If the Robots Take Over...

Recently, I’ve been reading up on the trend in Korea of replacing English teachers with robots. Proponents are quick to point out that the children are really excited about it and that interacting with a robot might be easier for the shy students in class. They mention that the robots only need routine maintenance and will never ask for a raise or complain about work conditions. Also, the robots are programmed with games and music that they can “dance” to (it was in quotes in the article I read).

It’s time for a rant. I don’t even know where to begin on this one, as I find it such a monumentally stupid concept. I suppose before I really get into it I should acknowledge that some have asserted that the robots are not meant as a replacement for teachers and are only there to enhance the education experience. Also, this is only happening in a very small group of schools in Korea, so it’s not like there is a giant robot uprising that will see the end of my career, or my life, by next year. I am aware of all of this, but it makes the notion no less ridiculous.

First, a little bit about the robots. The worst I’ve seen appear to be little less than walking trashcans fitted with voice recognition software, and we all know that that is flawless. At best, the robots are actually controlled by a real person in the Philippians, who can see, hear, and speak with the children. Even then, however, there are a few problems. The first is the design choice to not show the actual teacher’s face on the monitor, but a generic Caucasian one. Why do that? I also have to assume that the range of vision for the teacher is rather limited and those robots, streamlined as they are, might not turn all that quickly. Can children goof off behind their robo-teacher’s back? And what if they do? What if there’s a fight or somebody gets hurt? Even if the teacher can take action, by calling the school for instance, the fact remains that a real person would be able to react faster to an emergency. Which brings me to my last point: if you’re going to hire a person from the Philippians to control your robot and run your English class, why not just hire him or her to teach at your school? There are so many more benefits for your students to having an actual person teach them, which I will discuss below.

Looking beyond the specifics of the robots in question, there are still several glaring flaws with this plan. The first and most obvious is the artifice of it all. I wonder what Korean schools that have taken this approach feel the purpose of English instruction is. If they feel it’s to interact with foreigners in any capacity, which I have to assume they do, then they are doing a disservice to these kids. While it may be true that interacting with a robot is easier for shy students, it is not helping them with their problem, only substituting in a weak alternative. Case in point, I was far more willing to play around with the robots at Canal City in Fukuoka than I was to approach a Japanese person and start up a conversation. Pushing panels on a touch screen, however, in no way changed my outlook on spontaneous human interaction. The only thing that has changed that is talking to real people. I’ve got my fair share of shy students and I try my best to show them that talking to me doesn’t have to be intimidating. Can the robots crouch down to speak to younger students? Can they smile in a way that isn’t creepy as all sin? Can they give a thumbs up or do anything to actively interact with kids beyond speaking to them? It certainly doesn’t seem that way.

As I’ve mentioned several times on this blog, my relationship with my students extends beyond the classroom. I go to community events, sports practice, games, other classes, and chat with my students during passing period. These robots seem incapable of doing any of that and honestly those are the times I feel my students really need me here. My JTEs have told me on more than one occasion that the students are very good with recycling material but have trouble with original thought and creativity. It’s not really surprising when you see how many junior high classes are run, with students learning a grammar point then translating a page in their book to Japanese and maybe, if there is time, coming up with a single sentence of their own. My time with them outside class is unscripted. I can potentially ask them about anything, and they have to really think about what they are able to say and how they can answer me. There is also this strange phenomenon I’ve noticed where children will use English when I’m around even when they aren’t talking to me. I’ve heard kids use “thank you”, “I’m sorry”, count and do all manner of other things in English when talking to each other. Well, all of that’s gone for these Korean kids, because there robot teacher is likely to only show up for class, teach the lesson, and go offline so that the person controlling it can go teach at another school remotely or maybe just collect their check and be done, I don’t know.

There is so much more about this that gets under my skin, but I’ve hit the main points, so I’ll just rapid fire a couple more here. I just love how proud these people are that their robot is programmed with games. You know who else is? Me and any other teacher you could hire. The difference being we can change our games to accommodate different skill levels and we can make up new games on the fly. But the number one detriment is the loss of any relationship between teacher and student. I know I’ve got a few students who try hard or do extra work because they want to talk to me and get to know me. I’m here partly as an example of the bare minimum English skills can get you, a new friend. Robots might be neat and the kids might find them interesting in the same way as a new toy, but it just isn’t the same.

All right, getting off my soapbox. I’m done.

Fail: Why Japanese Children Aren't Motivated to Learn English

One day, on two separate occasions, my students asked their teachers to talk with me in English.  In both instances, the teachers told them it was むり (無理, muri), which means impossible.  I chuckled a little at the time because I understood what they had said and was musing to myself that their kids could probably do a better job speaking with me, but this underscores one of the major problems I face as an English teacher in Japan.  Simply put, there is no motivation, positive or negative, for my students to learn English and even I’m hard pressed to argue it’s useful for them.

Before I go any further, I’d like to reiterate that I live way out in the countryside, on a series of islands that is ultimately connected to the mainland by a single bridge.  I could probably count the number of local foreigners, excluding ALTs, on a single hand.  Unlike the big cities, where tourists are a common sight around the holidays, there are precious few opportunities where knowing and using English is necessary or even helpful.  On some level I feel like all my kids understand this, that English is something that, for most of them, will atrophy like it has with their teachers.  On one hand it’s really frustrating, because I know English education has been around long enough that most, if not all, of my teachers learned it at some point.  On the other, I can’t really blame them for being a product of their surroundings.  I’m sure my Japanese, as horrible as it already is, would be effectively non-existent had I remained in the states and had no need to practice it.

This is only half of the equation, though.  Now I’ve established that at least some of my kids (probably a fairly good number actually) have seen that learning English won’t help them much in the long run, save for getting them into the high school of their choice, but I’ll get to that in a bit.  Are there any other factors motivating them to do so, maybe a short-term benefit or some sort of negative consequence of not learning?  Well, I suppose in the short-term they get to talk with me and while I like the idea that my kids are learning English in order to be my friend, I just don’t think that’s the case.  Certainly some of them seem really excited to talk and spend time with me, but not enough that they’re going to raise their grades just so we don’t have to delve into Japanese as often during our talks.

As for any negative consequences again there don’t seem to be any.  The Japanese education system doesn’t fail students or hold them back a grade.  Remember this point the next time someone tells you that Japanese students have a college level education by the time they finish high school.  While it may be true that the curriculum is that advanced, unless the student is really motivated there are probably a few classes they failed horribly and just weren’t penalized in any way for it.  The worst punishment I’ve seen for failing class is a tongue lashing from the teacher, but for English the worst the kid is going to get is sitting with the failing half of the class after a test and being forced to write lines rather than playing some mildly more interesting games in the advanced class.  If you already don’t like or care about English, you probably won’t care which of these classes you’re in either.

Finally, we have high school entrance exams.  While it’s true that English is a requirement on these tests, depending on what school you’re trying to get into you may not need to know any English at all.  I’ve heard that prospective students can pass the English portion of some tests by successfully writing their name on the top of the page in Japanese.  Granted, these are highly specialized technical schools but when you factor in the number of students who are simply going to work right out of junior high and the number who will want or will settle for a technical school, the end result is a good chunk of kids who ultimately will have no need for English.

Teacher's Notes: English Inside and Out (of the Classroom)

One of my best students confided in me the other day that she feels she is very good at English during class, but that speaking with me was difficult.  I assured her she spoke very well and that one of the main reasons I was here was to help her get more comfortable with English conversation.  I told her that talking to me should be relaxing and that she could use Japanese, gestures, or pictures when she didn’t know the English.  This got me thinking about my role as an ALT and the ways in which I feel English should applied and quantified inside and outside the classroom.

The decision of when to use English and when to use Japanese is a topic often discussed at ALT meetings.  In fact, it was brought up at the Kumamoto Mid-year Conference just last week.  I have always been an advocate of using as much English during class as possible.  Sometimes it isn’t, like trying to explain why a particular sentence is wrong when checking the student’s work, but I’ve found that most of the time students can handle instructions and simple explanations in English.  I also feel that avoiding English is a disservice to the kids.  Again, technical explanations like grammar should be covered by the JTE in Japanese, but a ten-minute discussion about tangentially related material, such as famous historical figures referenced in the text, can and should be done in English.  The reason is simple: it is not as crucial for students to retain this information as it is to expose them to English.

Though I feel my students are competent enough to handle almost exclusively English instruction, everyday conversation presents a number of challenges that class simply cannot prepare them for.  Almost everything about classroom English is fixed: classes last a certain period of time, the school year follows a set schedule, there’s often only one right answer to any given question, and the use of Japanese is discouraged (even by me).  In contrast, real communication is fluid: conversations can last a few seconds or several hours, topics vary, there’s a multitude of ways to convey the same idea (think of how many ways you can say “Yes”), and, in my case at least, the use of Japanese is actually encouraged.

These stark differences arise from the perceived goal of each situation.  English class is designed around the idea of passing the high school entrance exam of your choice.  The notion that it gives you the tools to read and speak a foreign language can be looked upon as simply an added bonus.  Here, students strive for perfection because the better they are, the better school they can get into.  Day-to-day conversation, however, is all about conveying ideas.  Here, the aim is simply to understand one another in any way possible.  This is why discouraging Japanese outside of class is a negative thing in my mind, because it cuts out the valuable overlap you share with your students in exchange for an artificial challenge.

No Japanese means wedging students into that middle section while you refuse to do the same.

Taking a step back and looking at these two distinct spaces, it becomes clear why even the most gifted of students may have trouble with English conversation.  While exacting, classroom English is also very narrow.  It may be true that only one answer is going to get you a point on the test, but that answer will come from a limited set of information.  Again, the material here is fixed and definite.  Natural communication, while having a fairly simple goal on the outset, is far more daunting in practice because it can go anywhere and has the potential to run the range of an entire languages lexicon.  When I talk to my students, I do try and gauge what level of dialogue I think they can handle, but I don’t sit and ask myself what sentence structures or vocabulary words they know.  I’m not quizzing them, but trying to get to know them, so naturally some things are going to come up that they’ve never heard before.  At that point, they need to know that it’s okay to use Japanese, to gesture, to draw pictures, and to make mistakes because the only way that communication fails for sure is when one of us gives up.

When my student said that she didn’t feel she was good at talking with me, I suspect she was gauging her speaking ability using the same scale implemented in class.  Why wouldn’t she?  It’s the only thing she’s familiar with.  Every class has grades, tests, and a standard that’s expected to be lived up to.  Talking with me is completely different, and I’m sure that’s as terrifying as it is exciting.  I only hope this experience serves to encourage her and that she stays passionate about learning and speaking English.