Broken Wings

Tandy Taylor, UK

Tandy Taylor spent the last 20 years working as an ELT trainer, teacher trainer, trainer trainer, materials writer and course director. She spent 6 years in Egypt, 2 years in China, 3 years in Laos and 3 years in Ukraine. Since 1997 she has specialised in ESP and has worked on a number of military English projects in Ukraine, Romania, Slovakia, Montenegro and Switzerland. She is currently working as a maritime English teacher trainer, tester and materials writer and also works as a consultant with the IMO (International Maritime Organisation). She is based in Glasgow but frequently has to travel abroad. Since she took up her new position in the maritime sector last November (2006) she has set up and led training courses in Malawi, India, Latvia, the Philippines and Russia. E-mail: tandy@taylor6164.freeserve.co.uk

I think it's very easy to forget how much power we have as teachers, and our ability to influence our students long after they've left the classroom. I have a little tale I'd like to share with you, something that happened to me a few years ago that I've never forgotten.

I was in the Western part of Ukraine working as a teacher trainer on a military English project. Most of the classes took place in the Officers club in the evenings between 6-9pm. So usually I'd go along several times a week to team teach with the Ukrainian military teachers.

There was one group in particular, it was a pre-intermediate class with about 15 military officers and NCO's who came along after work. These men were incredibly motivated, they had to be, as they were coming to these classes in their free time after a long day's work.

There was one student in particular, his name was Vitaly and he was a pilot. He was in his forties and had been decorated several times for his bravery, flying missions over Afghanistan back in the 1980's (when Ukraine was still part of the former Soviet Union). The thing I noticed about Vitaly was that he never spoke English in class. The minute he stepped over the threshold he turned into what I call "Frozen chicken mode." He would quite happily participate in Pair work, group work, mingles, board races etc.. Oh yes, he'd do all the movements and the practical stuff, but he wouldn't speak English. When I asked him a question he took on the look of a rabbit caught in headlights, sweat would appear on his brow and occasionally I'd see a tremor in his hands. We tried everything- moving him so he sat next to the most supportive student, the most humorous student, the quietest student. We tried sidling up to him and virtually whispering in his ear when the others were engaged in tasks. We tried crouching on the floor so we were at a lower level. We even brought food and vodka into class along with some music one night. Well, we had a great party but still Vitaly wouldn't speak English. I started to think it might be something to do with me personally. I stayed away from class for a few sessions, but apparently it made no difference except the students kept asking where I was.

"Do you know why he won't speak English?" I once asked Lyudmila the Ukrainian teacher. She shrugged her shoulders, "No, and it's not our business." But I felt it was my business, yet I wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. Eventually the course came to an end, the next level was due to start in a few weeks. I felt a real sense of personal failure with Vitaly and I felt I couldn't let him go without at least trying to find out the reason. Maybe I was doing the wrong thing and would only make it worse, but I had to try. So on the last day of the course, after the final lesson we all went to a local bar to down a few vodkas, with the odd glass or two of red Ukrainian champagne thrown in, and drink a toast to "friendship and love"- the usual stuff. I made sure I sat next to Vitaly, and taking a large slug of vodka I turned to him and asked the question I'd been wanting to ask for weeks: "Vitaly, why won't you speak English?"
Then, in a mixture of translated phrases, Ukrainian, Russian and even incredibly enough, some broken English Vitaly told me the following tale.

"Tandy, during the time when Russian forces moved into Afghanistan I was a pilot and I flew many missions over Afghanistan. I was decorated several times for my bravery, but you know, I never really felt afraid. The last time I felt really afraid was when I was a boy. I remember I had an English teacher, I can still picture her face and smell her perfume. That woman terrified me. She picked on me, she bullied me, she made my life a living hell. I remember one day she asked me a question and I just couldn't answer. She kept on and on, shouting at me, picking on me. Eventually I just fainted out of fear and had to be carried out of the class. So you see Tandy, stepping into your classroom was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. For me, it was much worse than flying missions over Afghanistan. I'm just sorry it's taken me so long to talk. But now I feel ready, I have my confidence and trust back and I'll continue to the next level.

At the end of the night he took off his pilot's wings and handed them over to me.

"Oh God,Vitaly, I can't possibly accept this" I insisted.

He smiled and took my hand warmly

"Tandy, I don't need that to remind me that I'm brave, I can easily get another one. But I'll never get anoter teacher like you."

I'm sure it must have been the red champagne that brought a tear to my eye, after all, I'm not the sentimental type.

I still wear his wings now, five years later, on my beret. They remind me of the power we have over our students to shape their lives. We can make them or break them, build them up or tear them down, use or skills or abuse our skills and we should never ever forget that.

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