Action research is a term I was not familiar with before I became involved with the WILL program. Once I realized what it was, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I had been doing something similar ever since I started teaching, just not in a systematic way. Before I start sounding like an infomercial extolling the virtues of action research and the WILL program (for a special price and free gift, if you call now), I’ll write about my thoughts as I seek to answer the question: how do I motivate all of my students, including those with different learning styles?

As an undergraduate studying Spanish, I spent many joyful hours memorizing verb trees, subjunctive indicators, prepositions, and other thrilling grammar-based items. I was stunned my first year of teaching to learn that my students didn’t drool at diphthongs or hunger for the imperfect versus the preterite, which is always a good match-up on pay-per-view. I had to immediately re-evaluate how I taught or I would have lost all but a few of my students. I sought student feedback, evaluated lessons, tried to motivate students, and, in an unorganized manner, tried to improve the way I teach.

However, about a year ago, I did some soul-searching and admitted to myself that I had grown complacent. As I was casting about, looking for direction in my teaching, I was asked to participate in the WILL program. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, the WILL program came at the perfect time for me. I was even questioning whether I would stay in teaching, which I disclosed to Greg Hopper-Moore, WILL project coordinator, before I applied. Greg said he was intrigued by the confession and encouraged me to apply anyway. I’m glad I listened to him.

Here I am, months later, recommitted to teaching and excited about it again. It doesn’t grow hair, but action research does grow results and enthusiasm, both for the students and the teacher. I’ve decided that action research is going to be my modus operandi, not just for teaching but for life.

The first step to recovery is taking a good look at yourself and admitting you have a problem: “Hi, my name is Fred, and I have a teaching problem.” Now, I’m at the next step: spaghetti. Spaghetti should never be eaten in front of people you are trying to impress. You stab a strand and twirl it on your fork, praying that it won’t unwind as you bring the fork to your mouth. Sometimes you make it to your mouth without mishap, and other times you feel self-conscious as you blot the sauce off of your shirt. Either way, it still tastes good – assuming you like spaghetti. The spaghetti stage is where I’m at with action research. I’m stabbing at the strands of teaching, trying to unweave and analyze the intertwined aspects. Sometimes, it turns out okay; other days, I’m wiping off sauce. I keep trying different things. I have performance indicators - student surveys, the STAMP test, and grades - which are how I check my shirt for stains throughout the meal. I think I have to have a certain disregard for what others think of me personally in order to get honest feedback about my teaching. I’m not out to impress anyone, so the spaghetti metaphor works.

I’ve mixed metaphors throughout this paper, which accurately reflects my action research. I’m trying new things, growing, getting stains on my shirt and sounding like a paid endorser for action research.