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Short Article 4
Which Side Are You On?

Alice Svendson

Alice Svendson is a teacher in Japan.

When I recently mentioned my intention to write an article using this title to a friend and colleague, he immediately connected it to the song by the same title, made popular by Pete Seeger. I had not made the connection to the song, but as he began tapping out the rhythm on the table and loudly singing the chorus, “Which side are you on, boys, which side are you on?” I realized that this rousing labor union song was indeed the same haunting call that I had dredged up from childhood memories to use as the theme of my article. The reader may also remember hearing and using the question when trying to settle loyalties at home, or in the school yard, forcing friends to take a stand. I’ve never been part of a labor strike, but that very question has been the resounding echo that has been haunting me time and again when complaints about students come up in teachers’ meetings, or when I find myself in a contrary way with my students. In the classroom, I often ask myself, whose side am I on, anyway? And the more I place myself squarely on the side of the students, and let them know it, the more I sense a more open rapport from them, which leads to successful outcomes for the students, and for me.

As the lyrics state, “There are no neutrals there.” … “He’ll be with you fellow workers until the job is done.” ( Florence Reese, 1930’s) As language teachers, we find that there are no neutral places between students and teachers. There are so many situations when our “loyalty” to the students is tested. Here “loyalty” refers to both the big and small sincerities that illustrate to the students that we are truly on their side, sympathetic and united for their cause, fighting for them to succeed, happy when they improve. Their struggle is our struggle. In the following paragraphs some examples of when we as teachers might reflect on our loyalties are mentioned, along with a few personal experiences where I have sensed that the students appreciated knowing I was on their side. Knowing that their teacher would be “with them until the job was done” made the job our common struggle. 

First, on a school-wide level, sometimes it seems necessary to “cross the line” and take the side of the administration. In the case of enforcing school rules at my Japanese college, we may have no choice but to remind the students, for example, that smoking is not allowed on campus, and that includes the restrooms. When disciplinary action must be taken teachers appear to be the villains. Even then, it is important to be advocates for students, and it is important that they sense we are still on their side despite the appearance to the contrary. These loyalties are important for student-teacher communication. Disciplinary situations, such as school rules or plagiarism, which result in teachers appearing to be in opposition to the students certainly deserve more attention, comment, and research than time can allow in this article. For now, we will limit the discussion to the situations in the classroom.

On the classroom level, the question of which side are you on can be more subtle and elusive. It can often pose itself under the guise of responsibilities. For example, we are all aware of teacher roles such as the test-giver, grade distributor, task master who assigns tasks, grammar correction officer or judge of correct usage. Even the milder roles of authority, such as time keeper, can have powerful confrontational effects on students. In all such situations, there needs to be the awareness of  “the line,” the imaginary line that could so easily separate us from them, if we let it.

If indeed we are aware of the occasions when we could slip “across the line,” to the “management” side we must ask ourselves what effect this might have on the students. Would it make a difference if we made an overt effort to show solidarity with the students even as we participate in some of the undesirable roles mentioned in the above paragraph? What I have noticed is that it does make a difference to them. However, at first, the students expect us to be “against” them sometimes, so they are surprised when we show up on their side! 

Traditionally, educators in Japan are supposed to distance themselves from the students, so, in practice, the teacher is always on the opposite side. At the college where I work, each new class of freshmen enters with the traditional teacher-centered classroom memories and expectations. However, it doesn’t take long for them to adjust.  I’d like to mention a few of the times when going over to their side has made a noticeable difference in the students’ responsiveness. One such time is during the role of grade distributor. We can involve the students in the evaluation process by including self-evaluations as part of their grade. When students are aware of the criteria for assessment, such as participation or amount of English spoken in class, they can take more responsibility for their learning. 

I’ve also experimented with this question - would it make a difference to the students if I were on their side in “testing” situations? This is often a time when teachers feel it is taboo to cross the line, or put another way, the teacher vs. students is okay sometimes. After all, it’s a test. So recently, a seemingly radical show of loyalty occurred when I helped the beleaguered class with hints to the answers to some difficult test questions, which were worth learning, but they would not have grasped otherwise. I have also helped the whole class with editing during writing assessments by putting reminders on the board, such as sentence combining or word forms, and I sometimes help them with ideas for development on standardized writing assessments. In these situations, the teacher is usually not available to the students for help, but rather on the side of the test, the opposite side. Yet these are prime-time learning opportunities when tension is high and the need to understand is great. I was clearly on the learners’ side, struggling against the test. We had a common enemy; therefore, both the test and writing assessment became more powerful learning opportunities, and in unspoken ways we realized that the learning was by far more important than the test. Students responded with appreciation and an openness and willingness to try harder.

So, whose side are you on? It is not a new idea, but a new way of describing a humanistic approach to teaching. For me, it has been an attitude to cultivate, and far from being a condescending one. It’s important that learners perceive that we are rooting for them, cheering them on, but not treating them as helpless. If we are on their side, it follows then that we will create student-centered classrooms, which foster solidarity. Probably, those of us who are fortunate enough to be or to have been language learners are keenly aware of the “taking sides” opportunities that arise  with the students because we have been on the other side of the desk and know how discouraging and frustrating language learning can be! Empathizing with them shows that we are sharing their burden, and that simple truth seems to encourage more effort. Also, being a truly sympathetic listener and responsive to students’ suggestions and feedback lets them know we are on their side.

In closing, I can only say that I wish I had discovered such a simple philosophy years ago. It would have made my teaching a lot more pleasant and peaceful. When we put down our resistance and leave the management banners behind, then the negative emotions melt away, and teaching and learning become the enjoyable experience they were meant to be.