Troubleshooting the epic presentation fail

Because I write about good ideas on the internet, it’s easy to assume I’m full of good ideas (lie: most of them I stole from someone else). Let’s be open about some of the bad ones. I’ll go first.

It’s nearly the end of the school year and as the good proficiency-focused language teachers we are, we’ve got some modal assessments going on, likely including some presentational speaking. I’ve got to say something I should have thought of long before the fail described below: most kids are not great at presentational speaking. In their native language, I mean. If you want to set them up for success, it’s going to take a more holistic approach then what I did here.

Without further ado, let me introduce you to final assessment day in a middle grades class of early novice Spanish speakers.

The semester theme was travel, with a focus on places of interest (including restaurants and lodging) and how people describe them. We explored travel reviews, and based on those reviews, students were to develop an itinerary of where they would choose to go, and why. We’re talking basic sentences like “On Day 1, I visit ____ (park, museum), because it is ____. I eat at _____ because I like ______.” That sort of thing. Nothing too complicated, right? Even the “because” is practiced, repetitive, provided. On the final day, the students were to present their country itineraries.

Let’s talk about the seven middle-grades students doing this presentation:

• Two students– not there.
• Two more– left the entire itinerary at home, including the written portion they were to turn in.
• Two more– mysteriously lost the first day of the 3-day itinerary.
• Last one– had done his with his sister, and expected to read the exact thing she had read to me in another class.

That’s it. Those were the presenters. These itinerary presentations were my entire 90-minute lesson plan. I don’t even remember what we did instead (for one idea, check out finger puppet presentations), but I remember the hard lesson I learned. The one I want to pass along to you today.

Kids don’t know what a presentation is supposed to be like.

So, how do we troubleshoot together this epic fail of mine? I came away with four key tips for trying to prevent this sort of thing in the future.

Model, model, model.

I recently had the opportunity to teach a communications class, where 6th-10th grade students were working on writing an essay and the developing a presentation based on it. I started modeling from the first day, incorporating specific speaking tips (eye contact, humor, knowing your material). And then I did it every time we met, highlighting each time a different aspect of what it means to deliver an effective presentation. We even analyzed some TED talks. Kids don’t know what they should do without seeing it.

Why not do this in world language as well?

• “When I say ‘introduce yourself,’ I mean… (model it).”
• “When I say ‘just talk from key word notes,’ I mean… (model it).”
• “When I say ‘give several reasons,’ I mean… (model it).”

And then of course, after you’ve seen someone else do it, you need a low-stakes way to put it into practice before there’s a grade involved…

Present early, present often.

This would have made all the difference. It would have been so easy, too, because I had the written portion of the project due by stages– by days of the trip, actually. We should have started “presenting” from the time the first day was due: “I want to go to… because it’s…” Especially with this presentation, with each day being similar content but just new sites to visit/see, early mini-presentations could have built so much confidence.

In that communications class I mentioned above, whenever I introduced a presentation tip or method, I asked them to try it immediately. I’d show what it meant to introduce yourself and your speech with a curiosity-inspiring question instead of just announcing your topic, and then have them stand up and do it. After a while, they stopped being self-conscious about it. They got to know each other better. They knew what to do.

Put expectations on the rubric.

We’re language teachers. Our expectations are necessarily focused on the actual language produced in an assessment. But that doesn’t mean that we have no other expectations.

In my favorite iteration of my performance assessment rubric, my network helped me have an epiphany about this. Instead of including these non-language expectations in a language performance assessment grade, I gave them their own segment on the rubric, and yes, their own grade. Because language isn’t always just about the words you say; sometimes it’s also about how you deliver them.

I should have let these students know far ahead of time on a clear rubric: Introduce yourself and your topic. Speak from key-word notes. Give at least two reasons per site chosen. Conclude with an overall opinion or suggestion to the audience. Whatever the expectations, they needed to be clear, on the rubric, and shared early.

Play the long game.

Let’s be honest, as always. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and presentational speaking skills aren’t developed fast, either. At the end of my communications skills class, as the students got up to deliver their presentations, only one truly knocked it out of the park. That’s because she’s had more modeling and more practice. But everyone, even the kid who read every word on the one slide in his presentation, showed growth. The tips I’ve shared here won’t have sixth-graders ready to keynote a conference. But they’re a stone in the pillar, some steps up the path, a solid start to avoid my Spanish class’s epic presentation fail and foster even more skills that will help learners in so many areas of life.