Managing Method: A Critical Inquiry into Language Policy in a Tertiary Institution in the United Arab Emirates

Abstract

The development of critical sensibilities in English Language Teaching (ELT) in recent years has seen challenges to assumptions and methodologies in the field, placing an explicit focus on the manifestation of structures and relations of power. The critical stance affords a growing acceptance of English Language Teaching as a complex situated social practice, recognizing the issue of power in teacher-learner relationships. As such, the practice of minimizing learners’ first language use in classrooms has been questioned from both pedagogical and political directions. This study critically examines attitudes, practices and policies surrounding the role of Arabic in English Language Teaching at an English medium institution in the United Arab Emirates. Findings reveal that teachers, students and college administration both resist and comply with instructions to minimize Arabic, and that individuals intervene in institutional methodological structure with often contradictory positions emerging. A secondary aspect portrays managerial policing of teachers for methodological rigour with implications for teachers’ professional autonomy and development. I argue that such responses reflect English Language Teaching methodology’s position as an aspect of the global pattern of deployment of cultural and economic power.

Keywords

Institutional language policy critical linguistics English language methodology post-method linguistic imperialism

Introduction

Recently at an institution in the United Arab Emirates (UAE), English teachers received instructions that English should be the language of communication between all staff and students and Arabic should only be used selectively when dealing with individual problems of a personal nature. Teachers were told they should actively encourage students to speak English because every time they use Arabic, they deprive themselves of an opportunity to practice English. Further instructions reiterated that there should be minimal use of Arabic in the college, that all teachers should use English as much as possible both inside and outside the classroom and that this should be the norm. It was emphasized that there is little point insisting on English in the classroom if teachers converse in Arabic with students elsewhere, and that the whole college should be an ‘English Speaking Zone’.

In the communication, English was marked not only as the language of instruction, which is institutional policy, but of general communication. It seems that the writer of this communication held three assumptions. First, teachers following the instructions will improve learning of English, second, that social, administrative, and collegial discourses in the institution should be subservient to learning English, and third, that in using Arabic students are guilty of self-deprivation, rather than availing themselves of an effective tool for learning a language (Cook, 2001) and a key aspect of their learner identities (Wenger, 1998). The decision to promote English above Arabic in a government funded institution in an Arabic speaking country raises questions concerning the effectiveness of the mandated pedagogical policy, its effect on teachers’ professional decision making and students’ right to use their first language as they wish in their learning. As an explicit attempt to normalize the dominance of English and limit use of Arabic, the institutional role of English expands into wider social relations outside class, subsuming other discourses, so highlighting the differential power of management, students and teachers.

This paper uses a critical approach, emphasizing ‘an attempt to relate aspects of language education to a broader critical analysis of social relations’ (Pennycook, 2006), to explore how these attempts to expand the use of English and limit Arabic contribute to teachers’ and students’ experiences of learning and teaching, and how this intersects with power relations operating within the institution.

Critical Theory in English Language Teaching

Criticality has assumed a growing, yet still contested, role in English Language Teaching (ELT) in recent decades (Berns et al. 1998; Pennycook, 1999, 2001; Phillipson 1992a, 1999a; Tollefson, 2002), is broadly concerned with ‘relationships between language learning and social change’ (Norton and Toohey, 2004: 1), and views language as having a reflexive relationship with language learners, their histories, life chances and societies. As an analytical lens, criticality can develop understanding of how construction of language policies influence social interaction and communication patterns (Johnson, 2012). Often concerned with local settings and particularities and informed by a distrust of universal claims, criticality eschews a unitary stance and consistent positioning of itself, reflecting Pennycook’s (2001: 1) insistence that ‘critical work should always be reflexive’ lest it reify into a totalizing position. I identify four interrelated themes within critical literature from which I entangle important elements of the critical project – problematization, complexity and specificity, representation, and ethics and power.

Problematization

Problematization concerns questioning key terms and beliefs. In contrast to problem solving, problematization emphasizes questioning without expectations of answers (Wallace, 2001) and emphasizes the interlinking of theory and practice (Pennycook, 1999) though rejects the construction of their relationship as dichotomous, highlighting their mutual formation as praxis (Freire, 1970). A focus on questioning and deferral of final meaning highlights parallels between criticality and postmodernism (Pennycook, 2001), which discusses ‘the retreat of grand narratives and … the local as necessarily positive’ (Alvesson, 2002: 55). Additionally, problematization of givens can engender new possibilities of practice, as ‘a crucial component of critical work …(is) … turning a skeptical eye towards assumptions … that have become “naturalized” … that are no longer questioned’ (Pennycook, 2001: 7) through addressing issues of power, difference, and social and political capital. Problematization extends this questioning principle towards the critical itself as, without reflexivity, criticality may become certain of its own assumptions. By stretching skepticism to include itself and the establishment of new orthodoxies, critical problematization ‘seeks not so much the stable ground of an alternative truth but rather the constant questioning of all categories’ (Pennycook, 2001: 8).

Complexity and Specificity

Criticality acknowledges social complexity and shares interpretivism’s ‘tolerance for the “messiness” of explanatory indeterminacy’ (Holstein and Gubrium, 2000: 99). However, whereas interpretivism seeks to understand, criticality seeks to understand and act as catalyst for social change, placing equal emphasis on understanding and action to address social injustices. The acknowledgment of complexity entails questioning simple answers. Hence objectivizing dichotomies are construed as metaphors explaining the world, as cognitive tools which act as simplifications of phenomena that should be interrogated. Similarly, the relationship between representation and reality is considered complex, arbitrary, random, and provisional, being strongly influenced by power relations (Alvesson, 2002).

The refusal to accept simplification extends to personal and interpersonal social worlds in which identities and relationships are multiply construed allowing for an opening up of the self and society to potential change. Personal identity becomes understood as ‘a floating signifier that is nonetheless socially organized, flexibly yet systematically constituting presence and agency through practical usage’ (Holstein and Gubrium, 2000: 71). Criticality attempts the engagement of persons as ‘full individuals … positioned not only in terms of gender, but also in terms of age, race, class, ethnicity, national origins, immigrant status, sexuality, or (dis) ability’ (Pavlenko, 2004: 54). Kubota’s (2004: 38) contrasting of criticality with liberal multiculturalism exemplifies how the latter construes identities of Self and Other as static and homogenous, whereas criticality ‘views culture as diverse, dynamic, and socially, politically and discursively constructed’.

At macro-social levels where societies meet, criticality acknowledges the ‘interlocking of social relations across time and space’ (Rassool, 1998: 95) within the emergent globalizing world where issues such as language rights, identity, language, and language learning and the political and administrative practices involving such topics affect people’s lives. Luke (2004) claims criticality is necessary in ELT due to the role of English in constructing colonial relations historically obtained between the UK and marginal cultures and current neo-colonial power relations between the US and non-Western cultures. As ELT is a ‘transnational service industry in the production of skilled human resources for economic globalisation’ (Pennycook, 2001: 25), criticality suggests investigation into the complexities of power relations in ELT and who benefits from their construction as they are, followed by action to reconstruct the relationship more equitably.

Representation

Criticality is influenced by the linguistic turn in social sciences (Block, 2005; Denzin and Lincoln, 2000) which may be felt with regard to the relationship between reality and human language. The assumption of an unproblematic relationship between language and the world it refers to (or whether language refers to the world at all) has been challenged by the ‘decoupling of the signifier … and the signified’ (Alvesson, 2002: 52). The critical stance on this relationship considers language an active phenomenon, a tool to construct and reproduce understanding, knowledge and power. The centrality of language in relations of social power has raised important questions for practitioners of ELT – why is English being taught in a certain context? What is the position of the learners’ first language? Who is the teacher and who are the students? How is their relationship constructed with relation to power?

Issues of language and power are not, however, exclusively pedagogical – the micro context has a reflexive relationship with the society in which it is embedded, and criticality also engages with power at societal and global levels. The use of English in global institutions, media, the Internet, international business and leisure illustrates that English is not a value-free tool, but complicit in deployment of power globally and locally. A critical approach to how issues of social power intersect with ELT is necessary, for ‘English teachers stand at the very heart of the most crucial, cultural, and political issues of our time’ (Pennycook, 2001: 23).

Ethics and Power

Central to critical concerns are issues of power that address the ‘myriad political and economic inequities in contemporary societies’ (Norton and Toohey, 2004: 1). How these social visions are constructed and transmitted within educational settings is a central concern of criticality and have a double focus – ‘the inequitable contexts in which language education takes place … (and) … a pedagogical focus on changing these conditions’ (Pennycook, 2001: 335). The compression of time and space that is a feature of globalization means that this dual focus should feature in ELT practitioners’ lives. As social relationships and forms mutate and hybridize, as discourses are reproduced, reformulated, resisted, and transformed, ELT practitioners are required to understand and participate in the process of social change, so that the voices of those disadvantaged, dominated or dispossessed are heard.

The First Language in ELT

Criticality has opened up discussion regarding the tenets of ELT, one of which is the dictum that English should be exclusively used in ELT classrooms. Often justified by recourse to pedagogical claims, this practice rests upon a string of assumptions, that the ‘more students are exposed to English, the more quickly they will learn; as they hear and use English, they will internalize it and begin to think in English; the only way they will learn it is if they are forced to use it’ (Auerbach, 1993: 14-15). However, this view of language learning is ‘psycholinguistically inadequate’ (Phillipson, 1999b: 191), ignoring the contribution the first language can make to the learning and use of additional languages. The assumption that the rise of one language is dependent upon the fall of another is termed subtractive bilingualism (Skuttnab-Kangas, 2000a; Tollefson, 2002) and encourages situations where ‘minority (students) with a low status mother tongue are forced to accept instruction through the medium of a foreign majority language with high status’ (Skuttnab-Kangas, 2000a: 34). Although the claim that limiting the first language supports learning English appears to be more doctrinal than practical (Cook, 1999) it is questioned from both pedagogical (Cook, 2001) and ethical standpoints (Skuttnab-Kangas, 2000b; Tollefson, 2002).

Pedagogically, three justifications for L1 use in L2 classes can be identified – classroom efficiency, students’ preference, and humanism (Harbord, 1992). Cook’s (2001) arguments for L1 use, however, stem from acknowledging students as proficient language users rather than deficient language learners, and focuses on the multicompetence of learners rather than the native speaker status of teachers. The rise of the social turn in Second Language Acquisition (Block, 2005) provides justification for ‘the explicit valuing of the use of L1’ (Wells, 1998: 1) in which it is viewed as a mediating tool in the development of L2 when employed in group tasks (Antón and DiCamilla, 1998; Wells, 1998) while the interdependence and beneficial effects of using both languages were described by UNESCO as early as 1953 (Phillipson, 1992a) but echoed more recently by Swain and Lapkin (2000).

Strategies for L1 deployment in class, however, are beside the point for those who view the attempt to control students’ use of their language as hegemonic practice (Phillipson, 1992a, 1992b), ideological managerialism bound up with politics and power (Auerbach, 1994), and unthinking acceptance of institutional practices that requires critical examination (Fairclough, 1989). An issue of human rights and ethics, denial of students’ L1 highlights inequitable power relations within the classroom, which reflect and construct societal and global power relations involving subjugation of local identities to demands of neo-colonial structure. Lin (1999: 410) provides a synthesis of both pedagogical and ideological positions, demonstrating how use of L1 in ELT classes can be pedagogically effective but additionally claiming that ‘individual creative, discursive agency can make transformation of … (the) … social world possible despite the larger constraining, reproducing social structures’, so offering hope that students and teachers in individual classes can affect change.

The focus on socially situated creative agents implies that it makes little sense to legislate for use of L1 as it does to legislate against it, for learners may prefer to use L2 only. For Auerbach (1994), this issue returns to considerations of power and her response is to place the issue within a framework emphasizing student empowerment where situationalized power is the central question to be addressed. She emphasizes teacher-student negotiation and dialogue, framing the issue as informed decision-making that accepts the moral imperative of the local context (Holstein and Gubrium, 2000) and reaffirms the possibility of empowerment through problematization and addressing expression of power.

Method

This paper takes a critical stance in considering the role of students’ L1 (Arabic) in ELT at a tertiary institution in the UAE. It aims to problematize institutional demands for an English-only environment and illustrate how such discourse contributes to the construction of students’ and teachers’ understanding and practice of the use (or lack of) L1 in their learning and teaching. The perspectives of a range of stakeholders within the institution are discussed. However, rather than this being a positivist attempt at triangulation in order to delineate a valid ‘answer’ to the issue, such inclusiveness should be considered within the dialogic critical spirit, as providing an equitable framework that will accord voice to all parties within the institution. Rather it is an attempt to explore how such discursive practices construct and are constructed by participants and the extent to which they are accepted, appropriated or resisted.

Three groups of participants were involved in the project: teachers, students and management representatives. Five teachers of English – identified as Daniel, David, Hazel, Brenda and Francis (pseudonyms) – volunteered on the basis of an initial email to all English teachers, followed by an informal discussion. They have between 14 and 30 years of ELT experience, are native speakers of English and from BANA (British Australian North American) contexts (Holliday, 1994). One class of each teacher’s students participated – two elementary levels, one lower-intermediate, and two intermediate classes. Each class consisted of between 16 and 20 Emirati women, all between 18 and 24 years-old (table 1).

Table 1.

Teacher Participants

Name	Nation	Experience	Education	Class Level	Course
Brenda	Australia	14	Bachelors	Elementary	Foundations
Daniel	Canada	20	Masters	Intermediate	Degree
David	Ireland	15	Diploma	Lower intermediate	Diploma
Francis	Britain	16	Masters	Intermediate	Foundations
Hazel	Canada	30	Masters	Elementary	Higher Diploma

Two senior members of the institution’s management also participated. They were approached because both are experienced practitioners of ELT, might be expected to be familiar with the discussion concerning the role of first language in the field, and they instigated the communication that inspired this study. I refer to them as John and Eileen.

I used two main methods to construct textual qualitative data. I observed each teacher teaching the same class twice, one week apart and I took notes concerning teacher and student action and use of L1/L2. However, this structure offered little flexibility in depicting complexities of classroom talk and interaction and was abandoned in order to respond to the contingencies of the classroom at that time. After observations, I asked the teachers to answer and provide written answers to nine open-ended questions concerning the following topics:

their practice of L1 and L2 use,

which situations they thought L1/L2 use to be beneficial or not,

theoretical or personal justifications for this usage,

their reaction to the communication regarding compulsory use of English within the institution.

Using both methods, I hoped to highlight potential discrepancies between teachers’ practice and theory. Originally planned as interviews, I used questionnaires for two reasons – one practical, the other methodological. The difficulty of teachers and researcher both having full timetables – and arranging suitable times and places for interviews, proved extremely problematic. Although, questionnaires may limit depth of data, as researchers’ questions may act to circumscribe the participants’ views, in this case they might allow the teachers’ time to consider and prepare responses in more detail, rather than talk in an improvisatory manner in a rush between lessons. Given the situational constraints, I considered that questionnaires disrupted participants’ lives less and provide sufficient data. I also asked students to discuss in groups their attitudes to the use of L1 in their learning and then, based on this stimulation, to answer a bilingual questionnaire which considered the following issues:

the extent of their agreement with the use of L1 in English lessons,

to identify for which purposes they use L1 and in which situations,

to provide a rationale for this usage,

to describe their reactions to mandatory English throughout the institution.

The management representatives were presented with a questionnaire which interrogated their views on the above, but also asked them to discuss their views on the implications of L1 use for teacher evaluation. In some cases it was necessary to follow up questionnaires with short clarificatory interviews, to check understanding and ensure my interpretation of their positions was accurate.

Findings

One understanding of the process of data analysis is as a dialogue between researcher and data (Holliday, 2002), where the interpretation of data involves the researcher acknowledging his/her active role in the construction of analysis and acknowledging his/her subjective position. A researcher enters the social setting of research with an agenda that is often the impetus for the research and this agenda is socio-historically constructed by the researcher and informs their research methodologies. Similarly, the selection of what the researcher takes to be significant; the corpus of data constructed from raw data, is filtered through the researcher’s preoccupations. Between the construction of the corpus of data and the written study, it is the ethical responsibility of the researcher to be ‘sincere and faithful to the “life attitudes, struggles, relationships, confrontations, aspirations” of the participants’ (Holliday, 2002: 103), a position consistent with criticality.

I was careful, therefore, to bracket my subjective position, to ‘think again and to hold back from the explanation that most easily springs to mind’ (Holliday, 2002: 187). Paradoxically, this process of enunciating a stance allows the temporary suspension of assumptions with more confidence. Consequently, analysis was constructed both within individual cases and on a cross-case basis comparing each category of participant and across categories. Data from observations was ordered thematically, so similar incidences of L1 use were categorized, for example, informal student talk or talk on task. Data from all questionnaires was analysed through a similar process of identification of themes in each answer and cross referenced with observation data.

Constrained Acceptance

A common refrain throughout the data was the sense that using Arabic was an encumbrance to learning English and that while there might be occasions when some pragmatic use could be beneficial; in general it is to be avoided as much as possible. However, there are a range of views that resist simple classification. For example, Brenda claims to allow L1 use ‘at low levels … to a large extent. I usually discourage it as Ss progress to higher levels’ David describes his practice as the encouragement of L1 within strictly prescribed limits, ‘I regard it (student use of L1) as limited, but it is probably a fair bit more’. Such examples of constrained acceptance of L1 can be contrasted with Hazel’s statement that ‘if I hear them using Arabic words for which I know the English translation … then I stop the class and make them repeat the statement in English, and Daniel’s ‘I try to control and stop the use of Arabic in the class when Ss are speaking among themselves.’

Both Hazel and Daniel take a more disciplinary stance to L1 use, actively managing the class to limit its use, policing it as if it were inappropriate behaviour. However both then continue in a more lenient manner, Hazel stating she allows ‘them to use Arabic, so long as it is about the lesson (i.e. not obviously social) and they still use English as required by the activities’ and Daniel noting that ‘once or twice per lesson I ask students for the Arabic equivalent of new words, when Ss do not understand’.

From a management perspective the limiting of Arabic to tightly constrained contexts is argued for by Eileen, confining its use to ‘elementary/false beginner classes to perhaps give further clarification, after the presentation of L2 of either grammatical structure or an abstract piece of vocabulary’. A similar pragmatic position for limited use is made by a student, Fawzia, who uses Arabic ‘to explain any word or sentence’, echoing a common refrain in student data that it aids ‘understanding new words’.

Disagreement and Contradiction

Slightly more than half (56%) of the students’ responses revealed a complete disavowal of possible benefits of L1 use, typical of such comments were, ‘No, it causes problems for learning English’ (Alia), and ‘we already know Arabic and we need to improve our English language so we must speak English’ (Shereena). Others were in favour of Arabic, stating ‘there may be somethings (sic) that need Arabic translation to help students understand’ (Sheikha) and ‘because sometimes we need to explain something’ (Hessa). Such awareness of the pragmatic uses of the L1 complements the views of teachers in the previous section, and such ambivalence can be seen both in the student population as a whole, and in Azza’s comment who initially seemed resistant about L1 use: ‘Of course not’ she wrote, then hedging ‘but sometimes we need to speak in Arabic because we can’t explain for my friends, when someone didn’t understand or sometimes we didn’t know enough words’.

Such contradiction is emphasized in responses to questions concerning purpose and situation of use, where many responses emphasize the benefit of L1 ‘to help us understand’ (Aysha), and ‘to know the meaning of words clearly’ (Badreyah). The students who denied the role of Arabic from a theoretical position, here freely admit its pragmatic benefits.

Ambivalence is not confined to teachers and students and, of the management representatives questioned, one acknowledges this arbitrariness: ‘This is a tricky question’ John states, going on to present the argument for constrained, pragmatic use: ‘permissible if well monitored’ and useful for ‘beginner students – when they can’t get a word for example and it is quicker for a classmate to give a translation, than the teachers to mime or explain’.

Assertion and Maintenance of Identity

The uses of Arabic to mark identity through enjoyment, ‘when I want to make the class more fun’ (Salaha) and social solidarity, ‘because my friend talking Arabic and I should talk with them’ (Jawaher) are minor but clear themes in the students’ data. More strongly worded responses are evident concerning the college being an English-only environment, ranging from Meera’s unhappiness ‘I’m avoid using it (Arabic) in class but that makes me angry because I feel lose (sic) my Arabic a little bit’, to Maitha’s confidence, ‘the policy doesn’t affect my use of Arabic, because we were have (sic) Arabic in my school and now and it is my language’. While the issues of social cohesion and maintenance of student identity were not mentioned by any teachers, it was a concern for Eileen who noted that ‘students will feel safe and secure; L1 helps them understand how L2 is organized and its principles. It helps maintain their cultural identity’.

Resistance and Compliance

The institution’s attempt to implement an English-only policy elicited responses ranging from strong support to absolute disagreement from all participants. Compliance was evinced from Daniel stating ‘I am aware that many recent theorists advocate an English-only (100%) policy as they believe use of L1 in class impedes learning and – in general – I agree’. Additionally, several students said that using Arabic ‘stop (us) learning English’ (Asma), while Fatima elaborates, ‘we must use English in anywhere (sic) not only in the class, like the cafeteria and the gym’. Such allowance of hegemonic practice is encouraged by John’s justification for demanding English-only throughout college that ‘we need to get students to think in English whilst in class, and using L1 allows them to fall back on a safety crutch which they need to be ”weaned” off’. Students’ responses to the effects of English-only classrooms were overwhelmingly that the experience was ‘good to practice our English’ (Fatima), the phrase ‘improve my/our English’ appearing in one-third of all responses.

Nevertheless, resistance by teachers to putative policy and its manifestation in managerial notices is exemplified clearly by Francis who said, ‘I decided to ignore that email, actually after I read that I thought I’ll try to use more Arabic in class. I found it insulting’. A more considered form of resistance was given by Hazel who justified using L1 ‘to discuss and analyse the language being learnt (which) is a valuable part of learning.’ Hazel also mentioned the constructivist position of L1 as a tool for learning the L2, despite her rather disciplinary attitude to L1 mentioned above, stating ‘beginner level students, which I teach, do not have the language available in the L2 to do this, it must take place in the L1’, but continuing guiltily that she is ‘circumspect in admitting I tolerate a limited amount of L1 use in the classroom’, so emphasizing how her pedagogical options are subtly restricted through institutional power. Brenda’s understated yet clear, resistance shows the instructions had little effect on her practice ‘as I believe my reasons are sound, given the restraints we have – particularly at low levels’. Student resistance was also apparent with Mariam dismissing the plan, ‘I don’t think any of the girls care about it’, while Mouza sees it as largely irrelevant ‘because the teacher doesn’t say anything when we speak Arabic in class’.

Pragmatism in Practice

Observation revealed that the relationship between teachers’ practice and their espousals was indeterminate and that teachers had several approaches to Arabic use in lessons.

Teacher-student informal chat

Possibly due to the majority of teachers knowing little Arabic, this theme rarely occurs in the data, although David showed curiosity to learn Arabic and encouraged students to contribute their knowledge. In one lesson he explained the presence of the researcher, ‘“he’s studying for a doctorate, what’s doctorate in Arabic?” Students reply “Doctorah”. “Oh, it’s the same”, he replies’. Similarly, when Brenda elicits answers to homework, I note ‘there is a slight pause. One student says to her friend “yalla”, a second encourages her “yalla, answer”. Brenda adds “yalla, yalla, what?” The friend provides an answer’.

Teacher-student language elicitation/translation

It is perhaps ironic in light of Daniel’s opinions above, that in a discussion concerning Gulf architecture, he asked students to provide Arabic translations of specific terms (wind towers, palm houses), that although this is the only example of L1 use in his lessons, he is the only teacher to incorporate explicit teacher planned translation. David is more strategic, he has some knowledge of Arabic and uses it during a spelling test when students indicate they are unsure if he said ‘pepper’ or ‘paper’, ‘a student clarifies, saying “felfel”’. David jokes, ‘yes, felfel, but write pepper, not felfel’, a usage in accordance with his statements that he encourages L1 for ‘vocab recognition’.

Student-Student translation

In Brenda’s class, the students discuss answers to a test on vocabulary of countries and nationalities (odd one out, the answer is France), ‘Ss comments on marks and answers, until S1: “Lesh French?” [Why French?] S2 explains in L2 that “Germany, Spain and Portugal are countries, French means people”’. Despite students’ strong claims that they use L2 for translation, this is the only incident in the data of public translation. It is possible that more student-student translation occurs in group talk which is less amenable to data collection, particularly by a teacher-researcher who represents the English-only policy, and might be expected to disapprove of such practices.

Student-student task-focused discussion

Brenda states that she is happy for lower level students to use L1, so task-focused discussion in the L1 is apparent when she asks them to check their homework in groups, agree and decide on answers. During the task, ‘all students are very involved and attentive to each other. The students read and check in L1 (“Sah?” [Right?]), switch to L2 in public talk with T, but private talk and meta-language is in L1 (“jumla” [sentence] and “nefs shay” [same thing]’. In another excerpt, students marked each others’ work, the ensuing discussion is showing disagreement, so Brenda asks ‘“What’s the problem?” a student replies “they are fighting to correct it”. T goes to read and check. S: “Miss, we talk about they mark this (sic)”. They hold up the paper, “shufik, fi capital” [Look, there’s a capital]. Brenda concurs, “No, it’s wrong, there shouldn’t be a capital”’. She accepts the L1 discussion, then acknowledges and builds on the student’s L1 contribution.

The minimal use of L1

Daniel’s encouragement of L1 above amounts to a short excerpt of direct translation, there being no other incidents of L1 use in his lessons, which follows his espousal of ‘very limited use of L1’, controlled strictly through a regime of explicit ‘enforcement of an English only environment’ and his recommendation that ‘students should be assessed on the amount of L1 they use in class as a way to limit its use’. In contrast, Francis, despite espousing encouragement of L1 and resisting management encroachment in class, showed little acknowledgement of L1, the only instances being a small amount of ‘L1 pair-talk as students settle’, and a joke concerning the capital of Hawaii (Honolulu), not being the same as Arabic ‘lulu’ [pearl].

Linguistic Human Rights and Linguistic Imperialism

The question of students having a right to use their first language in an educational institution in their own country barely figured in the data. None of the teachers or students raised this issue, and all justifications for using L1 were couched in terms of pragmatic use in the classroom and related to the usefulness of the Arabic for learning English. From management’s perspective, the issue was ignored by John but addressed by Eileen, who stated that ‘L2 use can result in a lack of confidence and motivation if the students aren’t scaffolded effectively. There is no threat of us imposing British values and beliefs – linguistic imperialism’ apparently accepting the constrained pragmatic position. The defensiveness of the second sentence, however, shows awareness of the issue but portrays the institutional policing of L1 as ideologically neutral.

The power to effect practice with regard to teachers’ use of L1 and students’ ability to use all their cognitive resources in learning the L2 by making links between both languages and having the power to choose in which language they learn, rests with the management who recommend (or otherwise) contract renewal. With reference to the enforcement of the English-only policy, Eileen continues ‘in class observations, we would note if the use of L1 is too much … interfering with the flow, distracting or making the students dependent’. John is more forthright, it is taken ‘very seriously … speaking more than a few words of L1 … would be mentioned negatively’. A difference in degree is apparent, but to teachers it may seem that even minimal use of L1 may be detrimental to their careers, while – for the students – reduction of their first language’s role to the realms of home and mosque may beckon.

Discussion

Teaching Identities, Practice and Method

The teachers generally exhibit a belief in a modernist methodology that privileges a decontextualized epistemology of language learning, although they express caveats and none of the teachers’ positions are monolithic throughout. For example, Daniel argues for minimalizing L1 but was the only teacher who planned for its use in class, whereas Francis claims to encourage L1 use but observations revealed virtually no Arabic in his lessons.

Teachers’ accounts of their practice are generally commensurate with observations reflecting a small range of L1 use varying between highly constrained with minimal use accepted, and constrained but situationally acceptable. These uses are partially constructed within the institution by teachers’, students’ and management’s expectation of what constitutes effective language teaching methodology. However, while management exhortations may act as reminders, or alibis for the narrow range of L1 use, such practices are embedded within wider global discourses and theories of effective language learning and second language acquisition. Although there is a lack of consensual definition or coherent ‘conceptual underpinnings’ (Kumaradivelu, 2006: 63), such theories function as metanarratives that justify and legitimate a standardized methodological practice over multiple learning contexts. So the concept of method has traction within ELT despite growing critical awareness of method as a construct ‘articulated in the interests of unequal power relationships’ (Pennycook, 1989: 589-90) or that question the notion of method itself (Kumaradivelu, 2006).

There is evidence suggesting teachers construct their own contextually realized methodological adaptations and that individual agency intervenes between the rigidities of method and the contingencies of the classroom (Canagarajah, 2002). David and Brenda both understand some Arabic, and appear happy to allow its use, and while episodes discussed may appear tokenistic, they show teacher acceptance of student discourse, acknowledging students as contributors to knowledge construction in the class, placing language learning as a joint enterprise in which students build L2 knowledge and skills using L1 as a resource. This implicitly conceptualizes language learning as ‘compound bilingualism, where the L2 is acquired and known through the use of the L1’ (Kumaradivelu, 2006: 67-68).

Student Identities, Compliance and Resistance

Patterns of compliance and resistance to expressions of power are apparent in student responses, with a seemingly unequivocal ‘No, because it’s not helping us to improve our English’, continued with examples of when L1 use is beneficial, ‘when I didn’t understand … when I can’t explain what I mean’. This apparent polarization is constructed through tension between the institutional discourse that mandates an English-only climate, which students attempt to comply with by accepting assurances from powerful members of the community (teachers and management). Yet students find they need Arabic to meet pedagogical and social needs and are keenly aware of their transgression of rules set by the powerful. The students live in a contradictory position, exemplified by a willingness to comply with the demands of method, ‘I try all my best to talk just English but if I don’t know the sentence or the word in English I say it in Arabic’ (Fatima), yet feeling guilty at the use of their own first language.

Others express a minimal resistance to the institutional discourse, showing indifference, ‘it does not effect (sic) my use of Arabic’ (Nasma), ‘I don’t think any of the girls care about it’ (Mariam). Others exhibit resistance but finally comply, ‘I’m avoid using it in class but that makes me angry because I feel lose my Arabic little bit’ (sic) (Rahma). As a researcher, but also a representative of power, it is not surprising that students espouse the discourse of the powerful to me, as they have learnt the lesson of showing allegiance when necessary, having been disciplined into a regime of grades and regular assessments.

Power, Hegemonic Practices and Method in ELT

As a tenet of Communicative Language Teaching, this positioning of students’ L1 as an encumbrance to learning has been questioned (Cook, 2001) and its marginalization criticized as hegemonic practice representing a socio-political project under the guise of a universally applicable methodology closely tied to commercial interests of central countries – publishers, universities, authors (Phillipson, 1992a) and a modernist system of control reproducing international economic and cultural structures (Lin, 1999).

Method is enforced through a system of contract renewal for teachers dependent on management approval of practice. Maintenance of this methodological imperative diminishes the professional autonomy of teachers in deciding how they respond to students and constricts professional development in that deviation from approved method may jeopardize jobs. The notion of teachers as reflective practitioners (Schön, 1983), which has become central to teacher development in the past two decades (Roberts, 1998) is denied. Teachers are reduced to a technical role implementing a predetermined method, where the questions of whom the teacher is, who the students are, and the particularities of identities are avoided. Such methodological purism appears outdated as theoretical discussions move towards an era of postmethod pedagogy seeking to ‘provide an alternative to method, rather than an alternative method’ (Kumaravadivelu, 2006: 73), An emphasis on contextualized judgements encourages the opening of ‘new opportunities for the expertise of language teachers in periphery contexts to be recognized and valued … (making it) … feasible for teachers to acknowledge and work with the diversity of the learners in their classrooms, guided by local assessments of students’ strategies for learning rather than by global directives from remote authorities’ (Block and Cameron, 2002: 10). This call for development of a more context dependent pedagogy has been growing within ELT (Canagarajah, 2002; Kumaravadivelu, 2006), but is being resisted within this context where the chimera of an effective centre-produced methodology is being clung too.

It would be remiss, however, to portray the teachers as victims, as – to a degree – they concur with the English-only position. If we accept the sociocultural position that ‘L1 serves as a tool that helps students … to understand and make sense … to focus attention on language form, vocabulary use, and overall organization; and to establish … their collaboration’ (Swain and Lapkin, 2000: 268), then the deliberate ignoring of L1 can be considered as a discriminatory practice affecting future life chances. Indeed, some of the students seem to have an understanding of this position, as the above quote can be seen as a more sophisticated version of one student’s claims that ‘we use Arabic to understand new words and sentences’ (Asma).

From a critical position, the discourses of the classrooms and the institution are reflective of ‘broader societal and global discourses’ (Rich and Troudi, 2006: 615) which threaten to marginalize Arabic from the worlds of commerce, work, trade, and education, further embedding English in its already dominant global position. The institutional discourse, epitomized by the instruction that ‘all communication between staff and students should be in English’, constructs a hegemonic practice that assumes the right to decide when and in what circumstances students’ may use their first language to learn, but also proscribes the possibilities for Arabic use into the future. This can be considered part of an economic and cultural project, rather than a neutrally effective methodology for language learning.

Reflection on the Critical

I identified four interlinking aspects of the critical project above, and with this study completed I felt it was necessary to briefly consider its outcomes in terms of these perspectives.

First, through problematizing of an oft-accepted nostrum of ELT the study highlights and opens up the other features of the critical for discussion, emphasizing their interconnectedness. Second, in terms of specificity, the study focuses on a small group of participants within this particular context, and makes no claims concerning other teachers or students within the institution, nor concerning similar contexts within the country or the wider Arabic-speaking world. This highlights how local critical work together with a postmodern concern with personal narratives can shed light on the complex, emergent realities of peoples’ lives (Kubota, 2004). Third, the constructive role of language in social relationships is revealed through participants’ varied mix of acceptance, resistance and attempts to work around the issue of L1 in their daily practice, an effect provoked by the original communication whereby ‘the rhetoric of optimizing learning is constituted as a set of regulative practices’ (Chouliaraki, 1996: 107). Finally, this study is primarily concerned with the ethical implications of depriving Arabic students of using their first language not just within English lessons but within the institution as a whole. Such discrimination is likely to have a disastrous effect upon Arabic use, for as Bourdieu states, ‘when we unthinkingly put to work our most ordinary modes of thinking, we inflict upon our object a fundamental adulteration, which can go all the way to pure and simple destruction’ (Bourdieu, 1998: 134). The retreat of Arabic away from the worlds of education, commerce, technology and science and into the mosque and the home is built upon the small, yet critical events considered here.

Footnotes

Funding

This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.

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