Why I Teach the Way I Do

I do not approach teaching as a matter of classroom control or performance management. My primary concern is not whether a class appears orderly, but whether learning can genuinely take place over time.

I believe that learning does not begin with content. It begins with safety, with trust in the instructor, and with a classroom environment in which students are allowed to make mistakes without fear of judgment. Much of the labor required to create such an environment is difficult to measure. It rarely appears in formal metrics or evaluations. However, this labor often determines whether learning actually happens at all.

My teaching is guided by a long-term view. I am less interested in immediate compliance or short-term performance, and more invested in the conditions that allow students to remain engaged, curious, and willing to learn beyond a single course.

Accountability Without Shame

Moments of disruption in the classroom are often treated as behavioral or disciplinary problems. I approach them differently.

When a student arrives late, I do not view this as a moral failure. At the same time, commitments and trust deserve to be taken seriously. Rather than shaming the student, I invite reflection. I ask them to consider what it means to be reliable, and how one’s actions affect a shared learning environment.

How an instructor responds in these moments matters. Students either learn to operate defensively, or they learn to take responsibility without fear. I approach moments like tardiness not as behavioral disruptions, but as opportunities to model accountability without shame. This distinction has lasting implications for how students relate to authority, responsibility, and learning itself.

Anxiety, Comparison, and Heritage Learners

Anxiety and self-doubt are especially common in language classrooms, where students are constantly comparing their abilities to those of others. This dynamic can be particularly difficult for heritage speakers.

Heritage learners are often grouped together, but their linguistic experiences vary widely depending on home language use, exposure, and personal history. In these classrooms, comparison can become especially damaging. Students may interpret difficulty as personal failure rather than as a natural result of uneven exposure.

In my teaching, I work to separate identity labels from proficiency judgments. I name these differences explicitly and normalize moments of confusion or struggle. By addressing anxiety directly, I am not diverting from instruction. I am making instruction possible. When students are released from comparison and shame, they are able to reenter the learning process with curiosity rather than fear.

Why Invisible Teaching Labor Matters

Much of what I describe here does not register in current teaching metrics. Emotional safety, trust building, and ethical modeling are difficult to quantify, and their effects rarely appear immediately in grades or evaluations.

However, these practices shape whether students are able to sustain learning over time. Education does not end at the classroom door, and its most meaningful effects often emerge long after a course has concluded. What students carry with them beyond my classroom matters as much as what they learn in it.

Teaching in the Age of AI

As AI becomes increasingly capable of explaining vocabulary, analyzing grammar, generating example sentences, and even revising student writing, language education is entering a period of profound change. I do not believe AI will replace language teachers. However, I do believe it will force us to rethink what makes a teacher truly indispensable.

If a teacher’s value is built mainly on explaining vocabulary, breaking down grammar, providing standard answers, and correcting surface-level errors, then those functions may become increasingly replaceable. These are important tasks, but they are also highly repetitive, rule-based, and predictable, precisely the kinds of work AI is becoming very good at.

But meaningful language education has never been only about delivering content.

The teachers who will remain essential are those who can design authentic communicative experiences, cultivate intercultural judgment, build supportive classroom environments, and help students develop their own voice in the target language. Language is not simply a collection of words and grammatical structures. It also involves context, relationships, identity, tone, and the ability to understand others with nuance and care. AI may help students produce more polished sentences, but it cannot replace genuine human connection, nor can it replace a teacher’s role in guiding, encouraging, and responding to student growth.

The future language classroom, as I imagine it, may look very different from the traditional one. Students may use AI before class to preview vocabulary, practice basic expressions, or draft initial ideas. But the classroom itself may become an even more important space for interaction, interpretation, reflection, and meaningful expression. In such a classroom, the teacher is not merely a transmitter of knowledge, but a designer of communication, a facilitator of learning, and a supporter of student voice.

In the age of AI, I do not believe the value of language teachers will disappear. Rather, I believe it will become clearer. What remains most valuable is not simply helping students produce correct language, but helping them use language to express themselves more truthfully, more appropriately, and more meaningfully.

How Would I Design a Curriculum That Embodies These Values?

Having outlined my approach to teaching and my view of language education in the age of AI, the next question becomes: if I were to design a curriculum that reflects these values, how would I do it? If I were to design a Chinese language curriculum, my core principle would be simple: language is not something students memorize, but something they use to live, connect, and participate in the world.

This belief is deeply shaped by my own experience as a language learner. During a recent trip to Boston, I walked into a Cantonese café run by a Hong Kong owner. Instead of relying on English, I chose to speak in Cantonese, asking for the menu, ordering tea, and interacting directly with the staff. It was not perfect, but it was real. In that moment, I was not “practicing a language,” but participating in a living cultural space.

That experience reinforced what I value most in language teaching: students need opportunities to use language in authentic, meaningful contexts, even before they feel fully ready. Therefore, I would design the curriculum around five interconnected components: structure, feedback, real-life communication, learner autonomy, and continuous access to interaction.

First, I would provide a clear but minimal structure, including foundational elements such as pinyin, basic sentence patterns, and high-frequency vocabulary. The goal is not to cover everything, but to give students enough tools to begin expressing themselves early.

Second, I would build in a continuous feedback system, where students receive regular input from instructors and peers. Language development is an ongoing process, and timely, low-stakes feedback helps students adjust and grow through use.

Third, I would center the curriculum around authentic, real-life tasks. Students would be encouraged not only to practice with classmates or instructors, but also to engage with people in real-world settings, such as shop owners, restaurant staff, or members of the local community. Through these interactions, language becomes more than communication; it becomes a way to build relationships. When a café owner begins to remember a student’s preferences, the language becomes part of a meaningful human connection.

Fourth, I would strongly encourage learner autonomy beyond the classroom. Students would be guided to develop their own learning habits, such as keeping a simple daily journal in the target language, reflecting on their thoughts and experiences, or engaging with content they genuinely enjoy, such as podcasts. Additionally, I offer online tutorials, providing step-by-step instructions on how to utilize AI tools for language practice.

Finally, I would emphasize continuous access to interaction. Even in the absence of immediate social environments, students can still actively use the language—by speaking to themselves, narrating daily activities, or engaging in conversations through AI voice-based tools. These technologies provide a 24/7, low-pressure space for tailored practice, helping learners build fluency and confidence over time.

In this approach, textbooks are not removed but repositioned as a starting point. Real-life communication and human connection become the ultimate goals. Ultimately, my aim is to help students move from “learning the language” to “living in the language.” I want my classroom to be a space where students feel comfortable experimenting, making mistakes, and gradually building their own voice. Because language learning, in my view, is not only about linguistic competence, but also about human connection and personal growth.

04/10/2026