So your first time in class ended up being a greasy shit smear of a lesson. A real turd. Are you still wallowing in it or have you recovered enough to wash your sheets? Have you been able to piece together what exactly went wrong? Maybe you’ve suppressed the whole experience, written over the whole memory like a trauma victim because your fragile Millenial ego couldn’t handle the embarrassment.
The unhelpful answer to your problem is that you suck at TEFL, but you already know that or you wouldn’t be here. The better answer is that you crapped the bed with verbal diarrhea. Your instinct was to talk. That’s what teachers do, after all, don’t they? But that is precisely the wrong approach in an EFL classroom. What typically happens is new teachers talk their students into a mess of incomprehension, and then either try to talk their way out of it if they’re perceptive enough to recognize the meaning behind those blank stares, or just keep on yapping if they’re not. And you, you’re a yapper.
Maxim 1: New teachers overestimate how much their students can understand.
Your first misstep was talking to elementary level students as if you were gossiping to your best friend back home. You assumed your students were following you when in actuality they started tuning out after a minute of your garbled gapping. You failed to pick up the subtle signs of incomprehension, and they are subtle; students (particularly in Asian cultures) don’t typically raise their hand to profess their own ignorance. Most new teachers have an Aziz Ansari level of awareness of non-verbal cues.
Here are the signs:
Or maybe even:
Maxim 2: The more you talk, the less they understand.
Silence feels awkward. We have an almost genetic compulsion to fill it with idle platitudes and uninteresting chit chat, especially you. But it isn’t that your students don’t want to hear it (though I certainly don’t), it’s that they simply can’t understand it.
There’s something disarming about communicating with someone who speaks a different language. Whatever charms, wit , sense of humor and irony you have (and let’s be honest it ain’t much) are rendered useless with the loss of language as a medium of transmission. The sheer act of making yourself understood is as humbling as it is frustrating, not to mention exhausting.
It’s also unnatural, in a way, not to be able to use language to communicate. Most of us grow up surrounded by people who readily speak our own language. If you’ve never lived abroad, how many times have you actually had to express yourself to someone who couldn’t understand a word of English? Not many if I had to hazard a guess.
Only when you’re faced with someone who can’t understand you do you realize how essential language is to communication, how expressing yourself simply and concisely is a skill that takes a lot of practice to develop. As with everything, some are naturally better at it than others. Some people have a knack for pith just as some love hearing their own voice, and we both know which you are.
So how do you get better? The first step is awareness of the problem. If you’ve read this far, you can consider yourself aware of it. You’re welcome. The second step is being conscious of every word that comes out of your mouth and taking into consideration three things: grade, pace and brevity.