Preparation to Teach Other Cultures: Teaching English Abroad (Marshall Islands Case Study)

April 8, 2014

I had spent some years as a student in a PhD program in social work education at Indiana University. As detailed in another blog, it was a bad experience. Among the areas of serious concern that arose during those years, I encountered confused and even racist attitudes among doctoral educators and students who considered themselves enlightened. (In case it matters, my prior graduate study was at Columbia.)

Sadly, instead of rectifying abuses I had identified, the relevant administrators at Indiana University decided to punish me for taking note. Thus, after an investment of a half-dozen years, I found myself having to start over in a new PhD program, at the University of Arkansas. I guess you could say that, this time around, I was primed to pay close attention as things were developing.

In another post, I have critiqued a course that I took while enrolled at Arkansas. That course was titled “Teaching People of Other Cultures.” I was dismayed to find that some of the same attitudes and ineptitudes I had encountered in the school of social work at Indiana were also present in the Arkansas school of education.

Perhaps some will say that one should expect poor teaching of multiculturalism in Arkansas. To be sure, that particular school of education drew only one to two stars (out of four possible) on the National Council on Teacher Quality’s (NCTQ, 2013) review of teacher preparation programs provided by U.S. News & World Report (2013). While the methodology underlying that NCTQ review has been criticized (Fuller, 2014), my experience there is also supported by the results of the standard U.S. News (2014) ranking, in which that particular school of education ranks 86th out of 181.

I appreciate that, in many regards, the student’s experience is likely to be better at one of the top-ranked programs — at, say, Stanford, Johns Hopkins, or the University of Wisconsin. But it cannot be too satisfying to write off the thousands of students attending the hundreds of non-elite schools of education listed by U.S. News. Moreover, one cannot be entirely confident that multicultural education would necessarily be better in a top-ranked school of education. There is, for instance, my own experience of ageism at Peabody, along with deplorable experiences while earning my master’s degree in the top-ranked social work program at the University of Michigan. (I am fine, by the way, with those who are prepared to acknowledge that no place is perfect: humility, practiced earnestly, could have profound effects on elitist rankings and claims of multicultural sophistication.)

No doubt there are many good educators in various American schools of education, prestigious or not. At the same time, it is not unreasonable to be concerned when cultural competence is being taught so poorly at the graduate level in a flagship state university. I will not have an opportunity to inspect firsthand most of the schools of education in the U.S. But my experiences to date did seem to justify the general conclusion that universities are not the only, nor always the best, places to learn. When confronted by recurrent ineptitude in academia, there is the question of whether one can learn more, better, or at least differently through non-university experience.

In particular, this post explores some aspects of teaching abroad as one route to improved understanding in cultural (and self-) awareness. As with attendance at an elite university, teaching abroad is not for the unqualified or the unfunded. But as opportunity permits, it seems that a more immersive experience might inspire a salutary caution, and discourage glib or sanctimonious pronouncements, in the area of cultural competence. Becoming immersed in an alien culture might not always yield insights spanning multiple cultures, but at least it might help to develop greater awareness of what it means to work with people who are not like oneself.

Justin, a Teacher in the Marshall Islands

As an illustration of such possibilities, I found myself interested in the account of teaching abroad provided by Justin Behravesh. Justin participated in a year-abroad program sponsored by WorldTeach, a reputable, favorably reviewed, and well-known Harvard-based nonprofit offering summer, semester, and yearlong teaching opportunities in a number of developing countries. Justin chose to teach in the Marshall Islands, a tropical nation located approximately equidistant from Hawaii, Australia, and Japan. The Marshalls have become known as, among other things, the place of the notorious U.S. Bikini Atoll nuclear tests in the 1940s and 1950s and, more recently, as one of the nations most threatened by rising sea levels.

I read all of Justin’s 141 posts (if I have counted correctly), recorded during his year (2011-2012) in the Marshalls. If I had to choose one post to summarize his account, it would be the post of May 21, 2012. In that post, coming at the end of his year abroad, Justin provides several top-five and top-ten lists. For instance, on the positive side, he says this:

Ten things I will definitely miss about my life in Jabor:

1. The kindness, generosity and open nature of the people
2. My host family
3. My students
4. The accessibility, vacancy, and warmth of the ocean
5. Fresh fish, bananas and coconuts
6. Having a 3-minute walk as my commute to work
7. The intellectual stimulation of studying the Marshallese language
8. The scenery
9. The phenomenal singing that I hear in church every Sunday
10. The amount of time that I have for leisure reading

and on the negative side, this:

Ten things I will definitely not miss about my life in Jabor:

1. Witnessing violence against children, being encouraged to be violent against children, and feeling like the only adult in my students’ lives who is not violent towards them
2. Feeling like I’m always surrounded by yelling
3. The scarcity of quiet, private moments in my life
4. Feeling like my life is under microscope
5. Feelings of isolation, loneliness, confusion and discomfort
6. Living in small house with 6-8 other people
7. Having to make the choice to hide or share all of my possessions
8. Not being able to set my own sleep schedule
9. The lack of vegetables and whole grains in my diet
10. Having to be hyper-vigilant about my health

The things he will miss are no surprise: a year in a tropical paradise is bound to have its charms. Having read his blog in full, I suggest that his list of ten bad aspects can be boiled down into a shorter number of key points. In particular, his account paints a convincing picture of discomfort wherein his teaching efforts and personal life alike, by both day and night, were constantly observed, surrounded, and invaded by loud and intrusively curious people, especially but not only children. He also caught dengue fever and experienced chronic infections. In addition, although not featured in his worst-10 list, it was clear that he strongly disliked the disorder of Marshallese life in general and of his school in particular, including but not limited to radically different concepts of timeliness and planning. It is one thing to imagine a pleasantly laid-back culture in which things happen at a slower pace; it is quite another to encounter the potential loss of large amounts of money when airfare connections do not happen on time, or the frustration of a school year riven by random days off and desultory day-to-day scheduling.

Justin rose to these challenges with efforts that went above and beyond what was expected and what many might do. By his account, he quickly became fluent in the Marshallese language, where other year-abroad teachers might master just a few words and phrases. In a move that was perhaps not surprising for someone who planned to enter law school the following autumn, he ambitiously responded to the disorder in his school by accepting his principal’s suggestion that he assemble a policy manual. He seems to have hoped that this manual might help the principal to make a difference in one area, listed above, that particularly disturbed him: the common use of corporal punishment by parents and teachers, echoed in children’s violence against each other. Generally, Justin seems to have brought remarkable energy and dedication to this teaching assignment.

In so doing, Justin squarely raised this question: to what extent can/should he tell these people that their culture is just plain wrong? Some may recoil from that question; it may seem obvious, at least to those who emphasize the respect of other cultures, that one cannot simply waltz in and set them straight. But what is the alternative? Justin was subjected to a year featuring recurrent episodes of taunts and disrespect. He did write that policy manual. He did ultimately feel entitled to a peaceful night’s sleep, free from people talking outside his window and otherwise making noise into the wee hours. In these and other ways, it appeared that he found it difficult to avoid the belief that his own culture’s approach was superior. One could argue, generally, that the efforts of many to flee developing nations in favor of a life in an advanced western country do testify to the latter’s superiority for at least some purposes. Or at least these would be the kinds of cross-cultural questions one might face, given an assignment like Justin’s.

What I got from Justin’s account was perhaps not always what he intended. In the area of corporal punishment, for example, I noticed his admission that the children seemed to get used to it and not be hugely fazed by it. I agree that the world would be better without physical violence. But in settings where it does occur and is guaranteed to continue to occur, which approach is more adaptive: to develop resilience in coping with it (as the children apparently did) or to recoil in horror, become distraught over it, make oneself a target of students’ disdain, and ultimately become estranged from the place because it does not function as one prefers? One need not participate in it oneself, but demanding that everyone must refrain — in essence, expecting a culture to do a complete about-face — may be hoping for a bit much, within the space of a one-year teaching assignment. Indeed, in a partial retort to the American way, it appeared that Justin did sometimes use the threat of violence, despite himself, to compel good behavior: he did not administer it himself, but he did occasionally fall back on the threat to send a child to some other Marshallese adult who would do so.

I completely sympathize with Justin’s concerns about diet, health, and sleep. But in the area of scheduling, again, I perceived an insistence, however understandable, on doing things American-style. To be sure, kids from the Marshalls are not going to be competing successfully against kids from Japan, not when the Marshallese children cannot get through a week without having classes disrupted by holidays and other scheduling irregularities. They are not going to be passing standardized exams at desirable rates. But to avoid the burnout so evident in Justin’s remarks as the year wore on — to become more rather than less absorbed into the local culture — it seems essential to be able to regear and regroup, somehow, so as to make students’ learning a less implicitly adversarial (and, for them, culturally alien) affair.

I appreciate that I was not there, that there may be good responses to some of the things I have just said. I have solicited Justin’s reactions to the foregoing interpretation, and may receive those reactions sometime after the winding down of stresses as we near the end of what is, I assume, his second or third year in law school. Nonetheless, the sense of burnout and alienation does come through at the end, as do Justin’s energy and good intentions at the start and his generally positive attitude throughout. The key point here is that he obtained what one might consider a second-level cultural education: he observed, not merely the fact of different attitudes toward time, school, and discipline, but also the personal and interpersonal effects of an attempt to bridge or grapple with those differences.

The Book by Rudiak-Gould

In his blog, Justin mentions a book by Peter Rudiak-Gould (2009), Surviving Paradise: One Year on a Disappearing Island. In an interview discussing this entertaining and well-regarded book, Rudiak-Gould summarized what went wrong when he tried to teach on an island in the Marshalls:

No elec­tri­city. No bath­room. No bell. Next to no sup­plies. No firm sched­ule. Little enthu­si­asm on the part of teach­ers. Little com­munity sup­port. Low start­ing point of stu­dents. Poor beha­vior. So, pretty much everything.

In such conditions, I wondered whether the cultural divergences that so irritated Justin were mere artifacts of a larger cultural discrepancy on the importance of education. What is at the root of the Marshalls’ educational problems, I believed, was not (or at least not merely) a smorgasbord of day-to-day incompatibilities; it was, rather, the reality that there is not enough money to make education important. The Marshall Islands, like much of the Pacific, are far from places of great opportunity. Yet that was not precisely Rudiak-Gould’s take on it. About halfway through my pageless ebook version of his story, I found these words:

Education was a Western import that existed only in appearance. The motions were there, but not the ideological support beneath them. There was a school, but not the idea that it matters. There were teachers, but not the idea that they should teach. There was a schedule, but not the idea that it should be followed. . . .

The failure of the school also highlighted a contrasting success. The church functioned perfectly, experiencing not even a hiccup during the food shortage. It was lovingly maintained, impeccably attended, and as firmly scheduled as anything could be in the Marshall Islands. Its prompt start at 10:30 was nothing short of a miracle on this island . . . .

There will surely be the occasional high school exchange student opportunity. But for many Marshallese students growing up on islands that are remote even from their own government’s small central island, and for their parents, it appears that there may be few relevant, highly educated role models or other reminders of the value of education. The incoming American teacher trainee has to work out his/her own compromise between, for instance, the knowingly resigned attitudes of local teachers and the personal sense of what should be happening in a school.

Rudiak-Gould seems to have made a transition somewhat the opposite of Justin’s. As reported in a Washington Times article,

[T]oward the end of his year Mr. Rudiak-Gould experienced an epiphany of understanding: “their way of life made sense. … This was a culture based on survival. What looked like paradise was actually one of the hardest places on Earth to live,” a place that dictated a subsistence fishing-and-gathering economy and where storms often destroy a remote island’s entire food supply, leaving the people to starve. . . . Children were not valued traditionally because most of them died. Also they did not gather food but only consumed it; they were a burden.

Justin had run into the wall of that traditional culture, and had not understood why it was so resistant to his ideas of self-improvement. Or perhaps he had understood it quickly enough, but was frustrated by the seeming Marshallese failure to transition away from aspects of a traditional culture that seemed maladaptive to the modern world.

Stepping Back from the Extremes

There might be a set of insights, or a state of mind, that would facilitate adjustment to even the most alien cultures — such that, with the proper orientation, someone like Justin could preserve and apply his energy and ambitions in ways that would fit and have enduring positive impact. What seems more likely, though, is that the large majority of teachers hailing from a place like the U.S. would simply not be comfortable and effective in a place like the Marshall Islands.

For a better fit, it might be preferable to send people to cultures that are somewhat more like their own. Possibly an American teaching cadre recruited from selected lower-income urban or rural neighborhoods would be better adapted to the hardships of island life; possibly they would be less distracted by the constant presence of nosy individuals, and more accustomed to sharp contrasts between ideal learning environments and the realities surrounding them. On the other end, possibly the relatively advanced students likely to survive an international teacher vetting process would find it easier to fit in the most advanced high schools and in the few colleges found in places like the Marshall Islands.

This line of thought could suggest that the world’s teach-abroad channels should flow primarily among relatively compatible nations. The U.S. should, and does, provide teachers to China, where education is prized at least as highly as in the U.S., and perhaps there should be more of a return stream, so as to acquaint more American students with Asian peoples. The U.S. would send teaching interns to Europe, but for the latter’s job protectionism, and perhaps we would become more accustomed to seeing the occasional Italian or Dane in our own schoolrooms.

That does not seem to be the situation for Americans looking at a year of teaching in the Marshall Islands. Rather, the risk seems to be that Americans will be sent to teach English to people very unlike them, and will come back home, after a year or two, with greater cultural awareness but not necessarily greater cultural acceptance. If anything, their openness to other cultures may be reduced. Justin’s initial willingness to make a go of almost anything might get traded for a more informed hesitation to accept the cultures of seemingly similar places, given his perceptions of dysfunctionality in the Marshalls. Likewise for Rudiak-Gould, who made this discovery:

I came to terms with two facts. The first was that I was Western. I had always fancied that I wasn’t, that I had somehow escaped the influence of my upbringing and emerged free-thinking and unburdened by cultural baggage. How wrong I was. . . .

The second realization was that I loved it. I loved my culture. For the first time in my life, after finding so much fault with my native society, I could finally see what made it great. It wasn’t the West’s wealth or power. It was the fact that friends hugged each other; that men and women freely interacted; that children were openly treasured; that both intimacy and anonymity were possible; that a person could determine his own path in life.

Training to Teach English as a Foreign Language

To recap, there is a question of how to prepare teachers, and others, to work with dissimilar cultures. The preceding paragraphs have suggested that attempting to bridge vast gaps may be counterproductive — that, in the case of teach-abroad opportunities, it may be advisable to match candidates and teaching opportunities carefully.

In most cases, the risk of misfit will likely be reduced if volunteers are given appropriate training. At the high end in terms of time, effort, and expense, a person with a PhD or similar advanced degree may move among English-language colleges and universities in many countries without experiencing too much incompatibility of culture or expectations. At the low end, a person with nothing beyond a high school education may be limited to a few niche opportunities abroad in which s/he could fit.

Justin, in the Marshall Islands (above), fell between those extremes: he had a college degree, but apparently not much training specific to the challenges of teaching in any developing nation or in the Marshalls specifically; I don’t believe he had a degree in English or in English education; and of course he was not working at the PhD level. All other things being equal, he would thus be at a disadvantage against an alter ego who had been equipped, in advance, with an extensive set of strategies and techniques to prepare him for teaching in general or for challenges specific to his location, his students’ age group, and his subject matter.

It might help, before plunging into an isolated yearlong teaching program halfway around the world, to gain exposure to teaching opportunities in various sorts of classrooms in the vicinity of one’s home. Certainly it would be helpful to have some experience, of one kind or another, in handling various issues in student discipline and motivation — and, as Justin’s example demonstrates, in various forms of adult-child interaction that a teacher may encounter.

A standard teaching degree is one way to obtain that sort of experience, especially if the degree is accompanied by good field practice opportunities. One might be able to accrue at least some comparable experience by being around children of the relevant age (in e.g., one’s family or neighborhood) or by working with them in other capacities (at e.g., a Sunday School, or in a pediatric health practice, or via playground supervision or coaching). Again, the need for this sort of acclimation would tend to diminish for those who teach adults or college students.

The highest-paying and often most comfortable teaching positions (presently including many in Saudi Arabia and other nations in the Middle East) tend to require more advanced credentials, such as a master’s degree with a focus on teaching English as a second language (TESOL). There is also a subfield known as English for Specific (or Special, or Academic, or Legal, or Medical . . . ) Purposes (ESP). By contrast, as with Justin’s Marshall Islands program, many English teaching opportunities around the world do not require degrees in either the subject matter being taught or in the process of education for specific age groups.

Short of a master’s in TESOL, it is also possible to obtain a certificate in teaching English as a foreign language (TEFL). Such certificate programs vary widely in duration, content, and quality. While any certificate might help somewhat, it is commonly advised that an online TEFL course, typically available at a discount, is not likely to carry much weight with employers abroad: they want to see classroom teaching experience, which online courses tend not to offer.

The most highly reputed TEFL courses seem to be the Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages offered by either Trinity College London (CertTESOL) or the University of Cambridge English Language Assessment (CELTA, which was short for the former name, “Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults”). It appears these courses are essentially accredited by those universities, but the actual CertTESOL or CELTA instruction providers can be found throughout the world. Oddly, the list I got from Trinity showed no such franchisees in the U.S., but there did appear to be 18 CELTA centers in the U.S. One such center offered a regular price of $2,495 (for a four-week CELTA course), with a $300 discount for those signing up at least 45 days in advance.

One site flatly asserts that

The Trinity Cert TESOL and the Cambridge CELTA are the only two TEFL qualifications that are widely recognised by reputable language schools worldwide. Any course that doesn’t lead to one of these is not recognised and has no validity, including all other TEFL courses.

For someone in Justin’s position, though, it is not entirely clear that either the CertTESOL or CELTA courses are necessarily on target. The CELTA syllabus evinces a continued orientation toward adults, and the CertTESOL website cautions that its training is not necessarily geared toward “[t]he teaching of young learners, especially those aged between six and 12 years old,” who require “very special methods, materials, and means of assessment.” For that kind of training, they say, one is best advised (and will be required, at least in state as distinct from private schools in many nations) to obtain a standard teaching degree.

Its reputation notwithstanding, I was also not certain that the CELTA would provide more than an introduction to training practice. It offered a total of six hours of teaching practice. No doubt that could feel like a lot, to the trainee. But it did not seem like much compared to the 50 hours of field experience contact hours with students required for a teaching degree in Iowa, or the 100 hours required in New York — and those would typically be hours spent with students from the culture in which the student teacher was born and raised. Given research suggesting that teachers whose degree programs included practice teaching were half as likely to leave the teaching profession, it is no surprise that Justin found himself challenged in the Marshalls.

I did not investigate the question of whether research has linked any particular TEFL certificate (e.g., CELTA) with improved outcomes, in terms of student learning or teacher attrition. A question within such an investigation would be whether improved outcomes (if any) would be due to positive effects from the training itself, as distinct from mere self-selection. For instance, people who can blow $2,500 on a certificate to teach English in some tropical location, not having demonstrated enough commitment to earn a teaching degree for that purpose, may be rich enough not to care (and thus, perhaps, not to get burned out, nor to expect too much in their positions abroad). Or perhaps those who can shell out that kind of money tend to have the advantage of better educational backgrounds. Others, of a different sort, may be desperate enough to do whatever it takes to get this sort of international career underway; some may already be successfully employed and, perhaps, bankrolled in this certificate by their employers. In short, there would be a question of whether any career success associated with the TEFL certificate was due precisely to the training imparted therein.


Dismaying prior exposure to multicultural education, within university classrooms, sensitized me to the question of whether, and how, a person might become more attuned to cultural differences. It seemed that living and working abroad, among ordinary people, might provide much better training for that purpose than a mere college course could. Teaching English abroad would be an example of that sort of international experience, often indulged by Americans. The particular case of Justin, marooned on a tropical island for a year, as recorded in his blog, offered detailed insights into how that sort of cultural training could play out.

It seemed that Justin began with energy and good intentions, but ran into many barriers. Some were existential. For example, sleep deprivation and recurrent illness could taint even the best job opportunity. Other barriers were occupational. For example, it is not clear that Justin was adequately trained to succeed, at least for purposes of his objectives within his teaching role. Finally, some barriers were cultural. Examples here included the lack of privacy and the pervasiveness of corporal punishment.

My conclusion, stated above, was that better prior training, geared to his specific assignment, might have helped Justin to cope with occupational issues. It is also possible that prior immersion in the location (e.g., a mentored arrival, commencing a month or two before school started, in the company of someone familiar with the place) could have better prepared him for cultural issues. Finally, on the existential level, it seems that some volunteers, on his island or elsewhere, did have better accommodations (supporting sound sleep, among other things).

A closer look might conclude that Justin actually did cope remarkably well, under harrowing conditions over an extended period of time. The fact that he did not have the benefit of the sort of mitigating efforts described in the previous paragraph is not necessarily a reflection on the host government, or on relevant nongovernmental agencies: if they had the budget for that sort of thing, presumably they would not be relying on well-intentioned international volunteers willing to work, for a year, for virtually no pay.

Returning, then, to the larger topic, these remarks may somewhat flesh out terms like “cultural competence” and “multiculturalism.” Justin’s experience suggests that a year spent in the same house with people from another culture, all operating under apparent good will and doing their best to make it work, can still leave the parties uncertain if not disillusioned. As observed in another post, the kind of intercultural understanding necessary to prevent wars and genocides must surely go quite a bit deeper, and require significantly more careful management, than was feasible even in this yearlong assignment.

The foregoing discussion of Justin’s experience does not prove, nor does it seek to prove, that teaching abroad is always better than the classroom, for purposes of learning about the interface between oneself and an unfamiliar culture. It does appear, though, that a year spent in another culture in any capacity, and especially in a highly interactive role such as teaching, can teach much that one is not likely to obtain from the classroom. While it would not be feasible to ship every American student abroad for a year of cultural exposure, my experiences (and Justin’s as well) suggest that firsthand exposure (even if it consists merely of exposure to unfamiliar settings within the U.S.) can contribute enormously to one’s education, regardless of whether one earns college credit in the process.


2 Responses to “Preparation to Teach Other Cultures: Teaching English Abroad (Marshall Islands Case Study)”

  1. Overall, this story is a bit difficult to follow. Your thesis is unclear. Are you critiquing the course, teacher education, or simply providing an opportunity to consider how one might gain global perspectives as an educator? Or just as an American?

    Since I work to ensure teacher education programs in the US provide global experiences to their pre-service teachers, I am addressing the second point above.

    I think you are spot on in many of your arguments. Yes, we need to teach our teachers how to teach students from different backgrounds (be they cultural, linguistic, socioeconomic). In short, we need them to be more globally competent. Enrollment in our teacher education programs is woefully homogeneous, so this is very important.

    I find this post a bit problematic. First, you argue for providing pre-service teachers with cross-cultural experiences. Here, we agree. You then, however, discuss Justin’s experiences. They are interesting, but it is an apples and oranges comparison. Justin is not a trained teacher, nor was he an education major. It is unclear why you are using him as an example when you start with teacher education. You sort it out a bit in the summary, but not sufficiently.

    Second, training to teach ELL is a also problematic comparison. Are you arguing for these certifications for future teachers? They don’t need them. Many teacher education programs prepare their teachers to teach internationally, and many of them go on to do so – with their BAs and teaching licenses.

    Finally, you claim to understand teacher education, with little to no support other than NCTQ. It is unfortunate you had a terrible experience in your course (and I agree it was terrible). I sympathize with you. There are many colleges of education, however, effectively internationalizing and providing global perspectives to their pre-service teachers – and they are doing it using several effective strategies that go way beyond simply international experiences or cross-cultural courses or what is measured by NCTQ. NCTQ – with is widely criticized both in- and outside teacher education – doesn’t even consider global perspectives in its criteria.

    It is clear that you know very little about teacher education and you make very weak connections between teacher preparation and ELL certificates and a newly minted (non-education, mind you) graduate who tried teaching abroad. I am not sure why you even bring up teacher education in this blog. Yes, the class was terrible. Yes, it was in a college of education. Yes, pre-service teachers need stronger global perspectives. It falls apart there. You would benefit from learning a bit more, or leaving out teacher education all together. Critique that class – not all of teacher prep.

    If you want to learn more:

  2. Ray Woodcock Says:

    Caitlyn — thank you for taking the time to compose this thoughtful and detailed response. You make good points. I have revised the start and end of the post to clarify what I was up to and what I concluded. Please take a look, when you have a minute, and feel free to let me know whether I have addressed your concerns.

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