Understanding Second Language
Teacher Practice Using Microanalysis
and Self-Reflection: A Collaborative
Case Study
ANNE LAZARATON
ESL/ILES
214 Nolte Center
University of Minnesota
Minneapolis, MN 55455
Email: lazaratn@umn.edu
NORIKO ISHIHARA
214 Nolte Center
University of Minnesota
Minneapolis, MN 55455
Email: ishi0029@umn.edu
Research on second/foreign language teacher impressions, reflections, and beliefs continues
to illuminate various facets of language teacher knowledge and practice, but it has only recently
begun to question the relationship between these teacher characteristics and actual classroom
discourse. This collaborative case study undertaken by a discourse analyst and an English as a
second language teacher concurrently analyzed data from one segment of transcribed grammar classroom interaction and the teacher’s focused self-reflections in order to examine the
insights both participants independently brought to bear on the understanding of the nonverbal behavior in the segment under scrutiny. Through these analyses and the collaborative
dialogue that ensued, both the discourse analyst and the teacher came to reevaluate their
research methodologies and to conclude that the microanalysis of classroom discourse and the
teacher self-reflections complemented each other by providing insights that neither method
generated in isolation.
IN RECENT YEARS, THE FIELD OF APPLIED
linguistics has witnessed the emergence and expansion of second/foreign language (L2) teacher
education as a vibrant subfield, one that is, in
some ways, almost independent from other subfields such as language assessment and language
acquisition, due to its unique theme of educating and informing pre- and in-service language
teachers. The vast majority of empirical work on
L2 teacher practice has focused on teacher beliefs, impressions, and reflections about decisionmaking process, practical knowledge, and the
like—data sources that are the standard in language teacher education research (e.g., Freeman
& Johnson, 1998b; Johnson, 1999). The methods
of self-reflection and narrative inquiry in the study
of language teaching have been shown to be use-
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C 2005 The Modern Language Journal
ful and viable tools for teacher professional development (Cheng, 2003; Johnson & Golombek,
2002).
However, such research, focusing on language
teacher knowledge and beliefs, has, until recently,
neglected to consider an additional, potentially
crucial factor—the actual discourse produced in
these teachers’ classes. Close examination of classroom discourse recorded precisely as it happens
not only allows detailed analyses of classroom
practices, but can also validate or provide counterevidence to the self-reflection provided by the
teacher. It would be a mistake in this kind of close
examination of classroom discourse to consider
only the insights of the discourse analyst and not
the insights of the participants in that discourse—
in particular the classroom teacher. The teacher’s
interpretation of the discourse might also support
or disconfirm the researcher’s analysis of this talk.
In other words, it is an empirical question whether
or not, or to what extent, there is a match between
(a) what teachers say they know and believe, and
530
what they actually do, and (b) the researcher’s
and the teacher’s understanding of the classroom
discourse, as revealed by fine-grained analyses of
it. This article reports on a collaborative case study
by a discourse analyst and a practicing English as a
second language (ESL) teacher and represents an
initial attempt to answer three related questions
on this topic:
1. What insights can a discourse analyst bring
to bear on the understanding of a teacher’s nonverbal behavior as displayed in the classroom discourse, and what additional insights can he or
she gain through collaborative dialogue with the
teacher that were not otherwise obvious by working independently?
2. What insights can an ESL classroom teacher
bring to bear on the understanding of his or her
own nonverbal behavior as displayed in the classroom discourse, and what additional insights can
he or she gain through collaborative dialogue with
a discourse analyst that were not otherwise obvious by working independently?
3. How can the analyst and the ESL teacher
come to reevaluate their respective methodologies as a result of collaborative dialogue?
BACKGROUND
In recent years, applied linguists have focused
their attention on L2 teacher education and practice; classroom discourse has been a locus of
interest for quite some time. On the one hand,
there is a growing body of research published
on the topic of language teacher education in
the form of books (e.g., Freeman & Richards,
1996; Johnson, 2000; Richards & Nunan, 1990)
and research articles (e.g., the special issue on
language teacher education in the 1998 TESOL
Quarterly [Freeman & Johnson, 1998a], and many
more elsewhere). Studies in language teacher
education are now regularly presented at conferences such as the annual convention of Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages
(TESOL; under the rubric of the teacher education interest section). The biannual conference specifically on this topic, the International
Conference on Language Teacher Education
(ICLTE), is now well-established with increasing
participation by teacher educators from around
the globe. Themes that are prevalent in this
scholarship include: the conceptualization of the
teachers’ knowledge base and its relationship to
student learning (e.g., Freeman & Johnson,
1998b; Johnson & Freeman, 2001; Johnston &
Goettsch, 2000); teacher practice or beliefs, or
The Modern Language Journal 89 (2005)
both (e.g., Breen, Hird, Milton, Oliver, & Thwaite,
2001; Burns, 1992; Crookes, 1997; Johnson, 1992);
the role of theory in language teacher education
(e.g., Johnson, 1996; Schlessman, 1997); curricula
and instructional techniques in language teacher
education programs (e.g., Freeman & Cornwell,
1993; Ishihara, 2003; Kamhi-Stein, 2000; Stoynoff,
1999); and reflective teaching and action research
(e.g., Johnson & Golombek, 2002; Johnston, 2001;
Richards & Lockhart, 1996; Stanley, 1998, 1999).
From a teacher’s standpoint, systematic selfreflection (i.e., critical self-inquiry about one’s
own teaching practice) requires the teacher to
make a serious and sustained commitment to
scrutinizing teaching principles and practices; this
self-critique process is known to be rigorous and
sometimes painstaking (Johnston, 2001; Stanley,
1998). Action research, which most often relies on
teachers’ self-reflection on their own teaching beliefs and practice, if conducted systematically and
extensively, promotes the construction of teachers’ knowledge of their own practice, including
experiential knowledge, disciplinary knowledge,
and sociocultural knowledge of the teaching context. Although first-person narratives have generally been marginalized as valid data in the social
and human sciences (Pavlenko & Lantolf, 2000),
in the body of research on language teaching,
self-reports have been extensively and reliably employed as legitimate data sources (e.g., Freeman
& Richards, 1996; Johnson, 2000; Johnson &
Golombek, 2002; Woods, 1996). Furthermore,
the process of action research through reflective
practice or self-inquiry enables the construction
of teacher-generated knowledge (Cheng, 2003),
thus empowering teachers as the creators and not
just the holders of such knowledge (Beattie, 1995;
Johnson, 1996).
On the other hand, applied linguistics researchers have long been preoccupied by the nature of talk produced in L2 classrooms, especially
classes where students are learning ESL. For the
most part, this research has examined classroom
discourse in order to determine its impact on language acquisition by the learner, but has not explored the relationship between talk in classrooms
and teacher knowledge or beliefs. Chaudron
(1988), for example, summarized literally hundreds of studies (most of which were both
experimental and quantitative in nature) that analyzed: the amount and type of teacher talk; learner
verbal behavior with respect to age, culture, and
language task; teacher–student interaction in the
L2 classroom as shown through questioning behavior and corrective feedback; and the influence of these factors on learning outcomes. More
Anne Lazaraton and Noriko Ishihara
recently, Johnson’s (1995) book analyzed the ways
in which teacher communication patterns influence and in some ways restrict student participation opportunities, and by extension, their
acquisition of a L2. Several later studies have employed interpretive techniques in analyzing actual recorded and transcribed talk to understand,
for example, the means by which ESL teachers
answered student requests for definitions of unknown vocabulary (Markee, 1995), the ways in
which the discourse patterns present in an adult
ESL conversation class were influenced by particular instructional goals of the teacher (Ulichny,
1996), and the ways in which teacher practices in
the classroom led to “community stratification,”
where “deficient” students were barred from beneficial classroom activities (Toohey, 1998). Yet,
a notable limitation of almost all of this L2
classroom-based research, in its nearly exclusive
focus on the learner, is its failure to consider
the insights and perspectives of the teachers in
question.
It is heartening to see that a few studies (including several unpublished doctoral dissertations) have begun to question the assumed (or
overlooked) link between beliefs about teaching and how teaching is actually practiced.
Martinez (2000) investigated the relationship
between the educational beliefs and the classroom literacy practices of a first-grade bilingual
teacher. Her conceptions of her students, her
students’ learning, as well as her perceptions
about literacy instruction and the extra-classroom
demands on her, were shown to guide her literacy practices. Tucker (2001) also compared
teacher beliefs about language learning theories
and teaching methods with classroom practice in
data collected from middle school English classrooms in China. Tucker found that there was
no relationship between stated beliefs and actual
practice.
Mastrini-McAteer (1997) looked at the beliefs
and practices of 18 third-grade reading teachers
and concluded that just over one quarter of the
teachers taught in congruence with their stated
beliefs about reading instruction; prior experience seemed to influence beliefs about reading
instruction the most, while actual classroom practices were most affected by the materials used
in the classes. In addition, classes in which the
teachers taught reading according to their beliefs showed significantly greater gains in student achievement. Classroom literacy practices
were also analyzed by Wharton-McDonald, Pressley, and Hampston (1998), who conducted interviews with and observations of three groups
531
(n = 9) of first grade teachers. Data from the
observations indicated that the three outstanding teachers’ classes were rich in authentic reading and writing practice; these activities were
balanced with explicit instruction in literacy skills.
Comments from the teachers were taken as evidence of teacher beliefs about the importance of
scaffolding, of having high expectations of students, and of having an awareness of purpose
about class activities.
Finally, rather than looking broadly at classroom practice via observations, Oskoz and LiskinGasparro (2001) published a case study on the
beliefs about and the discourse of corrective feedback in a university-level Spanish class. Three
hours of classroom instruction were audiotaped
and coded for various features of feedback reported in previous literature. The teacher, a native
speaker of Spanish, was also interviewed to elicit
information about her beliefs on this classroom
practice. She professed a belief that students were
inhibited by frequent correction, but the data
indicated that she provided extensive corrective
feedback, not just in form-focused activities, but
in activities with a communicative focus, where
she claimed to use recasts most frequently.
Still, what is missing in this small body of work
is an explicit connection between classroom discourse, on the one hand, and the teacher’s voice,
on the other. It is the thesis of the present article that both language teacher educators and
discourse analysts need to consider both forms
of information—that is, the insights gleaned
from teacher-directed, self-reflective action research and the results generated from researcherdirected microanalyses of classroom discourse.
This collaborative process would allow us to determine, first, if there is a congruence between
analyses of discourse and analyses of beliefs and
impressions, and if there is not, to suggest a line
of research that would stimulate further teacher
reflection and reinforce the discourse analysts’
empirical claims. That is, such research has the
potential to inform us about, on the one hand,
what sorts of unique information each type of
analysis provides, and on the other, how each analysis may complement the other. This article represents an initial attempt to consider the insights
provided by these two approaches to understanding L2 teacher practice by reporting the results of
a collaborative case study project undertaken by
an applied linguistics researcher using discourse
analysis and an ESL classroom teacher using reflective practice. After a synopsis of our data collection procedures, we present the results of our
collaborative research.
532
METHOD
The data for this study were collected over a 20month period in 2001–2002. Table 1 represents a
schematic of this process.
Participants
Initially, the researcher (R) was awarded a grant
to analyze the discourse that is present in Intensive English Program (IEP) ESL classrooms
at a large, Midwestern university. In February
2001, she approached two teachers (T and another teacher, who is not discussed in this article)
who agreed to take part in the study, which involved videotaping three 50-minute classes each
during a 15-week semester. T’s classes were videotaped by university language center personnel
during February, March, and April of 2001 in a
university classroom equipped with two mounted
corner cameras, several external microphones
suspended from the ceiling, and one Sound Grabber table microphone at the front of the room.
The camera setup allowed the researcher to view
T’s whole body movements and her gaze, but did
not capture in any systematic way the behavior or
the talk of the students.
T, a female master’s degree candidate in ESL
in her late 20s from Japan, had 5 years of EFL
teaching experience in a private language school
in Japan and 1 year of U.S. ESL experience as a
teaching assistant in the IEP at the time of the taping. Three of her Level 4 (of 7) university intensive
English grammar classes were taped. The teaching points for those days were: (a) relative clauses
and gerunds, (b) past progressive verb tense, and
(c) mass/count nouns and quantifiers.
The Modern Language Journal 89 (2005)
A total of 23 students were participants in one
or more of the three videotaped classes. There
was a nearly even mix of males and females, from
their late teens to their early 30s. Nearly half of the
students were from Korea and about one quarter
were from Saudi Arabia; 10 other countries were
represented in this group of learners.
Procedures
R carefully viewed each of T’s three tapes after recording in order to come up with some
initial questions that might be pursued in future discourse analyses. One aspect of T’s behavior that immediately struck R as notable was the
frequency and the variety of nonverbal behavior—
including gestures, gaze, and body positioning—
that T employed in her intermediate-level
grammar classroom, especially behavior that accompanied a number of unplanned explanations
of vocabulary that arose during her three focuson-form lessons. R decided that gesture use would
be one area that she would look into further. T and
R discussed the possibility of doing some collaborative research on T’s teaching, but this research
was not undertaken until the fall of 2002.
Coincidentally, at about the same time, T, being in the second year of her master’s program in
teaching ESL, was engaged in some serious selfreflection about her classroom teaching. Attempting to evaluate her own teaching on the one hand
(Where do I stand as an ESL teacher after several years of teaching EFL and ESL, and what are
the issues of my teaching?), she was challenged to
grapple with more fundamental questions (What
prevents me from teaching as I believe? What are
my teaching principles?) in the fast-paced life of
TABLE 1
Data Collection Procedures
Researcher
Teacher
Videotaping of teaching: February–April, 2001
Initial inquiry: February–March, 2001
Initial impressions about teaching: February–April,
2001
Transcription of verbal channel by a research
assistant: July, 2001
R1 Addition of nonverbal behavior to transcript and
T1–T2 Initial reactions and reflections: July, 2001;
microanalysis: July, 2002
July, 2002
R2–R4 Written reactions to
T3–T6 Written reactions and
teacher’s writings: October 22,
reflections: October 5,
Meetings to watch videotapes and
2002–November 18, 2002 −−−−→ collaborate on ideas: August 21, ←−−−− 2002–November 18, 2002
←−−−−
−−−−→
2002–October 24, 2002
Note. R = Researcher; T = Teacher; R1–R4 = Researcher’s analytic notes, comments; T1–T6 = Teacher’s data
source for action research.
533
Anne Lazaraton and Noriko Ishihara
a teacher and graduate student. On the other
hand, she felt that, due to the nurturing nature
of the master’s degree program in which she was
enrolled, she had not received much constructive feedback about her teaching, yet she thought
some critique would be crucial to improve her
teaching. Therefore, she accepted R’s request to
participate in the study as an opportunity for both
a diagnosis of and a systematic reflection on her
teaching. In order to investigate her teaching behavior and to make more specific inquiries about
her teaching, T adopted the methods of selfreflection. Of course, it was evident that her teaching concerns could not be dissociated from her
status as a nonnative English-speaking teacher,
and her reflection, as it is presented below, occasionally draws on this perspective. Nevertheless,
the focus of this article rests on one aspect of her
teaching, namely her use of nonverbal behavior,
and we view our research more broadly, as an issue
relevant to both native- and nonnative-speaking
language teachers seeking professional development. The action research (or more specifically,
exploratory practice)1 on her part prompted further questions and self-examination, which will be
discussed in detail.
During the summer of 2001, a graduate
research assistant, under the supervision of R,
transcribed the audio portion of the three videotapes using conversation analysis (CA) conventions (Atkinson & Heritage, 1984; see Appendix).
This process resulted in about 75 pages of transcription for T’s three 50-minute classes.
Then, over the summer of 2002, R undertook
a detailed analysis of T’s nonverbal behavior, using the broad categories summarized by McNeill
(1992).2 This analysis required additional transcription of the visual aspects of her teaching,
using a “second-line transcript” (see Lazaraton,
2002). In July, 2002, R completed a manuscript on
T’s nonverbal behavior (see Lazaraton, 2004, for
a comprehensive literature review on this topic);
some of the findings from this analysis are discussed below. Concurrently but independently, T
was asked to begin an examination of her nonverbal behavior on the teaching videos. The initial
reflections from and reactions to the videotapes
by T are included in the results section.
Beginning in August of 2002 and continuing
to October of the same year, T and R met to view
the videotapes together and discuss their content.
Each of these seven meetings was audiotaped. T
produced a rough transcription following each
session so that we would have a written record of
what we discussed, from which we would be able
extract relevant analytic comments. Following our
third meeting, T began a series of four written reflections and reactions, to which R responded in
turn. This process resulted in a written, collaborative dialogue between T and R, from which
we were able to detect several themes, including
corrective feedback practices, classroom management issues, cultural knowledge displays, and nonverbal behavior. Before turning to a discussion
of this last aspect of T’s classroom practice—her
nonverbal behavior—we would note the potential richness of our data and the multiple layers of
information they contain. It is no easy task to interweave these layers of information. The results
we now present are just one (and certainly not
the only or the best) attempt to make sense of our
experiences with the data.
RESULTS
Three central findings that emerged from our
collaboration are discussed below: (a) R’s discourse analysis of T’s nonverbal behavior and her
subsequent awareness of its limitations; (b) T’s
interpretation of her teaching practice through
action research, that is, her journey of selfreflection, and the insights gained through collaborative dialogue with R; and (c) T’s and R’s
methodological reevaluations, derived from and
stimulated during the collaboration, for understanding L2 teacher classroom discourse and for
understanding teaching and articulating beliefs.
R’s Discourse Analysis of T’s Nonverbal Behavior
Using information gleaned from the few empirical applied linguistics studies on nonverbal behavior (e.g., Allen, 2000; Gullberg, 1998;
McCafferty, 1998, 2002) and employing the discourse analytic technique of microanalysis (as in
Lazaraton, 2002; Markee, 2000), R carefully scrutinized the nonverbal behavior that occurred during one sort of classroom talk in the data: the
unplanned vocabulary explanations in T’s grammar lessons. Sequences in which vocabulary was
explained seemed a logical place to start examining nonverbal behavior, given that such behavior,
as a communication strategy, is thought to serve
one or more functions: as a replacement of, a support for, or an accompaniment to lexical items
or referents in discourse (e.g., Dörnyei & Scott,
1997). One sort of information that is commonly
conveyed in the ESL classroom is the meaning of
vocabulary words, which as we know, is perhaps
the prototypical language use situation requiring
the deployment of nonverbal behavior. For example, words like mislay, weave, majority of, and argue
534
were all explained verbally and with accompanying gestures, body movement, and gaze by T. The
most complex and most interesting of the fragments analyzed concerned T’s explanation of the
word hypothesis. This explanation took place in the
context of practice with count, noncount nouns,
and the plural forms of count nouns. T had just
explained the irregular plural form for hypothesis and theory, when a student (S1) asked her to
define hypothesis (see Excerpt 1).
In line 2 of Excerpt 1, T confirms the word being asked about by echoing hypothesis? while walking towards the class from the board and assuming a thoughtful pose. She begins her explanation
with “if you’re writing a (.) thesis” (a term which
itself may be unfamiliar to these young, unmatriculated ESL students). Then she says “and you
see one thing” and at one thing , her hands, with
palms vertical and out flat, move up and down
three times. The verbal emphasis on one thing is
reinforced by the “beat” gestures that go with it.
Next, she says “and you’re thinking of why:,” with
why in clause final position and emphasized by
its lengthened vowel. Concurrent with the onset
of talk is her metaphoric gesture, pointing her
right index finger to her head (again, suggesting
thinking). The kay serves as a confirmation check,
followed by “an you’re guessing,” the last word cooccurring with her right index finger, still at her
temple, making a circling motion (a metaphoric
gesture suggesting wheels of thought).
After a .2 second pause in line 8, she continues,
using the target vocabulary word, “hypothesis one
this is beca:use of this.” An enumerative structure
is projected by the one and a cause and effect
rhetorical structure is suggested by the beca:use.
The hand gestures that come with this talk are as
follows: at “hypothesis one,” her hands, in front of
her at her chest, are placed in a clapping position,
which she moves from right to left. This may also
signal metaphorically a cause and its effects.
The verbal production of “hypothesis two” in
line 10 occurs with the same hand position as
for “hypothesis one”: both hands in front of her
in a clapping position at her chest level. This
phrase is followed by “so you’re (.2) uh lining
up (.2) reasons” in lines 10 and 12. At you’re, T’s
right hand moves vertically from chest to waist in
three chop movements, a metaphorical gesture
suggesting the physical structure of a list. At lining up, there are two more of the same vertical
chop gestures, again suggesting a vertical list (although lining up is perhaps more a horizontal notion). Finally, at reasons, there are two more of the
same gesture, followed by a self-correction, possible reasons, which occurs with five hand chops,
The Modern Language Journal 89 (2005)
then the restatement of the lexical item in line
14: “they’re called (.) hypotheses.”
In line 15, S1 shows her (mis)understanding of
this explanation by asking, “just like um: like an
opinion or?” An unidentified student repeats reason in line 16, which is overlapped by T herself
repeating “reasons yeah” in line 17. She then undertakes a second attempt to explain hypothesis at
“like you say:,” she resumes the thoughtful pose
again, which is followed by “students in this class
are nowt happy” (apparently an example of an
observation she might make), at which time she
again points to her head with her right index finger. She then adds “and I am thinking why?” At
why? she looks out the window of the classroom
they are in. She adds “maybe it’s because it’s so:
snowing so much.” At maybe, she points out the
window, where the students can see a snowstorm
raging (a good possible reason to be unhappy
on April 16!). And at so much, she puts her right
thumb up in a “thumbs up” position to indicate
number 1. She then adds another possible reason
in line 25: “maybe its um maybe they don’t like
American food?” Here maybe is accompanied by a
head shake “no,” and at food, she adds her raised
right index finger to her raised right thumb to
signal number 2.
After a comprehension check, kay in line 27,
she says “I’m guessing reasons” (contrasting with
lining up reasons in her first attempt), which occurs with two more vertical chops of the same
metaphoric gesture for a list structure. She finishes up her explanation by saying “they are
hypotheses” in line 29, which again is accompanied by three vertical chops. During the 2.5 second pause in line 31 and through line 34, she
nods. She also does two verbal comprehension
checks, umkay and alright, before resuming her
instruction on these nouns.
Here is R’s conclusion about this fragment:
In this example, T demonstrates both the highly complex and interrelated nature of gestures and speech
and her competence at using these forms of communication; we also see how these gestures add critical
information to the verbal explanation being given.
A metaphorical gesture which implies “thinking” by
pointing to the head, the concept of “guessing” that is
conveyed through the metaphorical gesture “wheels
of thought,” a cause and effect structure which is implied by the right to left “beat” gestures, and a physical
list of reasons which is depicted by creating an imaginary vertical list with hand chops: all of these gestures
support and add redundancy to the verbal message
she relates. (R1, 7/11/02)
Whereas this conclusion is still valid for R, she
also understood that her transcription of the
Anne Lazaraton and Noriko Ishihara
EXCERPT 1
Hypothesis
1
S1:
um whats mean (.) hy?-
2
3
TE:
hypothesis?,.hhh [um if you’re writing a (.) thesis
[walk toward class,
assumes “thoughtful pose”
4
5
(.) and you see [one thing (.) [and you’re thinking of
[palms flat
[point rt. index
and vertical
finger to head
move up and
down 3 times
6
7
why: (.) kay? an you’re [guessing
[rt. index finger in circle
motion
8
9
(.2) [hypothesis [one [this is be[ca:use of [this
[hands in clapping [hands in clapping
position at chest
position at chest,
move R→L in two move R→L in three
beats
beats
10
11
(.2) [hypothesis [two so [you’re (.2) uh
[hands in clapping [RH flat and horizontal
position at chest
move down in three chop
move R →L in two movements
beats
12
13
[lining up (.2) [reasons (.)
[possible reasons
−→
[RH flat and horizontal [same but
move down in two chop five chops
movements
14
they’re called (.) hypotheses
15
S1:
just like um: like an opinion or?
16
S?:
rea[son
17
18
TE:
[reasons yeah. (.) [like you say: (.2)
[thoughtful pose
19
[students in this class are nowt happy
20
[point rt. index finger to head
21
22
(.) and I am thinking [why? (.2)
[look out window
23
24
[maybe it’s because it’s so: snowing [so much,
[point out window
[thumb shows
#1
25
26
(.5) maybe [its um maybe they don’t like
[shake head “no”
27
28
american [food?, kay?
[index finger shows #2
29
30
[I’m guessing reasons (.) [they are hypotheses.
[RH flat and horizontal [same but
move down in two chop
three chops
movements
31
32
[(2.5)
[nodding thru line 33
33
TE:
34
35
36
umkay
(2.0)
TE:
[alright?
[looks to left then down
535
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nonverbal behavior might have been too rough,
and her data too meager. But it was only as a result of this collaborative study that she was made
acutely aware of the inherent limitations of her
microanalysis for understanding this segment of
classroom discourse. This realization was one important outcome of the collaborative dialogues in
which R and T engaged:
T: While I gave two sets of explanations for what hypothesis meant, I used two ways to demonstrate the
parallel relationship of hypotheses. When explaining
that hypotheses are educated guesses, I used vertical
gestures listing those guesses, intending to visualize
the plural form of the word, the focal point of that
grammar class. (T4, 10/19/02)
R: Huh. I didn’t get the fact that the gestures were to
indicate plural—in fact, I forgot that this segment was
about singular versus plural and not primarily about
the meaning of the word! (R2, 10/22/02)
T: When the student asked me what hypothesis meant,
my mindset was still “singular-plural” mode. Besides,
I had explained that some nouns were count, some
others noncount, and still others could be either depending on the situation . . . . Another point I made
was that the distinction between count and noncount
nouns was also sometimes counterintuitive and confusing . . . . Such conceptualization of nouns is very
complex for this level of students (and perhaps anyone else) . . . . So while I explained the meaning of
hypothesis, what I was trying to convey explicitly or implicitly, or at least what I had in the back of my mind
was: (1) the meaning of the word, (2) the fact that
even though it is an abstract noun, it can be counted
(and always so, never noncount, unlike cheese, coffee or
communication that can be either), (3) the irregular
form of the plural of the word (as similar to oasis-oases,
crisis-crises, basis-bases that we had discussed earlier in
a few class periods before), and (4) the pronunciation of the plural form (with the lengthened vowel
[i:] with a secondary stress as opposed to unstressed
schwa in the singular form) as well as the pronunciation of singular (as it was difficult for this level, as you
see S1 [one of the students in the video] could not
pronounce the word while asking its meaning). (T5,
10/26/02)
R: Okay, and all I got in my analysis was the construction of the vocabulary explanation itself—the words
and gestures used to convey this information (1) I
totally missed (2), its count noncount status, (3) its
irregular form, since the sequence I analyzed did not
consider the immediately prior talk on this, and (4)
the pronunciation aspect. So I only saw what I was
looking for—the overall goals of the sequence, and
the class, were lost on me. (R4, 11/18/02)
After this dialogue with T, R returned to the videotape to view the segment again, and retranscribed
the word hypothesis as hypotheses in line 29, where
The Modern Language Journal 89 (2005)
the plural morpheme is said more emphatically.
Although this fine-tuning of the data representation may not constitute an actual reanalysis of
this segment, T’s input made for a more accurate
transcription of the key word, and, by extension,
a more informed view on what occurred, as well
as why. In other words, the microanalysis worked
well for understanding what happened in the
segment, and how the explanation was accomplished. But it was limited to the sequence at hand;
the larger pedagogical focus of the segment was
missed.
T’s Interpretations and Insights
In T’s initial inquiries, very little attention was
paid to nonverbal behavior; her written records
(T1, 7/01; T2, 7/02) made no mention of that
topic. The verbal aspects of teaching were so central for T that the nonverbal counterpart did not
draw her attention. Moreover, in the collaborative
dialogue with R, T initially expressed her skepticism a few times as to how meaningful her gestures
were, and whether the gestures looked confusing.
In her perception, her gestural repertoire was so
limited that she suspected that the same gestures
used for multiple purposes might have confused
her students (Collaborative meetings 4, 9/16/02;
and 6, 10/2/02).
However, through reflection and discussion
with R, T developed a new understanding about
her nonverbal behavior in the classroom. Both
studying R’s discourse analysis and collaboratively
reviewing the teaching segment in question added
objective evidence to T’s understanding of her
own teaching. She came to believe that her nonverbal behavior was systematic and coordinated
with the verbal explanation of the vocabulary:
R: We can’t see it without a transcript, but the way
that the gesture was coordinated with talk was just, it’s
amazing how we do that as speakers. How the gestures
get totally coordinated with the talk. (Collaborative
meeting 6, 10/2/02)
R: I was looking at the explanations integrated with
the nonverbal behavior . . . . You got the words, and the
gestures, totally integrated with each other to convey
the meaning of the word. (Collaborative meeting 5,
9/25/02)
T: What I thought were my idiosyncratic gestures indeed had labels, or had been used by others . . . (e.g.,
wheels of thought; the thoughtful pose, the cause and
effect gesture). Since I try to use nonverbal behavior
that is appropriate in American culture while teaching . . . I was happy to learn that my gestures made
sense to a Western audience and were viewed as meaningful behavior that was consistent with my verbal
Anne Lazaraton and Noriko Ishihara
behavior . . . it was reassuring that these microanalyses
verified my appropriate understanding and use of my
second language nonverbal behavior. (T4, 10/19/02)
This understanding gained through collaboration
and reflection stimulated and finally enabled T to
analyze and articulate her beliefs about nonverbal
behavior in L2 teaching. First, upon hearing R’s
comments “Gestures . . . have multiple meanings,
just like words have multiple meanings” (Meeting
7, 10/24/02), T came to realize the multifunctional nature of gestures.
Then, T’s renewed understanding of her use
of gesture and her articulated belief about the
use of nonverbal behavior in the L2 classroom
was transformed into her new experiential knowledge, evidence of which we can see in her written
reflection:
T: It [non-verbal behavior] can certainly be an effective teaching aid that can bolster both teaching and
student comprehension, provided that it is used in
a pedagogically and culturally appropriate manner.
To be effective, non-verbal behavior must be coordinated with the verbal counterpart in a non-obtrusive
way, and used to send a consistent message. (T4,
10/19/02)
This excerpt from T’s reflections clearly shows
that the attention to nonverbal behavior brought
by R provided T with an opportunity to reflect
on one aspect of her teaching practice that she
would never have examined if she had been working independently. The tools of reflection (in this
case, the combination of [a] reviewing the videotaped teaching independently and collaboratively
and [b] studying R’s discourse analysis and interpretation) led T to a new understanding of her
teaching with regard to nonverbal behavior. With
this tangible and objective evidence, T was able to
articulate her belief about nonverbal behavior in
the L2 classroom, which came to be new experiential knowledge of her own teaching.
T’s and R’s Methodological Reevaluations
For R, T’s final questions about the discourse
analysis in which she engaged were quite revealing.
T: How much did microanalysis inform you about my
teaching? (T5, 10/28/02)
R: It’s hard for me to answer this question about just
this segment, because I have spent the last year using
microanalysis to analyze lots of stuff in your teaching
(and from the other teacher). What the microanalysis
analysis has shown me is that for each of the factors
I have looked at—cultural explanations, vocabulary
explanations, gestural use, and corrective feedback—
537
there is a great deal of systematicity in your teaching.
You have a repertoire of tools you use to accomplish
these pedagogical activities. I have concluded in almost every case they SEEM no different to me than
what a native speaker would do, but I have no data to
back that up. (R4, 11/18/02)
T: Could you have gotten the same insights just by
watching the videotaped segment in question a number of times?
R: No. I would have had some hunches that I could
make, and I would be able to talk about your teaching
in general ways, but only through the detailed and
systematic analysis, watching the segments again and
again, looking at the transcripts again and again. This
is the only way I feel that I have “evidence” for the
claims I want to make . . . . Watching the video is too
fleeting—I have no way of holding in my mind what
I see, and I have no way of comparing it with other
segments that might or might not be alike. Microanalysis is like a pair of glasses that I put on that impose
or suggest some sort of order (but not the only order, or even the best order) on the messy data that
I analyze. It is interesting though that my initial impression, back when the data were collected, is that
you use gestures very effectively and this is part of
what makes you a good teacher. Microanalysis has not
changed my opinion—it’s just given me a leg to stand
on, so to speak. (R4, 11/18/02)
T: How important is it to you to make any claim about
second language teaching and teacher development?
R: From a “pure CA” standpoint, not important at all.
Real world pedagogical applications are just not central to CA. From an applied perspective, somewhat,
although I think CA is limited in terms of what it can
claim. It can explain how things are done, but not
why. On the other hand, most (all?) language teacher
research is concerned with why, so some how work
is called for. However, I think that a triangulation of
methods, like we have employed in this study, does
show promise in ways that CA and self-reflection just
can’t by themselves. If you think of CA as the how issue, and self-reflection as the why, it would make sense
to do them together. (R4, 11/18/02)
That is, R has a better grasp of the value, and the
limits, of her discourse analysis of T’s teaching.
The microanalysis shed light on how T brought
her nonverbal behavior to bear on the vocabulary explanations she gave, but not on why. Only
T could “round out” the analysis in such a way
as to provide R with the necessary information to
understand what the “Hypothesis” segment actually entailed, and how it was contextualized within
the larger pedagogical frame of the activity, the
class, and the course itself. In other words, R
was forced to reexamine her own beliefs about
participant voice in interpretive research, an always contentious issue in applied linguistics and
538
other related disciplines (e.g., Chapelle & Duff,
2003; Lazaraton, 2003; Markee, 2000; Moerman,
1988; Richards, 2003). Although R has, to date, eschewed appealing to or relying on ethnographic
information from participants in her research, in
line with prescriptions from conversation analysis,
she has begun to question this purist stance. In
this study, T’s input resulted in a retranscription
of the key word being defined in the segment; this
result only reinforces the point for R that T’s voice
is perhaps the central one to which we should listen, because it is her insights, experiences, and
reflections that underlie the study itself.
For T, the process of action research and the
construction of new knowledge can be traced in
her self-reflective writing:
T: In our collaborative dialogues, R asked me questions that I would never ask myself, and pushed me
to think why I taught as I taught. Some of these
questions stuck in my mind and stimulated further
contemplation within myself. I questioned and rethought what I had told her, taking it to another level
of thinking and understanding. How do I know what I
know? What shapes my view of second language teaching/learning? In other words, such collaborative reflection and further reflection bridges my personal
experience of being an EFL/ESL teacher/learner to
my current teacher beliefs and professional identity
in the United States. (T3, 10/05/02)
The collaborative dialogues with R elicited T’s
long-forgotten recollection of her past experience
reading a book on her first language (L1) and
L2 language gestures (Williams, 1998) and teaching gestures in her EFL classroom. The discussions also reminded T of the stated beliefs she
had about teaching culture before entering the
master’s degree program in ESL. Through extensive self-reflection, the empirical investigation
of the classroom discourse, and the collaborative
discussion with R, the action research employed
in this study enabled her to make a connection between deeply buried subconscious beliefs,
half-forgotten experience, and the currently constructed knowledge of her teaching, thus leading to her continued professional growth. Some
teacher education literature argues that inquiry
into teachers’ personal and professional language
learning and teaching experiences allows teachers
to link such experiences to their current teaching beliefs and practice (Fang, 1996; Johnson &
Golombek, 2002). The methodological process
of self-reflection and action research can also
engender in-depth critical self-exploration by
stepping back, reflecting, interpreting, and articulating one’s own practice of teaching to arrive
at an awareness of one’s own knowledge about
The Modern Language Journal 89 (2005)
teaching (the construction and reconstruction
of the teachers’ knowledge; Beattie, 1995; Johnson, 1996). A teacher’s experiential knowledge
entails not only contextualized knowledge of the
class (e.g., specific knowledge of the curriculum,
materials, and learners, namely, the knowledge
necessary for teaching and evaluating his or her
classroom practice), but also knowledge of how
his or her teaching beliefs came to be and how
they relate to his or her own practice. This study
also suggests that such knowledge can inform
both the teacher and the discourse analyst in a
broader context when the teacher functions as a
research collaborator.
LIMITATIONS
Although we are pleased with the outcomes of
our study, we would be remiss if we did not mention several potential drawbacks of this sort of
collaborative work. For one, the labor-intensive
nature of microanalysis of transcribed talk is well
known by those who work in this area, and the
time spent meeting each other, emailing back and
forth to follow up and push ourselves forward,
and systematically recording these events makes
us somewhat cautious in recommending this approach to others. We should note that the results
discussed here are only a small part of the data
collected. In the future, we plan to follow a similar path in exploring our analyses of the corrective
feedback that T used in her classes.
Furthermore, we are acutely aware that our
data, although quite enlightening, do not, in their
current state, shed light on whether T’s newly
gained knowledge about her teaching in fact led
to enhanced teacher practice. Unfortunately, T
has not formally taught ESL since the data were
collected, so we have no information on this
important question. In a similar vein, although
earlier studies have reported learners’ enhanced
listening comprehension by use of a certain
type of gestures (“illustrators,” Harris, 2003), we
have no evidence that the gestures T used led
to enhanced student understanding (Johnson &
Freeman, 2001) in this particular classroom. The
majority of the students are no longer in the country, and even if they were, we know of no reliable
or valid way of assessing the value of nonverbal
behavior in student understanding or learning.
In addition, because the discourse data came
from videotapes of classroom interaction, the
presence of the recording equipment undoubtedly influenced T’s classroom behavior. In fact,
in one of our collaborative meetings, T noted
that she felt very self-conscious during the
539
Anne Lazaraton and Noriko Ishihara
tapings, perhaps not every moment but pretty
much throughout the classes. Likewise, her students might have acted slightly differently because of the change in the seating arrangement
from the regular classroom. These observations
are not meant to negate our findings, but to suggest that we interpret them prudently, with respect
to how T might or might not behave in a “normal”
situation.
No definitive claims about the nature of T’s
nonverbal behavior can be made based on the
one fragment analyzed in this article. Space
limitations in publication venues almost always
preclude mention of each relevant case in interpretive research. However, even an analysis and
presentation of all such instances in the data are
still subject to questions about how representative they are of T’s behavior in other, untaped
lessons, with other students, teaching other language skills.
Finally, of course, even though this collaborative process surely added to T’s experiential
knowledge of her own practice, we cannot make
claims about the generalizability of the experiential knowledge gains in this case study, or
about how this experiential knowledge fits into
the larger knowledge base of language teacher
educators. And, we cannot be sure about the effectiveness of our research methodology for supplementing the interpretations of other discourse
analysts working with other classroom teachers.
IMPLICATIONS
In terms of concrete suggestions for teacher
training and development, we note these implications. First, teacher education programs may
want to stress the importance of nonverbal behavior in L2 teaching. Although nonverbal communication reinforces or delivers meaning not
communicated by verbal messages, it has been
largely neglected in L2 pedagogy (Harris, 2003).
For example, one prominent teacher education
textbook used to teach Second Language Acquisition (Brown, 2000) discusses various modes of
nonverbal communication as part of communicative competence, but its application to L2 pedagogy is addressed in only one of the discussion
questions in the conclusion of the chapter. If
nonverbal communication is to be counted as an
effective teaching aid or strategy, then it needs
to be given more attention in teacher development programs (Shaw, 2002). Native speakers use
nonverbal communication at a subconscious level
(Brown, 2000), yet language teachers must become aware of its largely culturally specific nature
as well as the ways they actually use it and how it
can be best exploited in L2 teaching. Nonnativespeaking language teachers may need to adjust
their L1-based nonverbal behavior so as not to
confuse learners when the L1-based nonverbal behavior is employed concurrently with the verbal
target language. Given that nonverbal behavior is
largely subconscious and if no training is provided
on its effective application, it is likely that language teachers will use it without ever reflecting
on or analyzing how such behavior is implicated
in learning in the L2 classroom.
Furthermore, in order to achieve the goal of
effective language teaching, the importance of
teaching by principles (Brown, 2001) has been argued. The numerous instructional decisions that
teachers make in practice must be consistent with
each other as well as with the teacher’s principles/beliefs; this consistency can be perhaps best
attained by examining one’s teaching beliefs from
a theoretical perspective and establishing a rationale for each instructional decision. Scrutinizing
one’s practice and beliefs may prompt more informed or analyzed instructional decisions, which
should lead to new practices that are more coherent. Conversely, a newly adopted practice can
cause teachers to renew their teaching beliefs
(Markee, 1997). The present study has shown that
the collaboration between R and T brought T’s
use of gestures to light and promoted a deeper
understanding of her practice, which led to an
articulated belief on her part. Although investigating potential or actual changes in T’s practice
is beyond the scope of this study (again, because T
has not formally taught ESL in recent years), such
an analyzed belief about and awareness of her
practice might facilitate behaviors that are more
consistent with her principles in terms of the use
of gestures. This improved consistency points to
a potentially successful marriage of research and
practice in teacher development.
CONCLUSION
To reiterate, we make the following claims
based on the study reported here. First, the language teacher in this study was able to grasp more
fully her own teaching practice, especially after
one aspect of it—her nonverbal behavior—was
brought to her attention by the discourse analyst, who found this behavior remarkable. Second, the discourse analysis and the teacher selfreflection together provided information that was
unavailable to either the discourse analyst or the
teacher using just one approach. Finally, not only
did the two types of research generate different
540
information, but the particular results were then
filtered through our collaboration, which ultimately shaped the perspectives that R and T have
today on both discourse analysis methodology
and L2 teacher practice, in general, and on T’s
practice in particular. We hope that this article
will engender further discussions among applied
linguists about some fundamental issues in L2
classroom practice that have not received enough
attention in our discipline.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We would like to thank Elaine Tarone and the anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments on previous drafts of this article. Any errors that remain are, of
course, our own.
NOTES
1 Although the term action research is used in this article for its broad scope (i.e., teacher-initiated investigation of teaching practice; see Richards & Lockhart,
1996), more specifically, T was engaged in exploratory
practice. Allwright (2001) distinguished action research,
in which a problem in the current practice calls for action for change, from exploratory practice, which derives
from the teacher’s “puzzle” that promotes action for understanding.
2 The McNeill system for classifying hand movements
that occur in face-to-face interaction include the following categories:
Iconic gestures are closely related to the semantic content of speech, or as Schegloff (1984) put it, “shape links
them to lexical components of the talk” (p. 275), which
his work shows are generally pre-positioned with respect
to the lexical element they invoke. Iconic gestures may
be kinetographic, representing some bodily action like
sweeping the floor, or pictographic, representing the actual form of an object, like outlining the shape of a
box.
Metaphoric gestures may be pictographic or kinetographic like iconics, but they represent an abstract idea
rather than a concrete object or action. An example
is circling one’s finger at one’s temple to signify the
“wheels of thought.”
Deictic gestures have a pointing function, either actual
or metaphoric. For example, we may point to an object
in the immediate environment, or we may point behind
us to represent past time.
Beats are gestures that have the same form regardless
of the content to which they are linked. In a beat gesture, the hand moves with a rhythmical pulse that lines
up with the stress peaks of speech. A typical beat gesture
is a simple flick of the hand or fingers up and down, or
back and forth; the movement is short and fast. Beats
do not have referential meaning; rather, they seem to
regulate the flow of speech.
The Modern Language Journal 89 (2005)
McNeill’s classification system also includes two hand
movements that are not considered to be “speechassociated” gestures, and they are often excluded from
systematic study. Emblems are culturally specific representations of visual or logical objects that have standardized meanings. Examples include the V sign for victory,
the raised middle finger as an obscene gesture, and the
like. Adaptors are unconscious movements performed
by speakers, often in the form of grooming behaviors
(playing with hair, rubbing one’s chin, etc.).
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APPENDIX
Transcription Notation Symbols
(adapted from Atkinson & Heritage, 1984)
1. Unfilled pauses or gaps—periods of silence, timed in tenths of a second by counting “beats” of elapsed time.
Micropauses, those of less than .2 seconds, are symbolized (.); longer pauses appear as a time within parentheses:
(.5) is five tenths of a second.
2. Colon (:)—a lengthened sound or syllable; more colons prolong the stretch.
3. Dash (-)—a cut-off, usually a glottal stop.
4. .hhh—an inbreath; .hhh!—strong inhalation.
5. Punctuation—markers of intonation rather than clausal structure; a period (.) is falling intonation, a question
mark (?) is rising intonation, a comma (,) is continuing intonation. A question mark followed by a comma (?,)
represents rising intonation, but is weaker than a (?). An exclamation mark (!) is animated intonation.
6. Brackets ([
])—overlapping talk, where utterances start and/or end simultaneously.
7. Underlining or CAPS—a word or SOund is emphasized.
Forthcoming in The Modern Language Journal
Larry Vandergrift. “Second Language Listening: Listening Ability or Language Proficiency?”
Hiram H. Maxim. “Integrating Textual Thinking into the Introductory College-Level Foreign Language Classroom”
Kim McDonough. “Action Research and the Professional Development of Graduate Teaching Assistants”
Barbara Mullock. “The Pedagogical Knowledge Base of Four TESOL Teachers”
Nobuko Chikamatsu. “L2 Developmental Word Recognition: A Study of L1 English readers of L2 Japanese”
Yanfang Tang. “Beyond Behavior: Goals of Cultural Learning in the Second Language Classroom”
Julio Roca De Larios, Rosa M. Manchón, & Liz Murphy. “Generating Text in Native and Foreign Language Writing:
A Temporal Analysis of Problem-Solving Formulation Processes”