Casting a critical eye on the positioning of the Western expatriate teacher

Introduction

A number of analyses of expatriate teaching experiences have utilised the culture shock framework to explore the challenges that face the expatriate teacher (most recently Halicioglu, 2015, in this journal). These studies position the teacher as the locus of power in decision-making processes. The focus of such research is to strengthen the teacher’s capacity for self-determination and control of intercultural encounters that might otherwise destabilise the teacher’s sense of self. Although these explorations are important, further insight into the complexities and tensions of expatriate teaching can be gained when we use a postcolonial framework to probe the power imbalances of intercultural teaching and learning contexts; this approach draws attention to the under-examined positioning of the local student.

Increasingly, the internationalisation of education (i.e. designing instruction around international curricula or using a global citizenship perspective to underpin instruction) has become commonplace for those identified as local élites in countries of low economic status (Brown and Lauder, 2011; Emenike and Plowright, 2017; Resnik, 2017). Central to the internationalisation of schooling are expatriate teachers who serve as key agents in the broader processes of worldwide knowledge mobilisation that contributes to the phenomenon known as globalisation. The ways in which globalisation is received and defined are highly contextualised, characterised by the culture—including the politics and economics—of the given region (Rizvi, 2007). Fundamental to the fabric of any cultural consideration is the region’s unique history. If the historical context is overlooked when conceptualising the role of the expatriate teacher in the spread of knowledge around the world, there is a danger of failing to identify opportunities to confront, challenge, and resist negative aspects of the colonial legacy that established systems of education in once-colonised locations.

In this paper, postcolonial theory is used to examine the legacy of European colonisation in a contemporary setting by exploring how the student is constituted as part of the continuing imperial apparatus. The aim is to investigate the positioning of students who participate in legacy systems of education while struggling to resist the totalising effects of systems established as constituents of the mechanisms of colonial control in the Caribbean (Gordon, 1958). The ultimate goal is to propose ways of mitigating further colonisation (Coloma et al., 2009) without succumbing to the beguiling nature of binary categorisations: us and them, coloniser and colonised, or Western and non-Western ways of knowing. One abiding motif in postcolonial theory is hybridity (Ashcroft et al., 1995; Bhabha, 1994), which acknowledges the messiness and fluidity of identities, particularly in intercultural contexts. The premise of the paper is that the unexamined role of the expatriate teacher, in relation to processes of colonisation, can result in complicity in, and reinforcement of, hegemonic practices that characterised early systems of education in the colonies. Rather than being seen as an impotent instrument of the system, the expatriate teacher is characterised as an agentic and powerful force for change, facilitating forms of education that acknowledge past and present effects of colonisation in a more fulsome treatment of the teacher’s role as an educator.

This paper is structured around a critical incident that is deconstructed using the analytic lens of postcolonial theory. Interspersed throughout the various theoretical explorations are first person reflections of the author that are made from the perspective of working as an expatriate teacher trying to define a role that acknowledges, and seeks to make more symmetrical, the power differentials and dominance relationships that are inherent in expatriate employment in countries of low economic status. The paper ends with a summary that considers lessons learned through the analysis conducted in the paper. Recommendations are made for expatriate teachers, as well as for those recruiting and serving as administrators in schools employing expatriate teachers in once-colonised locations and beyond.

The illustrative incident

I reviewed the lesson plan and smiled; this time I had surpassed myself. I could hardly wait for the students to reach the classroom. I was sure that this topic would leave a permanent impression on their minds: the lifecycle of the queen conch. [The queen conch, Strombus gigas (more recently classified as Lobatus gigas), is a giant sea snail, native to certain regions of the Caribbean Sea, the shallow Atlantic waters of The Bahamas, and the Gulf of Mexico. Conch shells can be used for a variety of purposes including construction (e.g. fencing for houses), being sold to tourists as ornaments, or being fashioned into jewellery. The live queen conch is an attraction for snorkelers and contributes to the delicate ecosystem of sea-grass beds and coral reefs. The meat (the muscular foot of the snail) is used raw or lightly cooked to make a range of Caribbean dishes. There are tight restrictions on the trade of conch meat, ensuring that the delicacy retains its local appeal.]

The class commenced with an overview of the key terms from the interactive video presentation of the previous lesson. I beamed as the students, remembering the images from the video, responded enthusiastically to my quick-fire questions; they were about to discover that lessons could get even more exciting than our last class. At just the right moment, my co-presenter (a student from another group) arrived with a helper and between them they carried a bucket, a dissection board, a small axe and a large knife. I had spent the previous evening rehearsing my script with the student (the son of a local fisherman) as he dissected the conch in much the same way as he had done many times before. I had gained authorisation for the student to bring a knife onto the campus which alerted members of the school administration team to the idea that I might be doing something a little out of the ordinary, creating an opportunity for publicity photographs to be taken. Indeed, a member of the school administration team, armed with his camera, arrived soon after the dissection team and clicked away as the students oohed and aahed with excitement.

I made sure that my commentary included key scientific details relating to the conch’s anatomy, reproductive strategies, ecological niche, etc., while my co-presenter identified the various components that could be used locally for food, decoration, construction, and even as an aphrodisiac. We were a well-rehearsed tag-team displaying a perfect blend of local culture and textbook science, or so I thought. Students smiled as I explained the economic significance of our local product and with the excitement lingering, the dissection team left and we settled down to a quiz activity.

I surveyed my domain and gave myself silent congratulations for another well-planned, culturally-relevant and engaging lesson. So, I was taken aback when a student said ‘that was great Miss, but why are we learning this?’ For me, alongside ‘is this going to be on the test?’, this comment was part of the familiar chorus of high school students but, on this occasion, I was visibly shocked that my student, any student, could ask such a thing when, if at no other time, the relevance was so blatant (well, at least to me). Reading my face, and not meaning to cause offence, the student quickly added ‘no, I get why it matters to us in this country but that’s my point, why are we spending so much time studying a topic that no-one else in the world cares about … I bet you didn’t learn about this when you were at school … we’re the only ones who care about conch so why are you making such a big deal of it?’. I understood the question but I had no immediate response.

In accordance with the school’s mission statement and ethos, I had spent a good deal of time teaching the students about their responsibilities as global citizens, emphasising their need to think beyond their immediate experiences and take advantage of the fact that the school employed teachers from a diversity of countries, even though our school in The Bahamas was not designated as an international school. Teachers and administrators repeatedly told students that the uniqueness of their situation was enriching their life experiences and that they were fortunate to have such insights. What I did not realise is that, somewhere in their subconscious ruminations, the students were beginning to believe us and had started seeing the local context through a deficit lens. Their older brothers and sisters, not content with attending the local college, were going abroad for their higher education. One by one the students were ‘catching the vision’ and now questioning the relevance of this new spin on their old knowledge. They realised that matters of local significance were not equipping them for international or global readiness, and suspected that my interest in this local product, that was so familiar to them, was only serving to further parochialise their experience … and for a moment I was speechless.

The complexities of expatriate positioning

The local Ministry of Education had labeled the inherited curriculum as ‘narrow, meagre, ill-suited and irrelevant’ (Ministry of Education and Culture, in Bethel, 1996/2008: 37) so locally-significant adaptations had been made. Lifecycle of the conch had been included in the senior Biology syllabus in an attempt to localise what was originally a British curriculum. Setting aside the issues related to curriculum redesign, which are far from insignificant but are beyond the scope of this paper, the question remains: was the pedagogical approach illustrated above really so wrong? Local practices had been exemplified, using students as knowledge-bearers. Such strategies could easily be identified as culturally responsive and inclusive, which Zembylas and Avraamidou (2008) suggested are critical conditions for promoting equitable forms of democracy in once-colonised settings; but is the promotion of democracy part of the role of an expatriate teacher? Kincheloe (2003) affirmed the belief that the way a teacher interprets the curriculum is closely associated with the way the teacher sees herself/himself as a learner and as a professional, so a closer examination of pedagogical practices will often reveal who the teacher considers themselves to be and the professional role they see themselves enacting.

Further explication of the lesson described above reveals challenges to the assertion that local prior knowledge of students was placed at the centre of the activity. Why was no mention made of what George and Glasgow (1988) have described as the students’ street science understandings: ‘those social customs and beliefs that deal with the same content areas that are dealt with in conventional science but which sometimes offer different explanations to those offered in conventional science’ (George, 1986: 1, in George and Glasgow, 1988: 110)? Students quietly and informally discussed the belief that conch shells capture the essence of their habitat, which is why you can hear ‘the sea’ if you hold the shell to your ear. Although it is clear that this explanation of shell sounds would not have been supported as part of the science curriculum being taught, why were such conversations not broached openly by students or the teacher? In addition, the students protested when teacher authority was used to cast doubt on the aphrodisiac properties of the conch’s pistil. As a mode of persuasion, the opportunity was taken to discuss the power of thought in effecting physiological change and how (according to research conducted just days before the class) the pistil served as a component of the digestive, rather than reproductive, tract. It seemed that the students had started drawing distinctions between what might be considered folklore and what might be deemed as scientific fact; the teacher was the arbiter and folklore science was to be kept away from the teacher.

A postcolonial reading of expatriate teaching

As a result of the colonial imprint that has increased the interconnectedness of people, technologies, economies, and politics around the world, our notions of educational development are deeply rooted in the European Enlightenment’s framework of utilising rational measures to promote harmonious systems (Long, 2013; Rizvi et al., 2006; Tikly, 2009). This approach to knowledge building has become so widespread that it is now almost impossible to imagine any alternative way of conceptualising and organising education within a society. Multinational companies have contributed greatly to the process of homogenizing curriculum resources and policies around the world (Arber et al., 2014; Yates and Grumet, 2011). These commercialised curricula and supporting documentation appeal to countries of low economic status who are seeking ways of competing with the more established players in the global economy. Although the teacher is not expected to compensate for the colonial history that serves as the root of globalisation (Said, 1993), an understanding and awareness of how various endeavours have shaped and continue to shape the contemporary educational context is fundamentally important if the expatriate teacher is to resist present and future oppressions.

Referring to the work of Ashcroft et al. (2001), Coloma et al. (2009) utilised the palimpsest metaphor to provide insight into the complexities of colonial histories and the challenges they present for contemporary educational contexts. A palimpsest is a writing surface, such as a parchment, from which earlier writings have been mechanically or chemically removed to accommodate reuse by overwriting. Of course, there might remain the lingering irritation of an incomplete eradication of previous writing but the overwrite continues with firm and bold deliberation so that traces of previous writings are so effectively backgrounded as to make them ignorable; nevertheless, the traces remain. In educational terms the writings represent knowledge systems written in the life of the student, where traces of prior knowledge often serve to inhibit full assimilation of students into the mindset of the formal/official knowledge system. Resistance to certain forms of learning is often read by educators as an inability to learn rather than as a resistance to practices and processes that threaten the student’s sense of integrity (Kohl, 1994). Due to the intersecting histories of colonisation and globalisation, the expatriate teacher is confronted with an educational context that has systematic forms that are familiar, but motivations and enactments that reinforce its difference from what the teacher may have encountered at home.

Postcolonial theory reminds us that expatriate teachers in countries of low economic status face a complex relationship with local cultural understandings and their own understandings of knowledge systems that may serve hegemonic functions in the host country (Adams et al., 2008). Teachers need to understand the complexities of being invited into a given context as a representative of a globalised knowledge network, and make efforts to understand how to enact equitable practices and behaviours without marginalising, subjugating or belittling the learner’s culturally-situated beliefs and ways of knowing. Such teachers are encouraged to question the cultural-neutrality of the material they teach and the pedagogies they employ.

In addition, postcolonial theory draws attention to how ethnicity can be a strong indicator of the privilege an expatriate teacher can expect to receive. Arber et al. (2014) highlighted the symbolic capital of teachers who speak English as their first language. Added to that, a teacher’s race, stature, gender, and general physical appearance can also play key roles with regard to the level of unearned respect bestowed on the teacher in the host country (Arber, 2014). With such a regard for qualities that are neither consciously cultivated nor actively acquired, the teacher needs to be mindful of how the knowledge she/he shares is read by the student, particularly where that knowledge may conflict with the student’s own conceptions of what it means to be in the world. The privilege of the boundaryless, ‘portfolio’ teacher should be understood as just that: a privilege.

Motivations for becoming an expatriate teacher

The rise in the migration of Western teachers has been fuelled by many changes that have occurred over the latter half of the 20^th Century and into the 21^st Century. These changes include increased global communication, increased dominance of English as the international language for trade, business and education, rising availability and affordability of technology around the world, and the interdependency of national systems of finance, education and labour (Ferguson, 2011). Although economic advantage is often stated as a reason for teacher migration, this will not always be a strong incentive for teachers of Western origin. Appleton et al. (2006) identify professional development opportunities and potential for travel as key factors in a teacher’s decision to migrate. Most migrating teachers have been employed in their home countries prior to migration (Appleton et al., 2006) so have a certain degree of confidence in their abilities within the profession. Because of the pedagogical challenge of working in a culturally unfamiliar context, combined with the customary short contracts, the host institution can anticipate a high turnover for expatriate teachers. Nevertheless, the regard that often attends Western teachers, who work alongside local teachers (particularly with school administrators and parents), provides many opportunities for expatriate teachers to take up leadership positions in their host institutions.

Despite the array of opportunities available to the expatriate teacher, the decision to teach outside of their country of origin is most commonly seen as a medium-term strategy; it is rare for Western teachers to take up employment in a country of low economic status with the expectation of never returning to their home country (Appleton et al., 2006), although initial plans can change. For the migrating teacher, the decision to remain in the host country is influenced by a number of factors including being in a happy working climate, gaining financial benefits, and being challenged by the job (Odland and Ruzicka, 2009).

There is little research evidence that teachers consider the perspective of members of the host institution as part of their raison d’être in an expatriate position. It is difficult for Western expatriate teachers to escape the hero narrative (Burke, 2014; Terrall, 2011) that is associated with their ability to make choices about location and duration of employment. These privileges are often inaccessible to adult members of the local populations in which they work, but students can start to see ways in which their education can provide opportunities for their own eventual migration. Accompanying the hero status is often the savior identity (Burke, 2014; Said, 1993). An expatriate teacher can readily associate their presence, in what to them are remote locations, with a salvific mission, as if they are conducting some kind of humanitarian action for which the host country should be unquestioningly grateful. The teacher will readily identify areas where practices and beliefs differ from their own and they are often quick to apply a deficit lens to local customs (Burke, 2015; Joslin, 2002).

Appleton et al. (2006) suggested that the recruitment of expatriate teachers is a response to the rapid expansion of education systems in locations where local teacher education is insufficiently developed or populated to support policies that demand a high quality, inclusive education for all students. Therefore, the positioning of an expatriate teacher, particularly in the context of a country of lower economic status than the teacher’s country of origin, is a complex one, a positioning that requires constant questioning and examination by both host and expatriate alike, preferably together. Joslin (2002) stated that ‘intercultural communication is a process of comparisons, judgements, descriptions and negotiations of both persons’ identities. The teacher needs to know how their own values and behaviours impact on others from different cultures’ (Joslin, 2002: 52). This kind of introspection is not always easy to conduct when the colonial legacy means that certain influential members of the host country hold the expatriate and their knowledge in elevated regard. Under such circumstances it is difficult for the expatriate to even consider the cultural-embeddedness of their own understandings. Indeed, the expatriate experience may be the first time that teachers start to realise that pedagogy is not culture-free (Halicioglu, 2015).

It is tempting to see classroom knowledge as external to the constructions that are happening inside the classroom. All too often, teachers abdicate responsibility for the material they are teaching students, conveying the idea that their pedagogical choices are constrained by the diktats of others. In such a situation, both teachers and students are seen as being subject to powers beyond their control (Ferguson, 2011). A teacher may see the curriculum as a document that determines what must happen in the classroom, or she/he can acknowledge that a student experiences the curriculum that the teacher mediates: how material is mobilised in the classroom is a matter of interpretation for the teacher. It might be naïve to assume that time abroad alone will naturally change a teacher’s perspective or outlook with respect to knowledge, learning and pedagogy. The contradictions and confrontations experienced by expatriate teachers can encourage them to alter or modify established practices and pedagogies but Koh (2014) has indicated that, rather than developing their intercultural competence in ways that shift their prior perspectives, a teacher’s belief that ‘how we do it at home’ is the right way may be reinforced and they may resist the challenges presented by this new context.

The complexities of considering the student perspective

The development of ‘mobility capital’ (Koh, 2014) may be one reason why students seek out knowledge that is common in Western contexts, while accepting pedagogical approaches that challenge and contradict prior understandings and local concerns. The desire to commodify curriculum content and practices may be strong for those who see a Western knowledge system as a means of gaining more freedom to migrate by being exposed to the practices of countries of higher economic status. This does not mean that a compliant student is insensitive to assault on her/his sense of integrity and identity within the local context; rather a pragmatism may take over that prompts some students to embrace present discomfort for a perceived greater gain (Burke, 2014).

Expatriate teachers work within the tension of being voyeurs of as well as participants in the host culture, as expressed in its practices (Arber, 2014). Their mere presence influences the cultural context so that teacher and host are both altered (perhaps to different extents) by the encounter. Pratt (1991) described the characteristics of contact zones where individuals from different cultural backgrounds connect and negotiate the asymmetrical power relations that have brought about the interaction. She explained how classrooms can function as contact zones, throwing open the call for developing the pedagogical arts of these spaces. These arts would include developing ‘ways for people to engage with suppressed aspects of history (including their own histories), ways to move into and out of rhetorics of authenticity; ground rules for communication across lines of difference and hierarchy that go beyond politeness but maintain mutual respect’ (Pratt, 1991: 40). A parallel construct, the Third Space, was described by Bhabha (1994) as a space of co-constructing cultural meaning where perceptions of cultural purity and distinction are dispelled, and notions of difference are explored. This is particularly appropriate when considering how the expatriate teacher and his/her student interact in once-colonised locations. The negotiation of relationships positions both parties as participants in the legacy of colonisation where expatriate teachers as well as students are classified as colonial subjects.

Pratt’s (1991) insights emphasise how important it is for expatriate teachers to be aware of the particular histories of themselves and their students, and the political backdrops that have influenced their current context. Colonial history determines that students can readily adopt an ideology of idealism that presents potential for international mobility as a morally good thing, promoting open, tolerant, globally-minded citizens (Stier, 2010). This ideology appeals to a country’s commodification of students as intellectual capital where the country can ultimately benefit when the students return from furthering their education abroad; unfortunately, this can cast a deficit lens on the student’s country of origin that is constantly being compared with opportunities and potentials available elsewhere. The expatriate teacher is a means by which global insights are brought into the local environment. Adding to this complexity, parents may assume that by sending their children to a school employing Western teachers, the children will gain a range of opportunities that will lead to greater international opportunity, just as many of their teachers have had (Wylie, 2008). These objectives may challenge the desires to honour local contexts.

Summary and recommendations

The expatriate teacher is confronted with learners whose cultural contexts differ from the teacher’s own upbringing; this forces the expatriate teacher to consider how and to what extent adaptation of his/her practice is required. Although the confrontation of cultural understandings is likely to be felt by all expatriate teachers, the teacher’s response will not always be based on considerations of equity and social justice (Blankstein et al., 2016). The confrontation presents the teacher with a rich opportunity to broaden her/his pedagogical repertoire and understanding of the material being presented as he/she becomes more sensitive to alternative conceptions, some of which were likely to have been present in their home context but which convention and social norms suppressed. To benefit most effectively from the situation, the expatriate teacher needs to develop a willingness to listen to and learn from his/her students, questioning their own approach rather than simply trying to ‘fix’ notions that are unlike those heard at home.

Being open with the students (in age-appropriate ways) about the link between the historical setting of the locality and its curriculum can support development of a more intentional response in the pedagogies designed and displayed. There are times when the teacher will explicitly plan to connect the local curriculum to the knowledge systems valued in the teacher’s country of origin or the country from which the curriculum was inherited. Specifically, a teacher may want to support students (particularly high school students) wishing to pursue further education in a Western location. This explication of knowledge as power (a maxim often attributed to Francis Bacon) can provide students with access to a broader range of educational opportunities, should they be in a position to take advantage of the globalised educational network. Under such circumstances, it is important to be clear about not requiring students to replace prior knowledge with the material being taught, whilst maintaining an expectation that students will develop their understandings of what Foucault (1985) called the ‘truth game’ that exists in every system of education. In this way, the teacher supports the process of conceptual addition rather than substitution (Fensham, 1999) and the student decides what priority to place on each perspective at any given time.

Carter (2004) advised caution to teachers who enact a simplistic interpretation of Aikenhead and Jegede’s (1999) border crossing notion, where cultural insights from the local context can be used to draw students into the foreign territory of the Western (science) curriculum disciplines. Not only does this reinforce the binaries that postcolonial critique seeks to deconstruct, but a postcolonial reading of such teaching strategies would alert the teacher to ways in which the education system has disciplined students into conformity and allegiance to new perspectives at the expense of any prior understandings so that contentions and confrontations are minimised. An expatriate teacher’s willingness to examine and expose the ways in which her/his own background and education have shaped his/her relationship towards the subject they teach is central in the process of deconstruction that leads to anti-oppressive pedagogies. This vulnerability can support the teacher as she/he invites students to share how their backgrounds might influence reception of what is being taught. For the teacher, the most challenging aspect of a deconstructive approach can be defining and articulating her/his perspective on the various knowledge negotiations within intercultural spaces. An illustration of one possible approach is found in the final reflection below. Assimilation, understanding, tolerance, accommodation, and acceptance, to name but a few responses, all have different characteristics and position the teacher and student in different ways. If employer and expatriate teacher experience the challenge of defining and expressing the perspective they, together, envisage for the role of the expatriate teacher, then a baseline can be established from which to start building and clarifying the teacher’s role in the local context. Generative questions for recruiters and employers to explore with teachers include: How do you see the local history and the general cultural context impacting your teaching? What do you know, or what would you like to know, about the impact of colonisation on local systems of education? As an expatriate teacher, what do you offer that might enrich local education? What intercultural challenges do you anticipate? How do you think students will respond to your pedagogy?

Final reflection

I no longer remember how I responded to my student’s question of relevance recounted in the incident presented earlier. One response that might have aligned with the postcolonial framing of this paper could include an affirmation of the quality of the student’s question and how it caused me to pause for thought. I might then reiterate some of the reasons why conch is described as being significant in both the global and local ecology and economy. To capitalise on the potential for a teachable moment that draws together colonial history with contemporary educational experiences, I might open up the discussion to the class (either in small groups or as a whole) to encourage students to explore reasons why local curriculum developers might have included the lifecycle of the conch in their curriculum reform. This discussion would include consideration of the limitations and affordances of this curriculum inclusion decision. This opening up of the discussion creates opportunities for reciprocal critical pedagogy where student and teacher evaluate ideas and learn together.

Today, I work as a university professor in a country where I did not grow up. At the beginning of each course I force myself to articulate what I am hoping to achieve, the knowledge perspective I am coming from, the life experiences that I think have contributed to this standpoint and the spectrum of ways I think students will respond to this approach and why. I try to address what might be gained and what might be challenged, both for me and for my students, and I encourage students to provide me with feedback about new perspectives and ways of interacting with knowledge claims that I have not yet considered. Whilst challenging my own pedagogy, I find that this introduction opens up opportunities for ongoing conversations about how knowledge forms intersect, overlap and challenge each other. As time goes on, I find myself being more reflective and more able to connect with the challenges my students raise. This is an exciting and challenging time to be engaged in education as an expatriate; frameworks such as postcolonial theory can support us as we continue with research that supports a re-envisioning of the work of the Western expatriate teacher.