Who gets to be legitimate in the English classroom? A view from the inside

Dan Zhou, Monash University, Melbourne, Australia

As an English language learner, migrant, and long-time TESOL practitioner, I have often found myself navigating the space between what is pedagogically sound and what is socially expected in English language classrooms—particularly in the Chinese context.

One persistent expectation I have encountered is the idea that English should be taught entirely in English. While in practice most teachers in China employ varying degrees of Chinese, the discourse of “all English teaching” remains powerful. Many parents view English-only instruction as the most effective method because it projects an image of immersion and “international” quality. Within this mindset, any visible use of Chinese can be misinterpreted—not only as a lack of professionalism, but also as evidence that the teacher’s English proficiency is insufficient. This suspicion is particularly salient in private English language centres, where parents often equate a teacher’s value with their ability to speak an unbroken stream of English. Consequently, pedagogically strategic use of Chinese can be easily overlooked or devalued.

This belief also affects parental perception of who can or should teach English. In many private English language centres, and even in some international schools, the presence of a white “native” English speaker—regardless of teaching qualifications—is seen as a key feature of a quality English class. Their appearance and accent often serve as symbols of authenticity in the eyes of parents, reflecting a widespread assumption that proficiency in English—or the ability to “sound native”—matters more than pedagogical expertise or knowledge about language. As a result, highly experienced and qualified teachers who do not fit this image may find it difficult to gain the same level of parental trust or acceptance in private English language centres.

During my years of teaching in China, I observed this pattern repeatedly. While working with young learners preparing for English exams, I implemented strategies to help students better engage with content. For example, I used group brainstorming in Chinese followed by English presentations, and reflective writing tasks where students were encouraged to move between languages in order to express more complex ideas.

The students responded well. They became more confident and were able to access more challenging content. For instance, in one lesson, students brainstormed the concept of “environmental protection” in Chinese before preparing group presentations in English. Previously, many would produce only short and hesitant sentences such as “protecting environment is important.” After working across Chinese and English, however—first listing key vocabulary and ideas in Chinese, then collaboratively mapping them into English expressions— they were able to express more complex ideas like “We should reduce the use of plastic bags because they cause long-term pollution to the ocean.”

Also, in reflective writing tasks, encouraging students to draft in Chinese and then recast their thoughts in English helped them express abstract or personal reflections that they would otherwise avoid. One student initially wrote in Chinese, “我觉得学习英语让我有时候很焦虑，但是也让我看到未来的机会,” and then translated it into English as “Learning English sometimes makes me anxious, but it also opens up future opportunities.” Without the initial Chinese draft, she admitted she would have stopped at “I feel nervous in English.” In this case, she no longer felt guilty for “thinking in Chinese” in an English classroom, and started using her Chinese as a resource to help her improve her English.

However, given the importance parents attributed to English-only, these practices did not always sit well with their expectations. I recall a lesson where a parent sat in during class and heard me clarify a grammar point in Chinese. The feedback was swift: “We’re paying for an English class. Why is the teacher speaking Chinese?” If I had had the chance to respond, I would have explained to the parent that my aim was to maximize the time students spent communicating in English, and minimise the time I spent explaining grammar. Despite this rationale, the optics overruled the outcome.

(Image generated by ChatGPT)

From that point on, I became more cautious. I continued to use Chinese, but in quieter ways—group discussions that led to English summaries, peer explanations that were encouraged but not formalised, bilingual glossaries that remained tucked in notebooks. These strategies still helped, but I often had to present the classroom as “English-only” in order to safeguard my position and meet institutional expectations.

This led me to reflect more deeply on how authenticity and legitimacy (Turner, 2016) function in English language education. On the one hand, good pedagogy requires training, reflection, and a commitment to learners’ development. On the other hand, what often gets recognised as legitimate is not pedagogy at all, but (perceived) English language proficiency—accent, fluency, or appearance. A teacher may be perceived as “authentic” because of their accent or appearance, but may not have any training or deep understanding of language pedagogy. Another teacher may be highly skilled, deeply reflective, and committed to students’ development, but struggle to be seen as legitimate because this commitment means working with the (language) knowledge and experience students bring to the classroom.

These mismatches raise uncomfortable but necessary questions. Is “good teaching” judged by the quality of pedagogy, or by the appearance of English proficiency?

When English is packaged as a commodity—something parents buy to secure a future advantage—teaching becomes performance. Teachers are expected to embody a certain image, often shaped by the way they sound in English, rather than by their professional knowledge or responsiveness to learner needs. Most English teachers in China are still Chinese, but the growing number of foreign teachers over the past decade has reinforced market-driven perceptions that link the legitimacy of English teaching to “nativeness” rather than pedagogy.

Looking back, I’ve come to realise that teaching is not just about delivering content—it’s about negotiating expectations, challenging assumptions, and sometimes finding quiet ways to do what’s best for learners in systems that don’t always understand or support it.

And perhaps that’s where authenticity really lies—not in how we look or sound, but in how we teach, how we reflect, and how we hold space for our students to be fully themselves—linguistically and beyond.

Reference

Turner, M. (2016). Teacher legitimisation through language(s) use: Towards a framework for language teacher education. The Language Learning Journal, 46(4), 430–441. https://doi.org/10.1080/09571736.2016.1172329