Social Interaction and L2 Classroom Discourse 9780748692651

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Social Interaction and L2 Classroom Discourse

Studies in Social Interaction Series Editors: Steve Walsh, Paul Seedhouse and Christopher Jenks Presenting data from a range of social contexts including education, the media, the workplace, and professional development, the Studies in Social Interaction series uncovers, among other things, the ways in which tasks are accomplished, identities formed and communities established. Each volume in the series places social interaction at the centre of discussion and presents a clear overview of the work which has been done in a particular context. Books in the series provide examples of how data can be approached and used to uncover social-interaction themes and issues, and explore how research in social interaction can feed into a better understanding of professional practices and develop new research agendas. Through stimulating tasks and accompanying commentaries, readers are engaged and challenged to reflect on particular themes and relate the discussion to their own context. Series Editors Steve Walsh is Professor of Applied Linguistics at Newcastle University Paul Seedhouse is Professor of Educational and Applied Linguistics at Newcastle University Christopher Jenks is Assistant Professor of English and Intensive English/TESOL Coordinator at the University of South Dakota Titles available in the series: Social Interaction in Second Language Chat Rooms Social Interaction and L2 Classroom Discourse Visit the Studies in Social Interaction website at http://www.euppublishing.com/series/ssint

Christopher Jenks Olcay Sert

Social Interaction and L2 Classroom Discourse Olcay Sert

© Olcay Sert, 2015 Edinburgh University Press Ltd The Tun – Holyrood Road, 12(2f) Jackson’s Entry, Edinburgh EH8 8PJ www.euppublishing.com Typeset in 10/12 Minion by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire, and printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978 0 7486 9263 7 (hardback) ISBN 978 0 7486 9265 1 (webready PDF) ISBN 978 0 7486 9264 4 (paperback) ISBN 978 0 7486 9266 8 (epub) The right of Olcay Sert to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, and the Copyright and Related Rights Regulations 2003 (SI No. 2498).

CONTENTS

List of Abbreviations viii Acknowledgementsx 1 Introduction to the Book  1.1 Introduction   1.2 The Significance of this Book   1.3 The Dataset   1.4 Contents of the Book

1 1 3 4 5

2 Social Interaction and L2 Classroom Discourse 9  2.1 Introduction 9   2.2 Interaction as a Social Phenomenon 10   2.3 Approaches to (L2) Classroom Discourse 14   2.4 Conversation Analysis: A Sequential Approach to Classroom Interaction17   2.5 Transcription Conventions 24   2.6 L2 Classroom Contexts 26  2.7 Conclusion 32 3 Co-­construction of Understanding in L2 Classroom Interaction 33  3.1 Introduction 33   3.2 CA-­for-­SLA and L2 Interactional Competence 34   3.3 Epistemic, Multimodal, and Multilingual Resources 44   3.4 Teacher Talk, Student Participation, and L2 Learning Opportunities52   3.5 L2 Classroom Interactional Competence 54  3.6 Conclusion 56 4 From Troubles to Resolution: Management of Displays and Claims of Insufficient Knowledge in L2 Classrooms  4.1 Introduction   4.2 The Interactional Unfolding of CIK   4.3 ESC as an Interactional Phenomenon   4.4 (Un)Willingness to Participate as Participants’ Concern

58 58 60 67 75

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contents

  4.5 Successful Management of CIK   4.6 Discussion and Conclusion

79 84

5 Use of Multimodal Resources in L2 Classroom Interaction  5.1 Introduction   5.2 Multimodal Resources used in Repairing Hearing and Understanding Problems   5.3 Multimodal Resources used in Doing Correction   5.4 Multimodal Resources in Elicitation Sequences   5.5 Multimodal Resources in Explanation Sequences   5.6 Multimodal Resources in ‘Orientations to Learning’  5.7 Conclusion

87 87 88 93 101 104 106 109

6 Use of Multilingual Resources in L2 Classroom Interaction  6.1 Introduction   6.2 Teacher-­Initiated Code-­Switching   6.3 Teacher-­Induced Code-­Switching   6.4 Management of Student-­Initiated Code-­Switching  6.5 Conclusion

112 112 113 119 126 131

7 Implications for Teaching in L2 Classrooms  7.1 Introduction   7.2 Management of Interactional Troubles   7.3 Increased Awareness of UTP   7.4 Multimodal Aspects of CIC   7.5 Multilingual Aspects of CIC   7.6 Learner Initiatives and Managing Epistemic, Multilingual, and Multimodal Resources  7.7 Conclusion

134 134 135 139 141 145 149 152

8 Implications for Language Teacher Education 154  8.1 Introduction 154   8.2 Tracing the Development of CIC 155   8.3 A Microscopic and Reflective Model for Language Teacher Education163  8.4 Conclusion 169 9 Discussion and Conclusion  9.1 Introduction   9.2 Research Ethics   9.3 Future Directions  9.4 Conclusion

170 170 171 172 175

contents vii Appendices177 References181 Index197

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

CA Conversation Analysis CA-­for-­SLA Conversation Analysis for Second Language Acquisition CD classroom discourse CIC Classroom Interactional Competence CIK claims of insufficient knowledge CL Corpus Linguistics CLCA Corpus Linguistics and Conversation Analysis CLIL Content and Language Integrated Learning DA Discourse Analysis DIU Designedly Incomplete Utterance EAL English as an Additional Language EFL English as a Foreign Language ELT English Language Teaching EPA explicit positive assessment ESC epistemic status check ESL English as a Second Language ESS epistemic search sequence FFI focus on form instruction FL Foreign Language IDKs ‘I don’t know’s’ IRE Initiation/Response/Evaluation IRF Initiation/Response/Feedback-­Follow up LBT Learning Behaviour Tracking LOT Learning Object Tracking LPT Learning Process Tracking RP reflective practice SLA Second Language Acquisition SLC shaping learner contributions TAL Turkish as an Additional Language TCU Turn Constructional Unit TESOL Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages TRP Transition Relevance Place

abbreviations UBL UTP WTC WTP

usage-­based linguistics unwillingness to participate willingness to communicate willingness to participate

ix

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank my wife Duygu Sert for her never-­ending support, patience, and  understanding during the writing of this book. I would also like to thank the series editors Steve Walsh, Paul Seedhouse, and Chris Jenks for their encouragement and constructive feedback. Without their trust in my work, this book would not have been possible. This book would also not have been possible without the teachers and students in Luxembourg and Turkey, who shared their teaching and learning experiences with me. I am grateful to Fonds National de la Recherche, Luxembourg, and the University of Luxembourg for accepting me as a visiting researcher, and for their generous support which made the data collection in Luxembourg possible in the first place. For this reason, the support of Gudrun Ziegler, Natalia Durus, and the DICA team has been priceless to me. I am also grateful for the feedback I received from the members of the Micro-­Analysis Research Group (MARG) in Newcastle and the Hacettepe University Micro-­Analysis Network (HUMAN) in Ankara. Finally, I would like to thank those who have contributed to the quality of this book by reading parts of it, or of the earlier versions of the published articles (Chapter 4), namely: Adam Brandt, Keith Richards, Christine Jacknick, Nilüfer Can Daşkın, Ufuk Balaman, Numa Markee, and the anonymous reviewers of Language and Education and Journal of Pragmatics. Texts used in Chapter 4, and parts of two sections in Chapter 3, have appeared in the following research articles based on my PhD thesis, and permission to use the material has been granted prior to publication of the book: Sert, O. (2013), ‘Epistemic status check as an interactional phenomenon in instructed learning settings’, Journal of Pragmatics, 45(1), 13–28. Sert, O. and S. Walsh (2013), ‘The interactional management of claims of insufficient knowledge in English language classrooms’, Language and Education, 27(6), 542–65.

1 INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK

1.1 INTRODUCTION This book explores L2 classroom discourse from a social interaction perspective. The term L2 in this book does not only refer to a second language as in mainstream Second Language Acquisition (SLA) research. Firstly, it is a term which covers the concept of a Foreign Language (FL) referring to, for instance, English spoken in Turkey, where it has no official status nor widespread usage in the society dominated by monolingual speakers of the Turkish language. Secondly, it also covers the concept of English as an Additional Language (EAL) in its mainstream sense to cover, for example, English being learnt by pupils in primary and secondary schools who have ‘a first language other than English’ (Leung 2010: 182). Thirdly, it is also used to cover EAL (Sert 2011) being learnt by multilingual speakers in multilingual settings, like Luxembourg, where multiple languages exist in the classroom other than the target language. Thus, L2 is more of an umbrella term that stands for a(n) second/foreign/ additional language used in an instructed language learning setting. An instructed language learning setting may refer to a traditional multi-­party L2 classroom, as well as to one-­to-­one language tutoring contexts, online or face to face, in its general sense. In this book, all examples come from multi-­party L2 classrooms, a context which probably all of the readers have experienced as learners or teachers of different languages. Classroom discourse, and in particular L2 classroom discourse, is the collection and representation of interactional practices centred around the institutional goal of teaching in instructed (language) learning contexts. L2 classroom discourse is unique in many ways, and L2 classrooms have their own interactional architecture (Seedhouse 2004) that can be tracked through the institutional fingerprints (Drew and Heritage 1992) observed in exchanges between students and teachers, as well as between students in a given classroom. Classrooms are institutional settings where learning and teaching practices manifest themselves in interactions between students and teachers. These are contexts in which learning is co-­constructed and where, in Mercer’s (1995) words, ‘the guided construction of knowledge’ occurs. Language learning is guided by teachers, both directly through talk-­in-­interaction, and indirectly through teachers’ facilitation of peer/group interactions or autonomous learning opportunities via activities prepared for learners. Thus, one can argue that language teachers are ‘key’ to the process of language learning. In language classrooms, as Walsh (2006a: 3) claims, teachers ‘play a much more 1

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central role than that advocated under both Communicative Language Teaching and Task-­based Language Learning’. One particular feature of language classrooms is that language is both the medium and the content, which means that teachers’ effective use of it, firstly, provides input to students. Here, language should be understood in a broad sense to cover interaction and its features, including nonverbal aspects. Secondly, the effective use of language, broadly conceived, shapes the input in a way that will be intelligible and comprehensible to the students, for instance through appropriate discourse marking and signposting strategies. Thirdly, the effective use of language, and the interactional resources to which a teacher resorts, facilitate student participation and engagement, which is crucial for language learning. Understanding language learning and language teaching practices sine qua non require a comprehensive, detailed and in-­depth knowledge of what is actually happening in L2 classrooms. This understanding is essential for teachers and teacher educators, as well as syllabus designers, materials developers, and policy makers. The reason for this is that any kind of traditional or innovative educational practice for classrooms can be evaluated and understood best by revealing how successful the emerging classroom interactions are. This understanding requires a micro-­analytic approach to L2 classroom interactions so as to uncover epistemic and pedagogical phenomena, by paying close attention to participants’ utterances, nonverbal details of talk, suprasegmental features of language, gaze movements, gestures, and orientations to classroom artefacts. This micro-­analytic approach to L2 classroom interaction should be driven by (1) an ‘emic’ perspective (only participants’ orientations to each other's utterances should be used to make claims in the analyses, rather than their given identities or the researcher’s assumptions) and (2) with the idea of ‘contextuality’ (i.e. the meaning of and the action accomplished by what I say in interaction can be understood by looking at the content and the organisation of preceding talk, and what I say also establishes the context for whatever happens after what I say). Both the emic perspective and contextuality will guide the analyses carried out throughout this book. This is important because any evidence to the claims made about classroom discourse will be brought through the guidance of these perspectives, in addition to some others that will be mentioned in the next chapter. These two perspectives bring us to the use of Conversation Analysis in analysing L2 classroom discourse. Conversation Analysis (CA) has previously been employed in the analysis of L2 classroom discourse by a number of scholars (e.g. Markee 2000; Seedhouse 2004; Hellermann 2008). The methodological strengths of a CA approach to classroom interaction will be explicated in Chapter 2, in section 2.4 in particular. Here, what readers should keep in mind is that in this book, following a CA approach, the analysis of L2 classroom interaction will provide a detailed investigation into teachers’ and students’ interactional practices by paying close attention to verbal utterances, suprasegmental features of language, nonverbal details, and multimodal resources including gaze movements and gestures. What is more, the evidence to any analytic claim made will be based upon the actual interactions between participants in the classrooms and the representation of these interactions in the transcriptions; which means that no external theory, or no internal invisible mental phenomena, will



introduction to the book

3

inform the claims made or the forming of evidence. Researchers taking different approaches to L2 classroom interaction, including the ones using coding-­schemes and critical discourse analytic frameworks may not approach the data in the way that I will do in this book. Responsible readers, therefore, should read this book, and other books on classroom interaction, with critical eyes, since different research methodologies, even when applied to the same discoursal data, can reach diametrically opposing conclusions (Seedhouse 2010). The different research methodologies I referred to in the previous paragraph will be introduced briefly in section 2.3, and CA will have a separate section (2.4) devoted to it, as the analytic chapters – namely Chapter 4, Chapter 5, and Chapter 6 – require at least an understanding of the conversation analytic methodology. This book, however, does not intend to teach doing conversation analysis to its readers; what it does aim to do though is to present a working knowledge of CA by referring to the principles and analytic tools of this methodology, and by familiarising the readers with this approach through the use of detailed, but reader-­friendly, CA transcriptions and analyses. So far in this introductory chapter, I have (1) introduced a definition of L2 classroom discourse, (2) discussed what I mean by L2, (3) briefly explained the three reasons why teachers’ use of language in L2 classrooms is important, (4) emphasised the concepts of emic perspective and contextuality in micro-­analytic L2 classroom research, (5) briefly introduced the grounds for the use of CA throughout the book, and (6) explained what readers should expect from this book in terms of the development of their knowledge of CA. For introductory books on CA, readers can refer to Liddicoat (2007), Ten Have (2007), Hutchby and Wooffitt (2008), Sidnell (2010), and Sidnell and Stivers (2013). 1.2  THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS BOOK Social Interaction and L2 Classroom Discourse offers a close investigation of interactional practices in L2 classrooms, and will help readers understand a variety of processes involved in the co-­construction of understanding and knowledge in instructed language learning settings. Using CA, the book explicates key interactional and pedagogical practices observed in language classrooms by closely examining verbal and nonverbal (e.g. gaze, gestures, orientations to classroom artefacts) features of teacher-­student interaction with reference to epistemic (i.e. related to knowledge), multimodal (e.g. nonverbal features of interaction), and multilingual resources (e.g. code-­switching) employed by teachers and students. Detailed transcripts and illustrations are used to provide a thorough understanding of the potential interactional (and in relation to this, pedagogical) troubles (e.g. when a student claims insufficient knowledge by saying, for instance, ‘I don’t know’) and their resolutions (Chapter 4) in teaching and learning practices. Furthermore, the enactment of multimodal (Chapter 5) and multilingual resources (Chapter 6), which may represent effective language teaching and learning experiences, is explicated through micro-­analysis. In this sense, this is the first book to address all these complementary issues that highlight teaching and learning in instructed language

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learning settings. The book also gives practical implications for teachers and teacher educators (in Chapter 7 and Chapter 8 respectively) and presents a language teacher education model. The significance of the book also lies with the diverse dataset used. The extracts in the book come from language classrooms in Luxembourg, Turkey, and the UK, although the majority of the extracts in the analyses chapters are from English language classrooms in Luxembourg. Thus, the data is representative of mainly (1) a multilingual context where English becomes one of the additional languages of learners through schooling (i.e. Luxembourg) and (2) of a predominantly monolingual context where students mostly learn English as their first foreign language (i.e. Turkey). Furthermore, an extract from German language taster sessions1 and an example from a Turkish as an Additional Language (TAL) classroom in the UK will be used to exemplify interactional phenomena where relevant. In the following section, I will briefly explain the dataset to be used. 1.3  THE DATASET The main data, analysis of which will be given from Chapter 4 to Chapter 6, come from two English language classrooms in a public school in Luxembourg. The video data consist of 16 classroom hours (45 minutes each) collected over a six-­week period in 2010. Two digital video cameras were set at the beginning of each session, one focused on the teacher and one focused on the students, to capture all details of the participants’ verbal and nonverbal behaviours. EAL is integrated into the curriculum of these two classes, one of which is a 10th grade and the other an 11th grade classroom. The students in both classrooms have the same proficiency level in English (intermediate), working with the same course book (New Headway Intermediate [Soars and Soars 2009]) in addition to supplementary material the teacher brings to the classrooms. The 10th grade class has three classroom hours (45 minutes each) of EAL, whereas the 11th grade class has two hours of instruction each week. The former has 19 students while the latter has 13 students seated in a U-­shaped arrangement. There is a balance in both classrooms in terms of gender, so there is no male nor female dominance. The age of the students ranges from 15 to 18 years. All the students, having grown up in Luxembourg, speak three languages other than English. The languages spoken outside the classroom are Luxembourgish, German, and French in addition to English due to the multicultural nature of Luxembourg. It should be noted that there are also some students (in the 11th grade) from immigrant backgrounds (Portuguese and Italian), therefore these students are competent users of more than four languages. There is one teacher for both classrooms who was also born and raised in Luxembourg. He is also multilingual, sharing four languages (including English) with the students. The teacher has a master’s degree in TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) from a UK university and has undergone pre-­service teacher education in Luxembourg. He has more than three years of teaching experience at this level. During the data collection process, the teacher was teaching 20



introduction to the book

5

hours a week, five of which were included in the data for this research. Although the analytic chapters (Chapters 4, 5, and 6) will mainly be based on this set of data, for representative purposes, EFL classroom data from Turkey will also be used where relevant, especially in Chapter 2 while presenting classroom contexts and in Chapter 8 while introducing the language teacher education model. The EFL data is based on transcriptions of video–recordings of pre-­service language teachers going through their teaching practicum. This 14-­classroom-­hour database comes from the first-­time teaching experiences of 14 teachers teaching to 9th and 10th grade classes while being observed by their mentor in a public high school in Turkey in 2013. The third dataset to be used (in Extract 2.4), namely the Turkish language data collected in the UK, is based on four classroom hours of an A1 level Turkish course in a higher education institution in the North East of England audio-­recorded in 2008. Lastly, the book will also include an example from audio-­ recordings of German language taster sessions in the UK (Extract 2.4), with the participation of a German teacher and around 25 nine-­to ten-­year-­old primary school students who were visiting a higher education institution as part of a project designed to expose the UK-­based students to a ‘taste’ of foreign languages. Each of the sessions lasted between 20–30 minutes during which students were introduced to simple conversational sequences in German, mainly through drills. The use of the detailed transcriptions based upon these diverse datasets will help the readers to understand different dimensions of L2 classroom discourse from a micro-­analytic viewpoint. The main data to be used, based on the English language classrooms in Luxembourg, will enable readers to understand a number of dynamics in classroom discourse, but especially how multilingual resources can enrich interaction. The Turkish English as a Foreign Language (EFL) data from pre-­service teachers will contribute to our understanding of how findings from this micro–analytic perspective can be conducive to language teacher education, which will be exemplified and discussed in Chapter 8. This database will also be used to exemplify L2 classroom contexts (Seedhouse 2004) in section 2.6 in Chapter 2. Lastly, the data collected from the UK will show that findings based on conversation analysis of classroom interactions cannot just be representative of a dominant foreign language (i.e. English) but can be expanded to commonly taught modern languages (e.g. German) as well as less commonly taught languages like Turkish. 1.4  CONTENTS OF THE BOOK This book is divided into three sections: survey (Chapter 2 and Chapter 3), analysis (Chapters 4–6), and application (Chapter 7 and Chapter 8). This structure will hopefully help the reader to connect theory and previous research (i.e. survey) with practical knowledge presented through real data (i.e. analysis) and with implications for future practice both at a micro and a macro level (i.e. application). In the survey section, readers will be made familiar with the literature on classroom discourse, and in particular with the CA approach to L2 classroom interaction (Chapter 2). Furthermore, they will read up-­to-­date, cutting-­edge research on the newly emerging field called Conversation Analysis for Second Language Acquisition (CA-­for-­SLA),

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as well as on different interactional resources in language classrooms that have connections to participation, learning opportunities, and L2 Classroom interactional competence ((Walsh 2006a) Chapter 3). In the analysis section, Chapters 4 to 6 will  explicate the relevance of epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual resources to teaching and learning in instructed learning settings. The connections to application will be made for teaching in L2 classrooms (Chapter 7) and for language teacher education (Chapter 8). The grounds for including each section and chapter in this book will be discussed in the following paragraphs. Chapter 2 begins with a description of social interaction, and then moves to different approaches to (L2) classroom discourse. I believe that the description of social interaction and the different methodologies used to investigate L2 classroom discourse will provide readers with critical insights into analysing L2 talk. This will be complemented by section 2.4 in which the CA methodology (2.4.1) and the sequential approach to classroom interaction (2.4.2) will be explained. This will be followed by a description of transcription conventions, an invaluable tool for readers to understand the interactional phenomena throughout the book. Finally, the chapter will close by reviewing the contexts of L2 classroom interaction based on Seedhouse (2004). The examples in this section will be based on Turkish EFL and English TAL settings and will help readers understand the basic interactional architecture of language classrooms. Although this is a survey chapter, having been introduced to the basics of CA and having learnt the transcription conventions, readers will already be familiar with CA-­type analysis, which will also prepare them for what will be explored in Chapter 3. Chapter 3 will present a survey of the study of learning and the co–construction of understanding from a CA view of classroom interaction. After a review of CA-­ for-­SLA and using an example of understanding and use from an English language classroom, in section 3.3, the focus will be on a review of epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual resources in language classrooms, which will form the bases of the following analytic chapters. The review on epistemics and claims of insufficient knowledge (section 3.2.1) will be based on Heritage (2012a, 2012b), Sert (2011, 2013a), and Sert and Walsh (2013), and will present a discussion of the ways in which orientations to knowledge, or to the lack of it, inform pedagogical practices in the classrooms. In section 3.2.2, a review of studies on gestures and multimodality in language classrooms will be presented. Section 3.3.3 will review micro-­analytic research that deals with the use of multilingual and bilingual resources in language classrooms. These three sub-­sections will inform each other and should be given particular attention by the reader, as they will to a great extent inform the analytic chapters. In section 3.4 a survey on how what has been presented thus far relates to teacher talk, participation, and learning opportunities will be provided. This, then, will be linked to L2 Classroom Interactional Competence (CIC) (Walsh 2006a), defined as teachers’ ability to use interaction as a tool for mediating and assisting learning. Thus, the discussions on the co–construction of understanding, learning, participation, and teaching will be covered in a way that will depict the overall organisation of teaching and learning opportunities in the classroom. Along with Chapter 2, Chapter 3 will prepare the readers for the following analytic chapters.



introduction to the book

7

Although the primary concern of CA-­for-­SLA studies has been to bring evidence for understanding and learning, little attention has been paid to interactional problems in language classrooms (e.g. long silences and claims of insufficient knowledge). However, the issue of how these problems are resolved has great potential to bring important insights, by revealing the resources teachers employ to co–construct understanding. Therefore, Chapter 4 will focus on phenomena like ‘epistemic status checks’ (e.g. ‘No idea?’, Sert 2013a) and ‘claiming insufficient knowledge’ (e.g. ‘I don’t know’, Sert and Walsh 2013) by considering verbal and nonverbal resources and their relevance to the co–construction of understanding. The extracts and analyses provided for readers will build a step-­by-­step argument, and illustrations will help readers visualise what they read. This section will also briefly address what has been referred to as (un)willingness to participate (Sert 2013b), which has been considered a psychological construct in earlier applied linguistic research. All in all, in addition to the interactional unfolding of ‘claims of insufficient knowledge’ and the ‘epistemic status check’, this analytic chapter will show readers how a teacher, using certain interactional resources, can move students from a state of ‘not knowing’ to a state of ‘understanding’. In Chapter 5, informed by the survey on gestures in section 3.2.2, embodied and multimodal means of language teaching practices will be illustrated with detailed extracts, fine-­tuned analyses, and visual aids. The focus will be on how language and speech are synchronised in the accomplishment of language instruction within repair and correction (sections 5.2 and 5.3), elicitation (section 5.4), and explanation (section 5.5) sequences while the focus is on different pedagogical goals including grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation. In section 5.6, on the other hand, the focus will be on how learners display their orientation to learning through talk and multimodal resources. Having completed the analysis in this chapter, arguments will be presented on the relationship between teachers’ use of gestures and their L2 CIC. In the final analytic chapter, based on the review of literature presented in section 3.3.3, the issue of how students’ and teachers’ other languages (apart from the language being learnt) can be used as resources in classroom interaction will be explicated. The sections will present analyses on teacher-­initiated and teacher-­ induced (Üstünel and Seedhouse 2005) code-­switching to show how a teacher uses multilingual/bilingual resources in pedagogical activities and how students orient to these resources (in section 6.2 and section 6.3 respectively). In section 6.4, the focus will be on student-­initiated code-­switching and how teachers orient to the language choice in line with the pedagogical goal at hand. All in all, the chapter will present ­important insights on the enactment of different languages in a second/foreign/­ additional language classroom, and how these multilingual resources contribute to the development of classroom discourse in a global perspective, in a way that covers both monolingual and multilingual settings all over the globe. Having explored the analysis part of the book, Chapter 7 focuses on applications in a way that will inform teachers by providing practical implications based on the theory in Chapters 2 and 3 and the analyses in Chapters 4, 5, and 6. Section 7.2 will offer practical insights on managing interactional problems, including claims of insufficient knowledge, while section 7.3 will focus on students’ unwillingness to

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participate. Section 7.4 will raise awareness of the practical aspects of using a variety of hand gestures and their impact on potential student engagement and on a teacher’s CIC. In section 7.5, practical implications for using and managing bi-­/multilingual resources will be given, which will then be followed by an overall argument on developing L2 CIC. Chapter 8 will underscore the importance of this book in relation to language teacher education, and will present a workable language teacher education model based on the theoretical and analytical insights put forward in the book. The chapter will begin by illustrating how the development of CIC can be observed, traced, and shaped in section 8.2 by using longitudinal data. This section will also raise methodological questions, as data from critical reflections are also included in the analyses. In section 8.3, a microscopic and reflective model for L2 teacher education will be described. The chapter will offer practical insights into researching language teacher education, as I believe that research and practice are inextricable parts of this whole phenomenon. Chapter 9 will close the book, and will discuss the importance of the arguments put forward for educational and applied linguistics. It will also highlight the need for further research, and will point to particular directions which will be helpful for academics working in the field of classroom discourse. In section 9.2 the issue of research ethics will be discussed, while in 9.3 future directions will be presented with a focus on both researchers (9.3.1) and practitioners (9.3.2). NOTE 1. A language taster session is a short introductory teaching session designed to give a taste of a selected foreign language to those who have not experienced that language before. These sessions are generally designed for young learners to raise their awareness on foreign languages. They last around 30 minutes and include teaching of basic daily expressions.

2 SOCIAL INTERACTION AND L2 CLASSROOM DISCOURSE

2.1  INTRODUCTION This chapter will start with a description of social interaction both from a conceptual and a methodological perspective. These two perspectives on social interaction are very important for the readers of this book, since the analytic descriptions of interactional and pedagogical activities presented will be meaningful only if an understanding of social interaction as it is described in this chapter is achieved. It will be argued that classroom interaction is social interaction, or at least one type of it, which is a claim many people in the field of language teaching have ignored for decades. It will also be argued that L2 classroom discourse is the collection and representation of socio-­interactional practices that portray the emergence of teaching and learning of a new language through teachers’ and students’ co-­construction of understanding and knowledge in and through the use of language-­in-­interaction. Although this book adopts a CA stance on the analysis and description of interactional and pedagogical phenomena, a brief review of different approaches to L2 classroom discourse in section 2.3 will be given as it will help readers to understand how ‘discourse’ and ‘interaction’ are linked to L2 teaching and learning from perspectives which are not micro. One of the key assets of the CA approach to L2 classroom interaction is its obsession with details of talk and other conduct. This obsession, in addition to other principles that will be explained in section 2.4, is what distinguishes CA from other approaches. Thus, section 2.5 is quite important for readers who want to be ‘literate’ in CA as this is where I will explain the transcription conventions that will be used throughout this book. As was highlighted in the Introduction, interactions in L2 classrooms leave their institutional fingerprints. For example, looking at transcriptions of L2 classroom talk one realises that it is generally the teacher who asks the questions, or it is again the teacher who allocates turns to the students so that they speak (of course this is not always the case). Seedhouse (2004) described the interactional organisation of L2 classroom interaction and came up with four classroom contexts: form-­and-­accuracy context, meaning-­ and-­ fluency context, task-­ oriented context, and procedural context. These classroom contexts help us to understand the institutional business of language teaching, since there is a reflexive relationship between pedagogy and interaction. In section 2.6, I will describe these contexts based on my data from a variety of classrooms in order to show turn-­taking, repair (e.g. correction of mistakes), and 9

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preference practices. This preliminary presentation of classroom data will hopefully help readers to picture the discussion in this survey part of the book, and will provide a working knowledge of different dynamics of L2 classroom interaction before we move on to more specific phenomena in Chapter 4 (epistemic resources), Chapter 5 (multimodal resources), and Chapter 6 (multilingual resources). 2.2  INTERACTION AS A SOCIAL PHENOMENON Social interaction is the primary means by which the process of socialisation occurs (Jenks 2014: 7). We interact with our environment through talk and nonverbal conduct. Not necessarily because of, but in and through these interactions with other people, we teach, learn, understand, discuss, reject, agree, allow, criticise, and constantly negotiate identities. The social actions we accomplish do not represent simply our individual capacities, but they are co-­constructed. Through interactions with others, we not only engage in socialisation, but we also talk institutions into being. Social institutions, including parliaments, courtrooms, and schools, have become the institutions they are and will become the ones they will be through social interaction. This also includes language classrooms. The institutional interactions people carry out both reflect and shape the social structures related to classroom discourse. If one wants to understand the social, pedagogical, and institutional processes in language classrooms in relation to, for example, learning and teaching, then s/he needs to capture what is happening interactionally in these contexts. As will be shown in this book, this is possible through an understanding of the ‘emic perspective’ and ‘contextuality’, as discussed in the Introduction. Firstly, how is the ‘emic’ (i.e. participant relevant, rather than researcher imposed) perspective relevant to understanding ‘social interaction’ in this book? Emic perspective in analysing social interaction requires that only participants’ orientations to each other’s utterances should be used to make claims on social phenomena, rather than their given identities (e.g. teacher, French, Muslim etc.), the researcher’s assumptions, or a priori etic (i.e. exogenous, external) theories. Let us consider the following exchange from an English as a Second Language (ESL) classroom: Extract 2.1 (Adopted from Jacknick 2011: 47) 1 A: So how bout the 2 ‘Yoro suggests (0.4) you ↑taking painting classes’ 3 Because suggest to take uh, a gerund, right? 4 B: ‘Yoro suggests you taking:,’

In this example, a researcher may claim that A, because she is the teacher (thus the researcher attributes her the teacher identity), is trying to raise the student’s (B’s) awareness of the gerund and infinitive that follows the verb ‘suggest’, by asking B if ‘Yoro suggests (0.4) you ↑taking painting classes’ is a correct usage. This very same researcher may also claim that A is an effective teacher by basing his/ her arguments on Lyster and Ranta’s (1997) claims on the value of metalinguistic



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feedback and metalinguistic questions (lines 1 to 3 above, by using the grammatical category ‘gerund’) and their relation to student uptake. Such a researcher violates the emic perspective in two ways: firstly, the role/identity of a teacher is attributed to A and an assumption is made based on this. Secondly, an external (so etic, as opposed to emic) hypothesis/finding based on Lyster and Ranta’s study is used as a source for an analytic claim, rather than what A and B actually do as they talk. What is even more striking here is that in Jacknick’s original study (2011), actually it is A who is the student and B who is the teacher. Therefore, an analysis like the one exemplified above, which uses assumptions based on given identities (e.g. a teacher) and claims based on a priori theories/hypotheses, violates our understanding of emic perspective here. Another way to exemplify the emic perspective to the analysis and understanding of social interaction is the distinction between overlaps in speaking and interruption1. Many analysts can regard overlapping talk as interruption. However, from an emic perspective, it should not count as interruption unless the speakers orient to it as such. I want to clarify this by using two examples: one from a conversation between three university students living in the UK (Extract 2.2), and one from a sequence from the movie South Park (Extract 2.3). Extract 2.2 Prophets (Sert 2009a) 1 Hns: who are those prophets? 2 Wil: jesus (.) moses (.) [and mohammed] 3 Hns: [yeah but what] are they? 4 are they human? 5 (1.4) 6 Wil: ohh yo– you want to talk about 7 the god like status?= 8 Hns: =yeah yeah wha– what is it?

Extract 2.2 above is taken from a casual conversation between three university students living in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK. Bracket ([]) signs indicate overlapping talk, and as you can see in lines 2 and 3, the turn-­final word of Wil is overlapped by Hns. Can it be called an interruption though? According to our understanding of social interaction and emic analysis in this book, the answer is no. This is because Wil probably treats it as an orderly turn transition, since in the following turns he does not treat this as trouble or interruption. However, see Extract 2.3, taken from the movie South Park (1999). Extract 2.3 Can I finish? (South Park, 1999) 1 Rep: 2 3 Min:

minister, parents are concerned about your country’s entertainment. your thoughts? well, the film is R–rated and

12 4 5 6 Mot: 7 Min: 8 9 10 Mot: 11 Min:

social interaction and l2 classroom discourse it’s not intended for childr[en] [but] of course children are gonna see it. can i finish? we canadians are quite surprised by your out[rage]. [You] just don’t ↑CARE. Can i finish? Hello?

This conversation in the animation movie takes place on live television between a reporter (Rep.), the Canadian minister of movies (Min) and an outraged American mother (the descriptions of the characters are given by the reporter). In turn-­final position in lines 6 and 10, the mother overlaps the minister before he completes his utterances in the previous turns. Following these overlaps, the minister in lines 7 and 11 orients to these overlaps as interruptions by saying ‘Can i finish?’ Thus, if this was a real conversation rather than scripted talk, it could be stated that these overlaps are actually interruptions since the participants orient to them as such. So I will only make claims and bring evidence based on a close analysis of participants’ orientations to each other’s utterances with a CA approach. Conversation analysts, in Markee’s (2013: 3) words, ‘not only avoid invoking a priori etic theory as a means of framing their analytic interests, they also subscribe to the limited versions of context and culture’. The limited version of context, in relation to our second perspective on social interaction (contextuality) mentioned earlier, refers to the idea that the meaning of and the action accomplished by what one says in a specific utterance can be understood by looking at the content and organisation of preceding talk, and what one says (and how it is said) in that particular utterance also establishes the context for whatever happens after that. In this sense, utterances and actions are context-­ shaped and context-­renewing (Heritage 1984a). Based on the given explanation of the contextuality principle, it should not be understood that just one participant ‘is invoking or imposing the institutional context but, rather, that all the participants are co-­constructing it’ (Sidnell 2010: 249). Sidnell goes on to claim that it is participants’ engagement in sequences that shows the presence of the institutional context, so in our case, a language classroom context, or, more specifically, the L2 classroom discourse. It is this institutional nature of social interaction that will govern the analyses provided in this book. Thus, the following proposal on institutional interaction by Drew and Heritage (1992) is key for us: ‘Institutional talk is normally informed by goal orientations of a relatively restricted conventional form’ (cited in Sidnell 2010: 250). For instance, a teacher saying very good after a correct student utterance may be related to the goal of rewarding correct learner answers. Extract 2.4 illustrates an example of this institutional orientation in L2 classroom discourse based on a sequence between a teacher of German and 9–10-­year-­old young learners in a German language class in the North East of England:



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Extract 2.4 Where do you live? (simplified, Sert 2009b) 1 T: wo wohnst du? (tr: where do you live?) 2 S1: ich wohne in newcastle. (tr: I live in Newcastle) 3 T: yeah wo wohnst du? 4 S2: ich wohne in newcastle. 5 T: yeah wo wohnst du? 6 S3: ich wohne in newcastle. 7 T: yeah excellent okay. 8 So the next one, wie alt bist du? (tr: How old are you?)

There are many features of talk, based on turn-­taking and sequence organisation practices, which show us the nature of the social interaction in this institutional context. One can easily understand that this sequence is designed around the goal of getting students to practice the answer form to a particular question: T wants to elicit a response to the question ‘wo wohnst du?’ (Where do you live?), as can be observed in lines 1, 3, and 5. The answers given by three different students (S1, S2, and S3) are, in form, identical: ‘ich wohne in Newcastle’ (I live in Newcastle) and all receive a confirmation from Tea in turn-­beginning positions in lines 3, 5, and 7 (yeah) and finally with the positive assessment marker excellent in line 7. In daily conversations among new acquaintances who are asking each other where they live, one would not expect to hear such responses both in terms of what they say to each other, in what sequential order they say it, and their evaluations of each other’s utterances. Furthermore, in lines 7 and 8, one can observe a transition to the topic of practicing ‘How old are you?’ in German, with the sequence closer ‘okay’ and ‘So the next one’ which marks the transition to a new activity. Considered altogether, particular aspects of institutional interaction and the institutional fingerprints are visible through sequence organisation, turn-­taking and turn design, lexical choices, and many other aspects that will be covered from sections 2.4 to 2.6. One should keep in mind that: What makes an interaction institutional, then, is not where it takes place (in a courtroom, classroom, dentist’s office) or whether the parties occupy positions in an institutional structure, but whether the participants address themselves to an institution–specific agenda. (Kasper 2009a: 14) So it is not the buildings and spaces (e.g. school, hospital, courtroom) nor the roles and identities (e.g. teacher, student, priest, doctor) that govern the social actions in institutional settings, like an L2 classroom, but the structures of social interaction as talked into being by people. The structures and unfolding of social actions in L2 classroom discourse with this perspective have been investigated by scholars mainly from a CA viewpoint, since the view of social interaction as has been pictured throughout

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this section so far has its roots in ethnomethodology and CA. Based on L2 classrooms, researchers investigated a number of phenomena including: the ways in which we can track language learning in classrooms (e.g. Markee 2008; Pekarek Doehler 2010; Lee and Hellermann 2014), tasks for language learning (e.g. Hellermann and Pekarek Doehler 2010; Pochon-­Berger 2011), L2 oral proficiency assessment (e.g. Kasper and Ross 2007; Lee et al. 2011; Sandlund and Sundqvist 2011; Okada and Greer 2013; Galaczi 2014), question–answer sequences in language classrooms (e.g. Hosoda and Aline 2013), interactional unfolding of claims of insufficient knowledge (Sert 2011; Sert and Walsh 2013) and the use of multilingual resources in classrooms (e.g. Ziegler et al. 2012; Ziegler et al. 2013). Before we dwell upon CA and CA-­based research on L2 classroom discourse, I will first present a short and selective review of research on classroom discourse from the lens of different approaches and methodologies. 2.3  APPROACHES TO (L2) CLASSROOM DISCOURSE Classroom discourse broadly refers to all forms of talk that can be found within a classroom or any educational setting (Jocuns 2013), although a review of recent studies shows us that the scope of the field is well beyond talk alone, but includes analysis of nonverbal conduct as well as macro-­level policies. Classroom interaction has been investigated from a wide range of disciplinary standpoints, including system-­based approaches using coding schemes (e.g. Bellack et al. 1966; Flanders 1970), discourse analytic approaches (e.g. Sinclair and Coulthard 1975), and a Critical Classroom Discourse Analytic framework (e.g. Rymes 2009). According to Edwards and Westgate (1987: 1), interest in the use of language in classrooms ‘has grown with the recognition of its centrality in the processes of learning’. Analyses of classroom interaction offer insights into learning and teaching practices, taking into account that ‘how participants interact’ becomes the vehicle for understanding the ways in which learning and teaching are done (Hall 2002; Lantolf and Thorne 2006). A survey of studies that review the literature on approaches to classroom discourse (henceforth CD) shows that scholars have made different, but mostly overlapping, classifications. Mercer (2010), for instance, first distinguishes between quantitative and qualitative methods in his critical review, favouring a combination of both. He also acknowledges that methods are generally embedded in methodologies based on specific disciplines, research paradigms, and theories of social action. Based on this idea, he performs a comparison of two methodologies; namely linguistic ethnography and sociocultural research. On the other hand, Walsh (2011) in his review of the study of CD presents three main approaches: Interaction Analysis, Discourse Analysis, and Conversation Analysis. He then devotes a separate chapter for alternative approaches, including Corpus Linguistics (CL), and combined approaches like Corpus Linguistics and Conversation Analysis (CLCA). A relatively recent example for a combined CLCA perspective to CD is Walsh and O’Keeffe (2010), which investigates higher education small–group teaching sessions. Their sensitivity towards a combined qualitative–quantitative exploration of CD was also favoured by Smit (2010) who carried out a longitudinal CD study investigating English as a lingua franca in higher education by employing quantitative as well as



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qualitative research techniques. Smit (2010: 85) claims that his research is ‘fundamentally qualitative because of its underlying emic research perspective’ (but see Markee 2013 for the different interpretations of an emic perspective in ethnomethodology and in CA). Within CD research, terms such as multimodality have been undertaken in ways that would be different in scope and that would point to diverse research methodologies. One of the earlier uses of the term multimodality in CD can be found in Kress et al. (2005: 21), who define multimodality as a concept based on the assumption that ‘meaning is made through the many means, called modes, that a culture has shaped for that purpose’ (emphasis added). According to this multimodal semiotic understanding, meaning is available through visual displays, classroom artefacts, students’ posture, and voice quality of the teacher, in addition to what is said, written, and read in the classroom. This multimodal semiotics methodology, unlike the CA approach to multimodality, also includes integration of macro-­level policy (e.g. policy documents from schools) as well as data collection tools like interviews and focus groups with teachers and students into the analyses carried out. Systemic Functional Linguistics (Halliday 1994; Halliday and Matthiessen 1999) has also been quite influential as a theoretical framework to reveal aspects of CD (Christie 2002), as well as sociocultural theory which assumes that in a classroom environment, ‘students’ knowledge of the foreign language is shaped by the ways in which students interact via distinct and recurrent discourse patterns and by other interactional meaning-­making systems, such as gestures’ (Thoms 2012: 9). According to Mercer (2010), many of the sociocultural researchers within the field of CD tend to use pre-­/post-­interventional designs so as to, for example, measure the effects of talk on learning and change due to their applied orientation. Such interventionist and experimental designs will not be employed in this book since CA’s main focus is on how students and teachers enact their own understanding of each other’s utterances so as to carry out the institutional business of teaching and learning. Prior to CA, interaction analysis and discourse analysis approaches to L2 classroom interaction have also been used. Therefore, in the remainder of this section, I will briefly summarise them. Coding systems and observation instruments were popular in the 1960s and 1970s. These instruments were used to code what the researcher thinks is happening at a given moment during classroom interaction, which would then be subject to quantitative analysis. Within this interaction analysis paradigm, there are system-­based and ad hoc approaches to the analyses of CD. System-­based approaches (e.g. Bellack et al. 1966; Flanders 1970; Allen et al. 1984) use fixed categories determined by the researcher in advance, while ad hoc approaches are more flexible in that they allow the researcher to focus on a particular research question (Walsh 2011). Interaction analysis approaches to L2 classroom interaction have a number of limitations: 1. One particular moment in classroom interaction, for example a teacher correction, might be useful at one point, but may hinder learning opportunities in another pedagogical activity. Interaction analysts fail to acknowledge different contextual needs for teachers and students in different contexts.

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2. The researcher, who uses predetermined categories, looks for these categories in the data and tries to match utterances and actions in the data to those categories. 3. There is little attention paid to what teachers and students are actually doing from an emic perspective: the researchers’ interpretations of what is actually happening are prioritised in the analysis. 4. Little or no attention is paid to silences as well as embodied resources (e.g. gestures, gaze orientations) employed by participants. Only what the categories impose for the analysis is considered important. Limitations of interaction analysis approaches to L2 classroom interaction paved the way for the use of Discourse Analysis (DA). Methodologies used in a discourse analytic view of L2 CD mainly stem from structural-­functional linguistics perspectives (Seedhouse 2013). Two of the most influential figures in this paradigm are Sinclair and Coulthard (1975) who developed a descriptive model based on the speech acts of students and teachers in primary education. The IRF (Initiation/ Response/Feedback-­Follow up) model they developed became popular in L2 CD circles due to the ease of identifying cycles within the interaction. However, coding turns for actions might be problematic since, for instance, a single teacher or student turn might perform more than one action. Seedhouse (2004: 59–62) clearly shows the problems inherent in a DA approach to L2 CD by analysing the same classroom extract using the analytic tools of both CA and DA. He illustrates that an IRF cycle and a DA treatment fail to acknowledge that ‘interaction is in fact dynamic, fluid, and locally managed on a turn-­by-­turn basis’. He also claims: ‘DA cannot portray the flow of the interaction because it is essentially a static approach which portrays interaction as consisting of fixed and unidimensional coordinates on a conceptual map’ (Seedhouse 2013: 1). It is also clear that reliance on IRF sequences in the analysis of L2 CD may result in acontextual overgeneralisations. Earlier work on classroom interaction focused mostly on whole-­class interactions between the students and the teacher (Kumpulainen and Wray 2002), whereas, with the impact of task-­based language teaching and learning, a growing body of research has recently documented peer interactions in language classrooms, mainly from a micro-­analytic perspective (e.g. Hellermann 2007, 2008; Hellermann and Pekarek Doehler 2010; Pochon-­Berger 2011). Although studies from a DA perspective (e.g. Sinclair and Coulthard 1975) showed that classroom interaction can be to a great extent explained by an IRF structure, proponents of CA revealed that this three-­part exchange is not sufficient to explicate the overall interactional organisation of classrooms. The adoption of CA as the methodological and theoretical point of departure will be explained in the following section, taking into account that even when applied to the same discoursal data, as Seedhouse (2010: 1) put it, ‘different research methodologies can reach diametrically opposing conclusions’.



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2.4  CONVERSATION ANALYSIS: A SEQUENTIAL APPROACH TO CLASSROOM INTERACTION This section aims to clarify the main approach taken in this book, namely CA. Before reviewing the CA approach to L2 classroom interaction, I will first summarise the basic principles of the methodology. In the second sub-­section (2.4.2), I will review the use of CA in CD studies, with particular emphasis on turn-­taking and sequence organisation in classrooms. 2.4.1  CONVERSATION ANALYSIS CA ‘has evolved from ethnomethodology, a sociological approach that challenged sociology’s standard epistemology’ (Kasper and Wagner 2011: 117). Begun by the sociologists Harvey Sacks and Emanuel A. Schegloff in the early 1960s as a ‘naturalistic observational discipline that could deal with the details of social action rigorously, empirically, and formally’ (Schegloff and Sacks 1973: 289), CA aims to ‘describe, analyse, and understand talk as a basic and constitutive feature of human social life’ (Sidnell 2010: 1). As an approach to the study of talk-­in-­interaction, CA grew out of ethnomethodology as developed by Garfinkel (1964, 1967), which studies ‘the common sense resources, practices, and procedures through which members of a society produce and recognise mutually intelligible objects, events and courses of action’ (Liddicoat 2007: 2). During the early days of CA, scholars aimed to describe the organisation of ordinary conversations like talk between friends. CA further developed to investigate institutional talk including CD (e.g. McHoul 1978). The basic principles of CA, according to Seedhouse (2005a: 166–7), are as follows: 1. There is order at all points in interaction: Talk in interaction is systematically organised, deeply ordered and methodic. 2. Contributions to interaction are context-­ shaped and context-­ renewing. Contributions to interaction cannot be adequately understood except by reference to the sequential environment in which they occur and in which the participants design them to occur. They also form part of the sequential environment in which a next contribution will occur. 3. No order of detail can be dismissed a priori as disorderly, accidental, or irrelevant (Heritage 1984a: 241): CA has a detailed transcription system, and a highly empirical orientation. 4. Analysis is bottom-­up and data driven: the data should not be approached with any prior theoretical assumptions, regarding, for example, power, gender, or race; unless there is evidence in the details of the interaction that the interactants themselves are orienting to it. The first item above suggests that there is an inherent system in interaction; it is ordered and methodic. This opposes the Chomskyan understanding of naturally occurring talk, which claims that it is arbitrary and disordered, and therefore cannot be subject to analysis. The second item refers to the idea that speaker turns in

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c­ lassroom interaction are context-­shaped and context-­renewing. Students and the teacher make sense of each other’s turns and their next contribution is designed on their understanding of each other’s contributions. While analysing classroom data in Chapters 4, 5, and 6, I will closely look at the sequential unfolding of talk in order to understand the phenomenon being investigated, and evidence for claims will only be brought when participants orient to each other’s turns at talk. This next-­turn-­proof procedure is a basic premise of a CA analysis, and this participant-­driven analysis contributes to our understanding of L2 CD in this book. Thirdly, the CA transcription system used in this book is designed to capture all details of talk and visual phenomena, although a perfect match between the recordings and the transcripts cannot be possible (Jenks 2013). The obsession with details including suprasegmentals, temporality, and visual aspects is a robust way of understanding interactional phenomena, and I will summarise these transcription notations in section 2.5. Lastly, the analysis is data driven, and no a priori theories or assumptions affect the researchers’ interpretations. No assumptions will be made in relation to identities or competencies, unless the participants themselves make them relevant in talk. Huth’s (2011: 299) summary of how CA researchers should treat classroom data is a case in point: . . . we can only understand what concepts are relevant for the analysis of talk by looking in the talk itself for demonstrable signs that the participants themselves are making relevant particular categories through their talk. We can only connect observable interactional behaviour to the questions that may have motivated our examination of it in the first place once such relevance has been established from the ‘bottom’ of the data ‘up’. The nature of turn-­taking in talk-­in-­interaction is at the heart of CA (Hutchby and Wooffitt 2008). Adjacency pairs, repair, and preference are other basic notions in relation to interactional organisation. The basic unit of analysis in CA is a Turn Constructional Unit (TCU), which can form the turns at talk. Yet, ‘a single turn-­ at-­talk can be built out of several TCUs’ (Sidnell 2010: 41). These TCUs, which are points of possible completion, create Transition Relevance Places (TRPs), so that another speaker can take the floor. This basic turn-­taking mechanism forms an adjacency pair (e.g. question–answer, invitation–declination). There are certain rules on how turns are distributed (see Sacks et al. 1974: 704), and therefore how actions are accomplished. A formulation of an adjacency pair is as follows (Schegloff and Sacks 1973: 295): given the recognisable production of a first pair part, on its first possible completion its speaker should stop and a next speaker should start and produce a second pair part from the pair type the first is recognisably a member of. Adjacency pairs can be expanded, or other pairs can be inserted between a first pair part and a second pair part of an adjacency pair. Space precludes a full account of adjacency pairs, insertion, and expansion sequences, but see Schegloff (2007) for a full account of the phenomena (and Sidnell 2010 for a more introductory, reader-



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friendly account of these phenomena). The issue of preference is closely related to the term adjacency pair, since ‘certain first pair parts make alternative actions relevant in second position’ (Hutchby and Wooffitt 2008: 46). Thus, offers can be accepted (preferred action), and requests can be declined (dispreferred action). Another term that is key to CA is repair. Repair can be defined as ‘the treatment of trouble occurring in interactive language use’ (Seedhouse 2004: 34). Seedhouse suggests that repair is a vital mechanism for the maintenance of reciprocity of perspectives and intersubjectivity, which is ‘the constant production, recognition and display of mutual “understandings” between speakers during conversation’ (Gardner and Forrester 2010: ix). Anything can be repairable in talk. It can be initiated due to a hearing problem, a request for clarification, or any problem that influences the continuity of talk. It is, therefore, a key method for participants in talk-­in-­interaction to pursue mutual understanding and is in close relation to progressivity in talk. There are four types of repair with respect to who initiates and who repairs: self-­initiated self-­repair, self-­initiated other-­repair, other-­initiated self-­repair, and other-­initiated other-­repair. Using the following classroom transcript from a 9th grade Turkish EFL classroom, I will now exemplify some of the principles, constructs, and analytic categories I have mentioned thus far (e.g. the context-­shaped and context-­renewing nature of contributions to interaction, detailed transcriptions, adjacency pairs, repair, preference, TCU, TRP), in order to clarify the following sub-­section. In the following extract, a novice language teacher is trying to elicit answers from a list of questions written on a handout, based on a short video clip the students have just watched. They are trying to find out the speakers of the utterances written on the paper. Extract 2.5 The old woman 04_06_13_08_08_trks 01 T: the ↑first (.)sen↓tence(0.4) ((looks at the paper)) 02 who says the first sentence? +moves gaze from the papers to students 03 L: the old woman. 04 (1.1) 05 T: o↑kay but er: could you please make a whole sentence? 06 for ex↓ample er:: ((looks at the paper)) 07 the old woman says, ‘hello: can you hear ↑me:’ +looks at L 08 L: the old woman says £hello can you hear me hh £. 09 Ss: ((students laugh)) ((T looks at the paper)) 10 T: £good£ (0.6) er:: the second one? +looks at L +looks at the paper

In lines 01 and 02, T initiates the first pair part of an adjacency pair, ‘requesting an answer’ for the first exercise, which receives an immediate second pair part, an answer from one of the students in line 03 (the old woman). These adjacent turns exemplify a prototypical type of adjacency pair, namely a question and answer

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sequence, in which the question observably projects that an answer is due in next turn. Yet the details of how these turns are constructed are important. For instance, T in line 01 looks at the paper in her hands, and after saying ‘the first sentence’, which is a TCU, waits for 0.4 seconds. So although the end of line 01 could be a place of possible speaker transition (a TRP), the students do not orient to it as such. It is only after T, in line 02, produces a syntactically complete question, by also changing her gaze direction from the paper to the students right before the second TRP, that one of the learners orients to speaker transition and provides the second pair part of the adjacency pair. According to Clayman (2013: 150): The coordination necessary for taking turns at talk is indeed very finely tuned. As an empirical matter, turn-­taking is remarkably orderly, with the transition from one speaker to the next recurrently managed with a minimum of silence between turns and with little overlapping speech. The analysis of the extract up to line 03 and the above quotation reminds us of the first principle of CA that was given at the beginning of this section with reference to Seedhouse (2005a): there is order at all points in interaction, talk-­in-­interaction is systematically organised, deeply ordered, and methodic. Another important point here is that the projection of the turn-­ending, thus speaker transition, was performed through syntax (the syntactically complete question in line 02), prosody (the terminal intonation contour noticeable through the question mark at the end of line 02), and gaze (T’s shifting gaze from the paper to the student). In line 03, there is a noticeably long pause after which the teacher first seems to acknowledge L’s response (o↑kay), but then initiates repair with a request for a complete answer (o↑kay but er: could you please make a whole s ­ entence?) in line 05, followed by a modelling of the correct answer in lines 06 and 07. Here, one observes not only the initiation of ‘other-­repair’ that is designed to elicit the production of a correct form, but also an example of ‘preference organisation’, namely a dispreference. How do we understand that L1’s response is dispreferred? Our first evidence is the noticeably long pause after the student’s turn in line 04, and then T’s design of her repair starting first with (o↑kay) as a hedging device and then marking disagreement with a disagreement/dispreference marker (but), followed by a hedge (er:). Dispreferred responses are generally followed by long silences, as well as with disagreement and hesitation markers as exemplified here. The analysis thus far also explicates the principle of contextuality mentioned earlier. Contributions to interaction are context-­shaped and context-­renewing. L’s response turn was shaped as a response to the previous question format, the first pair part, in a conditionally relevant way, shaped by the previous turn, thus by the context. Furthermore, this particular contribution of the student is also context-­renewing, since it projected a silence and a dispreferred response design, and so renewed the context. One should also note that micro-­details are extremely important to a CA analysis: as was emphasised at the beginning of the section, CA has a detailed transcription system and a highly empirical orientation. So far, I have shown these through the analysis of gaze orientations and long silences, and these have proved to be details



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that are consequential in the analysis. Going back to the analysis of Extract 2.5, in line 07, T models the correct form to be used by L, and L responds in full form following the model of the teacher in line 08, with a smiley voice. This triggers laughter from other students in line 09, and an assessment marker with a joint smile (£good£) by the teacher in line 10, followed by a transition to the next question. In terms of sequence organisation, from line 05 to line 07 one can notice a non-­ minimal post-­expansion (Schegloff 2007), as the teacher’s repair triggers another adjacency pair second pair part of which is responded to by the student in line 08, and assessed by the teacher in line 10. This overall structure also exemplifies the IRF structure briefly mentioned in section 2.3. The teacher initiates a sequence (I turn, lines 01–02), the student responds (R turn, line 03), and the teacher follows up in line 05 (F turn), which then moves into another round of IRF through the teacher initiation (I) in lines 06–07, the student response (R) in line 08, and the teacher feedback (F) in line 10. Yet, simply coding these turns as I–R–F, quoting Seedhouse (2013: 1) again, would portray ‘interaction as consisting of fixed and unidimensional coordinates on a conceptual map’. However, as has been illustrated in the analysis, the actions performed through these participants’ orientations to each other’s utterances to accomplish the institutional business of teaching and learning require a more complex analytic understanding, through the employment of the methods of CA. The last point I want to discuss in relation to this extract is the institutional fingerprint (Drew and Heritage 1992) that has been demonstrated by the participants to us. Although the response provided by L in line 03 is completely acceptable in interactional means, it can be noticed that there is an orientation of the teacher to a pedagogical goal (a focus on a syntactically complete production of the correct answer). This is an institutional orientation that deviates from the norms of mundane conversations in English. Having reviewed the main methodological approach in this book by also making use of an extract from an EFL classroom in Turkey, in the following sub-­section, I will introduce the CA approach to CD with a focus on turn-­taking and sequence organisation in classrooms. 2.4.2  CONVERSATION ANALYSIS IN CD: TURN-­TAKING, ALLOCATION, AND TRIADIC DIALOGUE The first systematic, conversation analytic study on turn-­taking mechanisms in formal classroom talk is McHoul’s (1978) paper, which presents a comparison of classroom turn-­taking and conversational (daily, mundane) turn-­taking. Using transcriptions of audio-­and video-­recordings from English and Australian high schools, he observed a set of rule-­modifications in which the management of turns at talk for classrooms can be accounted for: (I) For any teacher’s turn, at the initial transition-­relevance place of an initial turn-­constructional unit: (A) If the teacher’s turn-­so-­far is so constructed as to involve the use of a ‘current speaker selects next’ technique, then the right and obligation to speak

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social interaction and l2 classroom discourse is given to a single student; no others have such a right or obligation and transfer occurs at that transition-­relevance place. (B) If the teacher’s turn-­so-­far is so constructed as not to involve the use of a ‘current speaker selects next’ technique, then current speaker (the teacher) must continue. (II) If I (A) is effected, for any student-­so-­selected’s turn, at the initial transition-­ relevance place of an initial turn-­constructional unit: (A) If the student-­so-­selected’s turn-­so-­far is so constructed as to involve the use of a ‘current speaker selects next’ technique, then the right and obligation to speak is given to the teacher; no others have such a right or obligation and transfer occurs at that transition-­relevance place. (B) If the student-­so-­selected’s turn-­so-­far is so constructed as not to involve the use of a ‘current speaker selects next’ technique, then self-­selection for next speaker may, but need not, be instituted with the teacher as first starter and transfer occurs at that transition-­relevance place.  (C) If the student-­ so-­ selected’s turn-­ so-­ far is so constructed as not to involve  the use of a ‘current speaker selects next’ technique, then current speaker (the student), may, but need not, continue unless the teacher self-­selects. (III) For any teacher’s turn, if, at the initial transition-­relevance place of an initial turn-­constructional unit either I (A) has not operated or I (B) has operated and the teacher has continued, the rule-­ set I (A)–I (B) re-­ applies at the next transition-­relevance place and recursively at each transition-­relevance place until transfer to a student is effected. (IV) For any student’s turn, if, at the initial transition-­relevance place of an initial turn-­constructional unit neither II (A) nor II (B) has operated, and, following the provision of II (C), current speaker (the student) has continued, then the rule-­set II (A)–II (C) re-­applies at the next transition-­relevance place and recursively at each transition-­relevance place until transfer to the teacher is effected. (McHoul 1978: 188)

McHoul further stated that rules I–IV can be broken down into a summary rule: ‘only teachers can direct speakership in any creative way’ (1978: 188). Although McHoul’s study enables us to understand basic systematics of turn-­taking in classroom interaction, his research did not focus on language classrooms, and was mainly an investigation of more traditional, teacher-­fronted classrooms. Since the turn of the millennium, a couple of book-­length manuscripts that focus on the interactional organisation of L2 classrooms from a CA perspective have been published (Markee 2000; Seedhouse 2004). In Markee’s ground-­breaking publication on using CA as a ‘methodological resource for analysing and understanding second language acquisition behaviours’ (2000: 3), he proposed a modification to McHoul’s aforementioned list: (I) For any teacher’s turn, at the initial transition-­relevance place of an initial turn-­constructional unit:



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A. If the teacher’s turn so far is so constructed as to involve the use of a ‘current-­ speaker-­ selects-­ next’ technique, then the right and obligation to speak is given to a single student or group of individual students (and, optionally, also to the teacher); transfer occurs at that transition-­relevance-­ place (2000: 96) Markee’s comprehensive investigation of language classrooms revealed that in traditional classrooms there are turns by learners in choral mode (also multiple response sequences; see Ko 2005 for a detailed analysis), substantial pre-­allocation of turns, expectations from the students to produce elaborated, sentence-­length turns, long turns by the teacher, predetermination of the content of the talk, and inflexible lengths of lessons as speech events (Markee 2000: 97–98). It is obvious that most of these findings signify the teacher-­fronted nature of CD, so CA based studies on triadic dialogue (IRF) mentioned in the previous section need to be emphasised here. Although it was clearly shown by Seedhouse (2004) that (language) classroom talk-­in-­interaction cannot simply be described through IRF sequences, a great deal of interaction in teacher-­fronted talk still tends to have a traditional structure: the teacher initiates a turn, the student responds, and the teacher follows up in the third turn in some way. Both limitations and opportunities for learning within this triadic dialogue have been well documented by researchers. Following ethnomethodology and CA, based on 46 hours of ESL classroom instructions, Lee (2007) demonstrated how the third turn in the IRF sequence carries out the contingent task of responding to and acting on the prior turns while moving interaction forward. In content classrooms, Hellermann’s (2005) findings showed systematic uses of pitch level and contour in triadic dialogue, and provided evidence for a unique action projection of the third part in the three-­part sequence (also see Skidmore and Murakami 2010 and Hellermann 2003 for prosody in IRF). Zemel and Koschmann (2011) showed how reinitiation of IRF sequences and a tutor’s organisation of his/her ongoing engagement with students encourage a ‘convergence between the doers of an action and its recipients’ (Schegloff 1992). Recent studies have shown the ways that modification or moving out of IRF can create new participation frameworks and may lead to opportunities for learning. Waring (2009), for instance, revealed how learners move out of IRF patterns and establish student-­ initiated participation structures that create speaking opportunities for fellow participants. Waring (2008) also showed that although explicit positive feedback (e.g. very good) in the third turn of an IRF sequence may be sequentially and affectively preferred, pedagogically it may hinder learning opportunities. On the other hand, in a more recent study, Fagan documented that ESL teachers’ positive feedback turns may maintain interactional flow and ensure ‘information clarity with all learners in the class in relation to the goals of the immediate talk’ (2014: 45). In another important study, Jacknick (2011) illustrated that in ESL classrooms when the traditional IRF sequence is inverted in such a way that the students initiate the first turn (also see Rampton 2006) in the form of a post-­expansion (Schegloff 2007), student agency is demonstrated in the ‘upending of the traditional asymmetry in classroom talk, revealing students’ ability to control sequences of talk in the classroom’ (Jacknick 2011: 49).

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Question–answer adjacency pairs form a great deal of teacher-­fronted classroom talk, and they form the basis of IRE sequences. In classroom interaction, questions play a central role as they have the potential to pursue the pedagogical goals of the teachers. A question is normally designed to elicit an adjacent answer, most usually in the next turn, and in an immediate manner in talk-­in-­interaction (Gardner 2004). Using CA enables us to understand how interactants make sense of the questions asked, and how this is achieved on a sequential basis by at the same time constantly orienting to institutional goals. Koshik (2002a, 2002b, 2003, 2005, 2010) is one of the most influential scholars who studied questions in educational contexts from a CA perspective. Adopting Mehan’s (1979) dichotomy (known information and information-­ seeking questions), Koshik investigated the actions accomplished by different questions during L2 writing conferences. She identified four different types of known answer questions, namely Designedly Incomplete Utterances (DIUs), Reversed Polarity questions, Alternative questions, and questions that animate the voice of an abstract audience. DIUs are ‘designed as incomplete utterances: either grammatically incomplete sentences, phrases, or individual words to be continued, but not necessarily completed, by the student’ (Koshik 2002a: 288). It was found that they can target trouble sources through changing the pace at the end of the utterance, continuing intonation, or stretching the final syllable; and can be used to elicit self-­correction. In a more recent study, Margutti (2010) showed that what he calls main-­clause DIUs are used to cast students as learners by treating their verbal behaviour, which brings strong evidence for learning in prior talk. In Chapter 4, I will highlight cases when DIUs may occur following students’ claims of insufficient knowledge and are found to be useful resources employed by the teacher to facilitate student participation by eliciting correct responses to questions – thereby helping the teacher pursue his/her pedagogical goals. In Chapter 5, I will focus on how they are used together with gestures to elicit correct answers from students. In the following section, transcription conventions used in this book will be introduced which will help the readers understand micro-­details given in the analyses chapters, as well as in section 2.6 where I will be exemplifying Seedhouse’s (2004) classroom contexts. 2.5  TRANSCRIPTION CONVENTIONS Transcriptions are the orthographic representations of data in communication research (Sert 2013c). A transcript is the heart of a project in communication research, and is a research construct as ‘it is created through the analytic lens of a data analysis methodology’ (Jenks 2011: 11). In CA, naturally occurring talk should be recorded first, and then transcribed; transcriptions allow the analyst to see the complex nature of talk captured in an easily usable, static format (Liddicoat 2007). According to Hutchby and Wooffitt, the transcription of data is a procedure at the core of the analysis in two important respects: First, transcription is a necessary initial step in enabling the analysis of recorded interaction in the way that CA requires. Secondly, the practice of transcription



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and production of transcript represent a distinctive stage in the process of data analysis itself. (2008: 69) Thus, transcription becomes the orthographic representation of data, the recordings, which then become the basis for analysis. As it is often stressed, ‘transcripts are not the data of CA, but rather a convenient way to capture and present the phenomena of interest in written form’ (Ten Have 2007: 95). One can claim that any transcription performed by different researchers can potentially be influenced by researchers’ own theoretical stance or approach to the core data. According to Lapadat and Lindsay, the choices that researchers make about transcription ‘enact the theories they hold and constrain the interpretations they can draw from their data’ (1999: 64). In order to overcome potential reliability problems, standard transcription systems have been developed by CA researchers. For the analytic purposes of this book, I use a commonly known and widely used transcription system adapted from Gail Jefferson (see Hutchby and Wooffitt 2008). The transcription system used for the purposes of this study (Appendix 1) represents various features of talk in written form including temporal aspects like pauses and overlaps, prosodic aspects like pitch, stress, prolongation, pace of talk, and many other features like cut-­offs. Based on the example below, I will exemplify the conventions (based on a teacher–student exchange in an English language classroom in Luxembourg) following Hepburn and Bolden’s (2013) categories: sequential and temporal relationships (overlaps, latching, pauses), speech delivery and intonation (unit-­final intonation, volume, speed/tempo of speech) and transcriptionists’ comments and uncertain hearings. Extract 2.6 To provide access 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 →

Tea: what does: (.) the verb mean to pro↑vi:de access, to: >the northern european< ci↑ties. yes pa[ul]? Pau: (the acc–)= Tea: =it makes ( ) possible yeah. (0.9) Tea: yeah? or: i need a very easy ↑verb,

Brackets ([]), as can be seen in lines 03 and 04, indicate overlapping talk, while the (=) sign at the end of line 04 and the beginning of 05 shows that these two turns are contiguous, with no clear pause between them. The (.) sign in line 01 marks a micro-­pause, one-­tenth of a second or less, while (0.9) in line 06 is almost a second of silence. Unit-­final intonation is also very important as it can mark important aspects of interaction such as TRPs. Here are the descriptions based on Jenks (2014: 46): . (period) Fall in pitch at the end of an utterance , (comma) Slight rise in pitch at the end of an utterance ? (question mark) Rising in pitch at utterance end (not necessarily a question)

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Fall in pitch at the end of an utterance can be seen in line 02, while a slight rise shown by a comma that indicates potential continuation has been exemplified in lines 01 and 07. Rising pitch at an utterance's end can be observed in line 03, which is not always a question as one can understand based on line 07. Other paralinguistic features include: – abrupt stop in articulation, referred to as a cut-­off (end of line 04), : elongation (line 1), used to stretch sounds Speed/tempo of speech is also very important in the analysis of talk. The signs > < surround talk that is spoken faster (line 02), while < > surround utterances spoken more slowly (line 04). In terms of volume, underlining indicates some sort of stress (end of lines 01 and 07), while CAPITAL LETTERS represent loud talk. The opposite of loud talk, which is quiet talk, is marked with degree (° °) signs as will be exemplified in the following chapters. Sharp changes upward in pitch are indicated with an up arrow (↑) while downward shifts are marked with a down arrow (↓), also used within words (Hepburn and Bolden 2013), as exemplified in the extract. Lastly, transcriptionist’s notes are written in ((double parentheses)) and uncertain hearings, as at the end of line 04, are shown in (single) parenthesis. The basic procedure for CA transcription is to first transcribe the vocal features of talk, and then add the visual information on a separate line (Ten Have 2007). Visual aspects of transcripts have been well documented in many studies so far (e.g. Goodwin 1981, 1984; Heath 1984; Mondada 2008). For the purposes of my research, I used a + sign to mark the onset (beginning) of nonverbal behaviour, which proved to be a convenient way of marking visual behaviour. The reason for simplifying the complex method of transcription found in previous studies was to enhance clarity for readers, by integrating screenshots into the extracts. The # sign was also used for the screenshots, to indicate to readers the exact moments of the images/stills in the transcripts. This will be illustrated in the analyses chapters. Another challenging issue in the extracts for readers, especially in Chapter 6, is the representation of multilingual talk that exists in some of the given examples. I highlighted English translations in italics and placed them after the nonverbal representations in each turn. For more details on transcriptions, see Jenks (2011, 2013) and Hepburn and Bolden (2013). Having introduced the CA approach to CD from a sequential perspective and having introduced the transcription conventions, the following section will summarise L2 classroom contexts (Seedhouse 2004) to make clear to readers the institutional nature of classroom interactions and the reflexive relationship between pedagogy and interaction. Such a summary will be conducive to understanding the forthcoming chapter and the analytic chapters. 2.6  L2 CLASSROOM CONTEXTS Taking the position that any sort of generalisation is not comprehensive enough to understand local management of interactions in classrooms, Seedhouse developed a variable perspective and showed that there are L2 classroom contexts ‘each with its



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own pedagogical focus and corresponding organisation of turn taking and sequence’ (2004: 101). He proposed four L2 classroom contexts, namely: form-­and-­accuracy, meaning-­and-­fluency, task-­oriented, and procedural. According to locally emerging and co-­constructed pedagogical goals, there are different features of turn-­taking and sequential organisation, as well as repair in each context. In form-­and-­accuracy contexts, for instance, the pedagogical focus is to elicit accurate linguistic forms from the learners, and with this tight focus, as Seedhouse (2004: 102) claims, it is ‘normally essential for the teacher to have tight control of the turn-­taking system’. The example below, from the first classroom-­teaching experience of an EFL teacher in Turkey with 9th grade students, illustrates how the teacher enacts her focus on linguistic forms through turn-­taking, allocation, repair practices and preference organisation in interaction. The extract is part of a sequence in which the students complete a grammar exercise on future tense and the teacher allocates the turn to voluntary students to elicit the forms will and going to in full sentences. Extract 2.7 Tonight 10_06_13_25–10_cbbr 01 T1: 02 L11: 03 04 T1: 05 06 07 L11: 08 09 T1: 10 11 L11: 12 13 T1: 14 15 16 T1: 17 L11: 18 19 T1: 20 21 L11: 22 T1: 23 L11: 24 T1:

the ↑second one? (0.3)okay? ((L11 raises her arm)) tonight i’m going to stay with my friends at home. (1.4) tonight? ((looks at the student)) (1.6) ↑i. er ( )°going to°. (1.9) ((they both look at the papers)) which ↑one (0.3)did you say? ((looks at L11)) (2.1) °i’m going to°. (2.6) look at ↑carefully p↓lease(.) once more. (3.0)will ↑or ↑going ↓to. L11: (yes) will ↑or going to= =will. (0.6) ehm (0.7)please(.)er read the sentence in full form? (1.1) to↑night= =yes: ((nods her head)) i will stay with my friends at home. yes correct (.)the third one?

In line 01, T1 allocates the turn to the bidding student (L11) who reads aloud the answer she has written in line 02. Following a 1.4 second silence, in line 04 the teacher repeats the first word of the student utterance with a rise in pitch, and after another

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long silence she repeats the second word of the student utterance with a rising intonation in line 06, an example of a DIU (Koshik 2002a) mentioned in section 2.4.2. This clearly tells us that the long silences here indicate dispreference, and the teacher requests an alternative answer. There is a request for clarification in line 09, and a quiet learner response (line 11) preceded by a long silence (line 10). So far in the analysis, in terms of turn–taking, one can observe the teacher’s tight control. She is the one to initiate questions, and all learner turns are repaired, and are subject to evaluation. After a very long pause in line 12, the teacher initiates an other-repair that requests another answer from the student in line 13. In lines 14 and 16, T1 specifically asks L11 to choose one of the candidate grammatical structures, and although L11 provides the correct option in line 17, T1 initiates another repair asking L11 to read the sentence in full form, an explicit orientation to form-­and-­accuracy (ehm (0.7) please(.)er read the sentence in full form?). After L11 provides the correct form, the teacher first acknowledges the response and then provides a positive assessment (yes correct). One can understand that in such contexts learner contributions are minimal and are limited to the structural and formal requirements of the pedagogical orientation, as defined and oriented to by the teacher. When a preferred second pair part is provided by a student (line 23), form being the criterion rather than the meaning, the sequence is only minimally expanded by a confirmation and/or an assessment (line 24), and further elaboration or any other means of encouraging further and longer student turns cannot generally be observed. It is clear from this example that in form-­and-­accuracy contexts there is little or no focus on meaning: the main aim of the teacher is to elicit correct forms. Turn-­taking structure is controlled by the teacher, and dispreferred student responses are generally marked with long pauses and explicit, direct repairs. Meaning or topic development, as in mundane talk, is not a concern. For instance, although L11 provided the correct option in line 11, T1 insists on production in full sentences, and she only gives positive feedback when her pedagogical agenda is aligned by the learner. In meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, on the other hand, where the focus is on communicating meaning rather than producing ‘correct’ utterances, there is a greater variety of sequence organisation with little or no interruption by the teacher, although this may change according to the activity. This context can be undertaken with or without verbal contributions from the teacher. The teacher does not strictly control turns, or correct the student mistakes explicitly in a way that will hinder the flow of interaction. In Extract 2.8 below, before the start of the sequence, the teacher played a short video clip from the animation film WALL-­E and asked the students to describe the differences between what they had seen on the video and today’s world. The data comes from the same Turkish EFL setting as the previous extract, but with a different intern teacher and another 9th grade classroom. Extract 2.8 People are fat 28_05_13_27–00_sngrn 01 L3: 02

er when we do robots in the future ehm they will do everything that people [want] to do ↑now.



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03 T2: [yes] 04 yes (.)is it ↑goo:d (.) do you think? 05 L3: (0.5)↑no(.)because er (0.4)it will make peo↓ple la↑zy. 06 T2: yes ((nods head)) 07 L3: so i don’t think it’s good. . . .. ((5 lines omitted)) 08 L9: er people are fat. 09 T2: people are fat because they don’t do anything, 10 (0.5)and, 11 L10: (only eat) 12 T2: yes? ((walks towards L10)) 13 L10: people are overweight because they are just eat↓ing. 14 (0.9) 15 T2: and just talking= 16 L10: =yes(1.5)but er this life style is i think good (0.9) (0.6) 18 T2: yes= 19 L10: =al– >all things are easybu birinciara–ba(.)mi?< is this your car? (0.8) ˘ru°. e↑vet °dog yes °correct°

It is obvious that apart from the sentences that the students are reading (lines 01, 06, 09), learner utterances are minimal and are generally not in long turns. There are instances of confirmation checks (line 02), and minimal acknowledgement and confirmation tokens. One can clearly see that there is a constant negotiation of meaning in order to accomplish the institutional business of completing the task. The learners may ask the other learners questions (line 08, üçüncüsü?), provide candidate answers (line 09), and acknowledge and evaluate each other’s responses (line 11); hence, constant negotiation of meaning. This of course does not mean that all task-­based interactions show the same interactional features, and space precludes a full account of task-­based CA studies. For more on this topic, see Mori (2002), Hellermann and Pekarek–Doehler (2010), Pochon–Berger (2011), Seedhouse (2005b), and Seedhouse and Almutairi (2009). Finally, turn-­taking and sequential development in procedural contexts were



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found to show distinctive features compared to other contexts, and the most obvious feature is that generally the information is delivered to students through a teacher monologue. The main pedagogical goal here might be to give instructions before an activity starts. An example of this L2 classroom context can be seen below: Extract 2.10 Green fingers 24_05_13_00–15_cpr 01 T3: 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Ss: 17 T3:

i will give you: some ↑cards er: there are structures words on: (.) the cards okay? (0.3) you will ↓use (.)those words er and make senten↓ces okay? (0.5) >make sentences< er with the i↓diom for example ((searches for materials on the table for 1.6 sec)) ahh (1.8) i wi– er i give ↑you ‘to have (.) green fin↓gers’ er the i↑diom (.) and (.) er: some (.) vocabu↑lary yo– you use the vocabu↓lary and (.) idiom to make sentences. er it may be three or five sentences (.) you will write them on these ((shows papers)) and then er after the activity (.) we will read our er sentences then (0.2) paste them on the board >so that we can< er >prepare our posterluxembourgish people< can only:, 21 >can work at ↑bankmight have to deal with< ↑preju↓dices, +starts writing the word on the board 25  that is correct ↑certainly ((writes for a more 1.1 sec)) 26 but i’m still interes↓ted (.) in the language is↑sue +writes ‘language’ 27 (2.0)that frank mentioned ((finishes writing on board)) 28 do you think you ↑nee:d English in london?

racism (written before the beginning of the extract) prejudices [line 24]

language [added in line 26]

MULTICULTURAL SOCIETY

[written before the beginning of the extract]

Figure 3.1  Representation of the classroom board to be used with Extract 3.1 From lines 05 to 07, Sve responds to the teacher’s turn with a topic proffer (­reference), stating that he wants to talk about ‘prejudgement’, a kind of turn which potentially may be given a go-­ahead or be withdrawn by the teacher. In line 06, Sve pauses for 0.8 seconds, and in line 07, while he is saying the word (↓pre↑judgement), he establishes mutual gaze with the teacher at turn-­beginning and modifies the word at suprasegmental level. The pause in line 06 and the changing gaze orientation in line  07 together with the intonation and stress employed on the word there might either mean that Sve expects a go-­ahead for or withdrawal of the word/topic, or that he is soliciting help from the teacher to check the appropriateness of the candidate word. Following a 0.7-­second silence that might mark dispreference, in line 09, Tea initiates a repair by replacing the word (↓pre↑judgement) with (↑preju↓dice), also marking the word initial suffix; thus, through this repair, orienting to a vocabulary selection

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problem. This is taken up by Sve in line 10 with a change of state token (ah::) that is elongated at word-­final position and is accompanied with a nonverbal action (hitting on the desk), which indicates self-­annoyance due to his lexical selection. After an embodied compliance token (line 11) and pausing for a second (line 12), the teacher orients to a vocabulary teaching goal in line 13, which is clear by his self-­initiated self-­repair (a restart), recycled turn-­beginning (Schegloff 1987a), due to the uncountable nature of this particular word. After 1.5 seconds of silence, Sve starts explaining the word using an ‘if-­clause’ structure, reporting a hypothetical person’s utterance (er: if someone says that,) in line 15 and with a significant pause in line 16, before he uses a generalisation about Portuguese people living in Luxembourg.2 Interestingly, before Sve’s turn is syntactically complete, Dor in a quiet way utters a Luxembourgish word ((°zwar[[net°)]]), meaning ‘not really’,3 which might be indicating a disagreement as it is also embodied by a headshake in line 18. Yet Dor’s disagreement is not oriented to nor taken up by Tea and Sve verbally or nonverbally, since they maintain their mutual gaze and body orientation towards each other, perhaps because the utterance was not loud enough. Sve continues his explanation by giving examples from stereotypes in Luxembourg and thus highlighting how this hypothetical speaker of this hypothetical utterance might be performing prejudice upto line 21, displaying his knowledge of the item. It could be claimed that Dor’s disagreement is not for Sve’s candidate explanation, but is about the start of a generalisation using an ethnic identity, as one can observe through the temporal position of the overlap in line 18. The teacher, starting from line 22, noticeably displays preference towards Sve’s turn by latching it, as well as by the use of a suprasegmentally modified acknowledgement/confirmation token (=↑yes) and a positive assessment (very ↓good); therefore orienting to lexical and conceptual correctness as the pedagogical goal of the moment. He then elaborates on Sve’s explanation and while using the target word starts writing it on the board, thus signifying it as a teaching object for the whole class. In line 26, he switches back to the ‘language’ topic (by also marking it on the board) and, in line 28, reformulates the question he asked at the beginning of the extract. The analysis thus far has shown, among other things, mutual orientation by the participants to the emergence of a focus on vocabulary through: (1) student initiation of a candidate word (line 07), (2) the teacher’s repair (line 09), (3) Sve’s elongated and embodied change of state token (line 10), (4) the teacher’s self–repair and question (line 13), followed by (5) a candidate explanation of meaning, and (6) the teacher’s positive assessment (line 22), as well as marking the word as a learning goal by writing it on the board for all students (line 24). Although this interaction seems to take place with minimal verbal participation by other students (but see Dor’s verbal and nonverbal orientations) in the classroom, it should be remembered that this is a case of a multilogue (Schwab 2011), in which the teacher’s ‘verbal and nonverbal contributions have reference to more than one addressee’ (Schwab 2011: 7), and, thus, anything performed by the teacher (e.g. utterances, gestures, the words he writes on the board) is actually accessible to everyone in the class, thus displaying a unique participation structure compared to other types of interactions. In relation to this, one minute and five seconds after Extract 3.1 ends, the extract below (Extract 3.2) starts, this time between Tea and Dor. As we will see shortly, the reason why this extract is



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presented here ultimately has to do with how Dor uses the word ‘prejudice’ in the ongoing interaction, and whether this usage is an example of empirically observable learning occurring in real time. But first, let us see how this fragment unfolds. Extract 3.2 Prejudice, interE 04_06_11_07–25 01 Tea: er: could you live in luxembourg 02 without speaking luxembourgish. 03 (0.9) 04 Dor: °no°= 05 Tea: =would you still be able to communi↑cate you ↑think. 06 (0.8) 07 Dor: oh no but(h) with french yes. 08 (0.5) 09 Tea: with french yes: (.) >what about< portuguese:? 10 are the:re >a lot of people 11 who understand portuguese in luxembourg?> 12 Dor: ↑yeah £all the other portuguese in luxembourg£. 13 ((other students laugh)) 14 Tea: yes ex↑act↓ly (.)okay so within your com↓munity, 15 you are able to communicate.= 16 Dor: =yes: but= 17 Tea: =[very eFFI]cient↓ly.= 18 Dor: [er : : :] 19 Dor: =but not with the luxembourg– only with the 20 (comm– of) people of your country where you are ↑from. 21 Tea: very goo:d.= 22 Dor: =and= 23 Tea: =yeah? 24 Dor: then it gives like .h– then >it’s the case of the< +looks at the board 25

+uses a deictic gesture, also moving her finger and hand in each syllable +looks at the teacher 26 Tea: ↑ye:s. +teacher nods his head 27 Dor:  then (0.4) ‘cause >luxembourgers say oh portuguese are< 28  al– all in (one) ↑group and they they don’t eh (0.7) mischen. mix

The extract begins with the teacher’s question directed to Dor in lines 01 and 02, which establishes a meaning-­and-­fluency context, asking if it would be possible to

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live in a country without speaking the language. Following almost a second of pause, Dor provides the second pair part of the adjacency pair with a type-­conforming particle (Raymond 2003) latched by a follow-­up teacher question (line 05). This question on ‘communication’ is answered by Dor following a 0.8 second pause, with a self–repair at meaning level in line 07 (oh no but(h) with french yes.). In line 09, Tea echoes Dor’s self-­repair by putting emphasis on the word ‘French’, sticking to the language issue by further asking another question about the Portuguese language (>what about< portuguese:?). The teacher then rephrases his question, again with a focus on the language issue he flagged on the board (Extract 3.1, line 26), to include the intelligibility of the Portuguese language in Luxembourg, which is immediately answered by Dor with a rising intonation on the confirmation token and a smiley voice (↑yeah £all the other portuguese in luxembourg£), which triggers laughter in the class. Note that although Dor’s previous turns were preceded by long pauses, her turn in line 12 immediately followed Tea’s turn. In line 14, Tea shows alignment with a strong agreement marker and elaborates on the topic at hand starting with the discourse marker ‘so’ in lines 14 and 15. In line 16, latching the teacher’s turn at TRP, Dor competes for floor with a ‘yes but’ structure, and overlaps the teacher’s turn by stretching her filler (er), which may have been used as an overlap resolution device (Schegloff 2000) to hold the floor again. In lines 19 and 20, Dor continues her explanation and states the possibility of such communication only within the community (possibly referring to the Portuguese community in Luxembourg). This receives an explicit positive assessment (EPA) (very goo:d.) from the teacher in line 21, although there is no assessable in Dor’s utterances. Thus, we are in a position to claim that the teacher is orienting to the pedagogical goal, which, in a meaning-­and-­fluency context, is to produce extended learner turns, and such learner behaviour is evaluated positively. Although in L2 classrooms ‘very good’ may potentially be a sequence closer or a case closer (Waring 2008), it is not the case here. Turns in lines 22 and 23 are contingent, as Dor initiates a continuation marker to extend her turn, aligned by the teacher with a go-­ ahead response (=yeah?) in line 23. In the following turns, Dor uses the vocabulary item that has emerged as a learnable (Majlesi 2014; Zemel and Koschmann 2014). But can we be sure that the teacher and Dor are displaying this learning moment through their behaviours? If so, how? In line 24, at the onset of her restart (then >it’s the case of theand al↑ready< we can guess: that 04 he is an immigrant of ↑course. 05 (3.3) 06  what could be some of the ↑dangers, ((Dor changes post.)) 07 (2.5)((Dor raises hand)) 08 Tea: yeah? ((Tea points at Dor)) 09 Dor: p↑re– (0.3) . +looks at the board +Tea looks at the board 10 Tea: ↑ye:s: okay (.) ↑may↓be:: (.) er: especially if, +Tea points to the board 11 >ali had a< very ↑bad educa↓tion. +points at and orients his body towards the board 12 >there could be many ↑prejudices< 13 and he could become a victim of racism, 14  for example and his father wants to avoid that of course 15 >he wants to protect< his son against ↑that,

In line 09, by changing her gaze direction and focusing on the written form of the word on the board, Dor produces the first syllable of the word ‘prejudice’ with a rising intonation and a cut-­off, then restarts after a slight pause. Compared to her previous use of this word, although she again produces it with a slow pace she does not use a rising intonation in the final syllable, making her use of the word somewhat closer to the teacher’s use. Her smile while she is producing the word may signify an epistemic state (Sert and Jacknick 2015), although the teacher does not orient to this as an interactional problem since he averted his gaze from Dor and looked at the written word on the board, bringing evidence of mutual orientation to the enactment of this learnable. This is further evidenced by his deictic gesture in the following turn. Tea’s response in line 10, compared to his response in Extract 3.2 line 26, is not a go-­ahead but is an acknowledgement of Dor’s contribution, more at the meaning level, but again signifying the form somehow by pointing at the board. The analyses of the extracts illustrate the emergence of a learnable, and of micro-­moments of socially distributed cognition (Markee and Seo 2009; Mori and Hasegawa 2009), and have shown us that

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social interaction and l2 classroom discourse at least part of the process of learning is analysable as embodied in the details of social interaction, through such pervasive elements as repair, hesitation, repetition, turn–taking and sequential organisation, but also gaze, gesture, body orientation and the manipulation of objects. (Pekarek Doehler 2010: 109)

It has been argued that Dor, together with the teacher, shows orientations to the use (and partly learning) of the vocabulary item (‘prejudice’) by changing gaze directions, orienting to classroom artefacts to which learning goals have been embedded, using deictic gestures, requesting confirmation to her use through establishing mutual gaze with the teacher and using upward final intonation (with the teacher’s following confirmation and go-­ahead). Further, there is more evidence for learning as she uses the word again in a second pair part with a restart and this time with a more similar production to the teacher’s, receiving an acknowledgement at meaning level, but still creating a joint orientation to the learned item as the teacher also orients to the board through Dor’s initiation. It is clear that for us to understand the various dynamics in L2 classroom interaction, learning and teaching practices need to be explicated through sequential, detailed, and embodied means. Epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual resources and orientations all play a key role in achieving this. Since these three themes will form the main analytic investigations in Chapters 4, 5, and 6, the following section and sub-­sections will be devoted to a review of these interactional resources and orientations in relation to L2 CD. 3.3  EPISTEMIC, MULTIMODAL, AND MULTILINGUAL RESOURCES A micro-­analytic, sequential, and emic investigation into epistemic (i.e. related to knowledge), multimodal (e.g. nonverbal features of interaction), and multilingual resources (e.g. code–switching) employed by teachers and students in L2 classrooms has been promised in the Introduction to this book, because it is argued that a microscopic approach to these interactional phenomena will help us demonstrably to realise institutional goals of teaching and learning a foreign language. Therefore, the following sub-­sections are particularly important in that they include a survey on the phenomena, and thus will help us grasp more easily the analytic insights in Chapters 4, 5, and 6. Furthermore, the employment of epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual resources and orientations also has connections to the following sections on learning opportunities (section 3.4) and L2 CIC (section 3.5); these links will be illustrated in the analytic chapters and will be discussed with practical implications in Chapters 7 and 8. 3.3.1  EPISTEMIC ORIENTATIONS OF PARTICIPANTS IN LANGUAGE CLASSROOMS During an ongoing interaction, participants may ‘make available different forms of understanding by performing some kind of operation on the previous turn’ (Mondada 2011: 543), sometimes using displays of understanding and knowing, also referred to as displays of epistemic access (Koole 2010). Research into epistemics



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focuses on ‘the knowledge claims that interactants assert, contest, and defend in and through turns at talk and sequences of interaction’ (Heritage 2013: 370). In classroom encounters, especially after teacher explanations, displays of student understanding ‘occur in sequential positions where a claim is the preferred response, while displays of knowing occur in environments where a demonstration of knowing is preferred’ (Koole 2010: 184). Recently, a breadth of CA studies has focused on social epistemics with particular interest in students’ and teachers’ displays of knowledge and understanding (e.g. Koole 2012; Sert 2013a; Sert and Walsh 2013; Kääntä 2014; Leyland 2014; Jakonen and Morton 2015). Classrooms are settings where ‘guided construction of knowledge’ (Mercer 1995: 1) occurs in conversations between teachers and students; thus, management of knowledge in conversation becomes key for the institutional business of teaching and ­learning. Conversation analytic work has revealed that the coordination of knowledge and speakers’ management of asymmetries of knowledge (Heritage 2012a) are primary drivers of conversation (Mushin 2013). Furthermore, the territories of knowledge unfolding in conversation play a significant role in action formation. Actions formed in instructed learning settings and the ways in which information is delivered or requested through utterances provide us with insights into how understanding is co-­constructed in L2 classroom contexts and how opportunities for learning and student participation unfold (Sert and Jacknick 2015). In this section I will focus on two issues regarding epistemic orientations and resources of teachers and students in L2 classrooms, in relation to the forthcoming analytic chapters: (1) research on the epistemic displays of students (Kääntä 2014; Jakonen and Morton 2015) in language classrooms; and (2) teacher’s orientations to students’ epistemic status with particular emphasis on ‘claims of insufficient knowledge’ (CIK, Sert and Walsh 2013) and ‘epistemic status checks’ (ESCs, Sert 2013a). In a very recent study, Kääntä (2014) focused on students’ demonstrations of knowledge in instructional classroom interaction, with specific emphasis on students’ correction initiations preceded by embodied noticings (also see Jacknick and Thornbury 2013 for more insights into embodied noticing). She successfully showed ‘how dynamic and situated students’ practices of displaying their epistemic positions are when they seek to correct potential errors made by the teacher, and thereby demonstrate their knowledge, during whole-­class instructional interaction’ (Kääntä 2014: 101). In another study, although this time not in instructed learning settings but in L2 users’ English as a lingua franca interactions, Siegel (2015) suggested a social epistemics framework for investigating L2 development and language learner identity longitudinally. She particularly focused on word search sequences using data collected across 22 months. Her findings indicate that observation of the ways in which participants ‘present their epistemic stance in interaction and how others orient to it across time could be a potential empirical approach in identifying indications of learner development’ (2015: 101). In other recent research, Jakonen and Morton (2015) investigate epistemic search sequences (ESSs) in student peer interactions in content-­based language classrooms, defining an ESS as a sequence through which learners seek to resolve together emerging knowledge gaps while trying to accomplish pedagogic tasks assigned by a teacher.

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While resolving gaps in knowledge, learners orient to different rights and responsibilities related to state of knowledge. Jakonen and Morton’s study found distinct interactional features of epistemic work in peer interaction as opposed to teacher-­led sequences. They also reveal unique properties of the interactional management of accountability for not knowing (e.g. when a student claims insufficient knowledge) or knowing, as well as quality of learnables and knowledge gaps. The authors maintain that teachers may engage in embodied interpretative practices together with ‘epistemic status checks’ (Sert 2013a) in dealing with emerging epistemic problems. In an instructed learning context, an ESC can be defined as a teacher’s interpretation of a learners’ state of knowledge, and is initiated when a second pair part of a question–answer adjacency pair is delayed. In the majority of instances of teachers’ ESCs and claims of insufficient knowledge (CIKs) by the students, as is argued by Hosoda and Aline (2013) based on Sert (2013a) and Sert and Walsh (2013), teachers prioritise preference for progressivity over selected-­speaker-­speaks-­next. Teachers, however, do not perform this in a straightforward and mechanical manner, simply based on verbal utterances, since they also draw on students’ nonverbal resources. If a speaker positions him-­/herself in a K-(unknowing) position (e.g. with a claim of insufficient knowledge like ‘I don’t know’), this can motivate sequences or their expansion (Heritage 2012b). Accordingly, taking an unknowing epistemic stance invites elaboration and projects potential sequence expansion (Heritage 2012a). Classroom contexts, however, may pose problems for understanding the nature of information imbalances, and in particular CIK, due to the existence of ‘display questions’, to which the answers are known by the teacher. This has been problematised by Heritage (2012a: 20), as such questions are not in search of information but rather are aimed at determining whether ‘the recipient has the information (or understanding) requested (Searle 1969)’. This brings us to the survey of research on CIK in classrooms, which will inform the forthcoming analytic chapters. Participants in talk-­in-­interaction may sometimes claim insufficient knowledge as a second pair part of an adjacency pair, which may give rise to a potential problem for the continuity of talk. They may also produce an utterance such as ‘I don’t know’, which may in fact have a number of functions, including that of a hedge (Weatherall 2011) or an avoidance of commitment (Tsui 1991), even though its form signals a lack of knowledge. In either case, according to Beach and Metzger, ‘whether a recipient producing “I don’t know” actually knows or not is a matter to be interactionally worked out’ (1997: 568). There is a growing body of research on CIK (e.g. ‘I don’t knows’), which has been carried out in different institutional settings including courtroom cross-­examinations (Beach and Metzger 1997), child counselling (Hutchby 2002), and instructed learning settings (Sert 2011; Sert and Walsh 2013). ‘I don’t knows’ (IDKs), and similar type of responses like ‘no idea’, have been considered within broader categories such as non-­answer responses (Stivers and Robinson 2006; Stivers 2010; Stivers and Enfield 2010). From a formal viewpoint, they have also been included in a subcategory named ‘no access responses’ (Raymond 2003), which is part of a broader category labelled ‘non-­PIC full clause’, a response that ‘resists the format of a wh-­question’ (Fox and Thompson 2010: 149). IDKs have also been considered as one of the most frequent epistemic stance markers (Kärkkäinen 2003).



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In their pioneering study on claiming insufficient knowledge, Beach and Metzger (1997) showed that claims of insufficient knowledge may accomplish a variety of subtle actions: a)  marking uncertainty and concerns about next-­ positioned opinions, assessments or troubles, b)  constructing neutral positions, designed to mitigate agreement and disagreement, by disattending and seeking closure on other-­initiated topics, c)  postponing or withholding acceptance of others’ invited and requested actions. (Beach and Metzger 1997: 562) Their study is based on courtroom cross-­examinations, and, as they claimed, CIK in ordinary, daily talk have ‘considerably more diverse functions and characteristics than institutional involvements’ (1997: 581). Claims of insufficient knowledge and no knowledge will be interchangeably used in this book to refer to non-­answer responses provided as second pair parts to a teacher question/request. They will be analysed in terms of the actions they perform, which is claiming insufficient/lack of knowledge, and therefore will be in various verbal and visual, and therefore multimodal, forms as opposed to the other studies carried out so far. It will be shown in Chapter 4 that there are commonly emerging formats in the sequential unfolding of CIK that can be revealed focusing on the ways in which they are enacted by the students and are managed by the teachers. Apart from these commonly occurring formats, it will be illustrated that there are also interactional resources including designedly incomplete utterances (Koshik 2002a) and embodied vocabulary explanations that lead to student displays of understanding, which brings us to the following sub-­section: multimodal resources in language classroom interaction. 3.3.2  MULTIMODAL RESOURCES IN LANGUAGE CLASSROOMS In this sub-­section, firstly, a review on multimodal aspects of turn-­taking and turn-­ allocation in classrooms, including gaze, body orientations, pointing, and nods will be presented. This will be followed by a survey on the employment of a variety of gestures (e.g. hand gestures) and body orientations in L2 interaction, for example in the unfolding of embodied completions and correction sequences. In teacher-­fronted CD, turn-­allocations are integral parts of the overall turn-­ taking system, which is to a great extent a result of the ‘interactional asymmetries’ (Drew and Heritage 1992) of institutional talk. In what follows, I will be focusing on multimodal and semiotic aspects of turn-­allocation and pre-­allocation of turns, and will refer to the growing body of work within the context of Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL) and additional language classrooms (e.g. Mortensen 2008, 2009; Kääntä 2010, 2012; Mortensen and Hazel 2011). These studies show that turn-­allocation and sequential organisation in classroom talk-­in-­interaction are complex phenomena which require consideration and close examination of resources like gaze, body orientations, pointing, and nods.

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Although the importance of gaze in turn-­beginnings has been studied in detail with an emphasis on the actions accomplished in L1 talk (e.g. Goodwin 1980; Rossano et al. 2009; Rossano 2012), its relevance to turn-­taking practices in second language talk has only recently been investigated in detail (but see Carroll 2004). In teacher-­fronted classroom interaction, although the role of gaze (and partly gestures) has been briefly referred to in relation to turn-­allocation (e.g. van Lier 1994; Hall 1998), more thorough, systematic investigations informed by a conversation analytic multimodal paradigm are very recent (e.g. Mortensen 2008; Kääntä 2010, 2012). Mortensen (2008) investigated how gaze is systematically used to display willingness to be selected as a next speaker in Danish L2 classrooms. His findings showed that, among other interactional phenomena, by engaging in mutual gaze with the students, the teacher displays ‘an ongoing monitoring of the students’ display of willingness to answer the first pair part as a relevant interactional job prior to the speaker selection’ (2008: 62). Drawing on his findings, it can be argued that the process of turn-­allocation and its co-­accomplishment through gaze orientations have not only interactional but also pedagogical consequences. This will be discussed further in the analysis in Chapter 4, as selecting a(n) (un)willing student may have implications for the co-­construction and management of CIK. In another study within the same L2 context in Denmark, Mortensen (2009) focused on how students claim incipient speakership and establish recipiency with a co-­participant before a turn is properly initiated by using body movements and in-­breaths as resources. He showed that although establishment of mutual gaze is an important component of displaying recipiency, gaze removal and divergent body orientations may be performed due to the existence of different classroom artefacts (also see Goodwin and Goodwin 1986 and Carroll 2004 for gaze removals in solitary word searches). Furthermore, fine-­detailed, micro-­interactional research on even a tightly controlled organisation like round robins (Mortensen and Hazel 2011) in L2 classrooms showed that participants’ mutual orientations to ongoing activities can be collaboratively achieved. Mortensen and Hazel also reported on the interactional organisation of this phenomenon by focusing ‘on the talk, the embodied conduct, the seating arrangement, and those artefacts and graphic structures, which are utilised in the initiating of this particular social practice’ (2011: 68). Gathering her data from CLIL classrooms in Finland, Kääntä (2010) examined teacher turn-­allocation and repair practices in classroom interaction from a multi-­ semiotic perspective. By coining the term embodied allocation, ‘which manifests the primacy of embodied resources in the accomplishment of social actions’ (2010: 256), she described these embodied actions in association with the teacher turn-­allocations centred on the use of head nods, gaze, and pointing gestures. One of the very important findings reported by Kääntä is that ‘the shape of the teacher turn-­allocations in the IRF sequence varies according to the sequential location in which they are delivered’ (2010: 266). Gestures in L2 talk have been a concern for applied linguists doing CA for more than a decade. Early examples of studies that focused on the embodied nature of L2 interaction, with a focus on L2 speakers’ employment of gestures, were of a more descriptive nature. For instance, Olsher (2004) illustrated embodied completions



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of turns as sequential actions in EFL classrooms, while Mori and Hayashi (2006) revealed how CA analyses of these embodied completions may help us understand socially situated language learning practices. Kupetz (2011) explored multimodal resources used by the students in CLIL interaction using the methods of CA and interactional linguistics. She illustrated different resources like hand movements, gaze, and body orientations employed by the students while ‘doing explanations’, and discussed their relation to pedagogical activities. CA studies on gestures in L2 tutoring sessions have outnumbered those in traditional classrooms, maybe due to the ease of collecting and handling gesture-­focused data. One example of such research from L2 tutoring sessions is Seo and Koshik’s (2010) investigation on gestures that engender repair, which function as open-­class repair initiators. Two types of gestures they found were a sharp head turn with continued eye gaze, and ‘a head poke forward, accompanied with a movement of the upper body forward toward the recipient’ (2010: 2219). Belhiah (2009) explicated how gestures, together with speech, gaze, and body orientation, contribute to the co-­construction of ESL tutorial discourse as a collaborative activity, while another paper from the same researcher (2013a) successfully portrayed the role of gesture as a resource for intersubjectivity in L2 learning situations. In addition to this, he identified three main functions of gestures: unpacking meaning, displaying alignment through gesture replication, and displaying alignment through gesture co-­production (2013a: 111). In his more recent study, again in tutoring sessions, Belhiah (2013b) showed how hands are used in definition talk in order to reinforce the meaning of verbal utterances, to disambiguate the meaning of vocabulary items, and to establish gestural cohesion. Finally, in a conversation analytic investigation into use of gestures in second language acquisition, using longitudinal data, Eskildsen and Wagner found that ‘vocabulary is learned and taught and ­accompanied by recurring gestures that have emerged from shared interactional spaces’ (2013: 158). Although there are other studies that do not employ CA in the analysis of gestures in L2 interactions they cannot be included in this selected survey due to reasons of space, but readers can refer to van Compernolle and Williams (2011), Hudson (2011), and Smotrova and Lantolf (2013). One non-­CA paradigm that should be mentioned here though in relation to multimodality, is multimodal semiotics (Kress et al. 2005), according to which meaning is available through visual displays, classroom artefacts, students’ posture, and the voice quality of the teacher, in addition to what is said, written, and read in the classroom. This understanding aligns with CA’s take on multimodal interaction, as has been clarified in Extracts 3.1, 3.2, and 3.3 through exemplifying the teacher’s and students’ orientations to the board as well as their body positioning. Yet the macro-­level understanding that is brought by multimodal semiotics into such analysis will not be followed in this book. Readers who want to become familiar with this line of research can consult Kress (2000) for exemplification of ‘modes’ in multimodality, Jewitt (2008) for the links between literacy and multimodality, Pinnow (2011) for agency in second language classrooms, Shanahan and Flury-­Kashmanian (2014) for teachers’ use of different semiotic resources in explicit strategy instruction, and Taylor (2014) for examples of how embodied modes work

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with speech in children’s collaborative construction of knowledge. I will now turn to the use of multilingual resources in language classrooms. 3.3.3  MULTILINGUAL RESOURCES IN LANGUAGE CLASSROOMS Despite the recent conversation analytic call for a ‘multilingual turn in second language acquisition’ (Hellermann and Lee 2014), in practice the use and ­appropriate amount of other languages in teaching and learning an L2 in foreign language classrooms is still a subject of debate (Oga-­Baldwin and Nakata 2014). Researchers investigating language alternation have only (relatively) recently started to employ a CA methodology (cf. W. Li 1999, 2002, 2005; Mondada 2004; Torras 2005). In contrast to other existing theories of bilingual code-­switching, according to W. Li (2002: 167) ‘the CA approach dispenses with motivational speculation in favour of an interpretative approach based on detailed, turn by turn analysis of language choices’. Taking this stance, there is a growing body of literature examining the occurrence of language alternation in instructed learning contexts. This section will present an up-­to-­date review of these studies, mainly by referring to language learning and teaching settings. Before moving on to the review of these studies, it should be clarified that, in this book, in relation to the concept of ‘language choice in classrooms’ (Üstünel and Seedhouse 2005; Musk 2014), ‘use of L1’ and ‘code-­switching’ (Üstünel and Seedhouse 2005; Amir and Musk 2013; Cheng 2013; Lehti-­Eklund 2013), ‘own-­ language use’ (Hall and Cook 2012a, 2012b4), use of ‘bilingual practices’ (Bonacina and Gafaranga 2011), ‘plurilingual resources/repertoires’ (Moore et al. 2013; Ziegler et al. 2013), and ‘multilingual resources’ (Ziegler et al. 2012; Ziegler et al. 2015) will be used interchangeably referring to the phenomenon of students’ and teachers’ use of additional languages other than the L2 being taught and learned. Shin and Milroy (2000) used sequential analysis, also informed by Auer’s (1984) distinction between participant-­ related and discourse-­ related code-­ switching, in order to explore how young Korean-­English bilingual schoolchildren employ code-­ switching to organise their conversation. They showed how children use code-­ switching to ‘negotiate the language for the interaction and accommodate other participants’ language competences and preferences, as well as to organize conversational tasks such as turn-­taking, preference marking, repair and bracketing of side-­ sequences’ (1984: 351). Focusing on repair sequences, Liebscher and Dailey-­O’Cain (2003) investigated university seminars for advanced learners of German in Canada. They showed that by allowing the use of the L1 in the classroom, the teacher shifted the primary classroom goal away from producing the target language and refocused it on learning the course material. Cromdal (2005) analysed students’ language alternation during the production of a written report at an English school in Sweden. He showed the ways in which learners were able to contrast actions that ‘related in a very direct sense to the production of the text proper, from those that did not’ (2005: 350) by systematically engaging in language alternation (i.e. code-­switching). One of the most influential papers on classroom code-­switching from a CA perspective is Üstünel and Seedhouse’s study, which focuses on ‘the sequential implicativeness of language choice in relation to the evolving pedagogical focus’



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(2005: 307). They presented the organisation of code-­switching as teacher-­initiated, teacher induced, and learner-­initiated, and demonstrated that through their language choices, learners may display their alignment or misalignment with the teacher’s pedagogical focus. They found the following functions of language alternation: dealing with procedural problems, dealing with classroom discipline, expressing social identity, giving an L1 equivalent, translating into the L1, dealing with a lack of response in the L2, providing a prompt for L2 use, eliciting an L1 translation, giving feedback, checking comprehension in the L2, providing metalanguage information, and giving encouragement to participate. Bani-­Shoraka and Jansson (2007) focused on language choice and code–switching (Persian as L1, Swedish as L2) among university students in the process of initiating and resolving a problem of understanding and producing the correct version of a lexical item. They revealed the ways in which code-­switches could be explicated as part of the activities like drawing attention to a problem, seeking alliance (when a problem is made explicit) and confirming intersubjective understanding (when the problem is resolved). Other issues explored include the ways in which code-­switching works as a device through which a target language action format can be requested from an L2 expert (Kasper 2004), how code-­switching serves as a resource for managing sequential boundaries (Mori 2004), and how language alternation addresses practical issues related to the management and completion of assigned pair activities in multilingual language classrooms (Unamuno 2008). Recent studies on language choice in L2 classrooms focused on micro-­level language policies (Amir 2013; Amir and Musk 2013), student–initiated use of multilingual resources in teacher-­led instruction (Ziegler et al. 2012) and plurilingual repertoires and multilingual resources in joint writing activities (Ziegler et al. 2013; Ziegler et al. 2015) in learner–learner interaction. Based on 20 hours of video-­ recordings from EFL classrooms in Sweden, Amir (2013) explored how interactants in L2 classrooms invoke a monolingual target language policy (a process similar to what has been defined earlier as orientations to a monolingual mode by Slotte-­ Lüttge  2007) by initiating language-­policing sequences, also referred to as ‘self-­ policing’. Ziegler et al. (2012) investigated student-­initiated multilingual resources and their next-­turn management by a teacher and showed the ways in which students’ use of these resources align with the ongoing interaction. Of particular interest for the analytic purposes of this book is the interactional unfolding of language choices in teacher–student interaction, both in teacher-­ initiated and in student-­initiated code-­switching. The aim is not to judge the result of language alternations, but first simply to describe them to see how they are being used as interactional resources by teachers and students. A further aim, focusing more on the practical aspects, is to understand how a teacher’s use of these resources and the management of students’ employment of such resources may potentially create positive participation experiences, and thus potential learning opportunities. In the following section, I will clarify what is meant by classroom participation and ­learning opportunities, which will hopefully help readers to better understand section 3.5 (L2 CIC) as well as the analytic chapters and their practical implications.

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social interaction and l2 classroom discourse 3.4  TEACHER TALK, STUDENT PARTICIPATION, AND L2 LEARNING OPPORTUNITIES

As discussed in Chapter 1, in language classrooms teachers ‘play a much more central role than that advocated under both Communicative Language Teaching and Task-­based Language Learning’ (Walsh 2006a: 3). In this section, my intention is not to isolate teachers’ talk from that of the students’, for instance by focusing on just teacher questions, rather it is to present a survey of CA studies that portray the ways in which language teachers co-­construct with the learners the opportunities for learner involvement and language learning opportunities. Since Walsh’s (2002) ­groundbreaking study on how L2 teachers’ use of language in classrooms hinders or facilitates learner contributions, researchers investigated teacher talk focusing on a variety of topics, including, but not limited to, how teacher self-­talk helps to maintain interactional space (Hall and Smotrova 2013), the interactional unfolding of native/non-­native speaker teachers’ co-­teaching practices (Park 2014), the systematicity behind positive feedback turns (Fagan 2014), teachers’ use of understanding checks (Waring 2012), turn-­management and managing competing voices (Waring 2013b,  2013c), teachers’ vocabulary explanations (Waring et al. 2013), shaping learner contributions (e.g. Can Daşkın 2015), missing learning opportunities after student-­initiated turns (Waring and Hruska 2012; H. Li 2013), and promoting learner initiatives by giving students interactional space (Garton 2012; Walsh and Li 2013). Before moving on to learning opportunities,5 I want to briefly discuss the unique nature of language classrooms in terms of participation, as this is key for an understanding of learner involvement. Following Kasper and Wagner (2011: 117) who argue that ‘language acquisition can be understood as learning to participate [emphasis added] in mundane as well as institutional everyday social environments’, and following Walsh (2002: 3), who maintained that ‘maximizing learner involvement [emphasis added] is conducive to second language acquisition’, one needs a better understanding of the concept of participation – a term that also signifies learner involvement – in institutional contexts (e.g. language classrooms) as opposed to mundane social environments. According to Schwab (2011: 15), classroom interaction should be seen as ‘a mode of speech exchange system that bears the opportunity for multi-­party discourse, especially if students can fill other slots than those given to them by the teacher, especially in IRF exchanges’. This signifies that participation in classroom interaction can best be understood with the concept of multilogue (rather than a dialogue); there is ongoing teacher-­led control while there are always opportunities for learner initiatives, as long as teachers find a fine balance between control and giving the floor, and between closing down or opening up ‘space for learning’ (Walsh and Li 2013). Walsh (2002) showed that when aligned with the pedagogical purpose at a given time in classroom interaction, direct error correction, content feedback, checking for confirmation, extended wait–time, and scaffolding might construct learning opportunities, while turn completion, teacher echo, and teacher interruptions may reduce learning potential. Through a teacher’s convergent language use with the pedagogical task that unfolds in interaction, learners are given more space. Additionally, Walsh



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and Li (2013) demonstrated how teachers can create space for learning through practices such as extended learner turns and increased planning time as well as the ways by which they shape learner contributions through scaffolding, paraphrasing and reiterating (for additional features of shaping learner contributions, see Can Daşkın 2015). Rather than providing interactional space and shaping learner contributions, some teacher moves have the potential to obstruct learning opportunities, especially in feedback turn of IRF sequences. Wong and Waring (2009) suggested that teachers’ use of explicit positive assessments (e.g. ‘very good’) in the third turn of IRF sequences may have the potential to inhibit learning opportunities. According to Waring (2008), these assessments especially suppress opportunities for students’ voicing understanding problems or exploring alternative answers, both of which are ‘the stuff that learning is made of ’ (Waring 2008: 577). In a very recent study, Fagan (2014) showed that although these third turns might have been regarded as problematic, they may also maintain the interactional flow and ensure information clarity with all learners, and are employed by teachers for not only (1) directly giving positive assessment, but also (2) for inviting peer assessment, and (3) for implying positive assessment. CA, according to Kasper (2006), has the capacity to examine in fine detail the ways in which opportunities for language learning emerge in different classroom activities. Following this call, Waring (2009) documented how an ESL student moved out of IRF sequences and established a renewed participation structure that allowed for student-­initiated negotiations, showing that teacher–whole class interactions can also be a site for acquisition-­rich interactional environments like peer-­and group-­work activities. Learner initiatives, like the one we highlighted in Extract 3.1, have been subject to elaborate investigation due to their links to the concept of learner agency. Learner agency, according to van Lier (2008: 163), assumes that learning ‘depends on the activity and the initiative [emphasis added] of the learner’. Therefore, the final part of this section will be devoted to learner initiatives and their relation to learning opportunities. Proposing an empirically based typology of learner initiatives, Waring (2011) demonstrated that L2 learners employ learner initiatives by (1) stepping in on behalf of another, (2) responding when responses are not explicitly asked for, and (3) using ‘a given opportunity to do more than what is expected or the unexpected’ (2011: 214). Investigating inverted IRF sequences in which a student initiates a sequence, the teacher responds, and the student follows-­up in the third turn in some way, Jacknick (2011) closely analysed post-­expansion in student-­initiated sequences in ESL classrooms. She demonstrated student use of power moves, role reversal and student created ‘wiggle room’ (Erickson 2004), which make students agents of their own learning. According to her, the student participation described in her study represents ‘more than student-­centred learning: students are driving their own learning’ (2004: 51). Sert (2014a), on the other hand, showed how learner initiatives could not be turned into learning opportunities by two novice teachers in a pre-­school EFL context in Turkey as the teachers oriented to classroom management issues and shifted the epistemic source after student initiations. Handling student initiatives is thus something that has to be taught to novice teachers (Fagan 2012), as ‘learner

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initiative in teacher-­fronted interaction may constitute a significant opportunity for learning and that teachers should find ways of encouraging such interaction patterns’ (Garton 2012: 29). It can be claimed that developing an understanding of what creates learning opportunities, or hinders learning, as well as managing pedagogical tasks in a way that will promote more student involvement requires a set of skills. This is why the following section will focus on L2 CIC. 3.5  L2 CLASSROOM INTERACTIONAL COMPETENCE The concept of interactional competence, as has been defined in section 3.2, is not a construct that is only valid for students in L2 classrooms. Teachers, as the leading actors especially in traditional classrooms where teacher fronted interaction constitutes most of the classroom talk, are important agents to facilitate learning opportunities through their talk, which may directly influence students’ interactional competence. Walsh (2006a, 2011, 2012) developed the idea of CIC, defined as teachers’ and learners’ ability ‘to use interaction as a tool for mediating and assisting learning’ (Walsh 2011: 158). This definition assumes certain skills to be learned by a language teacher, or interactional skills to be developed over time so as to create language classrooms which are more communicative and which become settings that facilitate language learning opportunities through teachers’ successful interactional management of pedagogical activities. It is argued that only a micro-­analytic ‘approach to classroom interaction can enable researchers to identify specific strategies used by teachers and learners to enhance learning’ (Seedhouse and Walsh 2010: 128). Walsh’s idea of CIC encompasses the features of classroom interaction that make the teaching/learning process more or less effective. These features are: (a) maximizing interactional space; (b) shaping learner contributions (seeking clarification, scaffolding, modelling, or repairing learner input); (c) effective use of eliciting; (d) instructional idiolect (i.e. a teacher’s speech habits); and (e) interactional awareness. It should be kept in mind that all these interactional features become meaningful as long as they coincide with the pedagogical goal of the moment (Walsh 2006); therefore classroom modes proposed by Walsh play a significant role for teachers and researchers to grasp CIC. Walsh identified four classroom micro-­contexts, referred to as modes. These micro-­contexts are: • • • •

managerial mode (e.g. organisation of the learning environment) classroom context mode (e.g. promoting oral fluency) skills and systems mode (e.g. enabling learners to produce correct forms), and materials mode (e.g. to providing language practice around a piece of material).

Each mode has its own interactional features that align with certain pedagogical goals (see Walsh 2003: 126). For instance, if a teacher is carrying out a speaking activity to promote oral fluency (classroom context mode), than s/he should allow extended learner turns, avoid very long teacher turns, and use minimal repair. If s/he tends to use direct repair, teacher echo, and extensive form-­focused feedback,



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then the pedagogical goal and interactional features will diverge, which may potentially hinder learning opportunities and obstruct learner participation. According to Walsh (2012: 12): ‘. . . more research in different settings with different participants is required to fully understand still uncovered features of CIC, which will then lead to a more in-­depth understanding of teaching and learning practices in language classrooms’. This call, and Walsh’s earlier, have been directly (Sert 2011; Escobar Urmeneta 2013; Can Daşkın 2015; Escobar Urmeneta and Evnitskaya 2014) and indirectly (Coyle et al. 2010; Waer 2012; Hosoda and Aline 2013) taken up by some researchers, and CIC has been addressed from different perspectives in a variety of settings, including EFL classrooms in Luxembourg and Turkey as well as CLIL settings in Spain. Sert (2011) revealed the ways in which students’ CIK (e.g. ‘I don’t know’) were managed by a teacher in an English language classroom (as will also be revealed in Chapter 4 of this book). Based on a multimodal analysis with a conversation analytic enquiry, the author showed that successful interactional management of students’ CIK is a teacher skill and is an important part of CIC. After showing how the teacher in most of the examples allocated the turns to other students after a student’s CIK, he illustrated a number of interactional resources that further engaged the unknowing student and even in some cases led to displays of student understanding, thus creating learning opportunities. These resources include deictic gestures, embodied vocabulary explanations, translation and code-­switching, and DIUs. Escobar Urmeneta (2013) focused on the development of a CLIL teacher in the Spanish context throughout one academic year, using multimodal CA and ethnographic content analysis. She showed how a student teacher (who had been unable to promote student participation at the beginning of the year), after recording, transcribing, and reflecting on her own practice, started using a more learner-­ convergent language, including a more efficient use of L1, showing signs of development in her CIC. Based on an adaption of CIC to CLIL contexts proposed earlier by Escobar Urmeneta and Evnitskaya (2013), (which centres around the use of learner-­ convergent language, facilitation of interactional space, and shaping learner contributions) Escobar Urmeneta and Evnitskaya (2014) described how CIC is enacted by participants while developing a teacher-­led discussion based on data from a bilingual Catalan–Spanish secondary school classroom in Barcelona. Their findings revealed that teachers’ deployment of multimodal resources favours learner-­initiated turns leading to sequences of mediation and remediation, ‘providing the students with opportunities for the appropriation of language and content’ (Escobar Urmeneta and Evnitskaya 2014: 178). With reference to a very important component of CIC, Walsh (2013: 55) asserts that ‘by shaping learner contributions and by helping learners to really articulate what they mean, teachers are performing a more central role in the interaction, while, at the same time, maintaining a student-­centred, decentralised approach to teaching’. Can Daşkın (2015 specifically focused on ‘shaping learner contributions’ (SLC), which is a feature of teacher-­led classroom interaction that CIC encompasses. Drawing on video-­recordings at an English preparatory school in a Turkish university, she revealed a number of interactional patterns especially in post-­expansion

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sequences. In addition to Walsh’s earlier findings, Can Daşkın came up with two more features of SLC: translation to L1/L2, and the use of board. Although the author acknowledges that SLC is an essential indicator of CIC, she argues that one needs to take a critical stance on their occurrences in classroom interaction: While in some of the instances it is clear that SLC leads to more student participation and interaction, in other instances it does not. In some of the cases, particularly in the form-­and-­accuracy context, there is no indication regarding whether the students do benefit from SLC.Therefore, one cannot claim that all SLC instances are beneficial, whichever of the L2 classroom contexts is in operation. (Can Daşkın 2015: 52) I will refer to L2 CIC again in Chapter 7 with reference to practical implications of the analyses that will be carried out in this book. Furthermore, in Chapter 8, I will place L2 CIC at the heart of language teacher education, arguing for the ways in which it can enhance quality in teacher development. It should be noted that micro-­analysis, and in particular the ethnomethodological CA methodology, equips researchers with necessary and, I argue, essential tools to grasp how language learning and teaching practices are enacted in classrooms through participants’ employment of interactional resources that are conducive to learning. Understanding such resources will ensure a detailed picture of CIC, and will raise the possibility for policy makers to take a more bottom-­up approach to L2 teaching and language teacher education policies, an approach that is based on empirical evidence rather than short-­ term, methodologically and theoretically ungrounded, and top-­down strategies. 3.6 CONCLUSION Presenting a comprehensive, yet selective, survey on L2 teaching and learning practices in classrooms informed by CA, this chapter first reviewed the recently emerging field CA-­for-­SLA by also presenting an example from an English language classroom that brings evidence for the co-­construction of understanding, and micro-­moments of socially distributed cognition, through the emergence of a vocabulary learning orientation and its use by students in the class. In section 3.3, a survey of epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual resources in classroom interaction was provided. These resources present a thorough understanding of classroom interactional practices, as will be shown in the analytic chapters. In the last two sections, a review of recent research on learning opportunities and L2 CIC has been introduced, complimenting the previous sub-­sections in order to provide a holistic understanding of L2 CD from a conversation analytic perspective. In the following chapter, the first analytic chapter of the book, I will describe interactional (and in relation to this, pedagogical) problems and their resolutions in teaching and learning practices in light of the analysis of the interactional unfolding of students’ claims and displays of insufficient knowledge and their management by a teacher, which has clear links to CIC.



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NOTES 1. In an interview (Evnitskaya 2012), Numa Markee, in a response to a question on his selection of the term ‘Learning Talk Analysis’ rather than ‘teacher and learner talk analysis’, states that what he means by this term is not ‘learning’, and then ‘talk analysis’, but ‘learning talk’. It’s a kind of ‘talk in which you do language learning behaviour’ (2012: 62) in an institution-­specific way. Markee (2014) defined language learning behaviour as his attempt to talk about learning in non-­cognitive terms, as something that is observably achieved as behaviour in and through talk-­ in-­interaction (including gesture, and other forms of embodiment). 2. There were 76,000 Portuguese immigrants in Luxembourg as of 2008, and the total population of the country was 483,000 (Statec 2008, cited in Redinger 2010). 3. The Luxembourgish phrase ‘zwar net’ is often used by teenagers. In a conversation, one can start denying by saying ‘zwar net’ and then would continue counter-­ arguing. In a regular sentence ‘zwar’ can mean however, though. I want to thank Laura Bianchi and Martin Kraachel for their support in translations of and explanations for Luxembourgish words. 4. Hall and Cook 2012a and 2012b are not CA studies of language choice. 5. There are also two important studies (Brouwer 2003 and Kim 2012) that focused on learning opportunities in daily conversations between native speakers and non-­ native speakers, rather than the classroom interactions that this section surveys.

4 FROM TROUBLES TO RESOLUTION: MANAGEMENT OF DISPLAYS AND CLAIMS OF INSUFFICIENT KNOWLEDGE IN L2 CLASSROOMS

4.1 INTRODUCTION In the previous chapter, in particular in section 3.2, it was argued that studies on repair, which can be defined as treatment of trouble in speaking, hearing, or understanding, have played an important role in the development of CA-­for-­SLA as a field, and investigation of repair practices have paved the way to understanding various aspects of the development of interactional competences. Seedhouse (2004) argues that there is a reflexive relationship between the pedagogical focus in L2 classrooms and the organisation of repair, therefore how trouble is treated and resolved in pedagogical activities can help researchers realise social displays of cognitive states of students. This has direct relevance to the ways in which we can reveal how understanding and language learning occur in the sequential unfolding of talk between teachers and students. L2 development, according to Kasper (2009b: 32), is ‘located in socially shared cognition as a practical accomplishment’. In L2 classrooms, interactants display to each other their cognitive states (e.g. knowing or not knowing), and the analysis of such states can reveal moments of language learning. In order to understand l­ earning practices, we need to investigate the co-­construction of intersubjectivity, which is ‘mutual understanding or interpersonal alignment [emphasis added], and one of the key objectives of Conversation Analysis is to explicate how we are able to achieve a shared understanding of each other’s actions’ (Seedhouse and Walsh 2010: 128). Since repair is one of the mechanisms to enable shared understanding and interpersonal alignment, one can assume that an investigation into interactional troubles in general can show problems of understanding and how they are resolved, which will eventually inform our understanding of learning in L2 classrooms. In this book (also see Sert and Jacknick 2015), the term interactional trouble, within the limits of instructed learning settings, refers to the emergence of a temporary misalignment in the unfolding of an interactional and pedagogical activity, which is oriented to by the participants as such through verbal and nonverbal means. In other words, interactional trouble here is mainly related to moments of institutional interaction in which the progressivity of classroom talk and activities is affected due to observable orientations to the timing (e.g. silences) or nature (e.g. providing a repairable candidate response) of student participation. As has been stated in the previous chapters, the primary concern of CA-­for-­SLA 58



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studies has been to bring evidence for understanding and learning; yet little attention has been paid to interactional troubles in language classrooms. Interactional troubles may be analytically demonstrable in cases when there are, for instance, very long silences after a teacher initiates a sequence (e.g. with a question), or when a teacher orients to students’ nonverbal displays of no knowledge and initiates an ESC (Sert 2013a), as well as when students explicitly claim insufficient knowledge (e.g. ‘I don’t know’, Sert and Walsh 2013). Although orientations to these epistemic states are clearly important for those who want to grasp the institutional dynamics of ‘the epistemic engine’ (Heritage 2012b) – and especially information imbalances – in L2 classrooms, there are only few studies1 that directly addressed interactional unfolding and management of claims of insufficient knowledge as well as teachers’ orientations to such epistemic states. However, the issue of how these troubles are resolved has the potential to bring important insights into L2 CD by revealing the resources teachers employ to co-­construct understanding and create learning opportunities. Therefore, in section 4.2 I will first describe the interactional unfolding of students’ CIK to illustrate how such claims emerge during language learning activities and how they are managed by a teacher, by paying close attention to verbal as well as multimodal and semiotic resources enacted by the participants in L2 classrooms. In section 4.3 it will be shown that there are instances in classroom interaction when teachers, through ESCs (e.g. ‘no idea?’, ‘you don’t know?’), orient to students’ long silences or to some of the nonverbal behaviours (headshakes, smiles, withdrawal of mutual gaze) the students display. In an instructed learning setting, an ESC can be defined as a speaker’s interpretation of another interactant’s state of (no/insufficient) knowledge (e.g. by asking questions like ‘you don’t know?’, ‘no idea?’, following nonverbal cues by students), which is initiated when a second pair part of an adjacency pair is delayed (i.e. when a student’s response to a teacher’s question is delayed). Therefore, analytically speaking, a long silence alone is not considered a display of no knowledge – one can only argue for a teacher’s orientation and interpretation of insufficient knowledge when s/he makes it relevant for the learners (and for the analyst) by initiating an ESC thus interpreting insufficient knowledge. Yet not all claims are necessarily related to a lack of knowledge. In section 4.4, it will be argued that CIK and ESCs, when combined with other verbal and nonverbal resources, may indicate students’ ‘unwillingness to participate’ (UTP, Sert 2013b). Throughout the analyses of the extracts, I will illustrate that establishing recipiency through verbal and nonverbal means before or during a teacher’s turn-­allocation has interactional, and therefore pedagogical, consequences. Finally, in section 4.5 a number of interactional resources that the teacher employs after students’ CIK will be examined. These resources, showing deviations from those to be exemplified in section 4.2, will be claimed to be conducive to student participation. Some of these resources lead to displays of student understanding; therefore they have potential to promote learning opportunities. In other words, by using a number of interactional resources, a teacher can help students move from a state of not knowing the answer, to a state of displaying understanding, which thus illustrates a micro-­moment of language learning. As has already been indicated in Chapter 1, the main data for this chapter come

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from two English language classrooms in a public school in Luxembourg. The data were collected using two digital video cameras that were set at the beginning of each session, one focused on the teacher and one focused on the students to capture all details of the participants’ nonverbal behaviours. The students (10th grade and 11th grade) in both classrooms have the same proficiency level in English (intermediate), working with the same course book (New Headway Intermediate) in addition to supplementary materials the teacher brings to the classrooms. The 10th grade has three classroom hours (45 minutes each) whereas the 11th grade has two hours of instruction each week. The former has 19 students, while the latter has 13 students seated in a U-­shaped arrangement. The age of the students ranges from 15 to 18 years. All the students, having grown up in Luxembourg, speak at least three languages other than English. The languages spoken outside the classroom are Luxembourgish, German, and French in addition to English due to the multicultural nature of Luxembourg. 4.2  THE INTERACTIONAL UNFOLDING OF CIK This section will first report on the verbal and embodied ways students initiate CIK and how these claims are managed by the teacher, drawing on the majority of the sequence formats found in the corpus. These examples will illustrate the importance of establishing recipiency (through, for example, body positioning and establishing mutual gaze) and how turn-­allocation is managed in this multi-­party context. It will be shown that in most of the cases in which there is a student CIK, recipiency is not established before a turn is first allocated to a learner, which means there is no explicit signal of willingness to talk through engaging in mutual gaze with the teacher. The overwhelming majority of CIK are followed by the teacher’s turn-­allocation to other students, so the teacher does not immediately provide a correct answer after a student’s CIK, but simply offers the conversational floor to another recipient. Thus, progressivity of the activity is prioritised and pursued. Extract 4.1 below (11th grade) is a typical example of the interactional management of CIK in classrooms: the teacher asks a question of a student before establishing mutual gaze, the student claims insufficient knowledge in the second pair part (i.e. the response turn) and the teacher allocates the turn to a willing speaker in the follow-­up turn. This exchange structure is typical for most of the examples in the data. In this particular episode, the students are reading and discussing a short story (entitled My Son the Fanatic by Hanif Kureishi), guided by the teacher’s questions. Extract 4.1 Ali’s behavior, 44_08_06_11_38–33 01 Tea: do ↑you think that ali’s behavior is acceptable or 02 appropri↓ate (.) do you think it is okay for him to 03 speak like that to:: (0.7)to a woman like bettina. +gazes at Mar 04 (0.6) ((Mar keeps looking at the text)) 05 Tea: Marie what do you think? +points at Mar



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#12

Figure 4.1 06 07 → Mar: 08

(1.1) °i don’t know it°. (3.3) ((Ben moves to an upright position #4.2.1 –––> #4.2.2 and looks at Tea))

Figure 4.2

09 Tea: ((establishes mutual gaze with Ben)) 10 (0.9) 11 Tea: ben. 12 Ben: yes: and ↑no.

From lines 01 to 03, Tea asks a couple of questions about the main character Ali and his attitude to his father’s friend, Bettina. The teacher’s body is oriented to Mar and he gazes at her while Mar is looking at the text and not gazing at the teacher. In line 03, the teacher tries to obtain Mar’s gaze by stretching a sound (to::), a long pause, and a restart (Goodwin 1980). However, he fails to establish mutual gaze with the student, and Mar keeps her gaze directed to the text in front of her (see Figure 4.1). After a 0.6 second silence, he selects Mar as the next speaker with ‘individual nomination’ (Mehan 1979) by saying her name and by also pointing at her (line 05). According to Kääntä (2010), gaze together with pointing indicates to the learner that s/he is the next speaker while ‘the student’s name in the allocation performs this function for the rest of the class’ (2010: 168). Yet Mar is still looking at the text on her desk. Following a 1.1 second silence, Mar initiates a CIK with a quiet voice in line 07 (°i don’t know it°), her gaze still fixed on the material, but not on the teacher. Mar’s CIK makes it relevant not only to the teacher, but also to the other students that a speaker change may follow in the next turn. Although the other s­ tudents

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keep avoiding mutual gaze with the teacher, during a long wait-­time after Mar’s turn (3.3  seconds), Ben makes himself available to be selected as the next speaker by moving his body to an upright position and looking at the teacher (Figure 4.2). Then the teacher nominates Ben as the next speaker in line 11. Therefore, it can be claimed that Ben is displaying his willingness to talk, since he makes himself visibly available as a respondent to Tea’s question, engages in mutual gaze, establishes recipiency with the teacher, and initiates the second pair part of the adjacency pair with no hesitations. Drawing on this short extract, some initial observations can be made with regards to the interactional management of CIK. First of all, failing to establish mutual gaze before/while initiating a first pair part (i.e. a teacher question) may lead to a CIK and this may have relevance to ‘willingness to talk’. However, it should also be noted that Mar is orienting to the text and there is an embodiment and orientation to a classroom artefact, which has an impact on the gaze and body orientations of the student. Secondly, there are long silences before and after the CIK in this extract. One reason for this may be that the teacher asks a question that addresses a student’s stance (line 05), which may require a slightly longer time to get a response. The teacher waits for a long time before he allocates the turn to another student, with no repair initiation. Nonetheless, it should be noted that this is a pedagogically driven choice for the teacher, since in form-­and-­accuracy contexts (Seedhouse 2004) where there is also a focus on material there may be shorter pauses and little teacher wait-­time. However, during the activity in this extract, the focus is on meaning, so more wait-­time after teacher questions may be conducive to student participation (see Seedhouse and Walsh 2010 and Walsh and Li 2013 for discussions on increased wait-­time and interactional space). Finally, CIK typically projects an allocation of the turn to another student, preferably to one who makes herself/himself nonverbally (e.g. change of posture and gaze orientation as in line 08) or verbally available as the next speaker. CIK may result in different teacher actions in the follow-­up turns depending on the classroom artefacts involved (e.g. a book) and the pedagogical goal(s) of the teacher. Extract 4.2 which follows (10th grade) is taken from a material-­oriented classroom task in which the students are required to match the meanings of vocabulary items in two different lists. This supplementary material was prepared by the teacher to practise vocabulary, based on a text in New Headway Intermediate (Soars and Soars 2009: 74). Before beginning the activity, the students have been given about 10 minutes to match the items by themselves. Extract 4.2 Stunned, 25_18_06_10_2_35–34 01 Tea: 02 03 Tea: 04 05 Lu2:

let’s conti↑nue: +raises his head, looks at Lu2 (0.9) Luca a ((a refers to the exercise item)). (0.4) ‘to be s↑tunned,’((reads from the book)) +Tea looks at the book



displays and claims of insufficient knowledge in l2 classrooms

06 → Lu2: 07 → Tea:

63

i don’t know.= =>you don’t know?< +raises his head #4.3.1 ––– > #4.3.2

Figure 4.3

08 Tea: does anybody kno:w that one? +looks to his left 09 Tea: Len? +looks at Len 10 (0.3) 11 Len: to be very shocked or surprised.= 12 Tea: =good (.) yes:. +vertical +looks at his book head nod

In line 01, the teacher projects a continuation of the activity (conti↑nue:) with a rising intonation and stretching of the final sound, as he raises his head from the material, looks at Lu2 and nominates him as the next speaker with the next-­turn-­ selected-­speaker’s name in TCU-­initial position (line 03). It should also be mentioned that no student bids for a turn at this point. By not establishing mutual gaze with Tea, and following a 0.4 second silence, Lu2 starts reading the first item from the text (line 05). Note that the teacher also orients his gaze to the book as the student starts reading. In line 06, the student initiates a CIK. His CIK is immediately followed by a (>you don’t know? 4.4.2 –––> 4.4.3, looks around the class))

Figure 4.4

05 Tea: 06 Tea: 07 08 09 10 → Tom: Tea:

°no?° he speaks about (.) er:::: endor– endorphins and er::: (.) >all kind of< hor↑mones that are being pro↑du:ced and have effect on your brain and concentra↓tion (.)so: (.) who does he try to convince and what is the method here? #4.5 +Tom covers his face with his hand +Tea gazes at Tom

Figure 4.5 11

(0.5)



displays and claims of insufficient knowledge in l2 classrooms

12 Tea: Tom: 13 14 → Tom: 15 Tea: 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Tea: 23 24 → Tom:

tom. +Tea points at Tom +Tom gazes at the teacher (1.2) ((shakes his head)) if you tell somebody– (.)if you ↑eat th– +establishes mutual gaze with Tom chocolate bar >it does not only< taste nice but it has a (.) particular effect on your b↑lood pressure or: .hh the way you can concentra:te has actually .hhh er:: an effect on your well be↑ing. (1.1) ((mutual gaze)) what is the ↑me↓ssage in a way. (2.2) ((withdraws mutual gaze and raises his eyebrows)) #4.6.1 –––> #4.6.2

Figure 4.6 25 → Tom: don’t know.= +shakes his head #4.7.1–––>#4.7.2

Figure 4.7 26 Tea: =tim what do you think. +pointing at Tim 27 (1.6) 28 Tim: chocolate is g(h)ood.((students laugh)) 29 (0.9)

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30 Tea: yeah (.) okay (.) the basic message is:, 31 chocolate is good for ↑you.

In line 01, the teacher asks the students about the strategies a student has used to promote his product, and in lines 02 and 03 he takes a personal epistemic stance (he also tries to convince (.) other buyers i think). His question and epistemic stance is followed by a 1.3 second silence during which he looks around at the class for a willing speaker (Figure 4.4). Since no student bids for a turn, in line 05 the teacher initiates an ESC (see section 4.3). Following a series of explanations about the project of the student, in lines 09 and 10, he asks two specific questions (who does he try to convince and what is the method here?) and directs his gaze at Tom at TCU (see section 2.4.1 in Chapter 2) final position, while Tom has already covered his face with his right hand, fixing his gaze in another direction (Figure 4.5). This is an early indication that the student is not willing to participate, as he does not engage in mutual gaze and does not orient his body towards the teacher although the teacher positions himself towards this particular student. Since Tea cannot obtain the student’s gaze, following a 0.5 second silence, he uses an address term and points at the student (line 12). After 1.2 seconds of silence, Tom shakes his head, which again may be displaying a UTP. UTP will be discussed in section 4.4, so I shall turn back to how an embodied CIK unfolds in the remainder of the extract. From lines 15 to 20, with an extended turn and a particular question on the message the student is trying to give with his advertisement, Tea tries to elicit an answer from Tom (line 22), with whom he previously established recipiency through mutual gaze. Following a very long silence in line 23, Tom first withdraws gaze, lifts his eyebrows (Figure 4.6), and claims insufficient knowledge while shaking his head (Figure 4.7). Following this embodied CIK, the teacher immediately allocates the turn to the student sitting next to Tom, whose gaze is already fixed on the teacher. After a 1.6 second silence, in line 28, Tim responds to the teacher’s question, which is followed by laughter from other students. The teacher then, in lines 30 and 31, accepts Tim’s answer, and reformulates this answer to ambiguate it. The findings from this corpus show that headshakes are the most common nonverbal indicators of CIK, which are generally used in combination with a verbal CIK or alone. Headshakes have been attributed with similar functions in different contexts. By focusing on participants’ assessments of stories and topics in daily Finnish conversations, Ruusuvuori and Peräkylä (2009) showed that a negative stance can be reciprocated with a headshake. Furthermore, Stivers and Rossano (2010: 5) found that a participant may ‘decline the offer with a small headshake and a simultaneous mm mm’. Another finding, from casual Japanese conversations, is that a participant may show his struggle in comprehending an explanation by producing a series of lateral headshakes (Mori and Hayashi 2006). Researchers (e.g. Wiener et al. 1972; Ekman 1979; Chovil 1991/1992) also have shown that facial displays such as ‘a quizzical look, a raised eyebrow [emphasis added] and a frown without accompanying speech are often used and understood to signal recipients’



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emotional reactions to or problems with the prior talk’ (cited in Seo and Koshik 2010: 2220). In this section it has been argued that in the majority of the cases in which a student claims insufficient knowledge, the teacher allocates the turn to another student, displaying an orientation to the progressivity of interaction and pedagogical activities. The analysed extracts have revealed that the emergence of CIK is potentially related to the establishment of recipiency at turn-­beginning (e.g. through mutual gaze), and that CIK can be embodied with nonverbal features of interaction including lateral headshakes and raising eyebrows. The following section will present how nonverbal cues are oriented to by the teacher through his/her use of ESCs, and therefore will expand this section by showing the ways in which the teacher perceives certain student behaviours as being related to insufficient knowledge. 4.3  ESC AS AN INTERACTIONAL PHENOMENON The analysis in this section illustrates instances of classroom talk-­in-­interaction in which the teacher orients to a particular nonverbal behaviour – together with silence – and makes his interpretation of students’ insufficient knowledge relevant through some ESCs (e.g. ‘no idea?’). In an instructed learning setting, an ESC can be defined as a speaker’s interpretation of another interactant’s state of (no/insufficient) knowledge (e.g. ‘you don’t know?’, ‘no idea?’), which is initiated when a second pair part of an adjacency pair is delayed, that is when a student response to a teacher initiation is not provided. Therefore, analytically speaking, a long silence alone is not considered a display of no knowledge; one can only argue for a teacher’s orientation and interpretation of insufficient knowledge when s/he makes it relevant for the learners (and for the analyst) by initiating an ESC; thus interpreting insufficient knowledge. Thus, I will illustrate students’ different nonverbal practices that trigger a teacher’s ESC. These nonverbal resources include a combination of silences and headshakes, smiles, and withdrawals of mutual gaze. For teachers, awareness of such nonverbal signals is important in that if they can figure out an interactional trouble early, this can potentially save students’ face and can also have a positive impact on the progressivity of pedagogical activities by the allocation of the turn to a willing student following a student’s display of insufficient knowledge or unwillingness to participate. The following extract is a typical example of the primary resources of the teacher to interpret insufficient knowledge: students’ silences and their unwillingness to establish mutual gaze with the teacher. In Extract 4.4, the class is discussing the lyrics of a song. Extract 4.4 Ads, 8_15_08_06_10_2_15–57 01 Tea: he says where the ↑ADS take aim and lay their 02 claim to the heart and the soul of the 03 s↑pen↓der(.) what are ads? for ad↑vertisements:. 04 (1.3)

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05 Tea: do you know what he’s speaking about? #4.8.1

Figure 4.8

06 (3.2) #4.8.2 07 → Tea: you don’t know what an ↑ad is. 08 oh: come on. +Noa holds up his finger 09 Tea: yes (noah). 10 Noa: ↑wer↓bung. publicity 11 Tea: werbung, yes (.) publicity. publicity

In lines 01 and 02, the teacher reads two lines from the lyrics, with an emphasis on a particular word with rising intonation and loud voice (↑ADS). Having previously established this shift to a focus on vocabulary, in line 03, the teacher asks the meaning of this word (what are ads?), expands this to the full word ‘advertisements’ immediately afterwards, and waits 1.3 seconds before he asks a more general question in relation to the same concept. However, no student is bidding for a turn and the learners all avoid mutual gaze with the teacher. For 3.2 seconds, the teacher looks around the classroom for a willing speaker (Figure 4.8). After this very long pause, having failed to establish mutual gaze with the students and find a willing speaker, in line 07, the teacher makes the students’ lack of knowledge about the meaning of the word ‘ad’ relevant (you don’t know what an ↑ad is.). The actions performed by a ‘you don’t know’ which follows a CIK in classroom talk have been previously described by Sert (2011) and have been illustrated in Extract 4.2: this repeats a portion of the student’s claim of no knowledge, but the ‘you’ makes clear who is to own the lack of knowledge; further, the teacher’s response establishes the relevance for moving on to another student (Beach 2011, personal communication). In this extract, however, ‘you don’t know X’ should be analysed differently due to its sequential positioning and action format. Firstly, it does not follow a student’s CIK. Secondly, in terms of its temporal placement, it is preceded by a long silence and bodily movements of the teacher (to find a willing speaker). This ESC and its specification are followed by an encouragement token (oh come on.) in line 08, which invites the students to participate. Before the teacher completes his turn, Noa bids for turn in line 08, and the teacher allocates the turn to him (line 09). In line 10, Noa gives the German equivalent of the word, which is immediately accepted by the teacher in line 11 by first repeating the student’s contribution, then



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inserting a confirmation token, and finally by giving the English equivalent of the word in turn-­final position (publicity). It is interesting to see that Noa’s code-­switch is not challenged, but is immediately confirmed by the teacher in his repeating the German word, and his acceptance token, although he also gives an English equivalent in TCU-­final position. This will be discussed further in Chapter 6, Extract 6.7. This example is interesting in many ways. Firstly, a long silence during which all the students avoid mutual gaze with the teacher becomes a resource for the teacher to interpret insufficient knowledge and initiate an ESC. Secondly, the teacher’s response following this performs different actions compared to the second-­positioned ‘you don’t knows’ in terms of temporal and sequential positioning as well as its position within the turn. Although this ‘you don’t know’ (line 07, you don’t know what an ­ad is.) does not receive a confirmation of insufficient knowledge from the students, it functions as a ‘checking for (non) understanding’ that re-­establishes the norms and expectations in terms of turn distribution and triggers a bid-­for-­turn to change the speakers. From a pedagogical viewpoint, the example shows that it may sometimes be problematic to shift from meaning-­and-­fluency contexts to form-­and-­accuracy contexts (i.e. focus on vocabulary). Although the teacher marked the new word at suprasegmental level in line 01, the questions he asked in lines 03 and 05 require students to focus on two different things: in line 03, it is the vocabulary that is at stake, while in line 05, the focus is on meaning and on general interpretation of the lyrics that the students had been doing just before the start of this extract. The teacher, however, successfully overcomes this pedagogical mismatch by his interpretation of no knowledge and by specifying the required information, which immediately leads to further student participation with no wait-­time in the following turn. In section 6.7 in Chapter 6, it will be illustrated that the ESC and the way the teacher handles code-­switching here elicit responses from three more students, and thus encourage student participation and engagement. The analysis of Extract 4.5 below shows that ‘you don’t know?’ is not the only immediate response when silence is interpreted by the teacher as a display of insufficient knowledge (with an ESC). In addition, it also illustrates that a student’s smile (see Sert and Jacknick 2015 for the relationship between epistemics and student smiles in EFL and ESL classrooms) after a long and silent mutual gaze may play a role for the insertion of an ESC in the subsequent turn. In this extract, the students in the 10th grade class are working on a text that they have read in their course book. The teacher is asking questions about the main character in the text (a policeman). Before the beginning of the extract, one of the students reads a paragraph from the text and the teacher stops the student where relevant. Extract 4.5 Fight for justice, 9_19_15_06_10_1_51–26 01 Tea: Oh↑kay, now WHat (.) does this pas↓sage (.) 02 sho::w us about drummel, (0.6) and about, (1.2) 03 again his:, (.) his ↑job, as a cop. 04 (1.3) 05 as a °police man°. Luca?

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Luc: Tea: 06 Luc: 07 08 Tea: 09 10 11 12 13 Tea: 14 15 16 17 18 → Luc:

+Luc holds up his finger +looks at and points at Luc he wants to fight for justice. (0.6) he wants to fight for jus↑tice .hh but also the language that is being used (.) his instinct was to mo::ve into the direction of any disturbance of the pea::ce. (0.5) his instinct was to interce:de (0.5)So::,(0.6) what do we learn about him (.) how does he actually wo::rk (.) what is the wa::y, .hhh in in what way does he wo:rk? (4.5)((Luc keeps his gaze fixed on Tea)) #4.9.1 > #4.9.2 ((smiles))

Figure 4.9 19 → 20 → 21 22 23 24 25 26

Tea: £no£? Luc: £no:£. +Tea looks at other students Tea: is th↑is::, (0,7) is this a very pre::meditated act, is ↑this something he was think’ about for a long time and planning things. okay, this is the moment to: act. Lar? (1.2)((Lar looks at the text)) Lar: er::, (0.4) ↑No::.

From lines 01 to 03 the teacher asks a general question to the whole class about the profession of the main character; he specifically asks what the passage shows about this character. After 1.3 seconds of silence in line 04, he changes the word ‘cop’ to ‘police man’, possibly due to his interpretation of the students’ silence as a lexical comprehension problem in line 05. Luc, unlike the rest of the students in the class, holds up his finger at the beginning of line 05 as a potential indication of epistemic authority, overlapping the teacher’s self-­repair, and thus positions himself as a potential ‘knowing’ recipient. Having been selected as the next speaker, Luc answers the teacher’s question in line 06 (he wants to fight for justice.). Although the teacher does not reject Luc’s contribution, there are reasons to believe that he does not accept this answer as a completely correct one.



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Firstly, there is a 0.6-­second silence right after Luc’s answer, which might mark dispreference. In line 08, the teacher first repeats the student’s candidate response and then elaborates on it with a ‘but also’ construction which projects further contribution. Between lines 13 and 15, he asks three questions in a row, and finally asks his last question. Like the previous example in this section, there is a very long silence (4.5 seconds), but this time the gaze of the student is fixed on the teacher. After this long silence, Luc smiles (Figure 4.9), which is followed by an ESC (£no£?). This shows that the teacher interprets the long silence and the smile as an indicator of insufficient knowledge/ non-­understanding, therefore positioning the student as an unknowing (K-­)recipient. The teacher’s ESC is immediately followed by Luc with a confirmation of the teacher’s interpretation, again with a smile voice in line 20 (£no:£.). At this moment, Tea starts looking for a willing speaker and allocates the turn to Lar in line 24. It should be noted that Lar does not explicitly bid for a turn, yet her gaze orientation to the material, as a potential epistemic source, might have facilitated the teacher’s turn-­allocation to her. Citing Sert (2013a), Jakonen and Morton (2015) report that when students’ responses to teacher questions are delayed, as in this extract, teachers may engage in interpretative practices like ESCs, and such instances make institutional roles relevant. A student smile like this one then helps to re-­establish the participation frameworks and gives the epistemic authority to the teacher, which may at the same time decrease the face threat (Jacknick 2013) of being the unknowing participant (see Sert and Jacknick 2015 for more information on student smiles). Furthermore, by referring to Sert (2013a), van Dijk (2014: 244) argues that the use of ESCs and the students’ nonverbal cues demonstrate the fact that in the actual performance of speech acts, ‘language users use and update the K-­device of their context models’. Extract 4.6 below shows how averting gaze after a long silence when a non-­bidding student is selected may lead to an ESC from the teacher. It further leads into a sequential structure like the one presented in Extract 4.5, where the student confirms the teacher’s interpretation of no knowledge. However, this time the confirmation is deployed only through a headshake rather than a verbal utterance. The sequence opens with a question on the paintings, accompanied by a text in the students’ course book (the beginning is omitted due to reasons of space). The focus is on meaning, and the teacher wants to elicit responses from the students about what these paintings say about the text they are focusing on. Extract 4.6 Chaos, 11_23_18_06_10_1_12–59 01 Tea: ↑so::what might that tell us about billy if the 02 paintings look chaotic to ↑you:. 03 (1.5) 04 what is the effect they wanna achieve may be or 05 what do::, (0.5) what does ( ) want to tell us 06 through the paintings may be.

72 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 →

social interaction and l2 classroom discourse Fln: ehm: (0.9) (

) lebensziel. aim in life

(1.6) Tea: yeah how ca– how can we say that? lebensziel in English::? +starts walking towards Lar (1.4) Tea: Lar? +points at Lar +mutual gaze between Tea and Lar (2.1) Lar: #4.10.1 > #4.10.2 ((averts her gaze from the teacher))

Figure 4.10 15 → Tea: no idea? Lar: +gazes back at the teacher 16 (0.8) 17 → ((Lar smiles and shakes her head)) 18 Tea: who can help me?

From lines 01 to 06, based on the student–initiated concept of ‘chaos’, Tea asks multiple questions in relation to the intended meaning of the painter. In line 07, Fln, with a decreased pace, hesitation markers, and a pause, introduces a word in German, lebensziel (aim in life) as a response to the teacher’s question. The teacher, after a 1.6-­second pause, asks the meaning of this vocabulary item in English in lines 09 and 10. This question signals a transition to a focus on vocabulary. However, he directs his question to the whole class rather than continuing the interaction with Fln, and starts walking to the other side of the classroom (towards Lar). After a 1.4-­second silence, he selects Lar as the next speaker by pointing at her (line 12) although Lar has not so far directed her gaze to the teacher. After he points to Lar, she engages in a mutual gaze with Tea. It should be noted here that there was no indication – either verbally or ­nonverbally – from Lar to take the floor. After a long silence in line 13, Lar averts her gaze from the teacher (Figure 4.10), which is immediately followed up by the teacher in line 15 with an ESC (no idea?), and meanwhile Lar again gazes at the teacher at the end of the turn. After gazing at the teacher for 0.8 seconds, Lar first smiles and then shakes her head (line 17) which confirms the teacher’s



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i­nterpretation  of  insufficient knowledge. Tea then looks for another willing speaker in line 18. This extract brings further insights into understanding the teacher’s interpretation of no knowledge. Firstly, a long silence after a teacher question followed by withdrawal of gaze may lead to an ESC (line 15). Secondly, nonverbal means like a smile followed by a headshake can function as a second pair part to an ESC and may confirm the teacher’s interpretation of insufficient knowledge. Here, one can claim that since the confirmation is deployed only through a headshake rather than a verbal utterance, this sequence can provide evidence for the existence of nonverbal TCUs (also see Olsher 2004). Another interesting observation in relation to pedagogy is that the students’ contribution shapes the topic development (the concept of chaos and how it leads to another target vocabulary item). Although Lar contributes to the general discussion on the paintings (remember that this was omitted from the beginning of the extract for reasons of space), the pedagogical shift to the translation of a particular vocabulary item, thus to a focus on form, has led to a nonverbal display of insufficient knowledge by Lar. The following extract provides an example in which multi-­semiotic resources employed by a student and the teacher are enacted, which helps us to understand the interactional unfolding of an ‘embodied ESC’. Different resources which the teacher uses to establish recipiency and re-­establish the participation framework (e.g. change of posture) are illustrated so as to understand the embodiment of efforts for eliciting responses from a student, who is not physically oriented to the teacher at pre-­beginning position. In this sequence, the class has been working on the lyrics of a song and, before the extract below starts, they have been given approximately 10 minutes to discuss in pairs the second part of the lyrics. The teacher tries to start a discussion to engage students and also to cover some of the vocabulary items, which he writes on the board after eliciting them from the students. Extract 4.7 Happy couple, 13_08_06_10_2_03–27 01 Tea: how do you feel when you see a happy couple, #4.11.1+points #4.11.2+mutual at Eml gaze

Figure 4.11 02 (2.0) 03 Tea: Emily no idea? +starts leaning towards the student

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> #4.12.2

Figure 4.12 04 05 Eml: 06 07 Tea: 08 09 Eml: 10 11 Tea: 12 13 Tea:

(0.8) ((shaking head while averting gaze and rolling eyes for 0.9 seconds and looks back at Tea)) (0.5) it’s normal for you. (0.9) °yeah°. (0.4) ↑yeah (.) okay you’re not imp↑ressed. +starts walking to the other side (0.9) any other reactions maybe?

In line 01, in relation to the lyrics of the song, the teacher asks the whole class how they feel when they see a happy couple. Although he begins his question by looking at the left side of the classroom, he turns his body to where Eml sits and points at her before the end of his turn. However, Eml is not orienting her body or her gaze to the teacher while he is asking the question, since she is tying her hair (#4.11.1). Potentially, by calling on Eml at this point, the teacher may be sanctioning her for her apparent lack of attention to his ongoing talk. At the end of this turn, Eml and Tea engage in mutual gaze (#4.11.2). Although the teacher obtains the student’s gaze, there is a long pause in line 02. Therefore, the teacher, despite having established recipiency through gaze in lines 01 and 02, addresses Eml with her name again in turn-­initial position after the long silence, and initiates an ESC (Emily no idea?). It should be noted that his interpretation of no knowledge is also embodied by a change of posture (Figure 4.12). This change of posture (leaning towards the student) aims to renew the participation framework and elicit a response from the student, and thus forms an embodied ESC. More interestingly, after a 0.8-­second pause, this embodied action is followed by some nonverbal responses from the student. First, she averts her gaze from the teacher, and then looks back at the teacher (line 05). Following a short pause, the teacher then speaks on behalf of Eml in line 07 by changing his posture to its previous position (it’s normal for you.). This utterance highlights the teacher’s interpretation of Eml’s lack of willingness to participate and makes it available for other students as a signal for speaker change. After a 0.9-­second pause, the teacher starts looking for willing students who will answer the question, which projects a turn-­allocation.



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The analysis of this extract has brought further evidence to the claim that it is not only a long silence which leads to the teacher’s ESC. It has been sequentially shown that averting gaze or eye-­rolling occur and can become resources within the sequential unfolding of ESCs, thus renewing the participation framework and moving to another student in the class. Nevertheless, one should pay attention to the sequential positioning of these gestures, which can be exemplified by comparing the last two extracts. In Extract 4.6, Lar’s gaze movement was pre-­positioned before the teacher’s interpretation. Yet in Extract 4.7, Eml’s averting gaze and shaking head is post-­ positioned following the teacher’s interpretation, and is therefore confirming the teacher’s interpretation. A further point to make with regards to this extract is the pedagogical micro-­ context and the issue of unwillingness to participate in relation to establishing recipiency and the content of ‘no knowledge’. In this example there is no focus on form, the teacher is just trying to elicit some responses about the students’ feelings. Therefore, in such contexts, it would be pedagogically more sound and engaging to select a student with whom recipiency is established in pre-­beginning position. So the student’s lack of contribution may not be a result of no knowledge, but may be related more to (not) being ready to express ideas/feelings and/or unwillingness to talk/participate. The analyses of the extracts in this section showed that it is not necessarily students’ verbal CIK that signals insufficient knowledge or UTP, but also some nonverbal resources accompanied by long pauses as well. These visual cues are oriented to by the teacher with an ESC, and therefore an epistemic state of not knowing is made relevant so as to pursue interactional, pedagogical, and disciplinary goals. An ESC, then, is an interactional resource for a teacher in instructed learning settings, and this resource contributes to the continuity of interaction and establishes the grounds for moving on to another speaker in classroom interaction. Furthermore, an ESC could also be a resource for the teacher in terms of teaching and learning. For example, it could provide the teacher with the elements to understand what topics to deepen. In section 4.4, a significant issue that emerged from the analysis of CIK (4.2) and ESC (4.3) will be explored: UTP, and whether claims of no knowledge may also indicate a UTP. But how can we bring evidence of this using CA? This will be explored in the following section. 4.4  (UN)WILLINGNESS TO PARTICIPATE AS PARTICIPANTS’ CONCERN The analyses carried out thus far have illustrated that establishing recipiency through mutual gaze and body orientations at beginning and pre-­beginning positions have interactional and, thus, pedagogical consequences in multi–party classroom interaction (Mortensen 2008; Kääntä 2010; Sert 2011). Mortensen (2008) observed that students withdraw gaze as the teacher scans the classroom for a willing speaker, and, by doing this, they avoid entering mutual gaze with the teacher. Entering mutual gaze, although not always explicitly, signals willingness to participate to the teacher. On the other hand, by not entering an engagement framework they display that they are not willing to be selected to answer the teacher’s question (Mortensen 2008).

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Extract 4.3 in section 4.2 has shown that a student may try to avoid being selected as the next speaker with a disengaged body positioning, avoiding mutual gaze, and even by covering the face with hands, as shown in Figure 4.5 in Extract 4.3. How can we show that this is related to the idea of willingness to participate (WTP) though? CA’s sequential analysis and next-­ turn-­ proof procedure can provide evidence: 10 Tea:..convince and what is the method here? Tom: #4.5 +Tom covers his face with his hand Tea: +Tea gazes at Tom 11 (0.5) 12 Tea: tom. +Tea points at Tom Tom: +Tom gazes at the teacher 13 (1.2) 14 → Tom: ((shakes his head)) 15 Tea: if you tell somebody– (.)if you ↑eat th–

Tom covers his face with his right hand right after he hears the question form (what  is), and although Tea looks at Tom and stresses the important word in the question while looking at him (method) in line 10, Tom does not look at Tea for a further 0.5 seconds. To establish the participation framework, Tea uses the student’s name in turn-­allocation, and it is only after this action that participants establish mutual gaze. Yet, there is a 1.2-­second silence, and then the student shakes his head in the response turn. In the remainder of this sequence, as has been shown in the analysis in section 4.2, there is again a very long silence after the teacher’s question, followed by Tom’s withdrawal of mutual gaze, raising eyebrows, and embodied CIK. The selection of a demonstrably unwilling student (covering the face in line 10) leads to a CIK embodied in a number of ways. UTP has been displayed through the nonverbal response to teacher allocation (line 14), long silences (lines 13, 21, 23), and the embodied CIK (lines 24 and 25). In addition to these, the following extract will demonstrate that UTP can also be observed when there are constant gaze withdrawals and aversions, many unusually lengthy pauses, minimal learner contributions, and ‘embodied efforts from the teacher to elicit gaze and a response’ – all of which lead to a CIK. In this sequence, the teacher tells the students that they will listen to a song called The Pretender by Jackson Browne, and according to the teacher’s instructions they will discuss the emotions carried through the lyrics during the post-­listening phase. Before they listen to the song, the teacher starts a pre-­activity sequence to contextualise the activity, and starts asking the students some questions. The pedagogical agenda of the task is a meaning-­focused one, therefore this is a meaning-­and-­fluency context, during which students are expected to express their ideas related to the teacher’s questions rather than focusing on forms.



displays and claims of insufficient knowledge in l2 classrooms

Extract 4.8 Everybody else, 08_06_10_1_15–05 01 Tea: Sam do you want to be like everybody +points at Sam 02 else (.)°in the future
°. +Sam withdraws gaze #4.13.1 > #4.13.2

Figure 4.13 03 Sam: °no:°. 04 Tea: that’s your dTream (.) isn’t it? Sam: +gazes +withdraws at Tea gaze 05 Tea: can you tell me why not?
 Sam: +gazes +withdraws at Tea gaze 06 (0.6) 07 Sam: °yeah°. 08 (6.6) 09 Tea: #4.14.1 ((Tea starts inclining his head))

Figure 4.14 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

(0.4) Sam: #4.14.2 ((mutual gaze with Tea for 0.7 sec)) Sam: ((withdraws gaze and smiles)) (3.4) Tea: you just don’t want to be like everybody else. Sam: ((laughs)) Tea: you want to be: DIFferent from everybody else? Sam: °yes°. Tea: yes?
 Sam: yes. Tea: why?

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Sam: 21 22 → Sam: 23 Tea: 24 25 Tea:

+averts gaze (3.6) °i don’t know°. you don’t know? ((starts walking away)) (1.9) Luc you want to be: different from everybody else?

In lines 01 and 02, the teacher asks Sam if he wants to be like everybody else in the future, and before he completes his turn, Sam withdraws his gaze from the teacher (#4.13.1––– >#4.13.2), which may have led to the micro-­pause in the teacher’s turn in addition to the decreased volume. It should also be noted that there is no classroom artefact (e.g. notebook, book, a text on the board) that can be used by the student to provide an answer, therefore the student’s gaze aversions may potentially indicate disengagements throughout the extract, thus may show ‘unwillingness to participate’ (Sert 2013b). In line 03, Sam initiates the second pair part of the question–answer adjacency pair with a negative response marker delivered softly, and the teacher follows up first with an extreme case formulation (Pomerantz 1984) and a tag question (that’s your d↓ream (.) isn’t it?) – during which Sam withdraws his gaze. Then, in line 04, the teacher follows up with another question (can you tell me why not?) which may have been initiated due to the student’s previous response (°no:°). Note that Sam averts his gaze from the teacher again. After a 0.6-­second silence, Sam initiates a compliance token (°yeah°) with a quiet voice but does not establish mutual gaze with the teacher. This is followed by a very long 6.6 seconds of silence. During this time, the teacher’s gaze is fixed on the student, while the student is not looking at the teacher, with his head oriented to another direction. This is a very interesting case in terms of the violation of relevancy constraints indicated by the adjacency pair in lines 05 and 07. While Sam’s response in line 07 is nominally a response to the teacher’s polar question, its production shows his orientation to the fact that a response is required, though it does not meet the relevancy constraints set by the teacher’s first pair part. By addressing the literal meaning of the question (but not the illocutionary force), Sam claims epistemic access (yes, he can explain himself), but he refuses to demonstrate it.3 This student’s response in line 07, as a compliance token, also signals a non-­ minimal post-­expansion (Schegloff 2007); however, the 6.6 seconds of silence and lack of post-­expansion followed by it contradicts the epistemic rights indicated by the adjacency pair. That is, after claiming to be able to explain his answer, Sam fails, or is not willing, to do so. After this very long silence, in order to obtain gaze, the teacher starts changing his body posture and leans towards4 the direction of the student by also inclining his head, which proves to be an effective resource in order to establish a state of mutual gaze (Sert 2011), and which also shows that such interactional troubles and epistemic problems may require the teacher to more explicitly request participation through embodied means. However, after a 0.7-­second of a state of mutual gaze, Sam averts his gaze again and smiles, which is followed by another long pause (3.4 seconds) in line 13. In line 14, the teacher reformulates his question and this time



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the teacher’s initiation triggers laughter from the student. The interactional trouble here and the student’s UTP are marked by a smile and laughter. In line 16, the teacher reformulates his question again, but this time puts emphasis on a certain word combined with a word-­initial loud voice and receives a positive response delivered with a decreased volume from Sam in line 17. This is followed by a request for clarification and a confirmation. In line 20, Tea asks an open-­ended information-­seeking question (why?), and Sam again averts his gaze and looks somewhere else in turn-­final position. After another very long silence (3.6 seconds), he claims insufficient knowledge (°i don’t know°), which is followed by a you don’t know?, overtly ascribing unknowing epistemic status to the student. In line 25, the teacher allocates the turn to another student. This extract is an interesting case in showing that the unknowing, that is K(-­), epistemic status and the interactional troubles marked by long silences, student smiles, gaze withdrawals and aversions, and minimal and quiet contributions can subsequently be transformed into explicit claims of insufficient knowledge. As was illustrated in the previous paragraph, the smile and laughter can be both orienting to the interactional trouble occasioned by a learner’s inability or ‘unwillingness to participate’ (Sert 2013b). This is then tied to epistemic status, because the learner’s UTP is accounted for by his CIK. The extract showed that, in addition to the findings from Extract 4.3 in section 4.2, (1) withdrawals of mutual gaze and gaze aversions (lines 02, 04, 05, 12, 20), (2) very long silences (lines 08, 13, 21, 24), (3) minimal contributions and quiet talk from the student (e.g. lines 03, 07, 17), (4) embodied efforts (Figure 4.14) from the teacher to obtain gaze and receive a response, and (5) eventually the emergence of a CIK (line 22) may altogether or in combinations indicate UTP, a construct informed by CA that challenges traditional cognitive SLA understanding of the concept of ‘willingness to communicate’ (WTC, McCroskey and Baer 1985). I will provide a discussion on how the idea of UTP as participants’ concern can potentially inform WTC and motivation research in applied linguistics in Chapter 9, and will give some practical implications in Chapter 7, section 7.3. Now, though, we turn to the analysis of the interactional unfolding of ‘claiming insufficient knowledge’ in order to illustrate the different ways in which the teacher handles CIK that lead to further participation from the students, as well as to displays of understanding and knowledge. 4.5  SUCCESSFUL MANAGEMENT OF CIK In the overwhelming majority of examples of CIK, as has been shown in section 4.2, the sequence organisation follows more or less the same format in which the teacher either allocates the turn to other students or first initiates a ‘you don’t know?’ and then continues with the turn-­allocation to another learner. The findings show that there are, however, certain interactional resources that the teacher employs, which can be considered as fruitful instances of ‘management of CIK’ in that they lead to further participation by students, and, in some cases, to displays and demonstrations of student understanding. The use of these resources in managing students’ CIK will be considered as an indication of CIC and will be discussed in Chapter 7.

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These resources include deictic gestures, embodied vocabulary explanations, code-­ switching, and DIUs. In the following two extracts, I will illustrate two of these resources: embodied vocabulary explanations and DIUs (Koshik 2002a). Extract 4.9 comes from the 11th grade classroom, and in this particular episode the students are working on the short story My Son the Fanatic. Before the extract starts, a student has been reading a paragraph, and his pronunciation of a word, then, emerges as a vocabulary-­learning goal for the students. There is a shift from discussion of the events in the book, which is a focus on meaning, to a vocabulary item, which may be considered as a focus on form. Extract 4.9 Mutter, 42_04_15_06_11_41–06 01 Tea: 02 → Mar: Tea: 03 Tea: 04 05

do you know what mutter ↑means. ((students avoid mutual gaze)) °no:°. +shakes her head +turns his body towards Mar °you don’t° ↑know. it means almost to whisper to:: speak er: qui– very quietly, and when you just hea::r, 4.15 #.1 #.2 #.3

Figure 4.15

06 Tea: er::[:, a (word here and there), 07 Mar: [((imitates muttering sound)) 08 Tea: ex↑actly (.) then you are muttering.

In line 01, the teacher asks the whole class whether they know what mutter means. Immediately after he asks this question, Mar, in a quiet way, claims insufficient knowledge (°no:°) and shakes her head at the same time in line 02. Before Mar completes her second pair part, the teacher orients his body towards Mar and gazes at her. In line 03, with a ‘you don’t know’ preface, the teacher starts to explain the meaning of the word rather than trying to find another student to answer his question. In line 04, during his explanation, he puts stress on the word ‘whisper’, and performs a self-­initiated self-­repair at the end of line 04 and the beginning of line 05 (qui– very quietly). In line 05, while he is emphasising the word ‘hear’, he moves his left hand to his ear and tries to display the action with a ‘fade-­away’ movement, and thus embodies his vocabulary explanation (Figure 4.15). In line 06, before the teacher completes his turn, Mar produces a whispering sound, which demonstrates her



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understanding of the word ‘mutter’. Her contribution is followed by an ­assessment by the teacher in line 07 with a strong positive evaluation marker (ex↑actly), also produced with emphasis on the initial sound and rising intonation. In turn-­final position, he completes the student’s initiation by saying ‘then you are muttering’, further confirming the response of the student. This extract shows that following a CIK on a vocabulary item, the teacher can make use of hand gestures to explain the items to be learned while giving a verbal explanation. This embodied resource proves to be an effective one, since Mar takes up and demonstrates her understanding by producing a whispering sound, which is positively evaluated by the teacher on the third turn with an explicit positive evaluation. This is also marked suprasegmentally (ex↑actly). One can here argue that the student moves from a state of no knowledge, as she displays in line 02, to a state of understanding (line 07). This micro-­moment of understanding is co-­constructed with the teacher in situ, by making use of verbal and nonverbal resources. It is not only the teacher’s verbal and embodied resources that are used during the explaination of this vocabulary item, but also the student’s claim of no knowledge which triggers an explanation and leads to a micro-­moment of understanding, together with the teacher’s explanation sequence in which the suprasegmentals on particular words also became a significant part of the meaning-­making process. So rather than allocating the turn to another student, employing an embodied vocabulary explanation is an alternative teacher move, which, in this case, led to a demonstration of understanding: a micro-­moment of learning. There are certain resources that help to recall information when a teacher wants to elicit responses from students. A review of literature shows that teachers use what Koshik (2002a) calls DIUs as a pedagogical resource. DIUs are designed to be incomplete, and are initiated by a teacher to provide hints. In Extract 4.10 below, there is a particular example of a student’s CIK followed by a DIU, and this resource proves to be successful. The micro-­context in which this interaction unfolds is a typical form-­and-­ accuracy context (Seedhouse 2004), or what Walsh (2006a) calls skills and systems mode, where the pedagogical focus is on giving accurate answers to form-­focused, material-­driven questions (in this case accuracy refers to ‘grammatical correctness’). In this specific activity, the students are asked to combine clauses in their textbook and form meaningful sentences using conditional structures. After getting an answer from a student, the teacher writes the sentence on the board and underlines where necessary. Before the beginning of this sequence, the teacher has already written the sentence on the board, and is now trying to emphasise the grammatical structures. Extract 4.10 Grammatically speaking, 45_18_05_18_06_11_20–52 01 02 03 04 05

Tea: Emily? Em2: +Em2 looks at the board (1.3) Tea: [would:] Em2: [er::: ] (0.8)

82 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 → 19 20 → 21 22 23 24 25 26

social interaction and l2 classroom discourse Em2: would a::nd, (3.0) Tea: [.h] +orients his body towards the board Em2: [i]nfinitive. (0.6) Tea: well we normally say would have. +starts writing on the board (0.9) Tea: plus:: (.) what is this? +pointing at past participle form (1.5) Tea: ((establishes mutual gaze with Em2)) grammatically speaking? found (.)I have found. (0.8) Em2: °i don’t know°. +looks at Ben for 2.2 sec i (£f(h)orgot the name right now£). +establishes mutual gaze with Tea Tea: the ↑pa:st.= Em2: =participle. Tea: participle good. ((writes on the board for 8 sec)) Tea: past participle. (1.0) Tea: o↑kay.(3.0)let’s go for sentence ↑four (.)

In line 01, by addressing the student by name, Tea obtains Em2’s gaze and she looks at the board, specifically at the sentence being focused on. After a 1.3-­second pause, Em2 fails to provide an answer and Tea, in line 03, partly answers his own question (would), which overlaps with Em2’s hesitation marker. In line 06, Em2 repeats the word made available by Tea and projects a continuation with a turn final a::nd,, which is stretched and produced with a type of intonation that indicates potential continuation. Preceded by a 3.0-­second pause, Em2 completes her turn (line 09). Immediately after Em2’s candidate answer, Tea positions himself away from Em2, and starts writing the correct answer on the board. In line 11, he produces an utterance that signals disagreement, mitigated by a discourse marker (well), and orients back to his pedagogical agenda. He then initiates another question in line 13 (what is this?) by pointing at the past participle form written on the whiteboard with his right hand, and establishes mutual gaze with Em2. Following a 1.5-­second silence, he reformulates his question by explicitly indicating the type of response required (grammatically speaking?) and giving an example in the same turn in line 16. Another relatively long silence is followed by a CIK in line 18 (°i don’t know°). This claims an epistemic state of not knowing the answer, which may also be an



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i­ ndication of the fact that preceding reformulations and exemplifications made by the teacher were not sufficient to create mutual understanding. When Em2 begins producing this turn, she shifts her gaze from the board and the teacher to a peer (Ben) who is sitting next to her, and holds her gaze for 2.2 seconds. This may indicate that she, at that moment in the interaction, lacks the resources to provide an answer to Tea’s question, and therefore may be seeking help from one of her peers (in this case, the closest student to her in terms of physical proximity). Since Ben fails to provide a response, Em2 shifts her gaze back to the teacher, who has continued to hold his gaze towards Em2 during the renewed participation framework. Immediately after she positions herself back to the teacher, Em2, in line 21, provides an account (i £f(h)orgot the name £), combined with a smiley voice, for her failure to respond to the question by simply saying that she forgot the name of the particular (most probably) grammatical category. By claiming that she forgot the name of the grammatical category, she may be trying to tell the teacher that at a certain point in the past she was in a state of knowing the answer to this question; but at this moment in the interaction, she is in the state of ‘not knowing’, or ‘not remembering’, which eventually led to a CIK. So it can be suggested that this may be a ‘remembering’ problem. What is significant here to the analyst, then, is the kind of relevant next action(s) her turn projects, which can only be explained by focusing on the following turns using a next-­turn-­proof procedure. In line 20, the teacher produces what Koshik (2002a, 2010) calls a DIU, which is immediately completed by Em2 in a latched format (=participle). Her display of understanding by completing the teacher’s DIU is followed by explicit positive feedback (participle good) in line 22. Tea, afterwards, writes Em2’s contribution on the whiteboard, hence making the student’s correct contribution visibly available to other students. One can argue that the interactional resource that the teacher employed (a DIU) is both a sequentially relevant and a pedagogically effective one. Considering that the student gave an account for her insufficient knowledge by framing it as a matter of ‘forgetting’, she somehow prompted the teacher’s follow-­up turn: Tea designed his elicitation resource in a way that requires completion and gives a hint to the student to remember the grammatical metalanguage. Furthermore, his design of the turn with a rising intonation and stretching of sounds made the requirement for the completion accessible for Em2. This section has documented that unlike the majority of the examples for the management of CIK illustrated in section 4.2 in which students’ CIK are generally followed with a turn-­allocation to another student, there are, although few in number, interactional resources the teacher employs that facilitate student involvement and that even lead to displays and demonstrations of understanding. I have shown two of these resources: embodied vocabulary explanations and DIUs in this section (see Sert 2011 for deictic gestures, and translation and code-­switching). It should be kept in mind that one cannot easily claim that these resources employed by the teacher lead to evidence for language learning; however, they prove to be fruitful interactional resources deployed after a CIK in that they contribute to the progressivity of talk, enhance further student participation and in some cases even lead to claims/­ demonstrations of understanding.

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social interaction and l2 classroom discourse 4.6  DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION

This chapter, based on CA analyses of the transcriptions of audio-­visual data from English language classrooms in Luxembourg, has documented how issues related to epistemics, and in particular social epistemics, manifest themselves through learners’ claims of insufficient knowledge, and a teacher’s management of such claims as well as his/her orientation to students’ demonstrable epistemic statuses in pedagogical activities. In doing so, in section 4.2, I closely investigated the sequential unfolding of CIK, and have illustrated that a great majority of the instances emerge in three similar formats (see Appendix 3), which generally end up with the teacher’s turn-­allocation to another student. Thus, progressivity of the activity is pursued, and intersubjectivity is co-­constructed with the involvement of other learners rather than with the producer of the CIK. It has been argued that establishing recipiency through nonverbal means at pre-­beginning positions, including engaging in mutual gaze, has relevance to the unfolding of the students’ CIK. It can be put forward that managing turn distribution in language classrooms is also a skill, which should be explored further on its own right. The multimodal CA analysis has also revealed the embodied resources employed by the students, including headshakes and raising eyebrows, thus bringing a new approach to the analysis of CIK in institutional settings. Section 4.3, rather than focusing on explicit, verbal claims of insufficient knowledge, showcased the teacher’s orientations to the students’ displays of their epistemic status. It has been argued that the teacher uses an interactional resource called an ESC (Sert 2013a), which is the teacher’s interpretation of students’ state of (no/­ insufficient) knowledge, initiated when a second pair part of an adjacency pair is delayed. An ESC, firstly, makes students’ insufficient knowledge relevant in talk and prepares the ground for speaker change in classroom interaction. The teacher relies on a variety of nonverbal cues (gaze aversion, smiles) in addition to long silences before s/he initiates an ESC in order to pursue the interactional/pedagogical agenda. Thus, an ESC typically unfolds in the following format: 1.

T:

Teacher initiation

2. S:

a) Silence or b) Silence accompanied by gaze aversion and/or smile

3. T:

ESC, a) verbal only, or b) embodied

4 S: (Opt.)

a) Verbal ‘Confirmation of Insufficient Knowledge’ (ConIK) or b) Embodied ConIK (e.g. Headshake, smile, gaze aversion)

5.

Follow–up (mostly with turn–allocation)

T:

It has been argued that the analyses of CIK and ESCs also brought empirical evidence to a participant relevant construct: UTP in section 4.4. In the interactional environment of CIK and ESCs, especially in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, nonverbal



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signs like constant withdrawals of mutual gaze and gaze aversions, unusually long silences, embodied teacher efforts to elicit talk or obtain gaze, as well as verbal signs like minimal contributions from the learner and quiet talk may be signalling a learner’s UTP, which does not necessarily indicate a problem related to the lack of epistemic access. This finding is important for classroom practice, as well as for research on motivation in applied linguistics, and thus will be discussed further in Chapters 7 and 9. Lastly, in section 4.5, as the analysis of Extracts 4.9 and 4.10 have demonstrated, interactional troubles like CIK can be resolved by teachers’ employment of resources like embodied vocabulary explanations and DIUs. In Extract 4.9, there is strong evidence for a student’s demonstrating of understanding and its relation to the teacher’s CIC. In this example, the teacher manages to take the student from a ‘state of not knowing’ made explicit by a CIK, to a state of understanding. The teacher uses iconic gestures in his vocabulary explanation, successfully eliciting the meaning from the student. Furthermore, in Extract 4.10, the student who claimed insufficient knowledge keeps participating after the teacher’s initiation of a DIU, and is engaged in ongoing interaction. Student engagement is key to successful learning and teaching experiences in language classrooms. As Walsh (2002: 5) suggests, ‘where language use and pedagogic purpose coincide, learning opportunities are facilitated’. Therefore, using DIU for managing insufficient knowledge is found to be a sign of L2 CIC (Walsh 2006a). Overall, ‘successful management of CIK’ by teachers can be proposed as a feature of L2 CIC. At the beginning of this chapter, I argued that an investigation of interactional troubles can be conducive to research in the field of CA-­for-­SLA. In doing so, I defined an interactional trouble, within the limits of instructed learning settings, as the emergence of a temporary misalignment in the unfolding of an interactional and pedagogical activity, which is oriented to by the participants as such through verbal and nonverbal means. The interactional resources used to resolve these troubles, then, can be claimed to be consequential in creating opportunities for student participation and displays and demonstrations of understanding in relation to L2 knowledge and learning. CIK and ESCs should therefore be subjects of further empirical enquiry in CA and L2 CD research as they open a window into revealing social displays of understanding and non-­understanding, as well as dynamics of participation in pedagogical activities. The management of interactional troubles by L2 teachers can be an indicator of the teachers’ CIC, through which opportunities for learning are created. As has been illustrated in Extract 4.9, use of hand gestures following CIK can lead to student understanding. Therefore, the investigation of these multimodal resources in L2 classrooms can provide us with insights into how use of gestures can become important for us to understand interactional unfolding of pedagogical activities and L2 CIC. NOTES 1. This chapter brings together the extracts and analyses that have been published as Sert (2013a), and Sert and Walsh (2013). Both of these publications are based on my PhD thesis (Sert 2011).

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2. The (#) sign indicates that the numbered figures co-­occur with these proportions of the transcript. 3. Thanks to my friend Christine Jacknick for this particular input into the analysis. 4. See Rasmussen (2014) for a detailed analysis on ‘leaning forward’ in repair sequences.

5 USE OF MULTIMODAL RESOURCES IN L2 CLASSROOM INTERACTION

5.1 INTRODUCTION The previous chapter depicted the intricate nature of epistemics and interactional troubles in L2 classrooms by focusing on (1) the interactional unfolding and management of CIK, and (2) sequential emergence of ESCs during pedagogical activities. The multimodal analytic perspective taken in the analyses explicated a variety of multi-­semiotic resources employed by the teacher and students; resources that are inextricable from verbal aspects of talk-­in-­interaction. The integration of gaze (e.g. gaze aversion, establishment of/withdrawing mutual gaze), pointing (e.g. for allocating turns), facial expressions (e.g. raising eyebrows), head gestures (i.e. shakes, nods), and body orientations into the analyses of CIK and ESCs revealed a number of interactionally and pedagogically rich insights into understanding epistemic resources in L2 classrooms. It has been shown that (1) establishing mutual gaze, or gaze aversions and withdrawals have relevance to establishing recipiency, WTP, and emergence of CIK. Compared to previous studies on CIK (see Chapter 3 for a review), it has been revealed that (2) CIK are embodied with gestures, and (3) ESCs are initiated following students’ nonverbal cues, displaying their epistemic status. Finally, it has been shown that (4) teachers may use embodied vocabulary explanations after CIK, which have the potential to move the unknowing student from a state of ‘insufficient knowledge’ to a state of understanding, thus showing the importance of teacher gestures in classroom talk-­in-­interaction. Given that nonverbal aspects of human interaction constitute a great deal of communicative work between participants in multi-­party interactions, gestures employed by teachers in L2 classrooms sine qua non play a key role in meaning-­ making processes that may be conducive to the successful management of pedagogical activities as well as to creating learning opportunities. One cannot isolate analyses of nonverbal conduct from talk-­in-­interaction, since gesture and talk, according to Goodwin (2000: 1499), ‘mutually elaborate each other within (1) a larger sequence of action, and (2) an embodied participation framework constituted through mutual orientation between speaker and addressee’. By making use of verbal data in addition to visual information, ‘language is seen not as an abstract set of potentialities but as situated action, organised in the temporal and sequential unfolding of its uses, mobilised with multimodal resources such as glances, gestures, bodily postures and body movements’ (Mondada 2008). Gesture and speech, as 87

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put forward by McNeill (1992), constitute an integrated system of meaning expression, rather than making up two isolated modalities. Building on this argument, it can be claimed that any attempt to separate these modalities in the analysis of gestures employed by participants in L2 learning settings would be misleading, if not incomplete. SLA studies following a cognitive paradigm have emphasised the significance of negotiation for meaning for L2 learning. Implicit and explicit oral feedback provided to learners as well as ‘input-­providing corrective feedback’ and ‘output-­pushing corrective feedback’ (Ellis 2006) have been found to be important in cognitive SLA research (Yang and Lyster 2010). However, an important aspect of classroom interaction, namely the use of gestures in the negotiation of form and meaning, has not been taken into consideration in cognitive SLA studies. This is a research gap in SLA studies that has been ignored for a long time, and such a gap raises questions about the reliability of published research that claims to bring evidence based on negotiation of meaning using only verbal data. Yet, as will be shown in this chapter, what is ‘unsaid’ but is displayed by gestures determines how meaning is co-­constructed between teachers and learners, and ignoring such information in bringing evidence to language teaching and learning practices simply makes us question the findings of cognitive SLA research. In this chapter, I will suggest that nonverbal features of interaction play an integral role in understanding pedagogical practices, and form part of teachers’ CIC. This chapter, building upon the important findings from the previous chapter and based on the review of the literature presented on multimodal resources in classrooms in Chapter 3 (section 3.3.2), will focus on teacher gestures in L2 classrooms, with particular emphasis on how hand gestures are employed by the teacher in interactional unfolding of pedagogical activities. I will examine, in sections 5.2 and 5.3, how these hand gestures are employed in repair and correction sequences. Although no claims on ‘language learning’ per se will be made in the analyses of five extracts in these two sections, the way in which hand gestures are employed together with talk will potentially inform readers on the micro-­level details of participants’ actions and pedagogical activities carried out. In Chapter 3, it has been stated that ‘effective use of eliciting’ displays CIC; in section 5.4 I will illustrate and discuss how embodied elicitation using hand gestures manifests L2 CIC. Section 5.5 will display the ways by which the teacher’s vocabulary explanation, combined with hand gestures, creates opportunities for student understanding. In 5.6, on the other hand, the focus will be on how learners display their orientation to learning through talk and multimodal resources. 5.2  MULTIMODAL RESOURCES USED IN REPAIRING HEARING AND UNDERSTANDING PROBLEMS Conversational repair deals with possible problems of speaking, hearing, and understanding in ongoing talk and other conduct (Schegloff et al. 1977). Problems may include ‘misarticulations, malapropisms, use of a “wrong” word, unavailability of a word when needed, failure to hear or to be heard, trouble on the part of



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the recipient in understanding, incorrect understandings by recipients’ (Schegloff 1987b: 210, cited in Kitzinger 2013). Within L2 classroom interaction research, repair has been studied from a variety of perspectives in relation to teaching and learning practices, as has been introduced in Chapter 3 (see Seedhouse 2004, Chapter 4, for a thorough analysis). Embodied repair, which is a form of repair initiation in the absence of or accompanied by talk, though, has only recently been investigated. As exemplified in section 3.3.2 in Chapter 3, Seo and Koshik (2010) looked at gestures that engender repair in the absence of talk, which function as open-­class repair initiators. This section focuses on a particular type of teacher gesture, namely the hand to ear gesture, illustrated previously by Santos and Shandor (2011) in ESL classrooms. In addition to this, the same gesture has been analysed on its own right in EFL classrooms by Mortensen (2012). Although the former study analysed this gesture accompanied by talk, Mortensen revealed how this embodied repair unfolds in the absence of talk in instructed language learning. Mortensen (2012) showed how ‘hand to ear’ gesture is understood as a hearing problem, and how the teacher relies on this for pedagogical reasons. It is not very easy to show whether a repair initiator is designed to address a hearing problem (e.g. quiet talk), or an understanding problem (e.g. due to different articulations), especially when it comes to L2 classrooms in which the way a language item is pronounced and/or uttered might be potentially subject to repair by another participant (a learner or a teacher), even though there is mutual intelligibility between the interactants in terms of the meaning of the utterances. Therefore, the following two extracts will demonstrate embodied repairs designed by the teacher both to address the trouble source as a hearing problem (Extract 5.1), and as an understanding problem (Extract 5.2). The extract that follows comes from the 10th grade classroom. Before the extract starts the class has been discussing for more than 40 minutes a text they have read about consumer rights. The analysis will explicate how a hearing problem is repaired by the teacher and a particular student (Isa) through talk and gestures. From lines 01 to 05, Tea asks an opinion question (↑what do you think in general of:) on one of the characters in the reading text and looks for a willing speaker around the class. Meanwhile, all the students are looking at the text in front of them, which might indicate that the students orient to the classroom material as an epistemic resource. After waiting for 1.2 seconds in line 06, the teacher allocates the turn to Isa, whose gaze is still fixed on the reading text, by addressing with her name and using a pointing gesture at turn-­initial position in line 07. Extract 5.1 We can’t hear you, 15_06_10_1_44_28 01 Tea: 02 03 04 05 06

↑what do you think in general of: e::m, miss debencol ↓then, do you think she’s a friendly charac↑ter (.) do you: agree with her? or does she come across as, artificial to ↓you. what would be your re↑ac↓tion. (1.2)

90 07 Tea: 08 09 Isa: 10 11 Tea: 12 13 Isa: 14 Tea: 15 16 Isa: 17 Tea:

social interaction and l2 classroom discourse Isabelle, what do you think? +looks and points at Isa (1.4) er::, °(we can:)° er: we can unders↑tand ↓he:r, (0.7) we can understand her? +Isa looks at T (0.6) °yes°.= =why? +Isa withdraws mutual gaze (2.1) because, (.) °er:: (.)she (.) is pre↑cise° #5.1.1 can you speak ↑up we can’t hear you. +moves his left hand to his ear +Isa starts looking at Tea #5.1.2 #5.2.1 #5.2.2

Figure 5.1



Figure 5.2

18 Isa: because she’s precise e::m (.)what her i↑dea is. 19 Tea: ↑yeah (.) so she is very precise about what she 20 ↑wants (.) ↓°yeah°, she’s very convinced as well.

Her eyes still fixed on the material, preceded by a 1.4-­second silence, Isa initiates the second part of the adjacency pair. She starts her turn with a hesitation marker followed by a restart, the first part of which is delivered in a quiet manner compared to the surrounding talk. After waiting 0.7 seconds, Tea initiates a request for clarification by emphasising ‘can’, during which he obtains Isa’s gaze in line 11. In line 13, preceded by a 0.6-­second silence, Isa confirms using a soft tone, which is followed by a question from the teacher asking Isa to elaborate on her answer, and at the end of this turn she withdraws mutual gaze and orients to the text in front of her. Following a long pause in line 15, Isa answers the teacher’s question again with a very soft voice, delivered



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with pauses and a hesitation marker in line 16. At the end of this turn, Tea starts raising his arm and hand (#5.1.1) and finally moves his hand to his ear (Figure 5.1) and initiates an ‘other-­initiated repair’. One can claim that this is a hearing that is attributable to Isa’s using soft turn delivery in the previous turn. Furthermore, the teacher uses an explicit gesture designed for addressing a hearing problem as the hand is moved near the ear. In addition, his verbal utterance requests the student to speak up, and gives an account as he says we can’t hear you, emphasising the negative ability marker and the verb ‘hear’ at suprasegmental level. The third person plural pronoun used in the teacher’s turn also indicates that this request is on behalf of other learners in the classroom, an action that marks ‘multilogue’ (Schwab 2011), signifying the institutional nature of this interaction. While the teacher is saying ‘up’, marked with a rising intonation and stress, Isa starts establishing mutual gaze with the teacher (Figure 5.2), the first, and a nonverbal, indication of her understanding of the trouble source. She repairs the hearing problem and thus attends to teacher’s repair by repeating her previous turn this time in an audible manner with higher volume, and completes her turn in line 18. It can be claimed that the trouble is resolved since the teacher confirms and repeats Isa’s turn. As has been stated at the beginning of the section, it is not always easy to decide whether the participants are orienting to a hearing problem (e.g. due to soft voice delivery) or an understanding problem (e.g. an orientation to pronunciation and the articulation of sounds that may create problems of understanding) both in mundane and in institutional conversations, yet the previous analysis has demonstrated the existence of participants’ embodied orientations to a hearing problem using analytic tools of CA. Extract 5.2 exemplifies an orientation to understanding as trouble, and shows another example of an other-­initiated embodied repair. It starts 30 seconds prior to Extract 4.6 in Chapter 4. The focus is on the graphics of a reading text that the students have read before, and the teacher is trying to elicit talk based on the students’ ideas. From lines 01 to 05, he asks the whole class for a description of the paintings, establishing a meaning-­and-­fluency context. He looks around the class for 1.1 second to find a willing speaker, but all of the students avoid mutual gaze, except for Sam, who sits closer to the teacher and who will speak in this extract in line 13. Extract 5.2 Sorry? 23_18_06_10_1_12–28 01 Tea: 02 03 04 05 Fln: 06 07 Tea: 08 Fln: 09

now what do you make of ↓the:: (.) the graphic layout of this s↑tory (0.3) how would you describe er: th– the paintings you can see. (1.1)((looks around the class)) °/kaʊz/°. +Tea looks at Fln (1.5) Flynn?= +points at Fln =/↑kaʊz/. (0.9)

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10 Tea: sorry? +moves his right hand to his ear

Figure 5.3

11 12 Tea: 13 Sam: 14 Fln: 15 Tea: 16 17 Fln: 18 Tea: 19 Fln: 20 21 Tea: 22 Fln: 23 Tea:

(0.5) /kɑːz/? /↑keɪas/.= =/↑kaos/. o↑kay(.)/keɪɒs/ +moves his hand in what way can there are many: ↑yes. which describes (1.0) >which describe

they, (0.2) look cha↑o↓tic. apart from his ear you explain? different pictures, life of (.) of billy. billy’s lifebe carefulif you want to go somewhere very< >quicklybe carefulquickly.try to remember these words< they are im↑portant. 09 Tea:  Lin? ((both Lin and Sam had been raising their hands)) 10 Lin: . 11 Tea: you would contact kid care? o↑kay. 12 Tea: sam? 13 Sam: i would go and see a– (0.6) = 14 → Tea: =psy– (0.4)↑cholo↓gist or psychiatrist? 15 (0.5) 16 Sam: or somebody who help. 17 Tea: ↑yeah (.)psychologist. 18 Sam: +moves hands and fingers around his head Ss: +students laugh #5.9.1 #5.9.2

Figure 5.9 19 Tea: ((walks towards the student and smiles))

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20 → Tea: £first of all its psy­ chologist£, 21 ↑an:d if things get worse then psychiatrist£.= +gesture #5.10

Figure 5.10 22 Sam: yeah:. 23 Tea: okay.

In line 02, Len provides an answer with a smiley voice related to the hypothetical question (i would £make ↑suicide£), which triggers laughter from the student sitting next to her. Preceded by a 0.6-­second pause, Tea replaces the verb phrase in Len’s turn (£make ↑suicide£) with an alternative phrase, changing the verb (com↑mit (.) suicide) to which Len shows uptake in line 05 by repeating teacher’s correction. The teacher’s turn can be regarded as a corrective repair (rather than embedded correction exemplified in Extract 5.2), since (1) it is prefaced with a pause, (2) the trouble source has been suprasegmentally modified (com↑mit), (3) there is a fall in pitch at the end of the utterance rather than a rise that would create request for clarification, and finally (4) the student repeated the trouble source. Furthermore, while uttering the verb ‘commit’ in line 04, Tea disengages from face-­to-­face interaction and walks towards the board to mark this phrase on the board. In line 06, the teacher orients back to the meaning-­and-­fluency context after this side sequence and provides content feedback on Len’s turn. In line 07, he writes ‘to commit suicide’ to the ongoing list on the board while he utters the verb phrase (to com↑mit suicide) for the students, and requests them to take notes (take ↑notes, okay?). He then goes on to signify the importance of these words in line 08. In line 09, Tea allocates the turn to Lin who has bid for the floor (together with Sam) by raising her arm. In line 10, Lin provides a candidate response (), which is accepted by the teacher in line 11. Meanwhile, Sam has still been bidding for the turn and eventually the teacher allocates the turn to him in line 12. In line 13, before the turn is syntactically and semantically complete, there is an abrupt stop followed by a 0.6-­second pause. After the pause Sam slowly delivers what looks like the beginning of a candidate word uttered with a rising intonation and a final cut-­off. This is oriented to as a word search by the teacher, who latches Sam’s turn in line 14. Tea first starts his utterance with (=psy–), waits for almost half a second, and then offers two alternatives that request clarification (=psy– (0.4)↑cholo↓gist or psychiatrist?), which is evident by the question intonation at the end of his turn and the connector ‘or’ placed between the two candidate words. What is also important here is that Tea modifies the first candidate



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word (psy–(.)↑cholo↓gist) at a suprasegmental level. This is done first by a cut-­off and micro-­pause after the ‘shared/common’ syllable between the two words (psy-­), and then by using rising intonation at the onset of the second syllable and a falling intonation at the beginning of the final syllable. One can argue that, here, the teacher is setting up a vocabulary learning goal by drawing a distinction between the two candidate answers vocally, and stresses the correct word during the beginning of the repair work. Following a 0.5-­second silence, Sam upgrades his response to ‘or somebody who help’. Although, at the beginning of line 17, this response is accepted by the teacher with an acknowledgement token (↑yeah), the teacher pursues his vocabulary teaching goal by providing the exact answer (psychologist). This word overlaps with the hand gestures (Figure 5.9) Sam uses to visualise what he means, which triggers laughter among other students in the classroom. Sam’s phrase ‘somebody who help’ in line 16, completed with the gesture portraying that something is wrong with one’s mind, then, for him, demonstrably refers to the word ‘psychiatrist’ rather than ‘psychologist’. Yet the teacher chooses psychologist as the correct answer, and in line 20 starts the repair work. He first provides the correct answer (£first of all its psy↑chologist£,), which repairs the word selection of the student, and in line 21 he goes on to describe the alternative word, ‘psychiatrist’, by clarifying the distinction between the two (↑an:d if £things get worse then psychiatrist£.) with a smiley voice. One significant aspect of his repair work is that while he is uttering the word ‘worse’, in the middle of his turn, he imitates the student’s gesture (Figure 5.10) to emphasise that this gesture represents the word ‘psychiatrist’ rather than the correct word, which is ‘psychologist’. This is quite interesting in that it is a rare example that represents the kind of repair work performed by the teacher which addresses both a vocabulary choice and a gesture performed by a student. It should be noted that here the teacher exhibits interactional competence as he not only attends to but also imitates the student’s gesture and then employs it as a ‘catchment’ (McNeill 2000) in providing the correct answer. Thus, the recurrent gesture helps the teacher and student to maintain coherence of their joint instructional discourse. Although the examples presented thus far have illustrated the coordination of talk and body in L2 instructional practices, not many explicit claims have been made for L2 CIC. Nevertheless, instances of how the teacher integrates hand gestures in repair sequences have been showcased. Details of these examples will be revisited and discussed in Chapter 7. In the following section, I will show an example of successful elicitation, considered as an integral part of L2 CIC (Walsh 2006). The distinctive feature of the competence that will be illustrated, compared to previous findings in the literature, will be that of demonstrating how embodied elicitations through hand gestures, combined with DIUs (Koshik 2002a), can successfully elicit correct answers from students. It will be claimed that such a teacher competence creates learning opportunities. 5.4  MULTIMODAL RESOURCES IN ELICITATION SEQUENCES So far, although examples of how a particular teacher uses hand gestures have been illustrated, not much on student understanding or participation has been discussed.

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It can, nevertheless, be argued that by visualising the input for students as he speaks, the teacher successfully enriches his explanations and repairs/corrections so as to draw student attention. In the following example, there is a successful embodied elicitation through gestures, which clearly is a desired pedagogical goal and can be considered to be a part of this particular teacher’s CIC. The original contribution of the following example to the literature of both teacher gestures and elicitation techniques is that this embodied elicitation of the teacher is performed through a DIU (Koshik 2002a). Before the sequence started, one of the students had been reading aloud a text on railway stations in Europe. Extract 5.6 Provide, 25_06_10_1_43–22 01 Tea: 02 03 04 Pau: 05 Tea: 06 07 → Tea: 08 → Tea:

what does: (.) the verb mean to pro↑vi:de access, to: >the northern European< ci­ ↑ties. yes pa[ul?] < [it ] makes ↑pos↓sible> (the acc–)= =it makes ( ) possible yeah. (0.9) yeah? or: i need a very easy ↑verb, if you pro↑vide>something to somebodyit’s the case of the< +looks at the board 25

 +uses a deictic gesture, also moving her finger and hand in each syllable +looks at the teacher 26 Tea: ↑ye:s. +teacher nods his head 27 Dor:  then (0.4) ‘cause >luxembourgers say oh portuguese are< 28  al– all in (one) g ­roup and they they don’t eh (0.7 mischen. mix

In line 22, contingent on the teacher’s explicit positive assessment, Dor uses a connector to extend her turn, and the teacher conforms to this action in line 23 with a continuer, enabling Dor to initiate an extended turn. In line 24, Dor starts her turn with a logical connector (then it gives like .h–), but then she stops in the middle of her turn and initiates a self-­repair. On the onset of her restart (then  >it’s the case of theali had a< very ↑bad educa↓tion. +points at and orients his body towards the board 12 >there could be many ↑prejudices< 13 and he could become a victim of racism,

In line 09, Dor answers Tea’s question by initiating the word ‘prejudice’ again, and uses it as a TCU in the second pair part of an adjacency pair. She again orients her body and gaze to the board, on the written form of the word; displaying again a multimodal learning orientation. She produces the first syllable of the word ‘prejudice’ with a rising intonation and a cut off (p↑re– (0.3)), then restarts after a slight pause. This time she does not utter the word in three distinct parts as she did before, and does not use a rising intonation at the end to request confirmation. At this point, there



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is evidence for mutual orientation to a learning moment, as Tea also looked at the written word on the board. Furthermore, Tea uses a deictic gesture, pointing to the board, reinforcing the mutual orientation to learning, and makes this action visible for all students in the class. Having illustrated the micro-­and visible moments of socially distributed cognition (Markee and Seo 2009; Mori and Hasegawa 2009), it can again be understood that at least part of the process of learning is analysable as embodied in the details of social interaction, through such pervasive elements as repair, hesitation, repetition, turn-­taking and sequential organisation, but also gaze, gesture, body orientation and the manipulation of objects. (Pekarek Doehler 2010: 109) It was argued in the analysis of the extracts that the student displayed orientations to learning of a vocabulary item by (1) changing gaze directions, (2) orienting to classroom artefacts (e.g. the board) to which learning goals have been embedded, (3) using deictic gestures (hand and finger movements in this particular case), (4)  requesting confirmation to her use through establishing mutual gaze with the teacher, and (5) using upward final intonation (and the teacher’s following confirmation and go-­ahead). Furthermore, more evidence was provided for learning as she used the word again in a second pair part, but still creating a joint orientation to the learned item as the teacher also orients to the board through Dor’s initiation, both with gaze and deictic gestures. 5.7 CONCLUSION Classroom interaction, like other forms of face-­to-­face interaction, is multimodal interaction ‘in which participants encounter a steady stream of meaningful facial expressions, gestures, body postures, head movements, words, grammatical constructions, and prosodic contours’ (Stivers and Sidnell 2005: 1). That said, each of these modalities is strongly bound to one another and is inextricable in multi-­ party conversations taking place within a specifically designed material world: the classroom. We already know that contributions to interaction are context-­shaped and context-­renewing (Seedhouse 2004): the actions we perform are conditionally relevant to and are shaped by the previous actions and the physical environment in which the actions take place. Moreover, our contributions project a next action that will potentially renew the context, context here being the follow-­up contributions as well as potentially the physical space. Classrooms are spaces designed for teaching and learning practices: practices that unfold in embodied ways through the coordination of talk and our bodies, within the artefacts including whiteboards and printed materials, as well as technology enhanced tools. During the process of co-­constructing knowledge, and engaging in learning experiences, human beings employ interactional resources at the interface of all these modalities, thus embodying orientations to teaching and learning. This chapter has revealed how in this material world teachers and students use and orient to different modalities to make sense of each other’s actions designed to carry

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out the institutional business of L2 teaching and learning. Building on the findings related to gaze and some gestures and head movements from Chapter 4, this chapter has mainly focused on teacher gestures, with particular emphasis on hand gestures due to their substantial occurrence. In section 5.2 the focus has been on a particular gesture, hand to ear (Mortensen 2012), so as to closely examine its role in resolving trouble related to hearing and understanding. It has been shown that there is still an institutional orientation in its occurrence in addition to the primary role of resolving hearing and understanding: although the gesture, together with talk, performs the initiation of repair, it does display an orientation to the institutional reality of classrooms. This has been displayed in Extract 5.1 through an orientation to multilogue (line 17), and in Extract 5.2 through an orientation to L2 pronunciation. Section 5.3 dealt with the use of hand gestures in other-­repair sequences, mainly in correction sequences. The extracts provided show how hand gestures are also functioning in the visual space, especially when there is an orientation to correction. Although the examples provided did not build links to student uptake or orientations to learning, they demonstrated in detail the importance of a teacher’s coordinated use of gesture and talk in instructional practices, yet only limited reference was made to CIC. The role of gestures has been made more prominent for teaching, as Extract 5.6 has provided a convincing example of successful elicitation through gestures, which has been proposed as an integral part of L2 CIC. Furthermore, in Extract 5.7, focusing on explanation sequences, embodied vocabulary explanations through hand gestures accompanied by talk have been claimed to be rich interactional resources that have the potential to take a student from a state of not knowing to a state of understanding. With the potential to lead to displays and demonstrations of student understanding, these interactional resources were claimed to be part of CIC. Lastly, in section 5.6, multimodal resources during orientation to language learning have been illustrated, explaining in detail how a learner and the teacher coordinate ‘learning talk’ through gaze, gesture, and orientations to classroom artefacts. One of the key implications of this chapter is probably the extent to which we can inform language teacher education through findings on the use of teacher gestures in L2 classrooms. As will be discussed in Chapters 7 and 8, effective use of gestures is an integral part of L2 CIC. Teacher gestures are visual sources that contribute to the meaning-­making processes in language classrooms, and effective meaning–making can potentially lead to L2 learning. I argue that examples of effective use of teacher gestures can be used in language teacher education programmes to raise the awareness of trainees. In particular, examples like that in Extract 8.2 in Chapter 8 can be integrated into methodology classes. Previous research on L2 classroom interaction and my own investigations of L2 classrooms have revealed that languages other than the one being taught play a significant role in the co-­construction of understanding and in the interactional unfolding of the institutional business of L2 teaching and learning. The use of multilingual resources in L2 classrooms, in addition to epistemic and multimodal resources employed by interactants in classrooms, combine to enable us to understand L2 classroom activities. On the intersection of these three sets of resources that make up the analytic chapters of this book (Chapters 4, 5, and 6), we observe the interactional



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unfolding of pedagogical activities including all interactional practices that govern the teaching of language skills, using teaching materials and classroom management etc. In Chapters 4 and 5, numerous examples have been provided to explicate epistemic and multimodal resources in L2 classroom interaction, with detailed micro-­ analyses of social actions. Some of these examples included samples of language other than the language being learnt, in the case of this corpus Luxembourgish, German, and French. How do learners and teachers orient to different language choices? How are the different languages in an L2 classroom being used as interactional resources for teaching and learning? I will deal with these questions in Chapter 6. NOTES 1. The phonetic symbols here refer to the word ‘cows’. I prefer using phonetic transcriptions here as they are analytically important. The participants orient to how the words are pronounced. 2. This may also communicate something about the pronunciation too – the target like pronunciation requires the mouth to be open wider than when the student said it. This is almost coaching on how to open up the sound in the gesture, a point brought to my attention by Christine Jacknick.

6 USE OF MULTILINGUAL RESOURCES IN L2 CLASSROOM INTERACTION

6.1 INTRODUCTION In a recent review of ‘own-­language use’ in L2 classrooms, citing Maley (2011), Hall and Cook (2012a: 299) argue that the silence around ‘bilingual teaching has been broken, and its merits are no longer routinely ridiculed and dismissed, the way is open for a major “paradigm shift” in language teaching and learning’. Although whether bilingual teaching is the way to go still needs to be researched, it is obvious that recent studies are investigating the use of ‘other languages’ in L2 classrooms from psycholinguistic, cognitive, and sociocultural paradigms. While approaching the phenomenon of language choice in classrooms, researchers, as has been discussed in Chapter 3, have used a variety of terms including ‘the use of L1’ and ‘code-­switching’ (Üstünel and Seedhouse 2005; Amir and Musk 2013; Cheng 2013; Lehti–Eklund 2013), ‘own-­language use’ (Hall and Cook 2012a, 2012b), use of ‘bilingual practices’ (Bonacina and Gafaranga 2011), ‘plurilingual resources/repertoires’ (Moore et al. 2013; Ziegler et al. 2013), and ‘multilingual resources’ (Ziegler et al. 2012; Ziegler et al. 2015). Multilingual settings may require special emphasis here, since data I have used so far in the previous two analytic chapters come from multilingual settings, as is the case for the majority of extracts in this particular chapter. Recently, W. Li (2014) suggested that ‘translanguaging’ is a more appropriate term to define multilingual practices in classrooms. According to him: Translanguaging is both going between different linguistic structures and systems, including different modalities (e.g. speaking, writing, signing), and going beyond them. It includes the full range of linguistic performances of multilingual language users for purposes that transcend the combination of structures, the alternation between systems, the transmission of information and the representation of values, identities and relationships. (W. Li 2014: 2–3) In this line of thinking, translanguaging is a very rich term and according to W. Li (2011) it is transformative in nature, bringing together different dimensions of the multilingual speakers’ cognitive, social, and linguistic skills. However, despite the comprehensive nature of translanguaging as a notion that goes beyond classrooms, the focus of the present book is L2 classroom interaction as it unfolds between 112



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teachers and students, and cognitive or any exogenous understandings will not be used in the analysis. In referring to all multilingual practices in the analyses that will be carried out in this chapter, I will use the terms language alternation and code-­ switching in a way that will include all forms of the use of languages other than the one being taught – the L2. These forms may include intrasentential code-­switching (i.e. changing languages in a turn), intersentential code-­switching (i.e. switching languages across turns), or translations elicited and provided by the participants in language classrooms. Researchers have tended to affiliate with one of the three following camps considering the place of code-­switching in L2 classrooms: (1) the role of L1 should be open, with no restrictions; (2) L1 can be a resource, but its contribution to L2 learning should clearly be defined; (3) L1 should be excluded from L2 classrooms as it may inhibit learning (Arnett 2013). The analyses in this chapter will not claim the ­superiority of the use of multilingual resources; yet common examples of the use of other languages by the participants, and, more importantly, how the participants orient to these resources within the interactional unfolding of pedagogical activities will be illustrated. CA studies have shown that code-­switching can be an interactional resource for both learners and teachers in language classrooms. Based on the extracts, it will be argued that the shared languages in the classroom can prove to be important resources to carry out the institutional business of learning and teaching the L2. In sections 6.2 and 6.3, following Üstünel and Seedhouse (2005), the focus will be on how teacher-­initiated and teacher-­induced code-­switching emerge in L2 classrooms. Arguments will be put forward on how the teacher displays his/her pedagogical agenda and how learners attend to pedagogical goals made relevant by the teacher as s/he employs and orients to multilingual resources. In section 6.4, the focus will be on learner-­initiated instances of language alternation. The commonly occurring examples of the ways in which the teachers manage these language shifts will be illustrated and discussed. 6.2  TEACHER-­I NITIATED CODE-­S WITCHING In their analysis of teacher-­initiated and teacher-­induced code-­switching, Üstünel and Seedhouse (2005) have shown that there is a relationship between the pedagogical focus of the teacher and language choice. The analyses in this chapter converge with this finding, in that the institutional goal of the teacher is made relevant through his/her language choice, and the students may or may not align with the pedagogical agenda interactionally enacted by the teacher. Before moving on to the data from multilingual classrooms, I first want to illustrate a case from another, non-­ multilingual, context. In different parts of the globe, and in different classrooms, a variety of teaching practices can be observed, and teaching through the L1 to very young learners can still be the case in some of these contexts, although I will not discuss its pedagogical consequences here. Extract 6.1 is a case in point. The extract comes from a corpus of video-­recorded interactions (18 hours) from kindergarten classes in Turkey, consisting of 5-­year-­old children and two pre-­service teachers. The teachers were not asked to follow a particular language policy (e.g. English only), but

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were simply expected to teach English in the way that they wanted. In the extract that follows, upon the students having learned vocabulary related to fruits in English the previous day, T1 uses a PowerPoint presentation document with slides ­consisting of fruit pictures and also uses real objects, trying to elicit the English words from the students. The teacher is standing up while eight students are sitting around her (Figure 6.1). Extract 6.1 03_12_09–25_ty 01 T1: ((shows a real banana to the students))

Figure 6.1

02 S1: 03 T1: 04 → 05 Ss: 06 T1: 07 Ss: 08 S4: 09 10 T1:

ba↑na:na:= =((nods her head)) ney[miş? what is it (again)? [bana:na ((in chorus))= bana:[na [°bana:na° °bana:na° ((T1 changes the slide)) BU? ((referring to the cherries on the slide)) THIS ONE?

In line 01, T1 shows a banana to students with no verbal utterances. This visual first pair part is designed to elicit the name of the fruit, which is oriented to by one of the students, S1, as she provides a second pair part in line 02 (ba↑na:na:). Following this response, the teacher nonverbally confirms S1’s answer in line 03, showing that the student’s response is correct and preferred. In line 04, however, she initiates a question in Turkish (neymiş?) asking for the name of the object, eliciting a chorus student repetition of the word ‘banana’ in line 05. Here, it should be noted that T1’s request for repetition (ney[miş?) overlaps with the students’ answer right after ‘ney-­’, the root of the word that means ‘what’. So although a ‘teacher-­initiated code-­ switching to request for choral repetition’ takes place, the students still produce the utterance in the L2, based on the teacher’s displayed pedagogical focus: choral repetition of linguistic items. In line 06, following the choral repetition, T1 models the



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word again with no noticeable modification of pronunciation, which again triggers further student repetitions in lines 07 and 08. Note that in lines 07 and 08, the repetitions are delivered more quietly, which may mark the transition to the next word. The transition is performed by T1 as she changes the slide in line 09, and initiates another elicitation question (BU?, tr: this one?) in line 10. The sequential analysis carried out has shown that the ‘teacher-­initiated code-­ switching’ in line 04 is designed to elicit the English word from as many students as possible. It follows a confirmation of a preferred response, and precedes a choral repetition. Here, the teacher prefers to check for student learning and enable student practice of isolated words by asking the questions in the L1, thus enacting a form-­ and-­accuracy context. In turn, the learners align with her pedagogical agenda. It is clear that such a strategy does not enable students to produce utterances beyond word level, limits exposure to question forms in the L2, and does not, at least based on this data, provide opportunities for learner initiatives and extended learner turns. Üstünel and Seedhouse (2005: 321) found that when there is no ‘L2 answer to the teacher’s question in the L2, the teacher code-­switches to L1 after a pause of more than one second. Typically, the teacher will repeat or modify the question at least once in the L2 before the CS occurs’. This is also one of the most commonly observed patterns for teacher-­initiated code-­switching in my data from multilingual settings. Many of these examples also include students’ CIK, in addition to long pauses. Extract 6.2 comes from the 11th grade classroom in the Luxembourg data. The ­students are working on a speaking activity entitled ‘Do you have a social conscience? What would you do?’ from their book. There are situations given in the book, which the students are supposed to discuss. Extract 6.2 Gewissen, 48_18_06_11_30–57 01 Tea: now let us have a look at (.) some ex↑amples, 02 that ask you to think about your own social 03 conscience (.) so what do you think (.)our social 04 conscience is (.) does anybody have an idea? 05 (1.3) 06 Tea: Jan? +points at Jan 07 Tea: what is .hh what is social conscience? #6.2.1 #6.2.2 #6.2.3 Jan: +starts changing posture

Figure 6.2

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08 09 Tea: Jan: 10 Tea: 11 12 13 14 Jan: 15 Tea: 16 Tea: 17 18 19 Jan: 20 Tea: 21 22 → Tea: 23 24 → 25 26 Tea: 27

(3.1)((looks at his book)) well what is your conscience first of all? + looks at Tea if i say i: think you have a bad conscience because today you be↑have .hh like a model student, what does that mean? (2.0) £i don’t know£ [what ] (that) is. [a bad] you don’t kno– you don’t have a conscience. (1.1) you don’t know what it is. £↑no:£. + headshake £Okay£ does anybody know what your conscience is. +looks at all students (2.1) in german gewis↓sen conscience (1.0) >ein gutes gewissen ein schlechtes gewissen< a good conscience a bad conscience (1.0) °(okay)°if you have a ↑bad conscience how do you feel? +gazes at Ben (0.8) Ben. ↑bad. ((laughter)) please try to make a ↑whole sentence. ehm (0.4) .hh conscience i feel unlucky i feel ↑bad i feel un:: (well). yes: (.) guilty may be.

28 29 Tea: 30 Ben: 31 Ss: 32 Tea: 33 Ben: 34 35 Tea:

In lines 01 and 02, Tea sets the pedagogical agenda of the activity on the course book. However, before starting this activity, he first asks the whole class in lines 03 and 04 whether they know the meaning of ‘social conscience’. The teacher waits 1.3 seconds after his question but none of the students looks at the teacher or bids for turn. In line 06, the teacher allocates the turn to Jan by pointing at him and saying his name, while Jan has not oriented his body or gaze to the teacher. In line 07, the teacher repeats his question to him (what is .hh what is social conscience?). This is followed by a long 3.1 seconds silence during which Jan changes his posture to an upright position and looks at his book to find a clue (Figure 6.2). In line 09, the teacher splits the phrase social conscience and asks whether he knows the



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word conscience, and Jan gazes at Tea while he is uttering the word conscience with an emphasis. Between lines 10 and 12, the teacher expands his question by giving an example. Following a 2.0-­second pause, Jan claims insufficient knowledge with a smiley voice in line 14. In line 16, the teacher repeats the student’s no knowledge claim with a cut-­off and restart (you don’t kno– you don’t have a conscience.), waits for a further 1.1 second and then reformulates his interpretation in line 18 (you don’t know what it is.). Jan, in the subsequent turn, confirms this with a smiley voice and rising intonation (£↑no:£.) combined with a headshake. In line 20, looking at other students, Tea asks the meaning of the word again but there is no response from other students. Due to the lack of contributions from the students, long silences, and the CIK, the teacher in line 22 first gives the German equivalent of the word (in german gewis↓sen), which is a teacher-­initiated code-­switching. He waits for 1.0 second, and then gives an example in German by using opposite categories (good and bad) to clarify the meaning of the word conscience. However, there is no uptake from the learners for a further 1.0 second, therefore he reformulates his question in lines 26 and 27 (if you have a ↑bad conscience how do you feel?) and allocates the turn to Ben by p ­ ­ ointing at him in line 29. Unfortunately, we cannot see the student’s face in the camera; however, judging from his immediate response with no hesitation or pause, it can be claimed that the teacher has already pre-­established recipiency with him through gaze or other means. Ben’s response in line 30 triggers laughter from other students, which may have resulted from its sarcastic delivery. Following this laughter, Tea initiates a repair and asks for a full sentence although Ben’s answer in line 30 was sequentially and grammatically acceptable. Between lines 38 and 39, Ben elaborates on his answer and this is followed by an agreement token and a further candidate response from the teacher. So in addition to the emergence of long pauses after questions as highlighted by Üstünel and Seedhouse (2005), it has been shown that students’ CIK partly due to selecting a student who displays UTP through his body and talk may lead to a teacher-­initiated code-­switching with the expectation of engaging students in a meaning-­and-­fluency context. It is clear that the teacher deploys his multilingual resources (through translation and code-­switching for exemplification purposes) in order to make the meaning clear. It can be claimed that the teacher-­initiated code-­ switching and the subsequent question have led to participation from a student, who answered the teacher’s question with an immediate delivery. In this example, code-­switching was performed in the German language. In multilingual classrooms, teachers and students may consult more than one language other than the L2. The following example is a case in point, in which both French and German are invoked as resources to resolve vocabulary related problems. The beginning of the extract that follows was presented in Chapter 4 to exemplify ESCs (line 15) and accompanying nonverbal student cues (from lines 13 to 17). Since I have already provided a turn-­by-­turn analysis of the first part of this in Extract 4.6, I will mainly focus on what happened after the ESC.

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Extract 6.3 Ambition, 11_23_18_06_10_1_12–59 01 Tea: ↑so::what might that tell us about billy if the 02 paintings look chaotic to ↑you:. 03 (1.5) 04 what is the effect they wanna achieve may be or 05 what do::, (0.5) what does ( ) want to tell us 06 through the paintings may be. 07 Fln: ehm: (0.9) ( ) lebensziel. aim in life 08 (1.6) 09 Tea: yeah how ca– how can we say that? 10 lebensziel in English::? +starts walking towards Lara 11 (1.4) 12 Tea: Lara? +points at Lar +mutual gaze between Tea and Lar 13 (2.1) 14 Lar: #4.10.1 >#4.10.2 ((averts her gaze from the teacher)) 15 Tea: no idea? Lar: +gazes back at the teacher 16 (0.8) 17 ((Lar smiles and shakes her head)) 18 Tea: [[who can help me? 19 Sam:  [[°end point of life°((speaks very quietly to her peer)) 20 Tea: he has ↑no:: 21 (1.1) >sam raises hand––> (0.9) 22 yeah?= ((points at sam)) 23 Sam: =end point of ↑life. 24 (1.0) 25 ((laughter from all students including Sam for 3.3 sec followed by teacher smile )) 26 Tea: £that’s not ( ) he’s looking for i think£. +orients his body towards the board 27 no– you would say no ↑GO:al: in life. 28 ((starts writing on the board)) 29 a goal which means the same as an ↑aim. 30  (3.5) ((still writing, body oriented towards the board)) 31 or you could say: er: (0.6) °an° ambition. 32 (2.6)((keeps writing)) 33 → which you know from french. 34 → ambition ((pronounces in French))



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As you may remember, one of the students had initiated a German word, lebensziel (aim in life), and in line 09 had asked for the meaning in English. This had been followed by a turn-­allocation to Lar, her display of insufficient knowledge, and Tea’s ESC. In line 18, the teacher asks for a willing student who can potentially explain in English the meaning of lebensziel. While he is asking his question, Sam, sitting at the front row, very quietly provides a candidate answer. However, Tea does not orient to this answer as it was delivered very quietly and the teacher was looking at another part of the class. In line 20, he tries to elicit an answer by initiating a DIU with a rising intonation and stretching of the final sound. However, there is no response for another 1.1 second. Following this pause, Sam bids for a turn, and after 0.9 seconds of silence, Tea allocates him the turn in line 22. In line 23, he provides a candidate answer (=end point of ↑life.). Yet this is not a preferred answer as there is a long silence in line 24, and laughter from some students and a teacher smile for 3.3 seconds. In line 26, Tea orients his body towards the board and in line 27 provides the correct answer for students with particular emphasis on the problematic phrase (↑GO:al: in life), and provides a synonym of the word goal while he writes on the board in line 29 (a goal which means the same as an ↑aim.). He goes on to provide an alternative in line 31, and in line 33 he ascribes knowledge of the word ambition in French and then pronounces the word in French in line 34, thus providing a teacher-­initiated code-­switching. The overall pattern here is interesting in that following the displays of insufficient knowledge from the students, although the teacher gives the meaning in L2 first, he uses a third language as a resource to clarify meaning, in this case French, thus making use of multilingual resources. It should also be noted that the similarity between the English word and the French word also plays an important role in this teacher-­initiated code-­switching. The examples thus far have indicated that teacher-­initiated code-­switching may emerge in mechanical repetition drills with young learners in order to request choral repetition, or may emerge to make meaning clear after long silences, following repeated questions in L2, and also following students’ CIK and nonverbal cues that display insufficient knowledge. In the following section, the focus will be on teacher-­ induced code-­switching in which the teacher’s turn induces learner code-­switching. Different aspects of this phenomenon in relation to teachers’ pedagogical goals will be discussed. 6.3  TEACHER-­I NDUCED CODE-­S WITCHING In this section, I will highlight commonly occurring patterns of teacher-­induced code-­switching based on multilingual classrooms. It has been observed that one of the common cases for the use of teacher-­induced code-­switching is when two words in an L2 are similar, so that another language that the students are expert users of can be brought into the interaction. The following extract is a case in point. In Extract 6.4, the focus is on an exercise sheet that requires the students to choose from two similar forms, as is made clear by the teacher while he is reading the instructions in the first three lines.

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Extract 6.4 Einsam 25_06_10_1_01–39 01 Tea: let’s move ↑on to the next one. +Lyn raises her hand 02 ‘>these words are similar but not the< ↓same’. 03 choose the correct ↑wo:rds’, we have 04  >alone lonely< etcete↑ra.((raises head and looks at Lyn)) 05 (0.5) 06  Lyn? The first pair of(sentences)? ((looks at the text)) 07 Lyn: ‘leave me alone’ 08 (0.5) 09 Tea: yes?((looks at Lyn)) 10 Lyn: ‘being lonely’ ((both look at the text)) 11 (0.4) 12 Tea: goo:d y↑eah(.) in the first one you use a↑lone, 13 in the . 14 (0.7) ((looks at the students)) 15 → what is the german wo:rd, (0.4) for lonely:? +looks at students +Raf raises hand 16 (0.9) 17 yes rafa? 18 → Raf: >einsamso it’s (kinda) often 21 used in contexts>for feeling ↑sa:d (.) unhappy:(0.6) 22 unsatis↓fied (0.7)next one kim.

In line 01, the teacher marks the transition to a new exercise and reads the instructions written on the sheet from line 01 to line 03. In line 04, he gives the alternatives to choose from (>alone lonelyin other words?< £[unsafe]£ [unsafe] unsafe in a way yes: o↑kay. (2.0) ((looks at the book)) (they don’t) feel at ease, ok, °they don’t feel at ease°. +looks at the students +looks at the book (1.9)

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22 er what does tough mean? things– sh::: things got ((chr and his friend next to him chatter)) 23 tough for billy? chris what does that ↑mean. +Sam raises hand +points at Chr +Chr looks at Tea 24 (0.7) 25 Chr: er:[: ((looks at the book)) 26 Tea: [things got tough for him ((walks towards Chr)) 27 (1.1) 28 Chr: it’s er ↑hard for him. +looks at Tea 29 Tea:  ↑ye:s okay everything became hard and difficult for him.

In line 01, Sam starts reading from the book and at the end of the turn he displays trouble in reading the word ‘insecure’. He waits for 0.9 seconds and then continues to read in line 02. However, in line 03 the teacher targets the trouble source by ­repairing the word ‘insecure’, also marking this correction nonverbally by raising his head and looking at Sam. In line 04, Sam repeats the word, which is followed by a response token (mm hmm), acting as both a confirmation and a continuer. In line 06, Sam continues reading but is interrupted by the teacher as he replaces Sam’s misreading of the word ‘tough’ with the correct use. Sam, in line 08, starts with the correct form and finishes reading from the book. In line 10, Tea asks the meaning of the word ‘insecure’, and provides an example utterance in line 11, while Sam and Sar bid for a turn. After 1.4 seconds of silence, Tea nominates Sar as the next speaker. In line 14, Sar responds with the Luxembourgish translation of the word (↑onsécher), followed by a contingent acknowledgement token by Tea (ye:s) at turn-­initial position in line 15. Although the answer is in Luxembourgish, the teacher-­ induced code-­ switching is acknowledged, but Tea orients to a monolingual mode and marks ‘other languageness’ of the word (Slotte-­ Lüttge 2007) by asking the student to switch to English (in eng↑lish) in line 15, which is also an action of language policing (Amir and Musk 2013). The teacher completes his turn by marking ‘rephrasing’ of the lexical item (>in other words?on the bus for example< 17 you can see all these posters on the bus↑es. 18 (0.8) 19 any other situations? Lara? 20 Lar: on televi↓sion. 21 Tea: on television of ↑course yes:. 22  inbetween >guten zeiten schlechten zeiten< you can see good times and bad times 23 plenty of ↑them (0.6) and then:: who els:e? (1.1) pierre? 24 Pie: °on the radio°. 25 Tea: on the ↑radio yes okay you can hear ↑them on the radio.

Tea’s ESC projects a turn-­allocation, as has been seen in Chapter 4, which then leads to a teacher-­induced code-­switching by Noa in line 10. Note that Tea’s ESC makes knowledge of the word (in any language) relevant (you don’t know what an ↑ad is.), so it does not necessarily request its meaning in English. Therefore, Noa’s contribution in German is repeated, also stressed at turn-­initial position, and confirmed (werbung, yes:) by the teacher, followed by a repetition in English. Unlike previous examples, in this one the teacher does not hold students accountable for the switch, but he himself accepts the contribution by also suprasegmentally marking it, and then provides the meaning in English. So far, only one of the students (after very long silences, displays of insufficient knowledge, and an ESC)

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has ­participated in the ongoing interaction, and he co-­constructed the meaning by orienting to the use of German, which is accepted and then translated by the teacher, with no explicit language policing. In the remainder of the extract, it can be understood that this process made the meaning clear and facilitates further student participation. In line 12, having clarified the meaning, Tea again sets the ­pedagogical goal to meaning-­and-­fluency, and asks a question related to the daily lives of the students. His question this time elicits two different responses from students, who display their understanding of the question in lines 14 and 15. In line 16, Tea takes up the answer in line 14, elaborates on it in line 17, and requests another example in line 19. In line 20, Lar provides an answer, and subsequently Pie in line 24 (°on the radio°.), which are both accepted by the teacher. While accepting Lar’s answer, Tea switches to German for exemplification and shapes learner contribution through the use of L1, similar to what Can Daşkın (2015) found, although in this example there is an instance of code mixing (inbetween >guten zeiten schlechten zeiten< you can see plenty of ↑them). It should be kept in mind that the pedagogical goal of this meaning-­and-­fluency context is to encourage learner participation and elicit examples related to meaning from the students. Up until the teacher-­induced code-­switching this has not been possible, but in the following turns after the clarification of the meaning through language alternation the pedagogical goal was successfully enacted in a way that elicited answers from many students. The analyses of teacher-­induced code-­switching from Extract 6.4 to Extract 6.7 have shown the emergence and management of this particular multilingual practice. It has been argued that Tea displays and enacts his pedagogical goal by inducing and then orienting to code-­switching in different ways based on the differences between pedagogical agendas shown in different extracts. In Extract 6.4, for instance, he ‘explicitly induced the use of other language’ (what is the german wo:rd, (0.4) for lonely:?), and oriented to the translation with a repetition of the German word, thus an acknowledgement, for the purpose of ‘signifying the difference between two L2 words’. In Extracts 6.5 and 6.6, although he induced the meaning of the items in L1, and acknowledged them, he displayed a pedagogical orientation which showed the students that ‘paraphrasing and explaining in L2 is the preferred action’, building on an L1 use. The students generally show alignment with this interactional, thus pedagogical, agenda. Extract 6.7 showcased a meaning-­and-­fluency context with a temporal focus on form, which included very long silences, displays of insufficient knowledge, and an ESC. The teacher-­induced code-­switching in this case helped to clarify meaning and led to successful elicitation of student answers and enhanced participation from a number of students. In the following section, the focus will be on student-­initiated code-­switching, which mostly occurs in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts. 6.4  MANAGEMENT OF STUDENT-­I NITIATED CODE-­S WITCHING In an earlier paper, although teacher-­initiated and teacher-­induced code-­switching was not considered, Ziegler et al. (2012) showed that following a student-­initiated code-­switching, in the subsequent turns teachers manage these initiations by using



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modified repetition, monolingual reformulation, and meta-­talk about language. It is known that teachers may sanction students’ use of L1 in classrooms, or orient to other-­languageness and perform language policing (Amir and Musk 2013) and therefore orient to a monolingual classroom mode (Slotte-­Lüttge 2007). In this section, I will focus in particular on meaning-­and-­fluency contexts to illustrate three common types of learner-­initiated code-­switching and the different ways by which the teacher handles them. These three types of initiations are (1) code-­mixing, (2) expansions for topic management (learner initiatives), and (3) providing just an L1 utterance in a response turn. The examples will also lay the grounds for alternative ways of managing learner-­initiated code-­switching, including (1) DIU’s to repair students’ language choice, (2) displaying compliance in L2 to a request in L1, and (3) the use of embedded repair. Extract 6.8 comes from the 11th grade classroom. The students have read a text on railway stations and there is a class discussion on the various features of railway stations in general (this topic was also covered in the 10th grade class as has been shown in Extract 5.3 in Chapter 5). Before the start of this extract, Ben and the teacher have engaged in an interaction about railway stations in Belgium and how stations look. The teacher gave many examples on expensive items in a particular station. Extract 6.8 Reichtum, 51_25_06_11_17–27 01 Tea: why do you think (.) people did ↑that. 02 for inst– especially in belgium. 03 towards the end of the nineteenth century. 04 Tea: ↑yes. 05 +points at Ben 06 Ben: they wanted to imp↑ress. 07 (0.7) 08 Tea: yes they wanted to imp↑ress and what did they want 09 to show to other people (.) what do you think. 10 (0.9) 11 → Ben: their reichtum. richness 12 (0.8) 13 → Tea: t↑heir. 14 Ben: REICHtum= richness 15 Tea: =richness (.)[↑yeah ok]ay. 16 Ben: [richness] 17 Tea: or their pros– their prosperity as a country yes.

Between lines 01 and 03, the teacher asks the whole class why, during the nineteenth century, people spent too much money on the architectural features of railway stations in Belgium. With this question, Tea establishes a meaning-­and-­fluency context. In line 04, the teacher nominates Ben as the next speaker by pointing at him

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and saying ‘yes’ with a rising intonation. Unfortunately, at this point in the video clip, whether Ben requested the turn or not cannot be seen. Yet one can understand that recipiency may have been pre-­established since there is no noticeable gap and Ben does not display hesitations or disfluencies. Ben’s response given in line 06 (they wanted to imp↑ress.) is accepted by the teacher with an acknowledgement token and repetition of the student’s utterance in line 08. In lines 08 and 09 the teacher asks a follow-­up question (what did they want to show to other people) and again asks Ben what he thinks. Following a 0.9-­second silence, Ben responds with a student-­initiated code-­switching, an instance of code-­mixing, starting with the English pronoun ‘their’ and ending with a German word (tr: richness). This mixed TCU complies with the question asked by the teacher, and at meaning level, although it’s an English-­German mixed utterance, would be acceptable in ordinary conversation between multilingual speakers. In line 10, the teacher repeats the English part of Ben’s utterance, thus engaging in a repair practice, forming a DIU. However, Ben takes this repair initiation as a hearing problem, and repeats the German word, this time louder than the previous time (REICHtum). In line 15, Tea gives the exact English word (richness) with an emphasis of the initial syllable, which is followed by a repetition by Ben with an overlap at TCU-­final position. The repair sequence is closed by Tea with a reformulation of the trouble source (or their pros– their prosperity as a country yes). This extract is one of the examples for learner-­initiated code-­mixing in meaning-­ and-­fluency contexts in the corpus. In line 11 (their reichtum.), in-­between the English and the German word, Ben does not treat the language switch as problematic, since there are no intra-­turn pauses before the German word, or suprasegmental modifications that problematise the German language choice to request help as was found by Slotte-­Lüttge (2007) and Ziegler et al. (2012). Yet the teacher, by first pausing for almost 1 second and then initiating a DIU, engages in repair in line 13. The student, however, repeats the German word with higher pitch showing that he treats the repair as emerging from a hearing problem, although Tea in line 15 replaces the German word with the L2 word. This is then also an example of a pedagogical mismatch between the teacher and the student, yet, eventually, the student aligns with the teacher’s pedagogical goal and language choice with an uptake in line 16. So this example has illustrated that code-­mixed utterances in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts are potentially repairable even if they are not problematised by the students, and a DIU followed by an L2 translation of the L1 word is a relevant next action by the teacher. Such instances can be germane to repair sequences that both display and resolve mismatches of understandings. In the following extract, a case of ‘student code-­switching’ that starts an expansion and performs topic management will be shown. The extract needs special emphasis as it has relevance to what is called ‘learner initiatives’, which have the potential to create learning opportunities. In this sequence, based on a text and pictures in the students’ book, the learners and the teacher are trying to figure out the meaning that the author is trying to convey through the use of different colours and images.



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Extract 6.9 I wanted to say something else 24_18_06_10_1_14–40 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 → 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Tea: okay ↑so: (.) er:: these paintings are ↑NOT (.)very colourful, the painter doesn’t use vivid colours, now (.) why do you think he uses gra:y, (1.0) ((tea looks at his book)) brown and: (0.4) white and black. (1.8) Tea: what i[s the effect?] Len: [because the::] colou::r, +Tea gazes at Len (3.3) Len: °er:° (0.7) they make not happ(h)y. (2.2) Tea: yes [okay these colours– Len: [( )colourful Tea: they look ↑sad. (2.0)((tea walks to the other side of the class)) Tea: can you try to explain a bit more, Emily? +Eml holds up her finger +Tea gazes at Eml Eml: ech wollt eppes anescht soen= i wanted to say something else Tea: =okay tell me. Eml: er: there are many little signs to show what, (0.3) he thinks about. +Tea looks at the book (1.2) Tea: YES:: (.) okay there are (.) er:: (.)sort of graffiti:, er: graffiti captions or slo↓gans that tell us (.) what billy is actually thinking. Tea can you give us an ex↑ample.

From line 01 to line 06, Tea asks Len a question regarding the authors’ use of specific colours, establishing a meaning-­and-­fluency context around the topic of colours used by an artist. Following a 1.8-­second silence, he asks the effect of this selection in line 08 (what i[s the effect?]). Len’s response in line 09 overlaps with Tea’s question. Here, it can be understood that she orients to the question in line 03 (why do you think he uses gra:y,), since she starts her turn using ‘because’. In addition to this, it is obvious that she self-­selects herself as the next speaker rather than being selected by the teacher as the teacher looks at her at turn-­ final position, after she started her overlapping turn. She waits for 3.3 seconds after the initiation of her response in line 09. In line 11 she continues her turn, first with a hesitation marker followed by a 0.7-­second intra-­turn pause, and then by stating

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that the colours do not reflect happiness (they make not happ(h)y). Her long silences, disfluencies, and syntactic inaccuracies are not oriented to by the teacher as problematic, who establishes a good example of a meaning-­and-­fluency focus thus far in the sequence. After a further 2.2-­second silence, Tea accepts (line 13) and reformulates the student’s utterance (they look ↑sad.). Tea then starts walking to the other side of the class. In line 17, by looking around the class, Tea asks for elaboration on the topic of colours (can you try to explain a bit more), while Eml holds up her finger and bids for the turn. Tea sees Eml’s self-­nomination and allocates her the turn, which forms the first pair part of an adjacency pair. In line 18, with no noticeable gap, Eml switches to Luxembourgish and requests a topic shift (tr: I wanted to say something else), which is an expansion achieved in L1 that can also be regarded as a learner initiative (Waring 2011). Eml’s initiation is immediately followed by a go–ahead response in English by Tea in line 19 (=okay tell me.). Tea’s go-­ahead response thus displays compliance to a request in L1 that is designed to manage a topic. It should however be noted that although Tea complies with the learner initiative at topic level, his response is in L2 unlike the initiation of Eml. So Eml’s contribution in Luxembourgish, if not challenged, shifted the teacher’s intended agenda by offering a candidate ­understanding, which may have relevance to learner agency (Jacknick 2011). In line 20, Eml shifts the topic to certain pictures in the text in English, thus again aligning with the teacher’s language choice. In line 23, with a strongly marked agreement token, Tea accepts Eml’s contribution and asks a follow-­up question requesting an example from her (line 26). The rest of this extract will be illustrated and discussed in Chapter 7 so as to show the teacher’s dual orientation to language choice and its impact on facilitating student participation and learning opportunities. The last example in this chapter comes from the Turkish EFL data used to exemplify classroom contexts in Chapter 2. Learner-­initiated code-­switching is not just a case for multilingual settings, but can be observed in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts in other settings too. In Extract 6.10, in the 9th grade classroom in a Turkish public school, the teacher starts the lesson with a warm-­up question–answer exchange before the class focuses on the topic of ‘childhood’ and ‘past habits’. The analysis of the extract will present how a student initiation of language alternation can be followed up with an embedded repair. Extract 6.10 Coğrafya 28_05_13_01–16_sngrn 01 T2 02 03 04 S1 05 T2 06 07 → S1

: my last weekend was very difficult for me:. what about ↑your weekends? what did you do (.) at your weekend? yes? +points at S1 : i’m studying (.) very hard and this is my ↓notes. : these are your ↑notes (.) your notes about what? (0.4) : ↑co˘ graf↓°ya° ((/ʤoːrafja/)) geography



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˘rafya (.) do you have an exam about /ʤoː/– 08 → T2 : cog geography +student nods 09 geography?= 10 S1 : =yes.

In line 01, T2 offers a statement on her experience the previous week and so contextualises the talk. In lines 02 and 03, she establishes a meaning-­and-­fluency context by asking the students what they did during the weekend, and allocates the turn to S1. In line 04, S1 responds to T2’s question with noticeable grammatical mistakes of tense choice and singularity/plurality (i’m studying (.) very hard and this is my ↓notes.). In line 05, aligning with the pedagogical focus, the teacher performs an embedded repair (these are your ↑notes) which is appropriate for a meaning-­and-­fluency context as it does not explicitly correct the student utterance but completes it by displaying understanding yet still replacing the problematic words. In the same line, she initiates an elaboration question on the student-­initiated sub-­topic (notes). Following a 0.4-­second silence, S1 responds in Turkish in line 07 (↑coğraf↓°ya°.). In line 08, the teacher repeats the student-­initiated L1 item and then performs another embedded repair through an elaboration question. Here, it should be noted that Tea aligns with the learner’s language choice first by repeating it at turn-­initial position and then by starting to use it at turn-­final position (/ʤoː/–). Yet the cut-­off here is an act of self-­policing (Amir and Musk 2013), and the teacher completes her question in English (about /ʤoː/–geography?), thus orienting to the other-­languageness of the word coğrafya. This question is answered by S1 in line 10 with a confirmation token. The extract has shown that after a student-­initiated language alternation in a response turn to a teacher question, the teacher may perform an embedded repair in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts by first acknowledging the student contribution, and then self-­policing to pursue her pedagogical agenda. 6.5 CONCLUSION This chapter has presented three different formats through which multilingual resources are enacted in L2 classrooms: teacher-­initiated code-­switching, teacher-­ induced code-­switching, and student-­initiated code-­switching. The phenomenon of code-­switching has covered the use of L1s, multilingual resources, translation, and language alternation in different examples, and all these terms refer to the broad institutional action of using languages other than the L2 (second/foreign/additional language) being taught. Most of the extracts used above came from multilingual classrooms like those in the extracts used in Chapters 4 and 5. In order to show the global relevancy of the analyses, an extract from a Turkish EFL kindergarten and an extract from a class consisting of adolescent learners from a Turkish EFL context have also been used. The analyses in section 6.2 have shown that teacher-­initiated code-­switching may emerge in mechanical repetition drills with young learners in the form of questions or in general elicitations. These elicitations are performed in the L1, and are designed

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to elicit English words and request choral repetition. Moreover, as has been illustrated in Extract 6.2, teacher-­initiated code-­switching may emerge to make meaning clear after long silences, following repeated questions in L2, and also following students’ CIK (Extract 6.2) and nonverbal cues (Extract 6.3) that display insufficient knowledge. It is clear that the case presented in Extract 6.1 is interactionally limiting in that it does not provide opportunities to use language communicatively. The teacher-­initiated L1 questions do not present learners with a communicative context, and the ­students are not exposed to L2 questions; in terms of the development of interactional competence, this deprives learners of an understanding of how a first pair part of an adjacency pair is initiated, and thus does not exploit the pedagogical utility of adjacency pairs, which are a basic construct of L2 interactional competence. It does successfully elicit L2 repetitions, however, modelled by the teacher, and thus checks understanding and helps the teacher pursue her pedagogical agenda. As has been shown in Extract 6.2, teacher-­initiated code-­switching may also be used as a last resort in eliciting student answers in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, especially after long silences and CIK. Section 6.3 presented three common types of teacher-­induced code-­switching: (1) one with an explicit orientation to other-­language in Extract 6.4 in order to clarify a meaning difference in L2; (2) one with a lexical meaning orientation that sets the pedagogical goal as ‘paraphrasing and explaining as the preferred action’ (Extracts 6.5 and 6.6); and (3) one that is enacted in a temporary focus-­on-­vocabulary in a meaning-­and-­fluency context that follows very long silences and displays of insufficient knowledge/UTP, yet at the same time helping to clarify meaning that may potentially lead to successful elicitation of student answers in follow-­up turns. The final section on student-­initiated code-­switching presented three types of initiations in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, in the form of (1) code-­mixing, (2) expansions for topic management, and (3) providing an L1 utterance in a response turn. The examples showed alternative ways of managing learner-­initiated code-­ switching, including (1) DIU’s to repair students’ language choice, (2) displaying compliance in L2 to a request in L1, and (3) the use of embedded repair. The issue of mismatches between a learner’s and a teacher’s orientations to repair of code-­ mixing in Extract 6.8, and the learner initiative that displays agency in Extract 6.9, are also important findings, which will be discussed in Chapter 7 in relation to L2 CIC. This chapter has shown that static language policy views of language choice (e.g. an English-­only classroom) are something to be questioned, as teachers and students deploy multilingual resources skilfully in negotiating the fluid relationship between pedagogy and interaction in L2 classrooms. The traditional beliefs regarding the use of ‘target-language-only’ policies in L2 classrooms and emerging language policing practices are now being questioned by more researchers in the field of applied linguistics. This development is closely related to the rejection of the native-speaker norm that has been a mainstay of cognitive SLA for decades. L2 users are not considered as inferior and incompetent speakers as was the case in deficit models of language learning (Cook 2007). More researchers are investigating the interactional competencies and interactional accomplishments of learners, and this line of research also includes



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the different roles ‘students’ previously learnt languages’ (e.g. first languages) play in communicating and meaning-­making in an L2 classroom. At the beginning of this chapter, I briefly introduced the idea of translanguaging and how it is related to language choice in L2 classrooms. As has been shown in most of the extracts above, different languages play a dynamic role in the co–construction of intersubjectivity in L2 classrooms. I argue that translanguaging is a concept that teachers and teacher candidates should be made aware of. Rather than pretending that the institutional business of teaching an L2 is performed only through L2, the different ways in which multilingual resources are employed by teachers and students should be explored. The findings should systematically inform trainee teachers. Without a detailed description of how different languages are enacted in classrooms, top-­down language policies which lack insights from ‘actual’ classroom practices will prevent us from understanding the dynamics of learning and teaching in classrooms.

7 IMPLICATIONS FOR TEACHING IN L2 CLASSROOMS

7.1 INTRODUCTION Based on the analyses carried out in the previous three chapters, this chapter will shed light on the relevance of the findings for teaching in L2 classrooms and for L2 CIC (Walsh 2006a, 2011, 2012, 2013). As stated in Chapter 3, the idea of CIC encompasses the features of classroom interaction that make the teaching/learning process more or less effective. These features, according to Seedhouse and Walsh (2010), include ‘maximizing interactional space’ (through increased wait-­time, by resisting the temptation to ‘fill silence’, by promoting extended learner turns, and by allowing planning time), shaping learner contributions (seeking clarification, scaffolding, modelling, or repairing learner input), effective use of eliciting, and interactional awareness. In this chapter, in addition to demonstrating these features, I will propose four more items to L2 CIC: 1. Successful management of claims/displays of insufficient knowledge (Sert 2011). 2. Increased awareness of UTP (Sert 2011, 2013b). 3. Effective use of gestures. 4. Successful management of code-­switching (Sert 2011). These new features of CIC are inextricable from the basic features of CIC, in particular from (1) convergent use of language to the pedagogical goal of the moment, (2) shaping learner contributions (seeking clarification, scaffolding, modelling, or repairing learner input), and (3) effective use of eliciting. For example, in section 7.4, I will propose that teachers’ hand gestures that align with talk in elicitation sequences display enhanced CIC. Therefore, in describing the newly proposed features of CIC, references will be made to ‘already established’ features where relevant. Another important skill that is related to CIC for teachers is establishing a pedagogical focus and then managing shifts to another focus (Seedhouse 2008), for instance from meaning-­and-­fluency to form-­and-­accuracy, also known as mode-­switching (Walsh 2006a). Some of the extracts will demonstrate that while using multimodal and multilingual resources according to the pedagogical goal of the moment, the teacher at the same time manages these shifts in focus. In the following section, using extracts from Chapter 4, I will discuss the emergence of interactional troubles and how they are managed by a teacher. These 134



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t­ roubles will include students’ CIK, as well as their nonverbal displays of insufficient knowledge. In relation to these phenomena, in section 7.3, I will focus on UTP and how an increased awareness of it can help teachers avoid and manage potential troubles. In section 7.4, I will demonstrate the ways in which CIC manifests itself through successful use of gestures, in particular in elicitation and repair sequences. Section  7.5 will explicate the management of multilingual resources, and provide practical implications for teachers, and in 7.6 I will focus on an extract in which the teacher manages a learner initiative by neatly handling emerging epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual phenomena. All sections will include practical implications for teachers. 7.2  MANAGEMENT OF INTERACTIONAL TROUBLES Taking the position that student participation is key for language learning in classrooms, (1) the ways in which teachers encourage learners to participate, (2) how they select the students to speak next, (3) whether or not they can motivate ‘student self-­ selection’, and (4) the extent to which they successfully monitor UTP become major issues, as they have substantial impact on students’ emergent oral contributions. Furthermore, interactional resources used for establishing recipiency are significantly important in the maintenance of student participation. In order to allocate a turn to a student, the teacher first needs to establish recipiency through gaze and other means, or if learners want to initiate turns before a teacher allocates a turn, they may need to display incipient speakership through body movements and again using gaze. Institutional norms and identities may be playing a major role for these turn-­taking practices, yet nonverbal aspects of establishing recipiency in pre-­allocation of turns may become a determinant for extended student participation. If this is not done properly it has interactional and pedagogical consequences such as the emergence of CIK, as has been shown in Chapter 4. The following extract, part of Extract 4.1, is a case in point (images have been excluded from all the extracts in this chapter as they are available in Chapters 4, 5, and 6). Extract 4.1 Ali’s behavior, 44_08_06_11_38–33 [reprinted here from Chapter 4] 01 02 03 04 05 → 06 07 08 09

Tea: do ↑you think that ali’s behavior is acceptable or appropri↓ate (.) do you think it is okay for him to speak like that to:: (0.7)to a woman like bettina. +gazes at Mar (0.6) ((Mar keeps looking at the text)) Tea: Marie what do you think? +points at Mar (1.1) ((no mutual gaze)) Mar: °i don’t know it° ((no mutual gaze)) (3.3) ((Ben moves to an upright position and looks at Tea)) Tea: ((establishes mutual gaze with Ben))

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In this example, the teacher does not obtain Mar’s gaze before he allocates the turn to her in line 05. Mar keeps looking at the text throughout the extract, and this is maybe due to one, or a combination of a couple, of the following reasons: (1) she is looking for the information in the short story to be able to give an answer, so she does not actually ‘know’; or (2) she is not yet ready to express her ideas. One thing we do know for sure is that she ‘claims’ insufficient knowledge. Studies on CIC revealed that allowing planning time maximises ‘space for learning’. A close look at this extract shows that the only planning time left for the student is 0.6 seconds, which is definitely not enough. Such a limitation on planning time becomes consequential especially in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts. Another important aspect of ‘interactional space’ within CIC is ‘wait-­time’. Although Tea waits for a long 3.3 seconds after Mar’s CIK, it actually ‘flags’ the interactional trouble rather than helping the student. So using ‘wait-­time’ strategically is important: after a student’s ‘I don’t know’, the preferred action is either to move on to another student, or to employ another strategy including using examples, changing the question etc. Ben’s change of body positioning and gaze movements, on the other hand, are designed to display incipient speakership, and this is how the interactional trouble comes to an end. Based on these observations, teachers could consider: 1. Establishing recipiency in pre-­beginning position (e.g. through mutual gaze and body positioning) especially in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, and then allocate the turn to students. 2. Allowing planning time, especially if the turn is allocated to a student with whom mutual gaze is not established. 3. The fact that after a student’s CIK, a long wait-­time may flag trouble. A follow-­up strategy could be used with little wait-­time. Although nonverbal aspects of recipiency are key for the emergence of CIK, there can be other reasons in teacher talk that eventually lead to displays of interactional trouble. In the extract that follows, recipiency has already been established with a willing student, but from lines 17 to 20 there is an unusually long silence, a student smile, an ESC from the teacher, and finally a confirmation of insufficient knowledge; thus evidence of interactional trouble. But why does this happen with a student who previously (before line 06) has bid for a turn and provided a response? Extract 4.5 Fight for justice, 9_19_15_06_10_1_51–26 [reprinted here from Chapter 4] 06 Luc: he wants to fight for justice. 07 (0.6) 08 Tea: he wants to fight for jus↑tice .hh but also the 09 language that is being used (.) his instinct was 10 to mo::ve into the direction of any disturbance 11 of the pea::ce. 12 (0.5)

13 14 15 16 17 18 → 19 → 20 →

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Tea: his instinct was to interce:de (0.5)So::,(0.6) what do we learn about him (.) how does he actually wo::rk (.) what is the wa::y, .hhh in in what way does he wo:rk? (4.5)((Luc keeps his gaze fixed on Tea)) Luc: #4.9.1 ––– > #4.9.2 ((smiles)) Tea: £no£? Luc: £no:£.

In Chapter 3 and at the beginning of this chapter, with reference to CIC, it has been stated that shaping learner contributions is very important. So after a student response, a teacher should shape the contribution, for example by repairing, paraphrasing, scaffolding, and modelling. However, in this example, there is a teacher echo in line 08. Then, until line 11, rather than seeking for clarification or asking for elaboration, Tea provides his alternative answer in a very long turn. Furthermore, without checking for understanding, he asks four questions in a row. This eventually leads to interactional trouble as has been described in the previous paragraph. In meaning-­and-­fluency contexts like this one, the main pedagogical goal is to promote extended learner turns, with limited teacher talk. Here, one can claim that opportunities for student participation and potential learning are missed. Furthermore, the ESC of the teacher (line 19) could have been initiated earlier, so as to prevent issues of face. Therefore, in order to prevent interactional troubles in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, especially while carrying out conversational activities in EFL classes, teachers could consider: 4. Shaping learner contributions through, for instance, seeking clarification rather than giving an alternative extended response in line with the teaching agenda, as this is a context open to alternative meanings and understandings. 5. Avoiding asking many questions in a row without checking for understanding. 6. Keeping teacher talk to a minimum and trying to elicit extended learner turns. 7. Using wait-­time strategically and minimally before an ESC once an interactional trouble emerges. 8. Paying attention to student smiles as they may indicate trouble (Sert and Jacknick 2015). The analyses of CIK and ESCs in Chapter 4 revealed that in the majority of examples, after these interactional troubles, the turn is allocated to another student. Hosoda and Aline (2013), drawing on Sert and Walsh (2013) and Sert (2013a), argue that teachers prioritise preference for progressivity over selected-­speaker-­speaks-­ next. In other words, teachers prioritise the continuation of activities in the most ‘time efficient’ (immediately allocating the turn to preferably a willing student) and less ‘face threatening’ manner so as to avoid interactional troubles. In the overwhelming majority of examples of CIK, as has been shown in section 4.2 in Chapter 4, the sequence organisation follows more or less the same format in which the teacher either allocates the turn to other students or first initiates a ‘you don’t know?’ and

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then continues with the turn-­allocation. The findings in section 4.5 show that there are, however, certain interactional resources that the teacher employs which can be considered as fruitful instances of ‘management of a claim of insufficient knowledge’ in that they lead to further participation by students, and, in some cases, to displays and demonstrations of student understanding. These resources include embodied vocabulary explanations using iconic gestures and DIUs. Extract 4.9 Mutter, 42_04_15_06_11_41–06 [reprinted here from Chapter 4] 04 Tea: 05 06 07 Mar: 08 Tea:

it means almost to whisper to:: speak er: qui– very quietly, and when you just hea::r, 4.15 #.1 #.2 #.3 er::[:, a (word here and there), [((imitates muttering sound)) ex↑actly (.) then you are muttering.

In the example above, given in section 4.5 in Chapter 4, after a student’s CIK, Tea initiates an embodied vocabulary explanation using gestures (see the original extract in Chapter 4), and by doing so moves the student from a state of not knowing to a state of understanding, as Mar demonstrates her analysis of Tea’s turn in line 07. So embodied vocabulary explanations targeting an unknowing student is an indication of CIC. Another successful management of CIK is through the use of DIUs, especially in grammar activities during which the focus is on linguistic forms: Extract 4.10 Grammatically speaking, 45_18_05_18_06_11_20–52 [reprinted here from Chapter 4] 18 → 19 20 → 21 22 23 24

Em2: °i don’t know°. +looks at Ben for 2.2 sec i (£f(h)orgot the name right now£). +establishes mutual gaze with Tea Tea: the ↑pa:st.= Em2: =participle. Tea: participle good. ((writes on the board for 8 sec)) Tea: past participle.

After the student provides an account for her insufficient knowledge and frames her CIK as a case of ‘not remembering’, Tea immediately initiates a DIU in line 20. This on-­line decision making after understanding the trouble as a case of not remembering successfully elicits a response from the student, so one can claim here that CIC manifests itself through the teacher’s use of DIU. The teacher also shapes the learner contribution by reiterating the response and, more importantly, writing it on the board, as has previously been shown by Can Daşkın (2015). So if it is not a meaning-­ and-­fluency context, and when the focus is on form, like on vocabulary in Extract 4.9



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and grammar in Extract 4.10 above, rather than immediate turn-­allocation to another student some other resources may help teachers to resolve interactional trouble. In such situations, teachers could consider:   9. Engaging in embodied vocabulary explanations through iconic gestures following a CIK that clearly indicates lack of or insufficient knowledge. 10. Eliciting responses by using DIUs especially if the students need a hint to remember. 11. Using the board to visualise learning and shape learner contributions after successful elicitation of a previously unknown or forgotten form. One may argue that it is almost impossible to distinguish whether a CIK is actually an indication of ‘insufficient knowledge’, or a UTP. ‘Whether a recipient producing “I don’t know” actually knows or not is a matter to be interactionally worked out’ (Beach and Metzger 1997: 568). However, as I have demonstrated in Chapter 4, UTP can be traced based on interactional evidence, through a turn-­by-­turn unfolding of verbal and nonverbal phenomena. Applied linguistic research on motivation to speak, or in other words, WTC, has mainly been surveyed using quantitative methods (e.g. Yashima 2002) although recent attempts have been made to approach the phenomenon with a more qualitative perspective (e.g. MacIntyre et al. 2011). However, given that the phenomenon being investigated (i.e. L2 communication) is by definition a construct that cannot be isolated from research on social interaction, most of the studies so far have failed to address the context-­dependent and participant-­oriented nature of (un)willingness to communicate, or as I refer to it (un)willingness to participate. In the following section, the importance of an increased awareness of UTP for CIC will be underscored based on the analysis in Chapter 4 which revealed that UTP can be tracked around CIK and ESCs which follow or precede interactional troubles marked by long silences, student smiles, gaze withdrawals and aversions, and minimal and quiet student contributions. 7.3  INCREASED AWARENESS OF UTP Participation is key for learning in instructed language learning settings. WTP can be displayed in a variety of ways: explicitly by hand-­raising to take turns, displaying incipient speakership through body positioning, and engaging in mutual gaze with the teacher, or by initiating a turn without being asked explicitly to do so. These displays of WTP can then turn out to be learning opportunities if a teacher uses language convergent to the pedagogical goal, opens interactional space, and shapes learner contributions to engage students (in other words, displays CIC, Walsh 2012) so that the learners can produce turns that are both qualitatively and quantitatively enhanced. What if only a few students in a language classroom are willing to participate in whole-­class teacher-­fronted activities? What if a teacher wants to engage more students, which is a desirable goal in language classrooms? In such instances, hand-­ raising alone will not be a sufficient resource for a teacher to notice WTP and distribute turns accordingly; other nonverbal resources will be needed. Likewise, increased

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teacher awareness on UTP is also required, so that the teacher can avoid interactional troubles, use the class time more efficiently, and avoid face issues that may emerge from trying too hard to engage a student who is not willing to participate at that very moment. It should be kept in mind that avoiding trouble at a particular moment may potentially avoid long-­term and repeated disengagement of particular students. In Chapter 4, UTP has been illustrated in Extracts 4.3 and 4.8. In 4.3, I exemplified a sequence which began with a student covering his face with his hand before the teacher’s turn-­allocation, and showed how the sequence led to interactional trouble. In Extract 4.8 given below again, I will summarise the observable evidence for UTP. Extract 4.8 Everybody else, 08_06_10_1_15–05 [reprinted here from Chapter 4] 01 Tea: Sam do you want to be like everybody +points at Sam 02 else (.)°in the future
°. +Sam withdraws gaze #4.13.1––– >#4.13.2 03 Sam: °no:°. 04 Tea: that’s your d↓ream (.) isn’t it? Sam: +gazes +withdraws at Tea gaze 05 Tea: can you tell me why not?
 Sam: +gazes +withdraws at Tea gaze 06 (0.6) 07 Sam: °yeah°. 08 (6.6) 09 Tea: #4.14.1 ((Tea starts inclining his head)) 10 (0.4) 11 Sam: #4.14.2 ((mutual gaze with Tea for 0.7 sec)) 12 Sam: ((withdraws gaze and smiles)) 13 (3.4) 14 Tea: you just don’t want to be like everybody else. 15 Sam: ((laughs)) 16 Tea: you want to be: DIFferent from everybody else? 17 Sam: °yes°. 18 Tea: yes?
 19 Sam: yes. 20 Tea: why? Sam: +averts gaze 21 (3.6)
 22 → Sam: °i don’t know°. 23 Tea: you don’t know? ((starts walking away)) 24 (1.9) 25 Tea: Luc you want to be: different from everybody else?



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In this extract, there are a number of indicators for UTP, including (1) withdrawals of mutual gaze and gaze aversions (lines 02, 04, 05, 12, 20), (2) very long silences (lines 08, 13, 21, 24), (3) minimal contributions and quiet talk from the student (e.g. lines 03, 07, 17), (4) embodied efforts (Figure 4.14 in Chapter 4) from the teacher to obtain gaze and receive a response, and (5) a CIK (line 22). As I have discussed earlier, although wait-­time is conducive for student participation in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, in cases like this (e.g. line 08) the earlier the trouble is resolved, the better the result is for the progressivity of interaction. In addition to this, as indicated earlier, a student smile may indicate trouble (Sert and Jacknick 2015). All in all, an increased awareness of UTP is a part of CIC, since CIC is directly related to student participation. Without this awareness, as exemplified in the extract given, there will be interactional troubles in which teachers’ questions receive non-­answer responses and very long silences, and talk with little engagement from one of the participants will unfold. In order to avoid such troubles and to manage UTP, teachers could consider: 12. Monitoring oft-­repeated student gaze aversions and withdrawals after initiating a question, especially if these aversions and withdrawals are also combined with other indicators like very long silences. 13. Responding to quiet talk and minimal contributions with requests for confirmation and elaboration questions first. However, if the situation continues, teachers may consider handing over the turn to another, preferably to a willing student. 14. Avoiding embodied efforts that will strongly mark the disengagement of the student (Figure 4.14 in Chapter 4), but can consider allocating the turn to another student or try another elicitation technique. 15. Asking the students to discuss in pairs quickly, if no student has displayed WTP after a teacher’s question. A student’s UTP at a particular moment in the classroom does not mean that the same student will not talk in the next few minutes. Teachers should understand the dynamic and fluid nature of UTP, and remember to avoid face issues that may emerge from trying too hard to engage a student who is not willing to participate. For teachers to better understand this phenomenon, which has a direct impact on classroom participation, and therefore learning, we need a new research agenda, paying attention to micro-­moments of interaction, with close attention to multimodal aspects of student behaviours. Implications for research on UTP, willingness to communicate, and motivation will be discussed in section 9.3.1 (Chapter 9). I now turn to another issue related to multimodal aspects of classroom interaction: teachers’ gestures. 7.4  MULTIMODAL ASPECTS OF CIC Chapter 5 has underscored the importance of teacher gestures, in particular hand gestures in embodied repair, elicitation, and explanation sequences. It has been argued that during the process of co-­constructing knowledge, and in the process of engaging in learning experiences, participants employ interactional resources at the interface of different modalities. In this section, I will not be able to cover all the

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extracts but will focus particularly on how CIC is manifested in repair and elicitation sequences and suggest pedagogical implications for language teachers. In Extract 5.6 from Chapter 5, there are a number of interactional features that display CIC, most notably embodied meaning elicitation through the use of hand gestures in combination with a DIU. Extract 5.6 Provide, 25_06_10_1_43–22 [reprinted here from Chapter 5] 01 Tea: what does: (.) the verb mean to pro↑vi:de access, 02 to: >the northern European< c↑ties. 03 yes pa[ul?] 04 Pau: < [it ] makes ↑pos↓sible> (the acc–)= 05 Tea: =it makes ( ) possible yeah. 06 (0.9) 07 → Tea: yeah? or: i need a very easy ↑verb, 08 → Tea: if you pro↑vide>something to somebodysomething to somebodyquicklyquicklyin other words?< 16 Sar: £[unsafe]£ 17 Sam: [unsafe] 18 Tea: unsafe in a way yes: o­kay. 19 (2.0) ((looks at the book)) 20  (they don’t) feel at ease, ok, °they don’t feel at ease°. 21 (1.9) 22 er what does tough mean? things– sh::: things got 23 tough for billy? chris what does that ­ mean. 24 (0.7) 25 Chr: er:[: ((looks at the book))



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26 Tea: [things got tough for him ((walks towards Chr)) 27 (1.1) 28 Chr: it’s er ↑hard for him. 29 Tea:  ↑ye:s okay everything became hard and difficult for him.

In line 14, Sar responds with a Luxembourgish translation. In the following turn, although Tea acknowledges the answer first, he establishes a preference for L2 use and alternative wording in English. The students align with the teacher’s pedagogical orientation toward matters of language choice in the remainder of this sequence. Although Tea asked for the meaning of ‘tough’ (what does tough mean? things– sh::: things got tough for billy?) in the same way that he did for ‘insecure’ (what does insecure mean? he felt insecure.), in line 28 Chr provides the meaning in a full utterance, rather than a translation in German or Luxembourgish. This shows that the teacher enacts the institutional goal through his preference towards language choice, and the students align with the interactional and pedagogical agenda. In Extract 6.6 below, Tea in line 10 accepts the student’s answer again in line 10, repeats it in L1 and even writes the L1 translations on the board. Yet he still maintains his orientation for an alternative explanation in L2, which is provided by Lar in an extended learner turn. This turn includes long intra-­turn silences and hesitation markers, but the teacher does not step in and complete the turns and lets the learner provide a full explanation. Extract 6.6 Bedrohen 18_06_10_1_08–12 [reprinted here from Chapter 6] 06 → Tea: lara do you know? 07 Sx : ( ) 08 → Lar: drohen. to threaten 09 (0.7) ((Tea keeps writing)) 10 → Tea: yes: bedrohen drohen. 11 (3.9) ((writes drohen bedrohen on the board)) 12 → so how would ↑you:: explain this in english? 13 (0.9) ((turns his body towards the class)) 14 to th↑reaten:. 15 Lar: er: (1.6) to:: (0.8) tell somebody that you are 16 going ↓to: (2.0)£↑hurt him£. 17 Tea: e↑xactly: yes:(.) to put somebody: (.) under pressure 18 by telling him that you:, are going to ↑hurt him.

Based on the observations so far, it can be suggested that language teachers could consider: 25. Explicitly inducing an L1 translation in a form-­and-­accuracy, material-­driven context especially if a contrast between two similar L2 words will be drawn.

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26. Acknowledging the use of L1, though they may still gradually move to a displayed preference for L2 explanations. Students generally align with this agenda in the follow-­up sequences. 27. Repeating, or even writing on the board the L1 use when the focus is on lexical items, accepting students’ multilingual resources; though they may still in a step-­ wise fashion move towards L2 explanations as the preferred response type. 28. Tolerating hesitations and intra-­turn gaps during explanations that follow code-­ switching, which will show the students that efforts to use L2 in vocabulary explanations are welcome. In Extract 6.7, a different case has been observed. Tea accepted the answer in German and provided the English translation himself. However, this was a meaning-­ and-­fluency context and there was a long wait-­time followed by an ESC. Thus the teacher’s goal was to elicit responses, and use of L1 was not even marked, and was preferred. This proved to be a successful strategy as four more students participated in the interaction after this trouble. Therefore, teachers could sometimes consider: 29. Accepting the L1 word offered by the students and providing the L2 translation especially if it is a meaning-­and-­fluency context, in which the aim is to enable maximum student participation and avoid interactional troubles. Extract 6.8 that follows is an example of code-­mixing in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts. The teacher’s tendency in these contexts, although the focus is on meaning, is to repair student contribution. Extract 6.8 Reichtum, 51_25_06_11_17–27 [reprinted here from Chapter 6] 06 Ben: they wanted to imp↑ress. 07 (0.7) 08 Tea: yes they wanted to imp↑ress and what did they want 09 to show to other people (.) what do you think. 10 (0.9) 11 → Ben: their reichtum. richness 12 (0.8) 13 → Tea: t↑heir. 14 Ben: REICHtum= richness 15 Tea: =richness (.)[↑yeah ok]ay. 16 Ben: [richness] 17 Tea: or their pros– their prosperity as a country yes.

In this extract, Tea asks a follow up a question to enhance participation in lines 08 and 09. This receives a student-­initiated code-­switching in the form of a code-­mixed utterance, starting in English and ending in German in line 11 (their reichtum). The



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student does not display any kind of trouble but treats this as a natural second pair part, as there are no signs of self-­initiated self-­repair (hesitations, silences, cut-­offs, change of gaze orientations to solicit help). However, Tea initiates a DIU, a repair-­ initiator which is treated as a hearing problem by the student rather than a problem of language choice, which is clearly a divergence in terms of pedagogical orientations. Tea completes the other-­initiated other repair in line 15, and this is followed by a repetition of the English word by the student, thus a misalignment is resolved. This type of repair work using DIUs that target the L1 use in code-­mixing is used frequently by teachers. It is interesting that although alternations to L1 are generally tolerated in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts, code-­mixed utterances generally receive direct repair. This shift in focus is generally resolved by the student’s or the teacher’s replacement of the L1 word, and is aligned by the students, as such instances are generally accepted by the teacher as ‘soliciting help’. Based on this, one can argue that teachers could consider: 30. Initiating repair using DIUs after code-­mixing. It is not face-­threatening in that students might orient to the teacher repair as a problem of hearing, and in most of the cases they may accept the teacher’s repair and move back to a focus on meaning. All examples in this chapter thus far have shown how CIC unfolds in interactions between teachers and students. Both opportunities for learning and missed opportunities have been displayed with reference to the use of epistemic, multimodal, and multilingual resources. In the following section, I will present a close analysis of an extract and discuss how CIC manifests itself in learner initiatives with reference to the management of epistemic, multilingual, and multimodal resources. 7.6  LEARNER INITIATIVES AND MANAGING EPISTEMIC, MULTILINGUAL, AND MULTIMODAL RESOURCES In Chapter 3 it has been argued that learner initiatives, as indications of learner agency, have the potential to lead to learning opportunities in language classrooms if managed well by L2 teachers. According to Garton (2012: 29), ‘learner initiative in teacher-­fronted interaction may constitute a significant opportunity for learning and [that] teachers should find ways of encouraging such interaction patterns’. One such type of learner initiative, in addition to other types proposed by Waring (2011, see section 3.4 in Chapter 3 for the other types), includes cases through which ‘the learner seizes the opportunity of an assigned turn to advance his/her own agenda’ (Waring 2011: 212). In Extract 6.9 in Chapter 6, a student performed a learner-­ initiated code-­switching and started an expansion for topic management, thus providing a case of a type C learner initiative (Waring 2011). Using the extended version of the same extract, reproduced here as Extract 7.1, I will explain the intricate nature of learner initiative in relation to CIC with references to multilingual, multimodal, and epistemic orientations of the teacher and the students, and provide pedagogical implications for teachers.

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Extract 7.1 I wanted to say something else 24_18_06_10_1_14–40 17 Tea: can you try to explain a bit more, Emily? +Eml holds up her finger +Tea gazes at Eml 18 → Eml: ech wollt eppes anescht soen= I wanted to say something else 19 Tea: =okay tell me. 20 Eml: er: there are many little signs to show what, 21 (0.3) he thinks about. +Tea looks at the book 22 (1.2) 23 Tea: YES:: (.) okay there are (.) er:: (.)sort of 24 graffiti:, er: graffiti captions or slo↓gans +moves his hand to right and left in the air 25 that tell us (.) what billy is actually thinking. 26 Tea can you give us an ex↑ample. 27 (1.2) 28 → Eml: °déi fragezeichen do°. those question marks +points on the marks on the page 29 (1.3) 30 Tea: in English?= 31 → Eml: =i don’t £know£. 32 Tea: a question mark, yes: (.) for example there is a 33 big question ↑mark. +hand gestures 34 Eml: ( ) 35 Tea: yes:: (.) so >can you try to explain< 36 why do you think they use question mark? 37 can you explain why, (0.3) the painter uses a 38 question mark next to: (a photo of him)? 39 Eml: beca– because he doesn’t know wha– who to ↑talk 40 ↓to: a[nd= 41 Tea: [yes 42 Eml: =he doesn’t know what he has done false and he 43 doesn’t know what to £do£. 44 Tea:  yes exactly (.) ( )he doesn’t know er:: what mistake he 45  has made yeah or: (.)what he has made wrong in his ↑life.

From line 01 to line 16, as has been illustrated in Chapter 6, Tea establishes a meaning-­and-­fluency context around the topic of colours used by an artist, based on a text accompanied by pictures from the students’ book. Before line 16, the first



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student selected by the teacher, Len, stated that the colours reflect unhappiness and the teacher, based on this student comment, asked for an elaboration from the whole class in line 17, which is the first line in Extract 7.1. As Eml has bid for a turn, the teacher allocated the turn to her. In line 18, the student responds with an initiation of an expansion, a learner initiative in the form of student-­initiated code-­switching, designed to change the topic from colours to the ‘signs’ next to the reading passage. Eml’s initiation is immediately followed by a go-­ahead response in English (=okay tell me.) by Tea in line 19. Tea’s go-­ahead response thus displays compliance to a request in L1 that is designed to manage a topic. This is followed by an extended learner turn in lines 20 and 21, which is a positive sign in terms of student participation. The teacher, in the next turn, shapes learner contributions by upgrading the student-­initiated concept ‘little signs’ to ‘graffiti captions and slogans’: another indication of CIC. In line 26, Tea opens interactional space by asking for an example. In terms of multimodal orientations, Eml and Tea create joint attention on the pictures in the book, as Eml’s turn in line 21 directs the teacher’s gaze towards the symbols in the book, creating a new epistemic resource for interaction. Furthermore, in line 24, Tea produces hand gestures while he is shaping learner contributions, another orientation to the student-­initiated topic. Based on these, it can be suggested that teachers could consider: 31. Complying (using for example go-­ahead responses in L2) with a learner initiative designed to request a topic shift although the student turn is not produced in L2, especially in meaning-­and-­fluency contexts. 32. Shaping learner contributions after a learner-­initiated topic by paraphrasing student initiations and complying with the learner’s agenda, completing the student’s turn with an elaboration question. 33. Orienting to classroom artefacts that the students use as epistemic resources, thus they may align with the student initiatives at multimodal level, also supporting them with hand gestures where relevant. Tea’s elaboration question in line 26 is followed by silence, and then by a Luxembourgish utterance delivered in quiet tone (tr: those question marks). With this, the student uses both multimodal and multilingual resources, by pointing at the question marks on the book, yet producing the turn in L1 probably due to an inability to use L2 words at that moment. Thus, it can be claimed that the multimodal resources (use of deictic gestures by pointing at the book) complement the multilingual resources, switching to the L1. However, unlike the previous switch to L1, this Luxembourgish utterance is followed by an orientation to a monolingual mode (in English?) by the teacher, which triggers a CIK in line 31. Thus, ‘in English?’ is oriented to by the student as the Tea checking for knowledge. It is interesting that we observe the teacher’s two opposing orientations to language choice: in line 19 he complies with the action initiated in L1, and in line 30 he performs language policing (at the same time checking student knowledge), orienting to the main institutional goal of this classroom. Yet although the actions performed by these orientations look contradictory, they are both centred around the institutional business of teaching ‘the

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L2’; the compliance leads to extended learner turns as the student displays agency, and the orientation to monolingual mode in line 30 confirms that it is a trouble related to the inability to produce L2 words. Thus Tea provides the meaning in lines 32 and 33 (again by using hand gestures that stand for ‘big’), and indicates to the learners the norms and regulations of the class, which is the use of L2. In addition, the teacher’s follow-­up questions between lines 35 and 38 open up interactional space, and Eml produces an extended turn, shaped by the teacher in the last two lines. It can be argued that this extract, as a whole, represents a successful management of a learner initiative, which leads to extended learner turns and a collaborative meaning-­making process. I have displayed how multilingual, multimodal, and epistemic resources used by the teacher and the student together play a significant role in demonstrating L2 CIC. It has been shown that the dual orientation to language alternation, an immediate explanation followed by the student’s CIK, and the orientations to the book, as well as the teacher’s hand gestures all display successful management of learner initiatives that challenge Tea’s pedagogical agenda. Based on these observations, teachers could consider: 34. Orienting to the monolingual mode (in English?) if there is demonstrable trouble in the student’s use of L1, which is an action to check whether the student actually knows the L2 items. 35. Providing explanations in L2 as the focus is on meaning and keeping the student engaged, following a CIK for the L2 words. 36. Employing hand gestures for the code-­switched words so as to reinforce the explanation. As I stated earlier in this chapter, participation is key for language learning, and, if successfully managed, learner initiatives lead to enhanced participation by learners. Extract 7.1 illustrated a variety of ways in which CIC manifests itself, including opening up interactional space and shaping learner contributions. Furthermore, it has shown the emergence of multilingual, multimodal, and epistemic resources in such learner initiatives. A challenge to a teacher’s agenda initiated in L1 can turn out to be an enriching interactional resource for participants, and it is the teacher’s CIC that will uncover this potential. 7.7 CONCLUSION As has been discussed by Walsh (2011, 2012), CIC includes features of classroom interaction that may enhance learning, and these features include maximising interactional space, shaping learner contributions, effective use of eliciting, and interactional awareness. Paying close attention to these features and based on the analyses in Chapters 4, 5, and 6, I have argued that there are more items to be added to the concept of CIC, including (1) successful management of claims/displays of insufficient knowledge, (2) increased awareness of UTP, (3) effective use of gestures, and (4) successful management of code-­switching. I have tried to exemplify each competency and have provided implications for teachers based on these examples. Although



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generalisation is not something that can be done easily, these are the examples that lead to student engagement and co-­construction of understanding. One should keep in mind that teachers cannot simply develop their CIC by reading these implications. Development of CIC is a dynamic, interactive, and reflective process that requires careful planning. There is a path from awareness to competence, and this path is not as straightforward as moving from point A to point B. It is complex and dynamic, and necessitates accumulation of practices that will lead to experiences to be remembered and reflected upon. All the competencies to be added to CIC are bound to an organisational engine that moves teacher-­fronted classroom interaction forward: managing turn-­taking and turn-­allocation. This is at the centre of CIC, and works in great harmony with the epistemic engine (Heritage 2012b). All in all, as I stated in the previous paragraph, a teacher cannot become interactionally competent simply by reading these tips; the practice, reflection, awareness cycle has to be enacted. This requires a comprehensive design of a teacher education programme that will put student participation and CIC at the heart of teacher development. This will be dealt with in Chapter 8.

8 IMPLICATIONS FOR LANGUAGE TEACHER EDUCATION

8.1 INTRODUCTION Applied linguistics is ‘the theoretical and empirical investigation of real world problems in which language is a central issue’ (Brumfit 1997: 93), and CA is the ‘systematic analysis of the talk produced in everyday situations of human interaction: talk-­in-­ interaction’ (Hutchby and Wooffitt 2008: 11). The centrality of talk and language in CD, and ‘the very close relation between interaction and learning’ (Walsh 2013: 135) pave the way for the significance of L2 classroom interaction for understanding the processes involved in learning and teaching second/foreign/additional languages (L2s). According to Walsh (2013: 135), this view of learning ‘can be extended to teacher development, where learning and professional growth occur most effectively through interactions with colleagues or expert knowers’. Taking the position that interaction and student involvement are key for language learning, this chapter argues for combining findings from micro-­analyses of L2 classroom interaction with a reflective teacher education model. It will also be suggested that the processes involved in producing teachers who are better interactants in language classrooms can be traced, and through the enactment of these processes the practices and knowledge of the teachers can be ‘developed’. The development stated here is the development of L2 CIC, through which opportunities for language learning are maximised. In the following section, based on longitudinal data from Turkish pre-­service EFL teachers, I will illustrate how the development of CIC can be traced using evidence from CA of classroom interactions in addition to the analyses of other sets of data including critical self-­ reflections and observation reports. I will highlight in particular how a teacher candidate ­develops the use of interactional resources for shaping learner contributions, displayed through effective use of hand gestures, teacher–learner echo, and extended learner turns. In section 8.3, drawing on the illustrated case in 8.2 and extending it through arguments for an enhanced reflective practice, I will discuss how CA and supplementary data collection tools can bring new insights into understanding language teacher development. I will also propose a microscopic and reflective model for L2 teacher education.

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8.2  TRACING THE DEVELOPMENT OF CIC In Chapter 7, I explicated how a teacher displays instances of CIC on a turn-­by-­turn basis so as to maximise language learning opportunities. It has previously been ­suggested by Walsh (2011, 2012) that using language convergent to the pedagogical goal, maximising space for learning, shaping learner contributions, and effective eliciting are displays of CIC. I have added four new items to this list: (1) successful management of claims/displays of insufficient knowledge, (2) increased awareness of UTP, (3) effective use of gestures, and (4) successful management of code-­switching. One challenge for scholars researching language teacher development is to actually show development. This challenge also applies for tracking the development of CIC. Can we actually track a teacher’s CIC on a longitudinal basis? Can we bring evidence for changing interactional practices of language teachers that eventually become conducive to learning? Is simply using CA of classroom interactions sufficient to bring evidence for the development of CIC? Or do we need other data collection tools and means of analyses that bring supplementary evidence? In this section, I will argue and evidentially show that it is possible to bring evidence for the development of CIC by using the methodological tools of CA, combined with other qualitative data collection tools including self–reflections and observation reports that open a gateway to the pedagogical beliefs of teachers. In doing so, I will present analyses of data collected from pre-­service language teachers in a higher education institution in Turkey. Before moving on with the analyses and illustration of the development of CIC, I will provide brief information on this set of data and L2 teacher education programmes in Turkey. In Turkey, L2 teacher education mainly starts with four-­year undergraduate programmes run by Education Faculties of more than 60 universities.1 The students enrolled in these programmes undergo a high-­school education in the ‘languages’ section, and take a central university entrance examination upon graduation from high school. This examination includes a language test consisting of multiple-­choice questions on grammar, vocabulary, and reading, with no questions that assess listening and speaking skills. This situation has created a washback effect (Yıldırım 2010) that has led candidates to neglect listening and speaking skills over a number of years, a controversy that has deeply affected the spoken fluency and accuracy of teacher candidates who are supposed to teach students how to interact (!) in English. The four-­year undergraduate education programme in English Language Teaching (ELT) departments includes advanced language skills courses in the first year (including listening, speaking, reading, writing, grammar, and lexical competence), followed by courses including linguistics, language acquisition, literature, and research methods in the second year. In the third year, teacher candidates take specialised courses in ELT, including teaching English to young learners, instructional technology and materials design, methods and approaches in language teaching, and teaching language skills. In the fourth year, the pre-­service teachers observe an experienced teacher in a secondary school for more than 12 weeks in the first semester, and they begin preparing lesson plans and teaching in the second semester. At least one of the classes they teach is observed by a faculty member, and the candidates are assessed

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based on the reports they write (1st semester), the lesson plans they prepare (2nd semester), and the evaluation of their teaching performance by the lecturer from the faculty. The data used in this section come from a larger set of data collected from April 2012 (the third year of the undergraduate programme) to June 2013 (the last year of the undergraduate programme). It is based on transcriptions of video-­recordings of 14 pre-­service language teachers, including their micro-­teaching experiences (transcriptions of 14 sessions each of which last around 20 minutes) in their third year of an undergraduate programme in ELT, as well as their first-­time teaching experiences with 9th and 10th grade classes in a public high school in Turkey while being observed by their mentor. The ethnographic data include (1) students’ written self-­reflections on their micro-­teaching practices, (2) their written observations on the performances of experienced teachers, (3) faculty members’ written feedback on their teaching performances, and (4) the lesson plans they created both for their micro-­teachings and for their actual teaching practices with real learners in the final year. The particular case that will be illustrated is based on the data that come from a female student named Meryem. Although many features of her development of CIC have been focused on earlier (Sert 2014b), I will illustrate one dimension of her development here in particular: the way in which she shapes learner contributions. As a requirement of the ‘Teaching English to Young Learners II’ class in the third year of the ELT programme, the teacher candidates were supposed to perform a 15–20 minute micro-­teaching, based on a topic and student-­level of their choice. Meryem decided to perform her micro-­teaching (micro-­teachings are performed to classmates who pretend to be real students) on the topic ‘Countries and nationalities’. In her lesson plan, she described her class as a 5th grade mixed-­gender class with 20 11-­year-­old learners. She also described some of her aims as follows: Aims: At the end of the class, students will: – be able to ask for someone’s country, nationality, and answer questions related to countries and nationalities. – use the knowledge gained and the vocabulary learned in conversations. So, in her plan, Meryem stated communicative goals which need to be displayed through conversations in the classroom. Furthermore, she listed the methods to be used as pair work, conversation (speaking), question–answer, and elicitation. This lesson plan was given to the course lecturer immediately before the micro–teaching, which was performed on 16 May 2012. Throughout the session, Meryem used flags, worksheets, colourful cardboards, and a PowerPoint presentation to introduce the countries and nationalities, and mainly used repetition drills with almost no meaningful question–answer exchanges as she had promised in her lesson plan. The only focus on meaning and conversation with the students was at the beginning of the session, which was the warm–up phase. In Meryem’s words: – After greeting the class, in my warm-­up, I tried to elicit some answers by asking them what they did on 23rd of April’.



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The twenty-­third of April is a national holiday in Turkey, on which ‘international children’s day’ is celebrated. For this occasion, many children from all over the world visit Turkey and perform their traditional dances in a festival, and this is why the teacher candidate started the lesson by contextualising ‘countries and nationalities’ with 23 April. Extract 8.1 is the beginning of the warm-­up phase in which Meryem (T) asked only two questions to students related to the topic, with no elaboration or shaping of student contributions. Extract 8.1 Micro-­teaching, 23 April 16_05_2012_01–25 01 T: good morning c↑lass. 02 LL: GOOD MORNING TEACHER ((in chorus)) 03 T: how’re you to↑day. 04 LL: FINE THANKS AND YOU? 05 T: i’m fi:ne thank ↓you: (.) er:: you know it was 06 twenty third of ↑ap↓ril: er: two weeks ↑ago:. 07 LL: ye::[:s. 08 L1: [yirmiüç nisan. 23 april 09 T: ↑ye::s ((writes ‘23 april’ on the board)) 10 T: what did you do on (.) twenty third of april? +looks at L1 11 L1:  i ↑went (.)anitkabir. 12 → T: o↑kay that’s very ↓goo:d (.)anyone else?

In lines 01 and 02 there is a traditional greeting exchange, the second pair part of which is delivered in chorus. This is followed by a ‘how are you’ sequence from line 03 to 05. In lines 05 and 06, T introduces the topic of ‘23rd of April’, to which l­earners display knowledge in chorus in line 07 (ye::[:s.), while one of the students, L1, switches to Turkish to demonstrate understanding ([yirmiüç nisan.) in line 08. In line 09, T acknowledges student contributions (↑ye::s) and she writes ‘23 april’ on the board. In line 10, she establishes a meaning-­and-­fluency context by asking what the students did on 23 April, and establishes recipiency with L1 who demonstrated understanding by providing a Turkish translation earlier in line 08. In line 11, L1 provides the second pair part by stating that she went to Atatürk’s mausoleum (the founder of the Turkish Republic) (i ↑went (.)anitkabir.). Note that L1’s utterance is grammatically incorrect, as she did not use the preposition ‘to’ before Anıtkabir. In the follow-­up turn, T evaluates L1’s utterance (o↑kay that’s very ↓goo:d) with no elaboration question, reformulation, embedded repair or topic expansion. She immediately asks for another contribution (anyone else?), again followed by no shaping of learner contribution, but an evaluation (that’s very ↓goo:d), which does not fit into the pedagogical goal of creating a meaning focus. The whole class after this is based on elicitation through exercises, with no focus on fluency and meaning, and after the students’ turns the teacher mostly uses ‘very good’ or ‘thank you’. The lack of focus on meaning, limited student utterances, and frequent use of explicit positive

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assessment (e.g. very good) represent a mismatch between what was promised in the lesson plan and what actually happened in the micro-­teaching session. Based on the guidelines proposed earlier by Sert (2010) for a CA-­integrated language teacher education programme in Turkey, the lecturer provided written feedback to Meryem and asked her to watch the video-­recording and transcribe at least two sequences to critically evaluate her own performance. The following comments were given to the candidate one week after the session, in addition to many other comments on the organisation of the lesson, the materials used, and the interactions carried out in the micro-­teaching: ‘– Since the only student utterances so far were in chorus, you should have elicited some utterances from individual students. – Although the matching activity led to some oral production, you could have made the student use the question forms as well. – You could have used more communicative activities in which students could engage in question–answer exchanges.’ (Extracts from the lecturer’s written feedback, 23 May 2012) At the end of the semester, one month after her micro-­teaching, Meryem wrote a written reflection based on her micro-­teaching, as did the other teacher candidates. This assignment included students’ justification of their teaching, including the materials and methods they chose. Additionally, they were asked to critically ­evaluate their performance with a focus on interactional practices, by transcribing at least two sequences they selected. Meryem selected a correction sequence and a sequence in which she evaluates student utterances with a sequence closer like ‘very good’ or ‘thank you’, in which she does not shape student utterances. In her critical reflective writing, she justified the interaction in Extract 8.1, but criticised her abrupt transition to the presentation without asking enough questions in the warm up: – ‘I contextualized my topic with 23rd of April; this made students familiar with the topic. However, soon after the introduction, I skipped to the presentation part. I could have asked some more questions to make students ready . . . I could have involved whole class or two students in this activity by using question forms.’ (Extract from self-­reflection, June 2012) In this example, Meryem criticises her abrupt transition from the introduction to the presentation part (‘soon after the introduction, I skipped to the presentation part’). She also emphasises the lack of question–answer exchanges. Furthermore, she comments on the need for more student participation (‘I could have involved whole class or two students in this activity’). She also commented on the importance of communication in language classrooms and criticised herself for not enhancing communicative richness: – ‘Classroom is the only place where students can practice language. Thus, communicative value of activities offers students an advantage to develop



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language skills through activities . . . I could have enhanced communicative richness.’ (Extract from self-­reflection, June 2012) In this example, Meryem stresses the importance of classroom interaction and sees classrooms as the only place where students can practice its use. She maintains that speaking activities have a communicative value and they are important for ­developing students’ skills. She criticises her performance from a communicative perspective (‘I could have enhanced communicative richness’). The aim of this whole process was to develop interactional awareness through self-­reflection (Walsh 2003). Awareness here means ‘a more conscious use of language’ (Walsh 2006b: 135), through which teacher candidates are able to notice their language use in classrooms, which is conducive for creating learning opportunities. This ‘teacher language awareness’ can be reached through recordings of, feedback to, and reflection on a teacher’s own interactional practices. The process involves the emergence of teacher cognition (see L. Li 2015), as can be understood by the extracts provided in this section thus far. Meryem has realised that, as opposed to the aims she included in the lesson plan and as opposed to what she believes to be true, she did not employ a communicative lesson in her micro-­teaching session, as has also been revealed in the analysis of Extract 8.1. After the summer break in 2012, in her last year in the programme, Meryem began to observe an experienced teacher’s classes in a secondary EFL classroom consisting of 9th grade adolescent learners. As part of the course work, she was required to write observation reports throughout the semester. The topics of the observation reports included how questions were asked in the class, the classroom management of the teacher, pair and group work, role-­plays, examinations, and evaluation of student work. Each observation also included an emphasis on how interactions were carried out in all these activities. Meryem’s language awareness – which started emerging after (1) watching her own micro-­teaching session in 2012, (2) receiving some feedback on it (3) transcribing some of her teaching practices, and (4) the critical reflection that she performed – has also been shaped while observing the experienced teacher from September 2012 to January 2013. In her observation reports, she emphasised the value of space for learning, the nature of teacher questions and student turns, and fluency: – ‘Another thing that attracted my attention was that the teacher did not give enough time for answers . . . I suggest that questions in a lesson should be open ended; students should be able to make comments on them; questions should also develop their fluency while boosting their accuracy.’ (Extract from the 3rd observation report, 16 November 2012) Based on this extract from one of Meryem’s observation reports, it is clear that she was critical of the teacher she had been observing. In her comments, she emphasised the need for teacher wait-­time that maximises interactional space (‘the teacher did not give enough time for answers’), as well as information-­seeking, elaboration questions, and the need for extended learner turns (‘I suggest that questions in a lesson should be open ended; students should be able to make comments on them’). This,

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implicitly, is her acknowledgement of the importance of shaping learner contributions and effective eliciting that will enhance student participation through extended turns. In general, she emphasised the value of communication in her observation reports, and displayed her awareness of the importance of a teacher’s interactional competence. – Students only used the language at sentence level, which reduces the communicative value of the lessons. (Extract from the 10th observation report, 7 January 2013) In this example, she was critical of the use of language at sentence level only, valuing the communicative nature of classrooms. In her reports, she was openly critical of the experienced teacher she observed, and repeatedly emphasised the need for an increased focus on interactional practices that facilitate student engagement. In the second semester, between February 2013 and July 2013, Meryem and her friends were supposed to prepare lesson plans and start teaching 9th grade ­students. Meryem performed her teaching almost 13 months after the micro-­teaching mentioned at the beginning of this section. In her lesson plan, this time designed for real language learners, Meryem states that her language focus is ‘­narrative tenses’ and her vocabulary focus is ‘emotions’. The information on her aims and goals given below has been extracted from her lesson plan, provided to the faculty member who observed her the day before the teaching session. The class took place on the 7 June 2013. Aims: – Develop speaking abilities, – Develop writing skills, – Use the tenses in appropriate situations. Goals: – to improve students’ speaking abilities, – to enhance students’ note taking and writing skills, – to encourage students to express their own ideas while speaking. As you may remember, Meryem also claimed to have a communicative focus to her micro-­teaching performed 13 months earlier, although she failed to achieve that at that time. Over the 13 months, however, she reflected on her micro-­teaching, observed an experienced teacher, has written critical observation reports and has taken a number of academic courses to enhance her theoretical knowledge. The lesson plan she prepared this time has a clearer communicative focus, which needs to be enacted in classroom interactions. Meryem began the lesson by showing the class a picture of a man and a woman, standing next to each other and waiting. This was a screenshot from the video story to be shown later. Extract 8.2 below is taken from the warm-­up phase, in which she wants to elicit guesses from students on who the characters are and what they are waiting for. The focus is on meaning-­and-­fluency as in Extract 8.1, but this time with extended learner turns, maximised interactional space, and various ways in which to shape learner contributions.



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Extract 8.2 Each other 07_06_2013_02–09 01 T: er: do you think they ar– (.)they know each other? 02 do they know each other? 03 (0.6) 04 L1: ich=other mea:ns? 05 (0.5) ((T looks at L1)) 06 T: each other. 07 L1: each other.= 08 → T: °you and me°.= #8.1.1 ––> #8.1.2 + hand gestures

Figure 8.1 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 → 16 17 18 19 → 20

T: =[((repeats the gesture)) L1: [↑huh::= T: =((nods)) do they know each other? yes: (.) seda? L2: i don’t think so because they are not talking. T:  they are not talking, yes >they don’t know each otherstation