My attention has been drawn to the namechecks I’m getting on other blogs and other lists. Shucks guys! I never knew I had such an ardent readership. I could still get a blooker prize for this! I’ll remember you all in my acceptance speech.
Having read my critics, I was saddened to read so much negativity towards my humble little efforts, but chastened to read that one of the main features of my dogme lessons is that I admit that they aren’t dogme. So, asks one of my readers, isn’t this just another example of how smoke and mirrors dogme is? The question, based on the premise that my lessons are supposed to be dogme lessons, is a very valid one and makes a point that I have to concede.
The lessons I have described can’t really be called dogme as, for the most part, they don’t arise from the needs and interests of the people in the classroom. The Create a New Society Lesson being a case in point. I see, however, that another of my readers thinks that I was blaming my students for the failure of the lesson. Not so. In fact, if we have to apportion blame (do we?), a large part of it must land on my doorstep for choosing an activity that was more solidly grounded in my interests than those of the learners. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
So is dogme smoke and mirrors? I don’t think so. I have had classes where Pure Dogme (TM) has worked a dream. I have had – and currently have – classes where dogme just doesn’t seem to be as apllicable, although the ideals that underpin it continue to inform my teaching.
Currently, I have a class of students who range from a bilingual speaker who can’t write and a bilingual writer who struggles to speak mixed in among typical FCE level students who beat themselves up over their perceived inability to use English and those who are blissfully unaware of their levels of English. The bilingual speaker just wants to speak over everybody; the bilingual writer is reluctant to speak, preferring to let others have the opportunity; the self-haters are too intimidated by the bilingual speaker and the Holy Innocents are loud and keen to fill the silences. Added to that is the fact that the class changes every week. For some reasons, dogme doesn’t work well in this class. Some people rarely speak; some people speak too much; some people are interested in listening; some people are bored to tears with what they perceive as other people’s extroverted behaviour. Some people dare not participate unless they are chosen by me to speak.
What have been labelled dogme moments are possible and fruitful. What I have tried to do is describe lessons in the hope that some examples of these might become clear. An example of the ill-fated (as opposed to feted) New Society Lesson might be how the students participated with vigour in questioning me about my society and then wrote about its many flaws. By doing this, they took ownership of the lesson. I hadn’t planned to answer any more than a couple of questions. As it was, they had plenty. They were able to be critical and a large number – perhaps all of them, my memory is (some might say, conveniently) cloudy - participated.
The class has no coursebook. There are no fixed grammar points that have to be covered. Areas of language focus are determined by what gets asked about in the class or what I think could be beneficial. Where students show a willingness to speak (usually prooked by the absence of another), we run with that. I go into class with a single starting activity and a preparedness to see where it will lead to or – in worst case scenarios- where it can be directed to.
Is this dogme? Or, in the words of one of dogme’s critics, isn’t this just normal teaching? If this is what normal teaching is, perhaps normal teaching is dogme and dogme is normal teaching. However, there are features of dogme that normal teaching, as espoused in normal teacher-training never taught me about.
And, hoping that I have guaranteed that you will return to this blog to discover the elusive features, I will now go and prepare myself to teach.
