We’re in a unit on travel with a unit test coming up on Thursday. Today we were working within the framework of four new vocabulary words: exciting, interesting, relaxing, and unusual.
The students gave lots of examples to show their understanding of these words. For relaxing, they talked about sleep, sitting, massages, and spas. For exciting, they talked about roller coasters and action movies. For interesting, they talked about visiting museums and the White House.
For unusual, they had trouble thinking of examples. This makes total sense – it’s much easier to think of things that are usual than things that aren’t. Finally, one student said, completely non-judgmentally: “sometimes, a man dresses like a woman.”
“Transgender” is a fantastic teaching point for so many reasons. You can break the word apart to show “trans” + “gender” to construct the meaning. You can bring in such fantastic movies as “The Birdcage” and “To Wong Fu.” You can get into freedom, tolerance, and discrimination in the USA.
The thing is, these are all tangents within our travel unit. I made sure they had the word “transgender” for the concept the student brought up, and then I felt we should get back to our travel context.
Come to think of it though, transgender is a tangent within all of our units. I will basically never teach “transgender” (or “blossom,” or “poop,” or “Xbox,” or “accuracy vs. fluency“) without knowing that I’m straying far away from the bounds of the textbook’s scope and sequence.
I understand that texts must have a limited scope and a logical sequence in order to be usable. I’ve said several times in this blog alone that I think our text does a lot of things really well. And I’m lucky to not be tied to teaching the text and only the text.
But isn’t it interesting how these shiny books with their grammar charts, canned dialogs and amusing illustrations are teaching me when I’m “straying” and when I’m teaching “real” material? The material seems so natural when you’re flipping through the book, but everything they put in (and everything they leave out) is a value judgment. I find the subtle power of their voice to tell me and my students what’s normal, what’s acceptable, and what’s worthy of talking about to be a little frightening.
And for all that power, are textbooks really more valid than the experiences and questions the students bring to the table?