—Considering my own practice—

“Why on earth would you do that?” A friend asked incredulously, as I explained that I would be spending the evening with a former colleague to help her with course design. No, it’s not something I’m paid to do. And yet, in education, our collegial and pastoral responsibilities seem perhaps one of the most noticeable distinctions from other forms of formal work.

A more cynical part of me might say that those late-night phone calls from former students regarding an urgent administrative request, those support meetings before class after an incident in somebody’s personal life, or those unexpected last-minute lifts during lunch hour are unlikely to figure on ay job description because they would entail some meaningful form of responsibility and reimbursement on the part of my employer. And in many institutions, that is unfortunately the case. But perhaps exploring these aspects of the profession which are rarely articulated in any formal definition of practice can shed some light on the often opaque nature of teaching English for Academic Purposes.

So first, let me begin by stating that EAP is, itself, a fairly ambiguous discipline which is still struggling to situate itself within the academy. Jordan (2002) indicates that 1989 was perhaps a significant year in the defining of the field, with the subject-specific organisation BALEAP (British Association of Lecturers in English for Academic Purposes) coining its name. The term initially referred to a university-specific form of tuition in English as a Second Language. However, the extraordinarily varied nature of the activities undertaken by an EAP practitioner makes it difficult to pinpoint the exact nature or direction of its practice. My current position at Queen Mary University of London largely involves tutoring post-graduate students of law (both home students and international) who are familiarising themselves with the kinds of texts used in that field, explaining and rationalising the unusual and diverse forms of legalese which exist in the UK. This perhaps helps shed some light on the evolving nature of the discipline, which (I hope) seeks to address the teaching not simply of one overarching English, but an entire universe of Englishes which have come into existence, both on these islands and across the globe. An EAP practitioner must remain fully open to the possibilities of an evolving practice which is unlikely to remain the same – or even similar – in nature over the course of an entire career.

As a university-based position, there is an expectation of research and experimentation which also distinguishes this work from language teaching at primary, secondary, or language schools. This is rarely something written into contracts, but it is keenly promoted in most institutions, with time and funding available to attend conferences, to arrange in-house events, and to amass new materials. The extent to which any university endorses such things may be questionable, at times, often due to budgetary considerations. This is surely a valuable contribution, nevertheless, to the ever-expanding field of English Language Teaching.

Our pastoral role in the lives of our students is, of course, similar to that of any teacher in many ways – perhaps most of all, in the difficulties in defining its limits. While in the increasingly common corporate environment, we learn early on that any unusual behaviour should be reported immediately to the relevant officer, I would like to think that my pastoral duties should and do often extend into a number of unexpected areas. For international students, the EAP practitioner is often one of the best-equipped to help a student navigate those inevitable moments of cultural dissonance, which we ourselves have also often experienced, being of an internationalist disposition. My investment in my students reflects, I hope, the very best of what I experienced from my own teachers; this means that I have often helped and encouraged former students to undertake study in far-flung corners of the globe. I still strongly feel that to be an educator infers a role as a community leader. And it is for this reason that it seemed entirely understandable to me that when my campus in Mexico was struck by a kidnapping, I was regarded as a sufficiently important and impartial authority figure that I should accompany family and police in their investigations. In a fairly melodramatic turn of events, I would ultimately be the person to locate the missing individual and reunite her with her family!

Finally – phew! – this brings me back to the phonecall with my would-be colleague, sat in a different workplace, a full eight hours’ time difference away. Why on earth – indeed – should I be doing that? Don’t I have enough on my plate balancing two jobs and an admittedly vague doctoral project? Perhaps one of the most overwhelmingly significant acts, I feel, we can undertake as professionals in this field is to connect and reflect on good professional practice with our peers. It is important to connect with our students – of course it is! – and for some that may even be enough to continue to develop professionally. However, the very best teachers enter this profession because they seek to inspire just as much as they themselves have been inspired. It is only through developing those meaningful professional bonds with other colleagues that we can grow: discussing a new activity that worked so well in class; debating the directions we expect the profession to take in a changing educational climate; or simply, commiserating over the incompetence of our superiors (and never the incompetence of our students, thank you very much!). Following two years of distance learning and distance peer support, it has never seemed more important to me to maintain these links with other teachers; it has never seemed more painful, equally, to see a teacher leaving the profession. To put it simply, the most important unspoken aspect of being a good language teacher might well be to practice good communication with other teachers around you.