or participation could, for example, help learners be more ready to take an autonomous approach, perhaps
because they feel more secure and supported.
Chang (2007) found that although the cohesiveness and norms of particular groups of learners did not correlate with the autonomous beliefs of
individual members, it did correlate with their autonomous behaviour,
apparently mediated by peer motivation. Being part of a group could provide support for autonomy not available outside a group by providing a
more diverse learning environment, coupled with low power differential.
In this way each person comes into contact with ‘near-peer models’
(Yashima, 2014) with a range of different abilities and learning approaches,
which may be drawn upon as resources for co-learning and also, through
feedback, raise participants’ awareness of their own strengths and weaknesses. A less competent or less autonomous user or learner of a language
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may take a more competent/autonomous peer as a model; or, an even
more interesting possibility, the ‘collective intelligence’ of the group may
enable all participants to move into their zone of proximal development.
The research questions mentioned above focus on the development of
individual autonomy in the context of a group; I will now consider questions about the performance and learning of the group as a whole.
Does Individual Autonomy Help the Group as well
as the Individual Him/Herself? Are Autonomous Learners ‘Team
Players’?
If each member of a group is learning autonomously, then each will strategize to learn as much as he/she can. Lewis (2014) describes how, in
doing so, group members observe (and enforce) social norms which
include not impinging on other members’ autonomy, and providing assistance to others. Hadwin and Oshige (2011) describe this kind of phenomenon as “individual regulation targeted to the social good” (p. 254), and
categorize it as a type of ‘socially shared regulation’ (“processes by which
multiple others regulate their collective activity” (p. 253)). These processes are oriented towards group performance and learning (in contrast
to ‘co-regulation’, described earlier, in which the focus is a particular individual’s learning). Hadwin and Oshige distinguish another, still more collective type of socially shared regulation:
collective regulation in which groups develop shared awareness of goals,
progress, and tasks toward co-constructed regulatory processes, thereby
regulating together as a collective. (p. 254)
Again, this is regulation by the group, but in this case regulation of the
group, rather than of individuals. Within the context of the collective, and
bearing in mind Cooker’s (2013) “social dimensions of autonomy” one
could ask:
Do certain kinds of individual – or individuals who take on a particular
role – benefit more from group work than others, in terms of developing
their autonomy?
Do certain kinds of individual benefit less, or contribute less to the
group?
Do some kinds of individual/role support autonomy particularly effectively in the group context?
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
65
How does the composition, or culture of a learning/study group affect
learner autonomy within the group?
How are various elements of autonomy (agency, reflection, motivation)
regulated in the group? (cf. Järvelä & Järvenoja, 2011)
In What Ways May a Learning Group Be Autonomous?
If a group is collectively taking control of and responsibility for its collective learning, the group as a whole could be said to be autonomous. Ideas
of ‘collective intelligence’ and (individually perceived) collective
efficacy/agency (Bandura, 2000) fit in with this idea of collective learning.
Chik and Breidbach (2011), for example, mention groups of learners
nominating discussion topics and opting for a Facebook group and Skype
meetings. In this case, do all individuals within the group also learn and
exercise autonomy? Lewis (2014) discusses Tuomela’s (2007) notions of
‘we-mode’ cooperation, in which individual members commit to group
goals and strategies. This is not necessarily a surrender of autonomy to
‘peer pressure’, but could be seen as responsibility to the group. The term
‘self-organized’ has been used to describe a group or system which not
only works towards particular goals and is able to set and adapt its own
goals, but can also (re)organize its own structure in response to changing
circumstances (Carvalho, 2000).
Such learning groups fit the concept of ‘collegiality’, or Bielaczyc and
Collins’s (2013) idea of a ‘learning community’, characterized by diversity
of expertise, shared objectives for the group, a focus on developing learning skills and effective ways of sharing what is learned. Bielaczyc and
Collins emphasize that a learning community can mobilize collective
knowledge and skills to solve a problem:
It is not necessary that each member assimilate everything that the community knows, but each should know who within the community has relevant
expertise to address any problem. (p. 269)
Some recent investigation by Panadero et al. (2015) suggests that there
is a connection between individual and group self-regulation, and they
propose an online tool for supporting the development of self-regulation
on both levels. However, they did not find such a clear connection between
these features and successful group performance.
Another interesting question would be How does competition between
such groups affect autonomy (positively and/or negatively)?
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What Are the Effects of Group History, Individual Histories
and Group Culture?
It would be useful to learn more about how all of the above processes
work in different kinds of group: groups set up by teachers; groups which
form spontaneously for learning purposes (e.g. informal study groups);
groups formed in other ways which take on a learning aspect/orientation
(e.g. peer groups (Xu, 2011) or family groups (cf. Palfreyman, 2014)). It
is important to note that existing groups have existing resources; for
example, Hammond and Danaher (2012) describe how peer groups contributed comic books for school reading projects. People interact based on
past experience, interests and so on, rather than as abstract individuals
with no history. Class, power and gender can all play a part in the functioning of groups (Reichert & Hawley, 2014; Woolley et al., 2010). This
relates to the question of interdependence and ‘culture’: it has been suggested that collaborative learning is more aligned with cultures in Asia
(Kojima, 2012; Littlewood, 1999). While an essentializing view does not
do justice to the complex nature of cultures (and collaborative learning
may be equally appropriate in quite different cultural contexts), the notion
of appropriate methodology drawing on the discursive and other resources
available in particular contexts (Palfreyman, 2014) appears to be still valid.
For example, near-peer role models seem to be more helpful for co-­
regulation if they are of the same gender/ethnicity as the focal learner
(Cloward, 1967).
Further questions in this area could be:
What prompts some groups to come together and work on study/learning projects in an autonomous way?
What factors maintain an autonomous learning group?
How to Investigate These Questions?
The range of issues which can play a part in group autonomy is wide,
including (reciprocal) relationships in context; space and time; ­trajectories;
dynamic processes; motivations; and practical interventions. As such, a
range of research methods would be needed to investigate them, possibly
across a number of research projects.
Logging of learning has been used to good effect (e.g. Meirink, Meijer
& Verloop, 2007). Digital environments (including mobile learning across
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND GROUPS
67
contexts) are particularly helpful for the researcher in that they produce
more ‘traceable’ data about social interaction and its development over
time (Hadwin & Oshige, 2011). However, digital data almost always benefits from the availability of other data such as self-reports, observations,
interviews, stimulated recall or think-aloud protocols (Boekaerts, 2011)
to illuminate how these online activities fit into material, social and cultural aspects of context.
Statistical approaches (e.g. Jdaitawi, 2015) and the incorporation of
established, validated survey items to identify large-scale patterns may also
be helpful, perhaps using a mixed methodology to supplement detail from
specific cases with a more population-oriented perspective.
For the kind of social perspective appropriate for groups, consideration
should be given to the unit of analysis. The focus has often been on individual learners (who could be from a variety of backgrounds); but it could
well be more valid to focus on the group (or pair) as a whole. Since group
processes are a key topic of interest, data could include microanalysis of
interactions or stimulated recall; and learning/autonomy could be studied
across different contexts to identify (dis)continuities; for example, Nasir
and Hand (2008) looked at the same learners’ group roles and autonomy
in mathematics classes and in basketball practice.
Involving learners in gathering data about these issues may be of use
not only to the researcher but to the learners themselves, helping them to
reflect on strengths, weaknesses and possibilities for improving their own
(and others’) learning.
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CHAPTER 5
Learner Autonomy and Digital Practices
Alice Chik
Abstract This chapter calls for new interest in exploring learner autonomy and digital practices. With the wider availability and acceptability of
digital media in our daily lives, we are also seeing new affordances for
informal language learning. How do learners appropriate digital tools and
spaces for language learning? What does learner autonomy contribute to
language learning in the digital era? What are the impacts on researching
learner autonomy in digital environments? In this chapter, I use a theoretical model of language learning beyond the classroom to evaluate affordances and constraints of learning. Based on auto/ethnographic data, this
chapter suggests future research agendas in digital practices and autonomous language learning beyond the classroom.
Keywords Learner autonomy • Out-of-class language learning • Location
• Trajectory • Locus of control • Formality • Pedagogy • Computer-assisted
language learning • Digital practices
A. Chik (*)
Educational Studies, Macquarie University, North Ryde, NSW, Australia
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5_5
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Introduction
In a discussion on Auto-L list, a mailing list for researchers on learner and
teacher autonomy, on how digital practices may enhance learner autonomy, researchers generally had a positive orientation, but also cautioned
the many pitfalls they experienced in the classroom. The discussion
brought back memories of conducting a small experiment. Five years ago
I ran a small project with three undergraduate students on learning a foreign language for free, yes, for free. We each picked a language of our
choice and we vowed to use only online resources that were freely available to everyone. This meant no materials from the university library,
because not everyone would have access to the university library. It was a
small project to explore learner autonomy in informal contexts, especially
in an age of digital abundance. What our little group envisioned was a
complete control and freedom to navigate our foreign language learning
journeys. Freed from language classrooms, we tried to find new sanctuaries online. We discovered through first-hand experience that digital practices changed our conceptions of how to learn a foreign language. This
was not to say that possibilities were limitless, but we all expanded our
conceptions of what constituted a learning activity. At the same time, we
also came to understand ourselves better as learners: our strengths and
limitations.
Five years later, we did a replica study to examine the impacts of
changing technologies on digital practices and learner autonomy development. In between projects, we all have taken on learning a foreign
language in our own way and own time. This will be a tale to be told in
greater length elsewhere (Chik & Ho, 2017), but here I want to discuss
several aspects of autonomous language learning and digital practices
that came out of the projects and observations that have also been made
by other researchers on the subject. From the two projects, personally,
I have thus become fascinated by language learning social network sites
(LLSNSs). In this chapter, I will use my personal experiences with one
LLSNS to illustrate how a learner’s engagement with digital practices
may link to learner autonomy development. As I will discuss, autonomous language learning engagement with digital practices mostly takes
place beyond the language classroom, and thus has particular implications for future research agendas for language learning beyond the
classroom.
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Learner Autonomy in the Digital Era
The research agenda on learner autonomy has to take new turns in the
digital era. The affordances for foreign language learning have certainly
expanded. In this chapter, I focus specifically on affordances for and constraints on learner autonomy through digital practices that learners undertake in out-of-class contexts. What we already know is that successful
language learners learn and use their target languages both inside and
outside the classroom (Richards, 2014; van Lier, 1988). And over the
years, we are starting to accumulate knowledge on what learners do, especially in the areas of learning beyond the classroom, where digital practices
become personal and conducive to language learning (Benson & Nunan,
2004; Murray, 2008; Richards, 2014). Engagement with digital practices
is featured in recent edited volumes on how learners learn beyond the
classroom (Benson & Reinders, 2011) and on how teachers can capitalize
such affordances (Nunan & Richards, 2015). Both volumes have pointed
to affordances beyond the classroom as the new realms for researching on
autonomous language learning and teaching. Meanwhile, the two volumes also suggest that as researchers and teachers readjust their focus on
learning beyond the classroom, they also need to make stronger connections as to how language learning is situated in the learners’ social worlds.
Engagement with digital practices is one aspect of these social worlds.
What we do not know enough about is the interconnectedness of such
digital practices to learners’ social worlds and how these practices contribute to the development of learner autonomy over time. Gaining better
knowledge of how engagement in digital practices contributes to learner
autonomy can be the key to unlocking classroom pedagogy and providing
different perspectives to learner autonomy development.
Learner autonomy here is broadly defined as “the ability to take charge
of one’s own learning” (Holec, 1981, p. 3). In application to digital practices in out-of-class contexts, this broad definition points to two directions
that a learner should be capable of: first, the ability to take charge of one’s
own learning through digital practices and in digital worlds, and second,
the ability to take charge of one’s own learning in terms of language learning needs. The first direction hints at learners’ competence in digital literacy including knowing how to source and locate online language
learning materials most appropriate for their learning purposes. When
learners want to learn a language, where do they start? Do they start with
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a keyword search ‘learn English’ with an online search engine? Such a
search would yield millions of results on related resources and providers,
then how do they proceed? When it is humanly impossible to check out all
search results, then a learner’s competence in narrowing search criteria or
selecting relevant search results will be of utmost importance. In addition,
the capability to differentiate quality materials is essential to support
autonomous learning.
This competence to select relevant learning resources is highly related
to knowing one’s needs. The second direction suggests that learners
should have an understanding of their language learning needs and can act
accordingly. This understanding can refer to the understanding of perceived proficiency, learning styles and preferences, and management.
Among millions of search results, a learner has to decide, for example, a
selection of beginner’s level learning materials, or targeted language practices (e.g. pronunciation, vocabulary, idiomatic expression, etc.). A learner
may also select multimedia materials over grammar practices, or vice versa.
Another learner may want to start with topics of interest, for instance,
food or fashion or sports. It is certainly true that when there is an overabundance of learning resources online, it is even more important that a
learner has the competence to select the resources according to personal
language learning needs.
In facing an infinite number of choices for language learning beyond
the classrooms, many language learners are converting their out-of-class
digital practices into learning events (Benson & Reinders, 2011; Jones
et al., 2015). These practices may include using digital games, photo, and
media sharing, using digital tools, in a word, everyday digital practices.
What we know about out-of-class language learning events is that there is
a great range of diversity—in environments, intentionality, interest, structure, and duration. And within this diversity, we are looking at the learners
being in the centre of and being in control of the learning process.
Just as I argue that future research agenda in learner autonomy will be
anchored in reconfiguring how digital practices in learners’ everyday lives
may contribute to autonomy in language learning, researchers in the disciplines of Computer-Assisted Language Learning (CALL) are also recognizing a similar shift. In advocating the affordances technology use for
learner autonomy development, even in earlier years, CALL was conceptualized to be helpful for developing learner autonomy. Barnett (1993,
p. 303) argued that “[t]echnology can direct learner attention to metacognitive strategies such as planning, directing attention, self-monitoring,
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self-evaluation as well as the sorts of strategies which are required for
effective exploitation of the facility itself (selection of materials, control of
time, etc.)”. The changing definitions of CALL entailed the normalization
of the use of the computers in the classroom, and then extended it beyond
the classroom. At the same time, we are also looking at the changing relationship between technology and users. CALL was defined as “the search
for and study of applications of computer in language teaching and learning” (Levy, 1997, p. 1). In this early definition, the integration of computers into everyday life was a reality that was yet to happen. It also implied a
scarcity of computer use in language learning. Shetzer and Warschauer
(2000, p. 176) suggest autonomous learners with the digital skills “are
able to take charge of their own learning by working on individual and
collaborative projects that results in communication opportunities in the
form of presentations, web sites, and traditional publications accessible to
local and global audiences”. However, this was proposed in the era before
Web 2.0 when internet users have had better access to editing and management of websites.
The changing technology later prompted a new relationship between
computer and language learning in Egbert’s (2005) definition of CALL,
“using computers to support language teaching and learning in some
way” (p. 1). In this definition, though computers had already become part
of the teaching and learning process, computer use also appeared to be an
add-on, in some way. In these two earlier definitions, computers (or software programmes) were placed at the centre of the computer-assisted language learning process. And unsurprisingly, the concept of teaching is
placed ahead of learning, effectively also placing the control of integrating
technology as teacher-initiated, rather than learner-initiated. At this point,
it was still difficult to see CALL as technology that can be reappropriated
by learners for their personal uses and in ways that they see fit. In the new
millennium, Beatty (2010) defined CALL as “any process in which a
learner uses a computer and, as a result, improves his or her language”
(p. 7, original emphasis). Beatty’s definition is practically a game-changer
in shifting the learning initiative from the teachers to the learners. And we
are also seeing how the use of computers and digital devices is prioritized
over the language learning purpose in the sense that daily digital use is
almost a given. Language learning is almost incidental.
In this chapter, I will use the experiences gained from using an online
language learning social network website, Duolingo, and participating in
relevant communities to examine the relationship between digital ­practices
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and learner autonomy development. In turn, this will shed light on future
research directions on digital practices and learner autonomy.
The Study
The findings discussed in this chapter are based on auto/ethnographic data
taken from the aforementioned projects on learning a foreign language for
free. I took an auto/ethnographic approach to data collection and analysis
(Chang, 2008; Ellis, Adams, & Bochner, 2011), which provides an allowance for the learner-researcher to examine learning as situated practices and
learners as sociocultural beings interacting and reacting to situated learning
practices (Block, 2007; Jenks, 2015; McNamara, 2013). In addition to
auto/ethnographic data, other researchers’ comments and concerns, first
gathered from the Auto-L email discussion, about learning through digital
practices are also included to give additional insights.
From 2013, I started using language learning social network sites
(LLSNSs) for free language learning lessons. The term LLSNSs refers to a
recent emergence of language learning websites that include social networking features (Zourou, 2012). These new features are specific to individual platforms, but frequently include the construction of a personal
profile, generation of a list of other users, and the sharing and viewing of
user lists with others. Depending on fee structure of the LLSNSs, free
membership may only give restricted access to some of these social networking features.
Among the different LLSNSs and learning communities, I am a keen
and dedicated member of the Duolingo learning community. Since joining in early 2013, I took Duolingo Italian and German (and English) lessons, liked their Facebook page, subscribed to the official blog, participated
in discussion forums, and answered questions specific to individual lessons. Up to the writing of this chapter, I have completed all the Italian
lessons (or ‘the tree’), and have also ‘learned English’ as an Italian speaker
(or ‘the reverse tree’) to revise and consolidate my Italian. In addition, I
also completed all German lessons for English speakers, and am now learning German as an Italian speaker. For data collection, I took screenshots
of my lessons and participation on discussion forums, wrote field notes,
and downloaded all relevant news about Duolingo. All information and
interaction was publicly accessible as membership is free and
non-restrictive.
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Duolingo.com was set up in November 2011 and launched to the public in June 2012; it had 70 million members in 2015, among whom 15
millions are active monthly (Hickey, 2015). The number has since
increased to 200 million members in 2018. The website is a free language
learning platform with no advertising banners or additional premium-­
priced lessons (von Ahn, 2013). All learning contents are freely available
to registered members, and registration is free. Currently Duolingo offers
lessons in 23 languages (Spanish, French, German, Italian, Portuguese,
Russian, Dutch, Swedish, Irish, Turkish, Norwegian, Danish, Polish,
Hebrew, Vietnamese, Esperanto, Greek, Ukrainian, Welsh, Hungarian,
Swahili, Romanian, and High Valyrian for English speakers) with other
language courses at various stages of development (e.g. Klingon, Czech,
and Korean for English speakers). Though two language courses (High
Valyrian and Klingon) are constructed languages from popular TV series
(Game of Thrones and Star Trek, respectively), there are reportedly more
than 100,000 learners doing the High Valyrian course. Duolingo has also
launched a school version in early 2015, allowing teachers to monitor
their students’ progress. Duolingo users have active participation on the
official discussion forums and contributed to many of the original fan-­
created stories and jokes. In the analysis, I interpreted my notes reflectively
to tease out data related to five domains of out-of-class learning and
learner autonomy.
In the following sections, I will use the learning experiences on
Duolingo to examine the out-of-class learning framework and how the
experience impacts learner autonomy development. The out-of-class
learning framework will be based on Benson (2011), Benson and Chik
(2011), and Chik (2014a). The framework includes five dimensions: location, formality, pedagogy, locus of control, and trajectory.
Duolingo: The Out-of-Class Learning Experience
Similar to many self-directed language learning materials, Duolingo provides structured lessons. The website architecture restricts the skipping of
lessons, unless users take the test-out option. Thus, learners have to follow
certain learning progressions and cannot tailor their own learning pathways. Because learners are constrained by the website architecture, intuitively, joining Duolingo does not appear to provide enough affordances for
the development of learner autonomy. Yet, my own experience certainly
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did not feel I was being restricted by the structured learning ­materials.
This will be a good opportunity to map my digital practices on Duolingo
to explore the bigger picture of using online language learning platforms.
In this section, in addition to my autoethnographical findings from the
Duolingo communities, I have also included discussion threads from an
earlier Auto-L list discussion hosted in 2013. The discussion centred on
teachers’ and researchers’ perspectives on the relationship between digital
practices and learner autonomy development. Excerpts of selected quotes
have been read and approved by the discussants, and are reproduced in
this chapter to provide additional insights on the topic.
Location
Location refers to the place in which a learning activity occurs, and it
includes both physical and virtual environments. Chik (2014a) showed
that digital gamers can be connected to each other in the same physical
space, but they are mostly interacting on virtual gaming platforms. Digital
practices can mean learners are interacting in both physical and virtual
spaces. Piirainen-Marsh and Tainio (2009) showed a great example of the
juxtaposition of physical and virtual locations. In their study, two Finnish
teens played Final Fantasy X together in a room. Though they talked to
each other in Finnish, they were also interacting with the in-game characters and following their in-game dialogues in English.
In our Auto-L discussion, there were some concerns about learning in
virtual environments:
I have not dared to venture into Second Life and virtual worlds of learning
and teaching because I’m not ready yet and because I do not believe in the
gamification of learning, but I’m open to be converted! (Noémia, Feb.
2013)
Noémia’s concern is understandable as it can be difficult for teachers to
monitor and mentor the learning process in virtual environment. However,
there should be a distinction between learning in virtual environments and
gamification of learning. In his seminal work, A Theory of Fun for Game
Design, Koster (2004) defines a game as “a system in which players engage
in an abstract challenge, defined by rules, interactivity, and feedback, that
results in a quantifiable outcome often eliciting an emotional reaction”
(cited in Kapp, 2012, p. 7). Kapp (2012) defines gamification as using
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mechanics, aesthetics, and thinking of game elements to engage learners,
motivate action, promote learning, and solve problems. Gamification of
learning, then, does not necessarily have to happen only in digital
environments.
However, Noémia pointed out an interesting aspect of the new learning environments—the conversion of virtual spaces that are normally
reserved for recreational or social purposes to learning purposes may possibly bridge formal and informal learning spaces. As David explains:
I suppose some students are already engaged in particular platforms online
(e.g. Facebook) and so be more willing to participate (at least for a while,
maybe long enough to get them involved) if we meet them there, rather
than making them use a new, possibly clunky platform like Blackboard.
(Feb. 2013)
In Lamb’s (2013) study, Indonesian youth in rural areas were
resourceful in using online social media platforms (e.g. Facebook) to
access additional English learning and use opportunities. At present,
smart phones are, as compared to laptops and computers, relatively
cheaper, and are thus providing learners with easier access to web-based
materials (Dashtestani, 2016; Hockly, 2013). Some learners are reappropriating social network sites (e.g. using Skype to meet target language speakers) for independently organized tutorial-type or
language-exchange learning sessions (Kozar & Sweller, 2014; Yen,
Hou, & Chang, 2015). On the other hand, LLSNSs are emerging new
online platforms for independent language learning and exchange, and
they are providing greater access to underprivileged learners than some
traditional institutionalized language classrooms (Chik, 2015, 2017;
Lamy & Zourou, 2013; Valencia, 2016). Using the slogan, ‘Learn anytime, anywhere’, Duolingo is accessible from its website and from its
app (Duolingo, 2015). Though in theory the website and tablet access
points provide greater flexibility for learners, as a user, I found it quite
frustrating to use the mobile app against a noisy city environment.
When using the app, I could not hear the spoken Italian (or English)
phrases clearly and I felt idiotic shouting Italian phrases to my phone for
the speaking exercises. Throughout my learning with Duolingo, I
almost exclusively accessed the web-based platform for learning. In this
sense, the choice of location for learning can be restricted by environmental factors that are beyond the learner’s control.
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Formality
Formality concerns the extent to which a learning activity is part of an
institutional programme that may lead to formal qualifications. Usually
learning beyond the classroom implies the activities are conducted as
informal learning activities, or as personal pursuit of interests outside
learning institutions (Livingstone, 2006). This may be a new tricky question with the use of Duolingo. Though the LLSNSs provide language
lessons, most of them are not accredited. Learners may include their perceived levels of proficiency in their CVs, but these levels are not accredited, making the learning purely recreational. However, Duolingo has
been pursuing an accreditation system for proficiency in English that is
recognized by a small number of institutions and corporations, for example, the Government of Colombia, Harvard Extension School, Uber, and
Novell. In this sense, it is possible to say that Duolingo is connecting
informal learning to formal and institutionalized learning.
Turning informal leisure or recreational digital practices into formal
learning events can be tricky:
Technological space is not new to Indians, they breed in it non-stop. But
using it for learning, and foreign language learning, is really another ball
game altogether…How does one combine recreation and learning?
(Vasumathi, Feb. 2013)
As Vasumathi pointed out the differences between just engaging in
digital practices and turning those practices into learning, it is important
to remember that one element is imagination. One challenge that some
foreign language learners face is how to turn leisure into learning practices. Chik (2014b) finds that German language learners in Hong Kong
found it difficult to direct their learning beyond the classroom. As English
learners, these Chinese teens eased between Chinese- and English-­
language pop media cultures, which provided them with access to autonomously directing their English learning. However, they found it a lot more
challenging to source German pop cultural artefacts due to their limited
proficiency in German.
On Duolingo, in addition to lesson taking, users are also actively sharing ways to turn leisure activities into learning events. When a learner
shows an explicit intention of learning and uses learning strategies, almost
all informal leisure activities can be converted into intentional language
learning events (Hulstijn, 2008). One popular leisure activity that started
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in the summer of 2014 was a series of ‘Duo Goes’ photo essays on the
official website discussion forum. Different users inserted Duo, the cartoon Duolingo mascot owl, in travel photos at different locations. These
‘tourist’ photos were accompanied by blog posts on what Duo had done
when he was at a particular location. Duolingo users responded enthusiastically by giving additional ‘travel’ tips and advice, all in multilingual postings. So far, Duo has visited 20 countries (including the imaginary
Esperantoland) and has planned another 23 upcoming ‘trips’. Thus, a fun
activity of photoshopping and blogging was turned into intentional learning event, and it proved to be sustainable with numerous users joining in
different times.
My students love using Twitter, but they don’t love writing 1,000-word
assignments, and I’m wondering how to bridge the gap :-). (David, Feb.
2013)
As David pointed out, it is not enough to just turn a leisure activity into
a learning event. This is the same question being asked by many Duolingo
users. When writing is only limited to sentence level translation, community members stepped in to run writing competitions on a regular basis.
These informal competitions are among the most popular discussion
threads.
Pedagogy
Pedagogy is the extent the learning activity involves instructions, structured progression of materials, explicit explanation, and assessment. In
some cases, the language teachers are the first persons who introduced
digital practices to learners (Lai, 2017; Lai, Yeung, & Hu, 2016). Similarly,
Elisa shared her experiences of introducing Twitter to her students:
in 2009 I used Twitter with my students…my first goal was to use Twitter
as means to practice writing skills in an authentic environment…to build
better teacher-student and student-student relationships…to develop digital
literacy…I really wanted my students to get a taste and to play an active role
in the digital world…. (Elisa, Feb. 2013)
In other instances, many learners mentioned being mentored by older
siblings or relatives. Chik (2014a) shows digital gamers shared fond memories of playing, and consequently, learning from foreign language games.
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This usually involves the learning of gaming instructions or the reading of
onscreen in-game menus in foreign languages (notably English and
Japanese). In other words, pedagogy refers not only to learning materials
but also any available learning communities. Learning communities can
evolve organically from face-to-face to online communities. Lam (2014)
demonstrated the ways an American Chinese teenager transposed her new
language learning experience in China from a study abroad programme to
digital environments when she went back to the USA. As the group moved
their conversations to different online platforms, the teenager devised
strategies to use more Chinese, while her friends in China chatted in
English to learn from their exchanges. The transition from physical to
digital environments prompted new interaction patterns to accommodate
her changed learning need and styles.
When using Duolingo, there are several pedagogical possibilities. First,
the learning contents are structured, and users have to complete all lessons
at a level before they are allowed to progress to the next level. Alternatively,
users can opt to test out. All Duolingo lessons are structured as questions
on bilingual translation practices (from English to Italian or vice versa)
and listening and speaking practices in the target language. At the end of
each question, users have the option to ask or answer questions in a discussion thread. For instance:
The sentence “She will not be able to come here tomorrow” was displayed
for user to translate from English into Italian: “Lei non potrà venire qui
domaini”. In the thread specific to this question, stefania.b14 provides a
detailed explanation of the grammatical usage for ‘to be able to’ (essere in
grado di/essere capace di/potere nel senso di abilità). This explanation was
greeted positively by 33 users and followed up with further questions and
explanations by others.
This is one way that the learning communities are working together to
provide additional learning support.
Second, communities of Duolingo users are divided according to the
languages learned and used, and depending on the choice of language, the
sizes of communities vary. Similar to the German learners in Hong Kong,
many Italian learners (like myself) found it overwhelming to try to source
Italian pop cultural texts for learning. For instance, questions about ‘good’
Italian pop songs or movies regularly appear on the forum. I followed
most of these pop culture discussion threads, and regularly checked new
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entries for my listening and viewing pleasure. I also shared a Spotify list of
my favourite Italian pop songs on different threads. My sharing of a song
list was reciprocated by others sharing more song titles and YouTube videos, and subsequently I was able to expand my Spotify list and use these
Italian pop songs for listening practice.
Of course, as Naoko has pointed out, engaging in digital practices does
not automatically provide learner autonomy development.
But as in a traditional language classroom we have from very motivated
learners to reluctant or apathetic ones in the digital world…so what is it that
we as teachers can do in order to help those reluctant or apathetic learners
become active users of the web? (Naoko, Feb. 2013)
It should be noted that for learning on Duolingo to go beyond the
structured lessons, users have to take the initiative to ask questions or seek
help through the discussion forums. A lot of users do that, and most have
their questions answered by the more advanced learners and native speakers of the target languages.
Locus of Control
Locus of control refers to the degree to which learners direct their learning activities, or others direct the activities. In the same vein, the locus of
control engages a discussion on how decisions are distributed.
Most of them know how to create websites, make videos, short films in
timelapse. All these can be used in the classroom. Just use your imagination.
From my experience, most students only use their skills for entertainment
but they can use it as a tool to improve their EFL. (Noémia, Feb. 2013)
The challenge of autonomous foreign language learning using Duolingo
is the degree of control. Though I voluntarily joined Duolingo for learning purposes, the moment I joined, I practically surrendered most of my
autonomy. This started with my linguistic identity. Duolingo teaches
through bilingual translation method and thus assumes all users to be
bilingual speakers (or are becoming bilinguals), and only certain
­combinations of bilingualism were all supported. A Japanese speaker is
only given the choice to learn English. A Chinese speaker is only assumed
to wanting to learn English, Spanish, and French. But an English speaker
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can learn 23 languages. If I want to learn Italian, the only bilingual options
were: English, Spanish, German, and French. The structured progression
made it impossible to deviate from the prescribed configuration. However,
advice is available from the discussion forum on how to get the most out
of the Duolingo learning materials. When I first decided to learn Italian on
Duolingo, the most straightforward and logical pathway was to follow the
Italian lessons for English speakers. I did that and followed the lessons on
the ‘Italian tree’, a term that Duolingo users use. Unlike language learning websites that offer lessons at differentiated levels according to proficiency (e.g. beginners, intermediate, and advanced) and pricing (i.e.
membership), Duolingo only offers one set of learning materials for each
language. Some users suggested redoing the same language tree to keep it
‘golden’, which means having very few mistakes in the exercise completion. Different users started posting what they did after finishing a language tree—they do ‘the reverse tree’. This means after finishing the
Italian tree, I should then change my profile to be an Italian speaker wanting to learn English. According to many users, doing a ‘reverse tree’ is the
best way to revise and consolidate the newly learned Italian.
When I finished my Italian learning tree in early 2015, I listened to the
advice and started the English learning tree as an Italian. I found the learning to be more challenging than anticipated because now I need to
remember how to write in Italian. When I joined Duolingo, the decision
about what to learn was considerably restricted by the Duolingo website
architecture. By doing the reverse tree, my autonomous decision over
what I have been doing was further distributed to other Duolingo users.
In this case, I am taking constructive advice from my fellow Duolingo
users; in other cases, decisions about autonomous language learning can
spark greater discussion.
Whether we agree or not, some leisure activities are deemed more controversial than others. As the public is becoming generally more acceptance to digital gaming, certain types of digital gaming are still viewed as
‘problematic’. And it is the discussion of engaging in such activities that
provide insight on locus of control. Traditionally, playing digital bishō jo
games is treated as a morally corrupted activity because the players of such
games interact with fantasy virtual young women. Some bishō jo games are
condemned socially because they contain pornographic elements and
­perpetuate certain sexist representations of women. Bishō jo games are a
uniquely Japanese-language gameplay phenomenon. When a Taiwanese
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND DIGITAL PRACTICES
87
gamer asked an online community for English-language bishō jo games for
learning purposes, many forum discussants immediately provided alternate role-playing game lists to try to sway the gamer to ‘morally healthier’
and ‘content appropriate’ games. These advices and suggestions could be
viewed as other-directing, or at least attempting to redirect an otherwise
autonomous learning practice. The Taiwanese gamer sent in a final
request stating that he was most comfortable with bishō jo games, and he
thought he could benefit more with alternate English versions (Chik,
2014a).
Trajectory
Trajectory extends Benson’s (2011) theoretical model by adding a temporal dimension, in which learners display management of their learning
activities over time. This dimension may be more difficult to monitor
because it requires either longitudinal observations or retrospective interviews that focus on learner’s changes over time. Learning through
Duolingo can be a relatively short-term project as there is only one set of
learning materials for each language. If a learner does one lesson each day,
a language tree can normally be completed within a year (with about 300
lessons that usually take about 15 minutes to complete each lesson). Many
of the users discussed vividly on what should be done to manage one’s
further learning. One suggested method to prolong and deepen one’s
learning is to do the reverse tree. I am doing the reverse tree at the advice
of others. Another way to seeing how other learners learn is more transparent—the language learning path of each user is displayed next to the
username. The displayed icons include languages learned (or learning),
levels, and numbers of continuous active learning days on Duolingo. For
a Duolingo beginner, there may only be one single language icon displayed next to the username, but there are seasoned users with two lines
of icons next to their usernames. In many discussion threads, regardless of
the topics being discussed, different users would post their admiration for
learners who have achieved a number of language icons, or a high proficiency level, or a high continuous day streak. Many beginner learners commented that they were inspired by the more advanced and persistent
learners to stay on and keep learning. Meanwhile, an informal collection
of Halls of Fame is hosted online by different users to keep track of l­ earners
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A. CHIK
who completed a language tree, and these threads provide additional avenues for beginner learners to imagine and manage their own learning.
Another popular type of threads is asking people how long they have
joined Duolingo. The more senior users served as plausible examples as to
how to manage learning one language or across languages.
A further way that Duolingo users can imagine their future management of learning is through the reading of language learning histories. A
good number of language learning histories are publicly available from the
discussion forum. Some stories are shared by polyglots, those who claim
to have mastered multiple languages, but most are shared by enthusiastic
bilingual and multilingual learners. Surprisingly, the most popular and
comments threads are those sent in by (self-proclaimed) more mature
learners. These mature learners provide accounts of using language learning experiences to offset the advances of old age, as new ways to communicate with grandchildren, and for travel purposes. Their stories also
provide great contrast to Bellingham’s (2004) study with mature learners,
some of whom expressed difficulties with finding the time and confidence
to learn a new language.
Conclusions
‘Digital practices’ is an umbrella term for a wide range of activities that
learners engage in, and it can be challenging to categorize how digital
practices can link to learner autonomy (Lai, 2015, 2017). It is true that as
more learners are engaging in digital practices for personal and leisure
purposes, many of these activities are being turned into intentional learning events. As mentioned earlier in the chapter, an understanding of the
relationship between digital practices and autonomous language learning
asks two questions of the learner: the competence in digital literacy to
manage the learning and a reflective understanding of one’s learning
needs. In this chapter, I used a theoretical model of out-of-class learning
(Benson, 2011; Benson & Chik, 2011; Chik, 2014a) to map out the digital practices associated with my learning experience on Duolingo. Richards
(2014) states out that as digital engagement is being normalized as our
daily practices, learning activities that happen beyond the classroom are
becoming the best indicators of learning. This model provides a systematic
way to examine the relationship between digital practices and learner
autonomy development. Then the first research agenda will be directed
towards the further understanding of each of the five dimensions ­(location,
LEARNER AUTONOMY AND DIGITAL PRACTICES
89
formality, pedagogy, locus of control, and trajectory) to better understand
the connectedness of autonomous learning beyond the classroom,
Second, we do not know enough about how language teachers are
adjusting to the new digital learning environments that may or may not
involve language teachers. As Hayet puts it:
Are the ESL/EFL curriculum specifications congruent with recent findings
in SLA? Are the classroom language tasks appealing to students’ learning
styles and matching with their native environment (that of mobile technology)? The point I want to make today is that as long as our teaching methodology is at odds with students’ needs…we can’t aspire for learner
autonomy. (Feb. 2013)
Finally, as Erstad (2013, p. 3) argues, rather than thinking of digital
practices as merely updates and advancements to traditional practices, we
can reconceptualize these digital practices as ‘door openers’ (Bruner,
1996) to understanding language learning in new lights.
Acknowledgement I would like to thank all Auto-L discussants for their generous support and insightful discussion, which inspired further and deeper thinking
on what it meant to learn a language autonomously in our digital time.
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CHAPTER 6
Researching the Spatial Dimension
of Learner Autonomy
Garold Murray
Abstract This chapter proposes a new research direction into autonomy
in language learning: an exploration of its spatial dimension. Based on a
longitudinal ethnographic inquiry into a social learning space in a language centre in a Japanese university, a key assumption of the study is
that how people define a space transforms it into a place, determines
what they do there and influences their autonomy. Drawing on data
from this five-­year investigation, the findings suggest that researchers
might draw on ecological approaches, complexity approaches and mediated discourse analysis. The chapter concludes by reflecting on the
potential benefits of pursuing research that incorporates space, place and
autonomy.
Keywords Autonomy • Complexity • Ecology • Imagination • Mediated
discourse analysis • Space and place • Social learning spaces
G. Murray (*)
Center for Liberal Arts and Language Education,
Okayama University, Okayama, Japan
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5_6
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Introduction
The purpose of this chapter is to outline a research agenda for a new line
of inquiry in the area of autonomy in language learning: an exploration of
its spatial dimension. To do this, I provide a narrative account of a five-­
year exploratory project that led my research partners and me to recognize
the relevance of theories of space and place for learner autonomy and to
identify several themes that could provide a framework for a research
agenda. My story evolves around a longitudinal ethnographic inquiry into
a social space for language learning at a large national university in Japan.
On the surface the facility may resemble a self-access centre; for example,
language learning materials and laptop computers with Wi-Fi connections
are available for self-directed study. However, what sets the social learning
space apart from self-access centres is the emphasis on people coming
together in order to learn with and from each other. Our initial interest as
language practitioners and researchers was to explore the learning opportunities that might exist in such an environment.
Drawing on the data as well as my experiences carrying out the inquiry,
in this chapter, I outline a research agenda for the exploration of space and
place in relation to autonomy in language learning. I begin with a description of the social learning space and an overview of the study. In the following section I recount how the theoretical orientation of the inquiry
expanded from its initial focus on communities of practice to embrace an
ecological perspective, and eventually to be informed by the literature on
human geography and mediated discourse analysis. In the next section I
highlight themes emerging from the data, which point to areas requiring
further study. After drawing together these directions for future inquiries
to suggest a research agenda, I discuss possible research approaches and
methodologies. To conclude the chapter I reflect on the potential benefits
of pursuing a research agenda that explores the relationship between
space, place and autonomy in language learning.
The Social Learning Space
The social learning space was created in 2009 as a place where Japanese
students could practice their English language skills. Space was made available for the facility by partitioning off a corner of a large café on the
ground floor of a building housing a career centre and venues for student
club activities. Perhaps this explains how the social learning space got its
RESEARCHING THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEARNER AUTONOMY
95
name: the English Café (EC). Although not really a café, the EC soon
became a meeting place for Japanese students who wanted to improve
their English and for international students who wanted to practice their
Japanese. In both cases most of these students were newcomers to the
university and keen to make friends. Thus, the stage was set for the emergence of networks of social relationships, which centred around the EC.
At this point the EC was one room enclosed by walls that were mostly
glass. The glass walls had two advantages. On one hand, because the space
was small and overcrowded with tables, chairs and shelving, the glass walls
gave the illusion of openness. On the other hand, students passing by could
see what was happening on the inside and perhaps have their curiosity
piqued. On the inside students were sitting around tables or on the small
sofas, chatting, having lunch, doing homework or maybe even playing a
card or board game. They could also be participating in one of the several
peer-taught language lessons offered in the late afternoon or early evening.
Besides providing noncredit language classes and a friendly environment in which students might relax, the EC also offered the possibility to
participate in a variety of events throughout the academic year; for example, a welcome party when new exchange students arrive, a Hallowe’en
party, a Christmas party, a cherry blossom viewing party and an international food fair in which students became the chefs. In addition, the EC
staff, including a manager assisted by student workers, facilitated students’
participation in cultural events organized by groups in the local community. The EC, this glass-enclosed space, became a meeting place where
students could interact informally and a hub for numerous activities.
The Study
Shortly after the EC opened, several teachers from the Language Education
Center started going there once a week at regularly scheduled times to
have conversations in English with any students who might be interested
in participating. As we met with students and observed the activity around
us, a colleague and I became curious about the learning opportunities
available in this environment. Our assumption was that the EC offered the
potential to support autonomous learning beyond the classroom (cf.
Benson, 2011). For the coming academic year we designed a small inquiry
to explore the possibilities.
Our study, which was ethnographic in nature, had nine participants, regular visitors to the EC who were selected in consultation with the manager.
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Five of the students were Japanese and four were international exchange
students. The students, a mix of men and women, were undergraduates,
with the exception of two international students who were doing postgraduate work. We saw these learners as autonomous in as much as they were
taking responsibility for their learning (Holec, 1981). Having realized that
they could not attain their language learning goals through classroom
instruction alone, they made the decision to take action outside of the
classroom.
Data included language learning histories which the participants wrote
at the outset, two sets of interviews at the end of the first and second
semesters, respectively, our participant observations and interviews with
the manager and the vice-director of the Language Education Center who
played a key role in establishing the EC. Although we did not know it at
the time, this project served as a pilot study for the longitudinal inquiry,
which was to follow.
The following academic year we received funding to carry out a four-­
year ethnographic inquiry into the social learning space. The project was
modelled on the pilot study with three notable exceptions. In this study
we would explore the impact that long-term engagement with the EC
might have on students’ language learning; more precisely, the aim was to
track the language learning trajectories of ten students from their first year
to graduation through their participation in the EC. This meant focusing
on Japanese learners of English and having them take the TOEIC each
year. The EC manager, who had now joined the research team, helped us
select students, a mix of men and women from various faculties who
seemed keen to improve their English skills. Secondly, the grant made it
possible to hire three students each year as research assistants (RAs). Their
main task was to carry out observation in the EC and to submit weekly
reports, which they augmented with photographs of daily activities and
events. The third aspect that had been changing over time was the theoretical orientation, which influenced how we viewed the data, the learners
and the learning space.
The Evolving Theoretical Orientation
When we began the pilot study, we had been doing participant observation at the EC for approximately one year. It seemed quite evident to us
that a community of learners had evolved. At this point what we were seeing was strongly influenced by the community of practice perspective.
RESEARCHING THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEARNER AUTONOMY
97
Wenger, McDermott and Snyder (2002) define communities of practice as
‘groups of people who share a concern, a set of problems, or a passion
about a topic, and who deepen their knowledge and expertise in this area
by interacting on an ongoing basis’ (p. 4). At the EC there was a group of
people keen to learn another language and experience other cultures. On
a regular basis they exchanged information about the local community or
study abroad, helped each other with homework and supported each
other through a network of relationships. As members of this community,
they were learning. Newcomers often came to inquire about taking a class
and through the classes started out as legitimate peripheral participants
(Lave & Wenger, 1991), who gradually became accepted and valued
members of the community. For our part, we came to see that the students’ activities and networks of interaction were what constituted the
EC.
As we carried out the pilot study, it became clear in our minds that our
research focus was the EC as an environment that offered the potential to
foster autonomous language learning. Because the object of our inquiry
was the environment, as opposed to individual learners, we began to
explore the literature on ecology (Kramsch, 2002; van Lier, 2004). The
ecological perspective helped us clarify our thinking on the design of our
project. To use Lemke’s (2002, p. 69) term, it became clear that we were
looking at the EC as an ecosocial system. In accordance with van Lier’s
(2004) guidelines for doing research from an ecological perspective, we
were focusing on the relationships within the environment as well as the
participants’ relationship to the environment; our analytical notions and
constructs were gradually emerging through our observation of the participants’ actions and their comments in interviews, thus strengthening
the ecological and phenomenological validity of our study; and our awareness of the importance of considering time and space was developing.
Proponents of an ecological approach to research stress the importance
of taking different timescales into account (Lemke, 2002; van Lier, 2004).
As we made the transition from the pilot study to the main study, we were
becoming increasingly aware of several timescales, impacting the research
environment (see Table 6.1). There was the Japanese academic year running from April 1st to March 31st. New Japanese students came to the EC
after arriving in April. At the end of the academic year, some students were
graduating and leaving to start new lives. It became obvious that we
needed to consider the four-year period during which time most students
completed their degrees. Another timescale of major significance for the
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Table 6.1
Multiple timescales at the L-café
Timescale
Time frame
Duration
Japanese academic year
Spring semester
Fall semester
Exchange students’ stay
Period of study: most degrees
Pilot study
Main research project
April 1 to March 31
April to August
October to February
October to August
April, Year 1, to March, Year 5
April 2010 to March 2011
April 2011 to March 2015
12 months
4 months
4 months
11 months
4 years
12 months
4 years
EC began with the arrival of the international exchange students at the
beginning of October and ended with their departure usually sometime in
August. There was also the timescale of the two semesters, which comprised the academic year. At most universities in Japan the first semester
runs from April to the end of July, and the second semester runs from
October to the beginning of February. Classes and other activities at the
EC were organized on the basis of the ‘semester’ timescale. Overall, timescales figured prominently in the environment and had an impact on life
at the L-café and the research.
Along with our awareness of the role of varying timescales, our appreciation of the importance of space and place was also developing. In retrospect, our first indication that space and place would figure into our
analysis came as we coded the transcripts from the first round of interviews
for the pilot study. To confirm our impression that a community of learners had emerged, we asked the participants how they would describe the
EC. They began their answers by saying, ‘It’s a place to…’ or ‘It’s a place
where….’ This seemed a ‘natural’ way to respond to the question; so, we
coded these chunks of data as ‘description’ and moved on. As we continued our thematic analysis, the word ‘place’ began to crop up in response
to other questions; however, we did not perceive a pattern.
It was a serendipitous event that led me to see a pattern emerging from
our data. I was at a Doing Research in Applied Linguistics Conference at
King Mongkut’s University of Technology Thonburi in Thailand where I
attended a presentation on linguistic landscapes (Ben Said, 2011). As I
listened to the speaker, I began to make connections between the references to space and place and our participants’ comments in the interviews.
When I got back to Japan, I started reading the literature on linguistic
landscapes (Jaworski & Thurlow, 2010; Shomany & Gorter, 2009), which
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99
led to work on space and place in the field of human geography, and eventually to mediated discourse analysis. From that point on, conceptualizations of space and place in these bodies of literature shaped how we
interpreted the data.
Perhaps the most striking insight for us was that places are social constructions. From our reading of the human geography literature (Cresswell,
2004; Harvey, 1996; Massey, 1997), we came to understand that places
are created through action. People do things in a particular space and then
talk about it as an environment in which these activities are carried out. In
this way, the space becomes identified as a place in which to conduct these
actions or activities. As Carter, Donald and Squires (1993) succinctly put
it, ‘Place is space to which meaning has been ascribed’ (p. ix). These meanings are shared and consolidated through discourse, making place a product of action and discourse.
The necessity to better understand the role of action and discourse in
the social construction of place led me to the literature on mediated discourse analysis (MDA). MDA, which views discourse as a feature of social
practices, focuses on the social action as its unit of analysis (Jones & Norris,
2005). As social actions are repeated over time in a particular space, they
acquire a history, become linked to other actions and transform into social
practices (Scollon, 2001). The points in time and space where these actions
occur and social practices develop are labelled ‘sites of engagement.’ A
network of social practices, as well as the point where these practices intersect, is referred to as a nexus of practice (Scollon, 2001). These networks
have a role to play in the development of self by serving as ‘the basis of the
identities we produce and claim through our social practices’ (Scollon,
2001, p. 142). According to Scollon, networks of social practices that
become objectified through discourse have the potential to become communities of practice.
The basic tenets of MDA resonated with our perceptions of the EC as
a community of practice, which offered a number of affordances for language learning. MDA’s perspective on action served to deepen our understanding of affordances as opportunities for action that emerge through
the individual’s interaction with the environment (Gibson, 1986; van Lier,
2004). Furthermore, MDA provided us with a conceptual framework that
enabled us to work backwards from the idea of the EC as a community of
practice in order to examine the composition and emergence of the community (Murray, Fujishima & Uzuka, 2014)—a technique called ‘retrodiction’ (cf. Dörnyei, 2014). By examining the practices that developed at
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the EC and considering the discourses that surrounded them, as they were
revealed in the interviews, we could understand how the EC became identified as a particular community (of practice) or place. In other words,
informed by theorizing in MDA and human geography, we came to see
the EC as a place constructed out of networks of social practices and relations which came together at a particular point in time and space.
From Current Insights to Future Directions
In this part of the narrative I provide a thematic overview of what we have
been learning during the past five years. The themes all point to directions
for further inquiry. I will conclude this section by pulling together the
various strands to suggest a research agenda for space, place and autonomy
in language learning.
Affordances
We started out curious to know what opportunities for language learning
were available in the EC. Adopting an ecological approach enabled us to
focus on affordances, but affordances are a tricky phenomenon. As
Menezes (2011) reminds language educators, they are not attributes of
the environment, but rather they arise as learners interact with the environment. Furthermore, as Gibson (1986) made very clear, they depend
on the perceptions of the individual. For an affordance to transform into
a learning opportunity, learners need to be able to perceive the potential
and then take action. Participants indicated to us that one of the key affordances at the EC was the potential for friendship (Murray & Fujishima,
2013).
Within the possibility of cross-cultural friendships lay any number of
learning opportunities, for example, actual target language practice,
exchange of views and cultural information and help with coursework.
However, our RAs observed that students often do not take advantage of
opportunities to make friends with students from other cultures. Either
they cannot envisage this possibility or they do see it, but are prevented
from taking action due to elements in the environment, including their
sense of self and self-confidence. Amongst environmental elements, the
various personalities of the exchange students are a salient factor. At one
point during the end of semester interviews, the participants and RAs
complained that the current group of international students tended to
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101
keep to themselves and were not as outgoing and friendly as the group
from the previous year. Each new cohort of exchange students will comprise different configurations of personal traits and interests, and so on,
which will foster the emergence of a particular type of group personality
that will in turn impact the atmosphere of the learning space. Clearly, this
phenomenon and the challenges of forging cross-cultural relationships
and taking advantage of the learning opportunities that ensue are issues
for future inquiries. Further research is required to help us better understand (1) the nature of affordances in general, (2) how they manifest in
particular settings and (3) how environmental elements—including cultural features—can prohibit or facilitate learners’ perceiving and acting on
them.
Entry and Access
In Murray and Fujishima (2013) we make the case that a community of
practice had emerged at the EC. However, the community of practice
construct has been criticized because it raises issues of membership and
belonging (Gee, 2005; Scollon, 2001). These issues have prompted
Scollon (2001), who started out working with the community of practice
construct, to propose ‘sites of engagement,’ points in time and space
where networks of practices come together. Similarly, Gee (2005) has proposed ‘affinity spaces’ which focus on ‘the idea of a space in which people
interact, rather than on membership in a community’ (p. 214, author’s
italics). While their critiques of community of practice have enhanced our
understanding of the construct and the alternatives they propose have
served to broaden our understanding of space and place, we still find ourselves asking this question: How do learners—especially linguistically challenged ones—gain access to communities of practice that can possibly
emerge within social learning spaces?
From the outset we have observed students standing outside the glass
doors looking in, but not entering. As a strategy to deal with this phenomenon, the manager hired students to greet these students, strike up a
­conversation and welcome them inside. However, this is just a first step.
Once students are physically within the space, how do they gain access to
the community and the various social groups, which might comprise it?
Interviews with the participants and RAs indicate that many students have
difficulty making a place for themselves. Data from our study have convinced us that whether researchers adopt a community of practice, a site of
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engagement or an affinity spaces perspective, entry and access to these
spaces and the social networks they encompass can conceivably become
salient issues, and, as such, require attention in future inquiries (for a more
detailed discussion, see Murray, Fujishima and Uzuka, 2018).
Physical Dimensions and Social Relations
Lefebvre (1991) writes that ‘new social relationships call for a new space’
(p. 59). Another serendipitous event demonstrated to us that the converse
is also true: a new space calls for new social relationships. Three years into
our inquiry the university made funding available to move the EC to a
much larger location. The EC went from being a narrow room to becoming a spacious L-shaped, split-level, open-design facility. On the lower
level there is currently a main entrance, reception, administrative and
kitchen areas. The upper level is primarily a space for students to gather
and pursue their own interests. In addition, there is a separate room, seating 30–40 people, which is used for more formal gatherings, such as
classes or meetings. Also, with the move came a change in name. The
English Café became the L-café to reflect the multilingual character of the
facility, which serves as a meeting place for a number of language clubs,
such as the Nihon Café, the Chinese Café and the Café français.
For us as researchers, the move from the English Café to the L-café
(LC) was a fortuitous event, which led to a number of insights that we
might otherwise not have experienced. For one thing, the change in space
led to a change in the social structure: we went from having a community
of learners to having several smaller communities. Yu, one of the RAs,
explains the impact this had on language learning affordances:
We have like small communities in L-café and even though we are in the
same place, the L-café, then some people don’t talk to the others…. English
Café was small. You had to hear people speak in English, but in the L-café
you don’t have to … and you are not surrounded by English at that time so
then you don’t learn English.
At the EC, students tended to gather around a couple of tables inside
the main entrance. At the LC, the larger area made it possible for students
to spread out and for various sites of engagement to form. Around these
sites of engagement, social groups, or what the students referred to as
small communities, emerged. This situation drew our attention to the
RESEARCHING THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEARNER AUTONOMY
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importance of carrying out research examining the relationship between
the physical features of an environment and learning potential.
Linguistic Landscapes in Microenvironments
We also observed another phenomenon that seemed to be related to the
change in physical dimensions and the social structure: the LC became a
more multilingual environment. One of the RAs, Yasuka, drew our attention to one of the factors contributing to this development. She pointed
out that posters in the entryway announcing the activities of various language groups conveyed the message that at the LC students could speak
the language of their choice. As her comments suggest, signs convey messages about our sociolinguistic environment in addition to the message
actually written on the sign. This notion lies at the heart of a relatively new
area of inquiry, linguistic landscapes.
Linguistic landscapes refer to the ‘visibility and salience of languages on
public and commercial signs in a given territory or region’ (Landry &
Bourhis, 1997, p. 23). In other words, the term linguistic landscapes, or
semiotic landscapes, involves the study of language in public spaces—its
meaning, messages, purposes and context (Shomany & Gorter, 2009).
Recently, Ben Said and Shegar (2014) have adapted this perspective to a
microenvironment, studying posters in the public areas of a teacher training institute. In a more recent study, Wilton and Ludwig (2018) explore
the pedagogical potential of linguistic landscapes for language learning
and the promotion of learner autonomy. At the LC, the change in the
physical dimensions provided additional wall space that in turn enabled a
linguistic landscape to emerge. Posters in more than one language and
multilingual announcements of meetings of different language groups
convey the message that the L-café is a multilingual space. Future research
might examine how the messages conveyed by the linguistic landscape of
a particular space might serve to promote or constrain learners’
autonomy.
Space and Freedom
Equating space with freedom is not a new idea. As Tuan (1977), a leading
human geographer, noted, ‘Spaciousness is closely associated with the
sense of being free. Freedom implies space, it means having the power and
enough room in which to act’ (p. 52). Nonetheless, we were surprised by
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the response to the interview question ‘What difference has the change in
space made?’ One of the RAs, Shinpei, replied, ‘There are like huge space,
people can do more freely…. There’s more freedom.’
Reflecting Tuan’s comments, Shinpei says that in the larger space people have more freedom to act, suggesting they have greater freedom to
exercise their agency. Elsewhere, we have proposed that in social learning
spaces autonomy can manifest itself as the freedom to exercise one’s
agency (Murray, Fujishima, & Uzuka, 2014). Our data suggest that
researchers exploring the spatial dimension of autonomy need to be vigilant concerning the various manifestations of this construct (cf. Little,
1991) and reflect carefully on what they might reveal about its character.
In this study, we then employed retrodiction to explore which elements in
the new space contributed to this increased sense of freedom.
One such element is choice. The change in space at the LC facilitated a
wider variety of activities, which gave people more choices. Shinpei
explained that having the bigger space made it possible to have more
events such as a ‘cooking club’ and a gathering to watch a soccer game. As
Claire, one of the teachers who volunteered her time at both the EC and
LC, noted, ‘I think there’s far more options [in the LC], and I think they
feel freer to choose what they do now.’
Embodiment, Movement and Emotions
People embody spaces. Cresswell (2004) writes that ‘place, then, needs to
be understood as an embodied relationship with the world. Places are
constructed by people doing things and in this sense are never “finished”
but are constantly being performed’ (p. 37). Embodiment comprises two
aspects: first, as Cresswell points out, there is doing things with our bodies,
that is, carrying out activities in a space; and secondly, there is the aspect
of being physically in the space. When Yasuka was asked what difference
the change in size made, she replied, ‘I think the participants can have
the – how can I say – the room of their heart because there are large wide
space.’ Yasuka seems to be translating directly from Japanese. To have ‘the
room of their heart’ [心に余裕がある: Kokoroni yoyuu ga aru] is an
expression that means to feel relaxed, at ease, comfortable. Our sense of
being in a space, how we feel in a space, is important. In the L-café the
larger space made it easier for students to move around, to spread out, to
make a space into their own place. Future research into space and place
RESEARCHING THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEARNER AUTONOMY
105
will need to examine the ways in which students embody spaces, how they
feel, the emotions generated and the impact on learning.
Imagination, Identity and Self
Another feature of a space that can influence feelings and emotions, and
ultimately speak to learners’ sense of self, is the interior design, including
layout, colour and furnishings. Lena, an exchange student and English
Café worker, first brought this to our attention during the pilot study
when she talked about how she imagined the English Café to be before
her first visit.
[The manager] said it’s gonna be a place where Japanese students will be
able to practice their English… but to me, it sounded a little bit formal and
like it’s just gonna be some classroom… it didn’t sound so fun… I had
doubts whether I should do it or not…. But then the English Café opened,
it was a really pleasant looking room with a lot of different colours… I just
liked the atmosphere, it was relaxing…. So I thought, this doesn’t have to
be so boring at all, as I imagined.
Lena’s comments illustrate two important points: first, how we imagine
a place to be will influence our actions, and, secondly, physical design features, especially colour, can influence our reaction to a space and how we
define it as a place (cf. Lemke, 2005).
Having the larger space at the LC made it possible to pay more attention to layout, colour and artefacts. Commenting on students’ changing
perceptions as a result of the move, Shinpei said, ‘They can see pictures
and colourfulness from outside. It looks fun… fashionable, even furniture
and chairs, couch is fashionable, colourful, of course, it is attractive for
students.’ He suggests that design and colour can appeal to what learners
find fun and fashionable, which stems from their sense of self. Also commenting on the influence of colour and design on students’ perceptions,
Claire, said, ‘The bright and cheerful colours of the L-café feel warm,
make it feel like variety is encouraged. You can be different.’ Implicit in
Claire’s comments is the notion that design and colour can possibly speak
to learners’ imaginations and influence their identity development.
The notion that place can invoke the imagination and support identity
development is supported by the literature. Cresswell (2004) writes that
‘place is the raw material for the creative production of identity…. Place
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provides the conditions of possibility for creative social practice’ (p. 39).
His comments reflect what we have been observing in the LC. Through
participation in the various sites of engagement, students gradually can
come to imagine the possibility of becoming a foreign language speaker
and maybe even studying abroad.
While educators argue that interior design, including space and colour,
can have an impact on learners’ reactions to a learning environment and
on learning (e.g., Collier, Watson & Ozuna, 2011; Read, Sugawara &
Brandt, 1999; Van Note Chism, 2006), studies exploring the use of
colour, for example, in the field of environmental design are quite rare
(Liu, Chen & Ye, 2014). The impact of the use of colour and artefacts in
learning spaces is one area calling for the attention of researchers.
Furthermore, future research will want to explore the ways in which features of physical, virtual and metaphorical spaces can incite the imagination and combine with autonomy to support the development of L2
identities (Murray, 2013).
Time, Timescales and Space
An important theme for human geographers is the relationship between
time and space. In the early days of our study, I had hoped to draw on
their knowledge of space and place, take varying timescales into account
and leave the complex matter of the melding of time and space to researchers in other fields. However, the experiences of the learners in this study
suggest that we will need to look more closely at the implications of the
time-space relationship for autonomy in language learning.
In order to better understand the time-space relationship, we may have
to draw on the work of Bakhtin and complex dynamic systems theory
(CDST). Bakhtin (1981) introduced the chronotope in order to explore
the interconnectedness of time and space in language and literature.
Adapting Bakhtin’s construct to the study of language learning, Lemke
(2005) defines chronotopes as ‘typical movements from place to place
with their associated times of passage and pacings of events’ (p. 117). At
the LC, learners move through the space over different timescales and are
gone, in some cases taking with them the places, or sites of engagement,
they created. Places, sites of engagements and communities of practice—
all three constructs are based on practices that develop over time. As
Cresswell (2004) points out regarding places, they are never finished but
change over time. In CDST ‘system change is seen as movement in a tra-
RESEARCHING THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEARNER AUTONOMY
Table 6.2
107
A research agenda for the spatial dimension of learner autonomy
Approaches
Themes
Methods
Ecological
MDA
CDST
Affordances
Entry and access
Physical dimension and social relations
Linguistic landscapes
Space and freedom
Interior design, artefacts and colour
Embodiment, movement and emotions
Imagination, identity and self
Time and space
Ethnography
Narrative
RQM
jectory across a “state space”’ (Larsen-Freeman, 2014, p. 12). To track
that movement, researchers use topographical images which enable them
to ‘see time in spatial terms’ (ibid.). In documenting change in learning
spaces, we will not only need to take different timescales into account but
employ conceptual tools that enable us to consider the implications of the
time-space relationship.
To conclude this section, I draw together the themes discussed here
and present them in Table 6.2. These themes are accompanied by possible
research approaches and methodologies. The lists are not meant to be
exhaustive but rather to reflect what my colleagues and I are learning from
our study of the social learning space, the L-café. Having discussed potential theoretical perspectives and themes this research agenda might explore,
in the following section, I turn my attention to method.
Research Approaches and Methods
Based on what we have learned in our study, I would like to suggest three
approaches for inquiries into space, place and autonomy in language learning: ecology, mediated discourse analysis (MDA) and complex dynamic
systems theory (CDST). All three encourage the exploration of space and
place. From an ecological perspective, the focal point is the environment;
MDA examines sites of engagement; and space along with time is ‘foremost on a CDST agenda’ (Larsen-Freeman, 2014, p. 12).
Rather than prescribing specific methods, theorists working in these
areas have outlined principles to guide researchers. For example, Van Lier
(2004) advises researchers adopting an ecological perspective to explore
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relationships within the environment, consider space and varying timescales, adopt an emic perspective and contemplate the possibility of being
interventionist. In the area of mediated discourse analysis, Scollon and
Scollon (2004, pp. 152–78) have proposed ‘nexus analysis,’ an ethnographical approach comprised of three phases. During the first phase,
‘engaging the nexus of practice,’ researchers position themselves in the
research environment in relation to the phenomenon being studied. In
the second phase, ‘navigating the nexus of practice,’ researchers carry out
data collection and analysis that focuses on discourse, mediational means,
trajectories, timescales and motives. The third phase, ‘changing the nexus
of practice,’ reflects the interventionist orientation of this approach.
Researchers are also urged to consider how their engagement has impacted
the nexus of practice. To guide researchers adopting a CDST approach,
Larsen-Freeman and Cameron (2008) offer a number of recommendations, such as viewing the context as part of the system under investigation; focusing on change in terms of dynamic processes and relationships;
looking for reciprocal relationships rather than cause and effect connections; moving beyond dualistic thinking, for example, ‘acquisition versus
use’; and considering different levels and timescales, and possible connections. In their own way these three approaches focus on space (and place),
time and change.
Another commonality of these approaches is a general tendency towards
ethnography as a research methodology (with other possibilities including
case studies and narrative inquiry). However, these approaches also provide impetus for experimentation with methods and techniques ‘new’ to
the field of applied linguistics. A recent collection of studies exploring
language learning motivation from the perspective of CDST illustrates
these points (Dörnyei, MacIntyre & Henry, 2014). While a number of the
inquiries rely on methods associated with ethnography such as interviews,
others employ more innovative tools, such as Q methodology (see Irie and
Ryan, 2014, for a detailed explanation)—a method pioneered in the area
of learner autonomy by Cooker (2013)—and ‘retrodictive qualitative
modelling’ (RQM) as proposed by Dörnyei (2014).
Employing RQM, researchers first identify the end states in systems’
behaviour or outcomes and ‘then work backwards in a retrospective manner to uncover the developmental trajectories that led to those settled
states’ (Chen, Dörnyei & Henry, 2014, p. 238). As an example, we used
retrodiction to examine the development of a community of practice at
the EC. Having determined that a community of learners had developed,
RESEARCHING THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEARNER AUTONOMY
109
drawing on mediated discourse analysis as a conceptual framework, we
worked back through the data to identify the elements that led to its emergence (Murray & Fujishima, 2013; Murray, Fujishima, & Uzuka, 2014).
RQM holds potential as a means to account for change in dynamic learning environments.
Change presents a challenge for researchers exploring space and place
because ‘places are never “finished” but always “becoming”’ (Cresswell,
2004, p. 35). In a study like ours, which spans varying timescales, how is
it possible to say anything with any certainty about a place that is constantly changing? The environment we set out to investigate, the EC, no
longer exists. Over the five years of our study, the physical space and name
have changed, people have come and gone, and a new manager with a different management style and priorities has been implementing new practices. The EC has evolved into the LC, a different learning space.
Researchers investigating space, place and autonomy in language learning
will need to adopt research perspectives and employ methods and techniques that enable them to account for the dynamism of the environment.
In addition to experimenting with the ‘new,’ this will mean taking a fresh
look at ethnography, case studies and narrative inquiry.
Conclusion
In this chapter narrative has enabled me to recount the process through
which a study into a social learning space led to a research agenda for the
exploration of space and place in autonomy in language learning. Narrative
has made it possible to document the continual change in our thinking
and approach to the research environment. Tracing the trajectory of our
inquiry over a five-year period, this account illustrates how the theoretical
framework of the study evolved from a community of practice to an ecological perspective, and continued to develop as it incorporated constructs
from the literature on human geography and mediated discourse analysis.
Taking an ecological perspective has enabled us to examine how elements in a space self-organize to create places for learning. Stated another
way, adopting an ecological perspective informed by theorizing from
human geography and mediated discourse analysis, we were able to look
at how spaces are transformed into places for learning through action and
discourse. Autonomy plays a key role in this process because without
autonomy there could be no self-organization (Davis & Sumara, 2006;
Morin, 2008) and subsequent emergence of these places for learning. For
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my research partners and me, our story continues as we examine our data
from a more explicitly CDST perspective. It is my firm belief that the
exploration of space, place and autonomy from the theoretical perspectives proposed in this chapter offers the potential to provide the field with
a broader understanding of learner autonomy and the insights necessary
to create innovative spaces that can be transformed into places with
unprecedented affordances for learning.
Acknowledgement I would like to thank my research partners, Naomi Fujishima
and Mariko Uzuka, for their invaluable contribution and support, without which
the study discussed in this chapter would not have been possible. In turn, we three
are grateful to the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science for a Grant-in-Aid
for Scientific Research (C) [No. 23520674] which enabled us to extend our initial
study for an additional four years.
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Index
A
Agency, 2, 22, 42, 53, 54, 59, 60, 62,
65, 104
Autonomy
definition, 2
learner, 2, 4, 8–23, 30–32, 45,
52–67, 74–89, 94–110
social, 18, 55
teacher, 23, 74
C
Computer Assisted Language Learning
(CALL), 76, 77
D
Developing countries, 2, 3, 8
Difficult circumstances, 13, 14, 16,
17, 20, 21
E
Educational reforms, 18, 31–34, 37, 43
L
Language learning
collaborative, 21, 52, 53, 57, 58,
60, 61, 66
complexity, 62
ecology, 97, 107
formality, 79, 82, 83, 89
imagination, 56, 82, 85, 105, 106
location, 81, 88
locus of control, 79, 85–87, 89
out-of-class, 10–12, 46, 76, 79–88
pedagogy, 13, 15, 52, 59, 75, 79,
83–85, 89
places, 2, 44, 74, 80, 94, 100, 107,
109
social learning spaces, 94, 95, 101,
104, 107, 109
space, 2, 4, 81, 94, 96, 100
trajectory, 79, 89, 96
Learner
autonomy, 2, 4, 8, 30–32, 45, 52,
74, 94, 107
group work, 16, 52, 64
groups, 2, 3, 52
© The Author(s) 2018
A. Chik et al. (eds.), Autonomy in Language Learning and
Teaching, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-52998-5
115
116
INDEX
M
Mediated discourse analysis (MDA),
62, 94, 99, 100, 107–109
Mobile learning, 66
R
Research
action research, 10, 20
methodologies, 18, 107, 108
researching with children, 10, 12,
21, 22, 46
T
Teacher
autonomy, 23, 74
paradox of power, 33
professional vulnerability, 33–43, 45
social censure, 2, 3
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