Stephanie here! I’m a graduate of the English and Education double degree programme at HKU, now in my second year of teaching. It’s been a while since I have posted on Education Dialogues, and it’s great to be able to contribute again. Currently, I’m balancing my role as a secondary school English teacher with my part-time MSc in Applied Linguistics for Language Teachers at Oxford. Now that I’m not just a student but also a teacher, I’ve been trying hard to navigate between theory and practice, and honestly it hasn’t been easy. What I’ve learned so far is that the reality of teaching doesn’t align with what we were taught in university. And it’s this gap between theory and practice that has me questioning the profession and the system we work within.
To give some context, the HKDSE public exam dominates our education system, and for new teachers like me, it’s like trying to explore a cave blocked by unmovable boulders. In the undergraduate programme, we learned to design lessons holistically: priming pre-tasks to engage student interest, main tasks that are situated within their zone of proximal development, and post-tasks for consolidation. We were told to make lessons fun and engaging, to cater for learner diversity, and to foster a love for the subject. But in reality, secondary school students are often so fixated on exam preparation—or so numbed by stress and anxiety—that activity-based lessons are met with cold and uncaring responses, making our overtime preparations feel futile. Some students only respond to drilling, while others disengage entirely, leaving you wondering if all the pedagogical training was for nothing.
This disconnect between theory and practice makes teaching so hard. On the one hand, university courses teach us to cater to all students, be inclusive, and ensure no one is left behind. On the other hand, experienced schoolteachers warn us to focus on the motivated students, suggesting that those who are completely disengaged are beyond saving and that we need to “save ourselves from burnout”. It’s a harsh dichotomy that challenges you – not just your brain, but worse your spirit.
I’ve had my share of trying to engage low-performing senior form students through task-based learning. Even with a well-planned lesson, incorporating all the “right” steps—scaffolding, rapport-building, and games—students whose motivation to learn English is at rock-bottom won’t even participate in games. Studies highlight how classroom environments and teacher behaviours impact motivation, and that teachers should be aware of their own roles and cultural factors affecting student motivation (Chambers, 1993; Littlewood, 2000). But it is difficult to engage demotivated students, not just because we don’t have the training for it, but because such learning attitudes drain teachers the most. Yet, the theories are often more useful for catering to students who already have some degree of motivation to learn, such as younger junior forms, leaving us unready to address those who are disengaged when they reach senior secondary. Or perhaps, leaving us unready to address the burnout that awaits us.
This makes me think: Why is there a lack of focus on exploring why students are unmotivated? Much of the motivation literature emphasizes how motivation affects learning outcomes (Dornyei, 2006). Yet, rarely do we explore why some students are unmotivated in the first place. For instance, research has discussed the dynamic and temporal nature of motivation by researching students with high motivation (Dornyei & Ushioda, 2009), but there’s little on how to help students who have reached a stage of complete apathy. Why is there so little attention paid to the “why NOT” factor? How can we fix student motivation when we don’t even understand the root causes of its absence?
Perhaps the solution lies in expanding the research focus. Instead of solely exploring how to motivate students, we also need to listen to the silenced voices of weaker students and understand their disengagement. But rather than blaming our training, more importantly, the responsibility for addressing these challenges should not rest solely on teachers. It’s an overwhelming task for any individual. Institutions need to create environments and systems that better support teachers in catering to learner diversity. This could mean smaller class sizes, better access to resources, or even – if I am being overly optimistic – systemic changes that reduce the pressure of high-stakes exams. By doing so, teachers can focus on what they were trained to do—helping all students reach their potential.
Being a new teacher has shown me just how wide the gap is between what we learn in university and what we face in classrooms. Bridging this gap requires more than just adapting our teaching strategies—it calls for systemic change and a deeper understanding of student motivation, especially for those who have been left behind. It’s a challenge, but one worth pursuing. After all, as much as we teachers dislike misbehaving students, don’t we secretly also want to help them get out of their shell as well?
References
Chambers, G. (1993). Taking the ‘de’ out of demotivation. Language learning journal, 7(1), 13-16.
Dörnyei, Z. (2006). Individual differences in second language acquisition. AILA review, 19(1), 42-68.
Dörnyei, Z., & Ushioda, E. (Eds.). (2009). Motivation, language identity and the L2 self.
Littlewood, W. (2000). Do Asian students really want to listen and obey? ELT Journal, 54, 1, 31–36.
