This week’s guest bloggers are Martyna Kozlowska and Jaime Demperio. Martyna Kozlowska is an English language instructor at the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM). She obtained a PhD in linguistics from McGill University, Montreal, Canada in the domain of generative approaches to L2 acquisition. She teaches primarily grammar, syntax, and critical reading, though her recent teaching and research interests center on issues of language and identity. Jaime Demperio is an English language instructor at the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM). They obtained an MA in linguistics from Syracuse University in New York, and TESOL certification from LeMoyne College, also in New York. They teach reading, writing, interpersonal communication skills, media literacy, and courses concerning the interplay of language and culture. Their research interests concern identity and language learning.

“Each irritant is a grain of sand in the oyster of the imagination. Sometimes what accretes around an irritant or wound may produce a pearl of great insight, a theory.” – Gloria Anzaldua

Martyna 

I teach English as a Second Language (ESL) at a francophone university in Montreal. A turning point in my evolution as a teacher happened when I recognized that students’ identities must be acknowledged, and their stories shared and cherished. But for this to happen my identity could not remain off-limits. Years of higher education in theoretical and applied linguistics (with a particular interest in English language structure) prepared me well to share my knowledge of English adequately and passionately—its curiosities, regularities, and patterns. Still, I was never confident delving into and explaining structures that to me remained vague, non-intuitive or arbitrary.

As a non-native English speaker, I simply do not have native intuition—my Achilles heel. Do students look to me as a model of their future second language (L2) selves and prefer the ‘real deal’ native speaker? My non-nativeness felt like the ‘chink in my armor’. Each careless transgression towards my non-native ‘status’ would cast a shadow of doubt over my credibility—I knew it.

Fortunately, when student identity became the focus of my work and reflections, I could look deeper and more honestly into what I represented to myself and to learners. Though I still feel unequipped to reach for the ‘we don’t say it this way’ or ‘this sounds odd’ answer, I am hypersensitive to linguistic ambiguities, and to what’s impossible rather than what’s just ‘off’.  Students often possess this knowledge, too, and they hone it over time. We are blessed with a knowledge that opens doors but can then fail us at times when we need to shine. 

Today, I speak with students about our shared identity as L2 speakers. Today, we can discuss the random, subliminal microaggressions that we experience. We can share our frustration with the limited access that we have to steadfast grammaticality judgments. We share uplifting flashes of common recognition and understanding and experience awkward clashes of expectations, a sense of unaccomplished objectives, and dissatisfaction. But these instances, from time to time, in the most unexpected and beautiful ways, give room to moments of truth, a sense of belonging and sharing of the knowledge that goes beyond the English language structure. They empower us.

Jaime

For nearly 25 years I have been teaching ESL at university. I work with people aged 18 to 80 in a multi-linguistic, multi-cultural, and multi-ethnic environment. I can relate rather well to being the ‘outsider’.  I have kept my innermost feelings to myself most of my life because I am transgender. Until recently, I had no words to describe this. I was in my late 40s when I learned that I am not lesbian, but trans. I am ‘non-binary trans-masculine’, to be specific. In other words, I do not identify as ‘male’, nor do I identify as ‘female’.

I am somewhere between the two, or perhaps outside of these constructs altogether. That is my gender identity. The label also means that my gender expression is on the “masculine’ side. Labels—they are a funny thing. We often shun them because they can be so limiting, but at times we can embrace them because they allow us to ‘exist’. Who am I? I am many things, and I am ‘becoming’ many things, as everyone who has had the privilege of growing older knows. The label of ‘transgender’, still broad and not readily understood, nevertheless, saved me.

I am teaching people to essentially ‘find themselves’ in a new language. The complexity of what it means to teach and to learn a new language effectively is at times misunderstood, underestimated, or undervalued by those not in the profession. I have come to believe that acceptance, representation, authenticity, vulnerability, and connection are necessary in the L2 classroom. Pedagogical strategies that consider the socio-affective well-being of others can go a very long way in language teaching and learning. In the past, I could not bring my full self into the classroom, nor could I lean into the discomfort of ‘being a different person’ in a new language. I already felt disconnected and misunderstood as an English speaker.

In the classroom today, we (Martyna and Jaime) endeavour to create spaces wherein we can recognize and discuss our humanity and need for connection and acceptance. Sharing the stories that we tell ourselves about who we are can be transformational. Our professional focus is now identity. We are all different and we all need acceptance. Yet the sense of ‘otherness’ fills us with the fear of rejection. That is our starting point. That is the point on the continuum where we can all agree and get on board. Teachers can set an example by embracing their own differences and allowing themselves to be vulnerable.

Courageously sharing our narratives has opened the door for others to share and engage. Theirs are stories of painful struggles and gratifying successes, vulnerability, courage, and love. With authenticity, we can identify what is common, perhaps universal. In the journey to the self, we assign words to our experiences and expand the capacity to connect with ourselves and each other. It’s a beautiful thing.