I don’t know if my face betrayed my confusion as I looked around the room. No one else seemed lost, but I could not make sense of what looked to me like barely organized chaos. I was trying to keep my thoughts to myself, but my internal monologue could not have been more plain—“What on EARTH is going on?!”
With so many voices echoing around me, I couldn’t understand what a single one was saying. Glancing toward the front of the room, I looked for some indication that the teacher was still in control of the classroom. But as the students kept on talking all at once (in multiple languages), the teacher seemed completely comfortable simply adding to the verbal fray—speaking over the din without any attempt to refocus the class.
Everyone around me seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, while I sat in my confusion, it looked like real learning was taking place! The teacher continued the lesson, and students had the space to digest the material out loud—practicing on the spot as they learned.
This is a common teaching style in Laos, where I’ve been observing teachers all week as part of the Global Ambassador Program. My Western perspective, with its love of organization and categories, ironically has no category for this—a noisy, “chaotic” classroom where students are clearly benefiting from an excellent teacher.
In my time in the GAP program in Thailand, I’ve been working with mostly Chinese students. Their learning style is much more similar to what I’m used to—attentive listening and a respectful demeanor. But, even with its similarities, their approach has also been shaped by a vastly different culture from my own.
I’m starting to realize that teaching across cultures means that students will have different expectations of me than I am used to. It can be good to teach them my style, but even better if I learn to meet them half way and become familiar with their education methods too.
No cross-cultural worker ever integrates completely and seamlessly into another culture. But people can tell if we are making an effort to grasp their perspective. Local students and friends see when we respect their culture and respond accordingly. Everyone wants to be understood, and the effort to understand someone from their own cultural perspective—to speak their language and hear their stories—is a powerful form of love. Being a cross-cultural English teacher gives me a unique opportunity to do that, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
