TEACHING PHILOSOPHY
My Teaching styles
Looking back at the way I teach—and how that has quietly shifted over the years—I find myself leaning toward a blend of methods that reflect not only my learners’ needs but also my own instincts. The Communicative Approach, for instance, has always made sense to me. Language, after all, is something you live through before you master it. I remember this boy named Jiro, maybe seven or eight, who would only respond when the lesson involved some sort of game or silly storytelling. I stopped correcting every little grammar mistake and just let him speak. Soon, he started correcting himself—without prompting. That, to me, is what communication does: it builds confidence before structure. But even within that approach, I find myself weaving in elements from the Comprehension Approach, Also, with the Audio-Lingual, sometimes even the Direct Method, depending on who’s in front of me.
These approaches appeal to me more than others. Because, they’re flexible and alive. I believe no two learners process language in the same way. A child learning through pictures and movement is not the same as a working adult trying to fix fossilized pronunciation errors. For younger learners, I tend to build sessions using Communicative tasks paired with Audio-Lingual drills—chanting, mimicking, silly songs—plus bits of comprehension tasks that let them guess and explore meaning without pressure. For adults, especially those in the B1 to C2 range, I blend the Direct and Effective Humanistic Approaches—conversation-based topics, emotional check-ins, pronunciation training—with heavy Communicative grounding. One student, a mid-30s nurse, struggled with fluency but had perfect grammar on paper. We stopped the textbook cold and just talked, every day, about things that mattered to her. She flourished. Sometimes you just need to listen for a while before teaching anything at all.
There are little things from each method that I carry with me, tucked into the lesson flow without students even noticing. From the Audio-Lingual approach, I borrow drills—short, focused repetition with clear intonation patterns—especially helpful in pronunciation lessons or when prepping for speaking tests. I’ve used those even in casual coffee-shop meetups, repeating phrases together like we were rehearsing for a play. From the Comprehension Approach, I’ve learned to trust silence—let learners absorb first, respond later. There’s this quiet power in observing how their eyes move when they’re listening intently, not forced to speak right away. As for the Humanistic Approach, it’s the heart of my adult sessions. I ask about their days, their mood, their frustrations with learning. One student once told me no one had asked him how he felt during a lesson until that day. That stayed with me.
I’ve been teaching children for a decade and adults for nearly seven years. Both groups bring something different to the table. But, if I had to choose, I gravitate more toward adults—especially those working between B1 and C2. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone connect the dots in real-time, especially when their goals are clear. For online sessions, I thrive with adults, given the conversational depth and the space for intellectual nuance. In-person, though, I’m drawn to kids. I love how learning becomes a game, a dance, a mess sometimes. Their laughter when they finally pronounce a word right, their insistence on using new expressions just because they can—it’s infectious. And selfishly, it keeps me young. My teaching style adapts to their needs, not the other way around. I draw techniques from all approaches. We do role-playing, storytelling, mimicking accents, visual aids, community chats, whatever it takes to turn a lesson into something. That feels lived rather than memorized.
When I plan lessons, I don’t follow a strict script. But, I do have a rhythm. It is something that makes room for warm-ups, soft landings, and student-centered flow. I usually begin with a light check-in or a relatable question. This is to lower the affective filter and set the tone. I’ve always believed in creating space where learners feel seen and unafraid to try. Although, I didn’t always know the technical terms like “scaffolding” or “warm language.” I remember one of my shy students, Carla, who barely spoke until I asked about her dog. That one moment of connection opened her up. Since then, I’ve built emotional ease into every lesson. I use gentle phrases like, ‘It’s okay. we’re building the puzzle together. Or ‘Take your time, it’s not a race.' And I’ve found that even adults appreciate this kindness. With pronunciation practice, I rely on modeling and visual cues. sometimes even exaggerated mouth shapes or silly sketches. Is effective, just to make concepts stick.
In terms of lesson structure, I lean into the 80/20 principle. 20% teacher talk, 80% student action. It’s important for me that learners don’t just absorb. They apply what they learned. I blend guided, structured tasks with open-ended practice that lets them take risks. For warm-ups, I often use real-life scenarios. Visuals, or even short videos is demonstrated, to ignite interest. Guided practice usually includes controlled activities like fill-in-the-blanks or roleplays. And for independent practice comes in the form of personalized tasks—maybe a dialogue, a voice message, or a short writing prompt. During a themed week around “ordering food,” one student even made a real call to a café just to try out his phrases. I also incorporate language learning strategies like chunking vocabulary, simplifying instructions without dumbing them down, and adding consistent recap moments before we close. Students leave class saying one thing they learned and how they’ll use it. it’s a small. reflective habit. that sparks real ownership of their learning.
Motivation is woven into every moment. I don’t walk in trying to be overly cheerful, but I try to be present, real, and responsive. I ask real questions, remember their stories, and let their interests shape the lesson. When I taught a teen who loved basketball, I turned grammar drills into NBA commentary sessions—he corrected his past tenses on his own just to keep up with the game simulation. Evaluating students for me isn’t about scores—it’s about paying attention. I use informal checks during class, quick feedback, and voice notes to respond to their specific strengths and needs. Instead of rigid tests, I assign voice recordings, reflections, or short writing tasks. I had a student once tell me, “You correct me, but I never feel bad.” That stayed with me. Assessment, when done gently and personally, becomes less of a judgment and more of a mirror that reflects growth, courage, and possibility.