Introduction

Among the final works written by Eça de Queirós, O Suave Milagre occupies a distinctive place. Unlike the biting satire that characterizes O Crime do Padre Amaro or Os Maias, this brief narrative abandons irony in favor of contemplation, replacing social criticism with an exploration of mercy, hope, and divine presence. Yet its emotional power does not arise merely from its religious subject matter. Rather, it emerges from Eça de Queirós's extraordinary mastery of narrative construction. The miracle that concludes the story is convincing not because it interrupts reality, but because the narrative gradually prepares the reader to perceive the miraculous as the natural culmination of human longing.

This essay asks a fundamentally literary question: How does Eça de Queirós create the experience of a miracle? Instead of focusing exclusively on the theological implications of Christ's appearance, this analysis examines the artistic mechanisms that make the miracle believable within the fictional universe. Through carefully controlled pacing, symbolic geography, biblical intertextuality, and a narrator whose voice combines epic grandeur with intimate compassion, Eça de Queirós transforms an apparently simple tale into a meditation on expectation and grace. As Carlos Reis (1999) observes, Eça de Queirós's mature prose increasingly privileges symbolic suggestion over realistic description, allowing apparently ordinary events to acquire profound spiritual significance. O Suave Milagre exemplifies this artistic evolution.

The central argument of this essay, my 584^th blog post, is that Eça de Queirós's greatest literary miracle consists not in depicting a supernatural event but in making divine intervention appear artistically inevitable. Through narrative delay and symbolic progression, the author leads the reader toward an ending that surprises emotionally without ever seeming artificial.

Narrative Architecture: Delaying the Miracle

One of the most remarkable aspects of O Suave Milagre is its narrative architecture. Eça de Queirós constructs the story almost entirely around absence. Although Jesus is the central figure from the opening paragraph onward, He remains physically absent for nearly the entire narrative. Instead of witnessing miracles directly, readers repeatedly encounter stories about miracles, rumors of miracles, and increasingly desperate attempts to find the miraculous healer.

The opening immediately establishes this dynamic: "...a nova dos seus Milagres penetrara já até Enganim..." The emphasis is not on Christ Himself but on the circulation of His reputation. The miracle first exists as narrative, as news passing from traveler to traveler, village to village, heart to heart. Before Jesus enters the story as a character, He already inhabits the imagination of an entire people.

This strategy closely resembles what Gérard Genette (1980) identifies as narrative retardation, a deliberate postponement of crucial events that intensifies expectation. Rather than presenting the miraculous immediately, Eça de Queirós multiplies obstacles that delay fulfillment. Every attempt to locate Jesus ends in failure, creating a rhythm of expectation and disappointment that structures the entire narrative. The episodes involving Obed and the Roman centurion Septimus illustrate this pattern brilliantly. Both possess considerable power within their respective social worlds. Obed commands servants to search throughout Galilee, while Septimus dispatches disciplined Roman soldiers across Judea. Their wealth, authority, and determination seem to guarantee success. Instead, both fail.

The repetition is carefully orchestrated. The servants arrive moments too late. The soldiers pursue false leads. Witnesses point toward places Jesus has already left. Every geographical advance becomes another narrative postponement. This repeated failure is not merely a plot device; it constitutes the emotional architecture of the story. According to Mieke Bal (2017), narrative meaning frequently emerges through repetition and variation rather than isolated events. Eça de Queirós repeatedly reenacts the same dramatic movement, search, expectation, disappointment, until readers themselves begin to experience the frustration shared by the characters. The miracle is therefore postponed not only within the story but also within the reader's emotional experience.

Equally significant is the contrast between social power and spiritual accessibility. The wealthy landowner cannot purchase the miracle. Military authority cannot compel it. Religious specialists offer only skepticism or hostility. The Pharisee rejects the possibility that authentic prophecy could emerge outside Jerusalem, while the pagan priest dismisses miracles altogether as violations of cosmic order. These episodes broaden the narrative beyond individual disappointment, revealing an entire world incapable of recognizing divine action despite desperately seeking certainty.

Paul Ricoeur (1984) argues that narrative reorganizes human experience by transforming chronological succession into meaningful configuration. In O Suave Milagre, time itself becomes theological. The prolonged delay is not empty waiting but preparation. Every unsuccessful search deepens the significance of the final encounter. By the time Jesus finally appears, readers no longer expect merely a healer; they anticipate the fulfillment of an entire network of hopes accumulated throughout the narrative.

Symbolic Geography: Roads, Night, Home, and the Journey Toward Grace

Space functions in O Suave Milagre as more than physical setting. Every road, city, valley, and humble dwelling participates symbolically in the story's deeper movement from external searching toward interior revelation. Eça de Queirós transforms geography into theology without sacrificing narrative realism. The roads dominate the first two-thirds of the narrative. Servants traverse Galilee; Roman soldiers march through Judea; travelers, merchants, pilgrims, and mendicants continually cross the landscape. Movement appears constant, almost exhausting. Yet despite this frenetic activity, no one reaches the desired destination.

These journeys reveal a paradox. The more aggressively characters search, the farther the miracle seems to recede. Human initiative, however energetic, proves incapable of producing a divine encounter. The repeated descriptions of landscapes reinforce this paradox. Eça de Queirós's prose lingers lovingly over the luminous beauty of Palestine: "...o lago de Tiberíade resplandeceu diante dêles, transparente, coberto de silêncio, mais azul que o céu..."

Such passages accomplish far more than picturesque description. As António José Saraiva and Óscar Lopes (2001) note, Eça de Queirós's mature descriptive style frequently carries symbolic weight, allowing landscape to mirror moral and spiritual realities. The serene lake, flowering orchards, olive groves, and fertile valleys evoke a creation already permeated by grace, even while human beings remain unable to perceive its deepest meaning. Light and darkness also organize the narrative's symbolic geography. References to dawn, luminous horizons, and radiant skies recur throughout the story, suggesting hope before fulfillment. The rumor of Christ spreads "como uma alvorada por detrás de serras", comparing His growing fame to sunrise hidden behind mountains. The image is profoundly significant: dawn exists before it is seen. Likewise, the miracle is already approaching before anyone recognizes its presence.

Against these expansive landscapes stands the widow's isolated dwelling. Unlike the roads that connect kingdoms and cities, the humble house appears forgotten by history: "...num casebre desgarrado, sumido na prega dum cêrro..."  This spatial contraction marks a decisive turning point in the narrative. After pages of geographical expansion, from Enganim to Galilee, from the Jordan to Caesarea, the story suddenly narrows to a single impoverished household. The movement is artistic rather than accidental. Having explored the vast external world, Eça de Queirós now directs the reader inward, toward the intimate space where genuine encounter becomes possible.

The contrast is striking. Wealth searches outward. Poverty remains still. Power travels. Love waits. The miracle ultimately bypasses the centers of political, economic, and religious authority to enter the most forgotten corner of the landscape. Symbolically, the road culminates not in a palace, fortress, or temple but in a broken home sustained only by hope. This transformation of space anticipates the story's climactic revelation, demonstrating that geography in O Suave Milagre is never merely geographical. Every road leads ultimately toward the humble threshold where the extraordinary quietly enters ordinary life.

The Aesthetics of Gentleness: The Meaning of Suave

If the architecture of O Suave Milagre prepares readers for the miracle, its language determines how that miracle is perceived. The title itself offers the key to Eça de Queirós 's artistic intention. The adjective suave ("gentle," "soft," "tender") is neither ornamental nor sentimental. It defines the narrative's aesthetic program. Readers expecting an overwhelming display of supernatural power encounter instead a miracle characterized by quietness, intimacy, and compassion.

Throughout the story, Eça de Queirós repeatedly rejects the spectacular. The world surrounding Jesus expects miracles that astonish crowds, overturn political realities, or publicly demonstrate divine omnipotence. This expectation explains why Obed attempts to hire Jesus as though He were an extraordinary magician and why Septimus mobilizes military force to secure His presence. Their assumptions reflect a conception of power rooted in wealth, authority, and control.

Yet Eça de Queirós systematically dismantles those expectations. Instead of emphasizing miraculous acts, he privileges the emotional atmosphere surrounding them. Jesus is introduced not through direct action but through the effects His presence has upon others. Hope spreads before He appears. Consolation precedes healing. Faith grows through absence rather than visibility. The narrator beautifully captures this transformation when describing the growing reputation of Christ: "...todavia radiantemente, como uma alvorada por detrás de serras, crescia, consoladora e cheia de promessas divinas, a fama de Jesus da Galilea."

The comparison is significant. Dawn does not violently conquer darkness; it quietly replaces it. Likewise, Christ's influence spreads not through coercion but through gentle illumination. The miracle begins long before Jesus enters the widow's home because hope itself already transforms human perception. Carlos Reis (1999) observes that Eça de Queirós's later prose increasingly abandons the sharp irony of his realist period in favor of symbolic suggestion and emotional economy. O Suave Milagre exemplifies this stylistic maturity. Rather than relying on dramatic confrontations, Eça de Queirós allows silence, waiting, and understatement to generate emotional intensity. His prose slows the reader's pace, encouraging contemplation instead of excitement.

This restraint is equally evident in the characterization. The principal figures are not psychologically complex in the realist tradition of Os Maias; instead, they function almost as moral archetypes without becoming mere allegorical abstractions. Obed represents confidence in material wealth, Septimus confidence in imperial authority, the Pharisee confidence in institutional religion, and the pagan priest confidence in philosophical certainty. Each embodies a different way of seeking control over mystery.

In striking contrast stands the unnamed widow. Unlike the powerful men who dominate the earlier sections of the narrative, she possesses nothing capable of attracting divine attention. She commands neither servants nor soldiers, owns neither land nor influence, and lacks even the physical strength to undertake the journey herself. Her dialogue with her son reveals complete awareness of her helplessness: "Longas são as estradas da Galilea, e curta a piedade dos homens." This simple sentence encapsulates the emotional center of the story. Human society is characterized not by miraculous generosity but by limited compassion. Against that reality, the miracle appears not as an interruption of natural law but as an interruption of ordinary human indifference.

And the climax itself demonstrates Eça de Queirós's extraordinary artistic restraint. After pages of elaborate descriptions, numerous journeys, and repeated disappointments, the narrative concludes with astonishing simplicity. The child whispers: "—Mãe, eu queria ver Jesus..." The request contains no theological sophistication, only childlike longing. Immediately afterward, Eça writes: "E logo, abrindo devagar a porta e sorrindo, Jesus disse à criança: —Aqui estou."

There is no thunder, no celestial choir, no dazzling manifestation of divine glory. The miracle consists of an opening door, a smile, and two ordinary words. From a literary perspective, this is perhaps Eça de Queirós's greatest achievement. He transforms understatement into revelation. The narrative has so carefully prepared readers that no spectacular description is necessary. The miracle feels inevitable precisely because it arrives without theatrical excess.

Biblical Intertextuality: Echoes Rather Than Imitation

Although O Suave Milagre is deeply rooted in the Gospel tradition, Eça de Queirós does not simply reproduce biblical episodes. Instead, he creates what Paul Ricoeur (1984) would describe as a narrative reconfiguration, reinterpreting familiar sacred narratives through literary imagination. The result is neither biblical paraphrase nor historical reconstruction but an original meditation on the meaning of divine presence. The story echoes numerous Gospel passages. The references to the multiplication of bread, the healing of lepers, the raising of Jairus's daughter, the casting out of demons, and Christ's love for children immediately situate readers within the symbolic universe of the New Testament. Yet these allusions remain indirect. They function less as quotations than as memories shared between narrator and reader.

This strategy profoundly alters the reader's experience. Rather than witnessing biblical miracles themselves, readers encounter the stories that ordinary people tell about those miracles. The narrative therefore explores not only what Christ does but also how His actions circulate through collective memory, shaping hope even among those who have never seen Him. Paul Ricoeur (1984) argues that narratives possess the capacity to reshape human understanding by allowing past events to acquire renewed significance within new contexts. Eça de Queirós's story illustrates this principle beautifully. The Gospel narratives are not repeated mechanically; they are reimagined through the eyes of forgotten individuals who exist at the margins of biblical history. The widow, her child, Obed, and Septimus are absent from Scripture, yet their fictional experiences illuminate the universal human longing that the Gospels address.

Even the repeated failures to find Jesus carry biblical resonance. The powerful search energetically but unsuccessfully, while the poor receive Him unexpectedly. This inversion recalls the paradoxical logic repeatedly found in Christ's own teaching: the last become first, the humble are exalted, and those who seek power often fail to recognize grace. Equally significant is Eça de Queirós's treatment of movement. Throughout the narrative, characters attempt to reach Jesus through geographical displacement. They travel across Palestine, consult authorities, and pursue rumors. Yet the decisive movement belongs not to humanity but to Christ Himself. The widow cannot travel. The child cannot move. Therefore, Jesus comes.

This subtle reversal transforms the entire symbolic structure of the story. The miracle is not merely healing but divine initiative. Literary movement becomes theological meaning. As António José Saraiva and Óscar Lopes (2001) argue, Eça's mature fiction increasingly privileges symbolic synthesis over realistic documentation. O Suave Milagre exemplifies this tendency by allowing biblical motifs, geographical symbolism, and narrative economy to converge into a unified artistic vision. Every earlier journey prepares for the final journey that readers never witness directly; the quiet approach of Christ toward the forgotten house.

Conclusion

At first glance, O Suave Milagre appears to be a simple religious tale celebrating divine compassion. A closer literary examination, however, reveals an extraordinarily sophisticated narrative. Eça de Queirós constructs the miracle through carefully controlled pacing, symbolic geography, understated characterization, and rich biblical intertextuality. The supernatural event does not dominate the narrative; rather, it emerges organically from the emotional and symbolic world that the author patiently builds.

The prolonged searches of Obed's servants and Septimus's soldiers establish a narrative rhythm of expectation and delay. Roads, valleys, cities, and landscapes become symbolic expressions of humanity's restless search for meaning. The isolated home of the widow ultimately replaces the public world as the true center of revelation, demonstrating that grace arrives not where power expects it but where hope quietly endures.

Perhaps the most remarkable feature of the story is Eça de Queirós's rejection of spectacle. The miracle unfolds through ordinary gestures, a door opening slowly, a smile, a brief greeting, rather than overwhelming displays of supernatural force. In doing so, Eça de Queirós redefines the miraculous not as an interruption of reality but as its deepest fulfillment. The title itself announces this aesthetic vision: the miracle is suave because divine love reveals itself through tenderness rather than domination.

Ultimately, O Suave Milagre demonstrates that literature possesses its own form of miracle. Through narrative artistry, Eça de Queirós persuades readers that the extraordinary can inhabit the ordinary without destroying its simplicity. His greatest literary achievement is not merely depicting Christ's arrival at a humble dwelling but preparing readers to recognize that arrival as both surprising and profoundly inevitable. In this sense, the true miracle belongs as much to narrative as to theology: through the quiet power of storytelling, Eça de Queirós makes transcendence feel entirely at home within the human world.

San José, Costa Rica

Friday, September 4, 2026 

 

📚 References

Bal, M. (2017). Narratology: Introduction to the theory of narrative (4th ed.). University of Toronto Press.

Genette, G. (1980). Narrative discourse: An essay in method (J. E. Lewin, Trans.). Cornell University Press. (Original work published 1972)

Queirós, E. de. (1902/2000). O suave milagre. In Últimas páginas. Project Gutenberg. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/31347/31347-h/31347-h.htm

Reis, C. (1999). Estudos queirosianos: Ensaios sobre Eça de Queirós e a sua obra. Almedina.

Ricoeur, P. (1984). Time and narrative (Vol. 1, K. McLaughlin & D. Pellauer, Trans.). University of Chicago Press.

Saraiva, A. J., & Lopes, Ó. (2001). História da literatura portuguesa (17th ed.). Porto Editora.

	“Through others we become ourselves.” — Lev S. Vygotsky

Introduction

Language teachers often carry an invisible burden: the belief that every learner contribution requires an immediate response from the teacher. In communicative classrooms, especially online ones, this expectation can become exhausting and, paradoxically, can limit learners' opportunities to learn from one another. Module 3, Unit 3, Using the Learner as a Resource, from the British Council's TeachingEnglish: How to Adapt Resources course invites teachers to reconsider this assumption by placing peer response, peer feedback, and peer assessment at the center of the learning process.

Although many of the examples in teacher education materials are designed for primary or secondary contexts, their underlying principles are equally valuable for young adults and working professionals. The challenge is not simply to transfer activities from one educational context to another. Rather, it is to adapt their pedagogical logic to the realities of adult online language learning. As Acuña Solano (2026) reflects, collaboration in his classes is already a recurrent part of oral communication practice: learners work together several times during an online session, not merely to manipulate new vocabulary and grammatical structures, but to help one another clarify meaning and resolve doubts, sometimes strategically using their first language.

This essay, my 583^rd post in my blog, argues that peer response, structured feedback, and transparent assessment criteria can transform adult online language classrooms into more participatory learning communities. When adapted thoughtfully, these practices do not diminish the teacher's role. Instead, they redistribute responsibility for learning and help students become more attentive listeners, more reflective speakers, and more capable evaluators of both their own performance and that of others.

Moving Beyond Teacher-Centered Response

One of the central insights presented by the British Council (n.d.) is that teachers need not respond personally to every learner contribution. In large classes, and even in smaller online groups where speaking time is limited, such an expectation may be unrealistic. More importantly, when the teacher becomes the sole audience and evaluator, learners may begin to speak primarily to the teacher rather than communicate with one another.

Peer response offers an alternative. The British Council distinguishes peer response from simple error correction: learners respond to each other's ideas to demonstrate interest, comprehension, and engagement. This distinction is particularly important in communicative language teaching. If students listen to their classmates only to identify mistakes, interaction can easily become evaluative rather than communicative. If, instead, they listen because they are genuinely expected to understand, ask questions, and react, listening becomes an active social process.

This perspective is consistent with Vygotsky's (1978) view that learning is fundamentally social. Knowledge develops through interaction, dialogue, and collaboration with others. The classroom, therefore, should not be understood merely as a place where information flows from teacher to learner. It can also function as a community in which learners mediate one another's understanding. For adult learners, this social dimension deserves particular attention. Young adults and working professionals bring experiences, professional knowledge, opinions, and cultural perspectives that can become valuable learning resources. A university student discussing the impact of artificial intelligence, for example, may offer a different perspective from that of a professional working in business, healthcare, education, or technology. The language classroom can capitalize on these differences by creating genuine reasons for learners to listen to one another.

As Acuña Solano (2026) explains, peer interaction in his online classes occurs repeatedly during a single class meeting. Students work together to explore the language content of a unit and help one another clarify doubts. This interaction may occasionally include the learners' mother tongue. Rather than automatically interpreting this as a failure to remain in the target language, strategic use of the first language can function as scaffolding when it helps learners understand a complex concept and subsequently return to English communication. In multilingual learning environments, the goal should not always be the artificial elimination of other linguistic resources but their purposeful management in service of learning.

Creating a Safe Environment for Peer Response

Peer response cannot flourish simply because a teacher announces, “Now give your partner feedback.” Learners need a classroom culture in which sharing feels intellectually and emotionally safe. The British Council (n.d.) emphasizes several practical conditions: clear tasks, meaningful reasons to read or listen to peers, positive and polite responses, motivating topics, attention to learning from classmates, support for shy learners, and reflection on the process. These principles can be adapted effectively to synchronous online instruction. Clear instructions become even more important in virtual classrooms because students may be moving into breakout rooms without the teacher's immediate presence. Before sending learners into groups, teachers need to establish what participants will do, how long they have, what evidence they should collect, and what they will report afterward.

The principle of giving learners a reason to engage with one another is equally significant. Adults rarely need encouragement merely to complete an activity; they need to understand why the activity matters. A learner listening to a classmate's presentation should have a purpose beyond waiting for an opportunity to speak. The listener might be asked to identify the speaker's strongest argument, formulate two follow-up questions, or note an effective expression that could be used in future communication.

Psychological safety is also essential. Edmondson (1999) describes psychological safety as a shared belief that a group is safe for interpersonal risk-taking. Although her work emerged from organizational research, the concept has profound implications for adult education. Speaking in a foreign language involves risk. Learners may worry about pronunciation, grammar, vocabulary, accent, or the judgment of peers. A classroom culture that treats mistakes as evidence of inadequacy can silence learners; a culture that treats communication as an evolving practice can encourage participation. The teacher, therefore, remains responsible for establishing the conditions of respectful interaction. Adult learners should not be treated like children, but neither should teachers assume that adulthood automatically produces confidence in public communication. Respectful norms, constructive language, and clear expectations remain necessary regardless of learners' age.

Peer Feedback as a Learnable Skill

One of the most important ideas in the British Council unit is that peer feedback is not an ability that should simply be assumed. Learners must be taught how to give feedback. Without guidance, comments may become excessively vague: “Good job!” or unnecessarily harsh “That was wrong.” Neither response necessarily promotes learning. The British Council (n.d.) identifies several benefits of peer feedback: it encourages collaboration, helps learners notice strengths and weaknesses, provides immediate feedback, and may reduce the amount of time teachers spend marking or responding individually. However, these benefits emerge only when learners understand what useful feedback looks like.

This idea of peer feedback connects with Nicol and Macfarlane-Dick's (2006) argument that formative assessment should support learners in developing the capacity to monitor and regulate their own learning. Feedback should not create permanent dependence on the teacher. Ideally, learners gradually develop the ability to recognize quality, identify gaps, and consider strategies for improvement. For language teachers working with adults, this means that feedback literacy deserves explicit attention. Students may be competent professionals in their fields while still feeling uncertain about how to evaluate another person's oral performance in English. The teacher can therefore model the language of feedback, demonstrate appropriate responses, and provide sentence starters until learners become increasingly independent.

This process also aligns with Boud and Molloy's (2013) conception of feedback as a process in which learners actively use information rather than passively receive judgments. Feedback becomes meaningful when students can understand it, evaluate it, and act upon it. Peer feedback, consequently, should not be seen as a shortcut through which students perform the teacher's work for free. Its deeper value lies in the learning that occurs when students must listen carefully enough to make an informed response.

The Ladder of Feedback and Its Adaptation to Oral Communication

A particularly useful contribution from the course is Harvard Project Zero's Ladder of Feedback. The model organizes feedback into four progressive stages: clarify, value, express concerns, and suggest (Harvard Project Zero, n.d.). This sequence is pedagogically powerful because it prevents evaluators from beginning with criticism. The first step, clarify, encourages learners to seek understanding. Questions such as “What do you mean by...?” or “Can you explain that?” communicate that feedback begins with listening. The second step, value, asks learners to identify something effective or meaningful in the work. The third, concerns, allows them to raise doubts respectfully. Finally, suggest moves feedback toward constructive action by encouraging specific alternatives or improvements.

Although the examples may often be associated with written work, Acuña Solano (2026) recognizes its considerable potential for college and adult language classes:

“The Harvard Project Zero's ladder of feedback will be a great, new addition to my feedback techniques for my college and adult learning classes. Since we don't exactly work on writing because it is not the focus of my course, it can be adapted to help each other construct more solid oral presentations: talks, speeches, panel discussions, etc.”

This adaptation illustrates a crucial principle of resource adaptation: a pedagogical framework should not be rejected simply because its original examples belong to a different educational context. The relevant question is, What principle can travel from one context to another?

In oral communication classes, the ladder might be adapted as follows. After a short presentation, a peer could first ask a clarifying question about an idea that was unclear. Next, the peer could identify a particularly effective feature, such as organization, vocabulary, audience engagement, or an interesting example. Then, the peer could identify one aspect that created difficulty. Finally, the peer could offer a specific suggestion for improvement. Such a sequence teaches learners that effective feedback is not synonymous with finding errors. Hattie and Timperley (2007) argue that effective feedback should help learners answer three central questions: Where am I going? How am I going? Where to next? The ladder of feedback can support this progression by combining recognition of current strengths with reflection on future improvement.

Adapting the Ladder for Online Adult Classes

For synchronous online classes, the Ladder of Feedback can become particularly useful after communication tasks in breakout rooms. However, adaptation is necessary. Adult learners often have limited class time, and overly complex procedures can consume the very time needed for communication. A practical adaptation might ask each participant to provide only one response at each stage. For example:

Clarify: What point would you like the speaker to explain more clearly?

Value: What did the speaker do particularly well?

Concern: What was one moment that made understanding more difficult?

Suggest: What is one specific strategy the speaker could try next time?

This structure can be used after mini-presentations, role-plays, interviews, debates, professional pitches, or panel discussions. It can also be adapted to asynchronous learning. Students might record short video or audio responses to classmates, following the four stages.

The teacher should initially provide useful language. For adult learners, linguistic support should not feel infantilizing; instead, it can be framed as professional discourse. Expressions such as “I found your example particularly effective because...,” “Could you clarify what you meant by...?” and “One possible way to make this point even clearer might be...” are useful not only for the English classroom but also for workplace communication. And as the British Council (n.d.) recommends, the process should also be explained, demonstrated, and reflected upon. Teachers can model feedback with a confident student or use an anonymized sample performance. Afterward, learners should discuss whether the feedback process helped them and how they experienced receiving comments from peers.

Peer Assessment Requires Clear and Shared Criteria

Peer feedback and peer assessment are closely related, but they are not identical. Feedback can be relatively open and dialogic, whereas assessment often requires learners to make judgments based on specific criteria. For peer assessment to be meaningful, students must understand what quality looks like. Acuña Solano (2026) emphasizes this relationship between purpose, roles, and criteria:

“When students have a clear purpose for a speaking activity and have a clear role, they can provide feedback to their group peers. Having a speaker, a listener, and a note-taker frames what needs to be done during the activity. But clear criteria need to be given to group participants.”

This observation is especially valuable in online communication classes. Group work sometimes fails not because learners are unwilling to collaborate but because their responsibilities are poorly defined. When all participants are told simply to “discuss,” some may dominate while others remain silent. Assigning complementary roles can create greater accountability. For instance, the speaker develops a topic. The listener asks follow-up questions and demonstrates active comprehension. The note-taker monitors a specific language feature, such as the use of target vocabulary, a grammatical structure, discourse markers, or pronunciation features. After the activity, these roles can rotate.

The effectiveness of this arrangement of participation roles depends on clear criteria. The speaker needs to know what constitutes a successful contribution. The listener needs to understand what makes a follow-up question meaningful. The note-taker needs a focused and manageable observation task. The British Council (n.d.) appropriately recommends concentrating on only a few key criteria at a time and using language that learners can easily understand. This approach endorsed by the British Council is consistent with Sadler's (1989) influential argument that students need to understand the standards against which their work is judged if they are to improve. Assessment criteria should not remain mysterious information possessed only by the teacher. When learners participate in understanding and, where appropriate, developing criteria, they become more capable of recognizing quality.

From the “Feedback Sandwich” to Balanced Development

Acuña Solano (2026) also recalls the advice of Argentine pedagogist Laura Lewin, who frequently encourages teachers to offer learners a “feedback sandwich”: something positive, something to improve, and something positive. As Acuña Solano notes, “Focusing on only bad things is detrimental for any learner.” The appeal of this approach lies in its insistence on balance. Learners need to know what is working, not only what is wrong. In language learning, constant correction can create the impression that communication is a collection of deficiencies. Recognition of strengths, by contrast, can help learners understand what strategies they should continue using.

At the same time, balanced feedback should not become empty praise. The positive comments must be specific and connected to criteria. “You were excellent” may feel encouraging, but “Your examples made your argument easier to understand” provides information the learner can use. Similarly, an improvement point should be specific enough to guide action.

Carless and Boud (2018) describe feedback literacy as involving learners' ability to appreciate feedback, make judgments, manage affect, and take action. This framework is particularly relevant to adult learners. Receiving criticism in a second language can involve emotional as well as cognitive challenges. Teachers therefore need to create conditions in which feedback is understood as information for growth rather than as a threat to personal competence. The “feedback sandwich,” the Ladder of Feedback, and criteria-based peer assessment share a common principle: feedback should preserve dignity while still promoting improvement. Respect and rigor are not opposites. In fact, constructive learning environments require both.

The Learner as a Resource in the Online Classroom

The phrase using the learner as a resource challenges teachers to reconsider where learning resources actually reside. A textbook, a slide deck, a video, or a learning management system can provide valuable input, but learners themselves also bring knowledge, questions, experiences, strategies, and perspectives into the classroom. This principle resonates with social constructivist approaches to learning. Bruner (1996) emphasizes the importance of meaning-making as a participatory process, while Lave and Wenger (1991) conceptualize learning as participation in communities of practice.

In an adult online language class, this participation can be particularly authentic because learners often have experiences beyond the classroom that can enrich communicative tasks. For example, a working professional may explain how meetings are conducted in his/her field, while another learner may describe a similar situation from a different profession. These differences create opportunities for genuine information exchange. The teacher does not need to manufacture all meaningful content; sometimes the most valuable resource is the experience learners already possess.

This does not mean that the teacher becomes unnecessary. On the contrary, the teacher's expertise becomes visible in a different way: designing tasks, organizing interaction, scaffolding language, establishing criteria, monitoring participation, and helping learners reflect on what occurred. The teacher shifts from being the exclusive source of response to being the architect of conditions under which meaningful response can occur. For online education, this shift is especially important. Physical distance can encourage passive consumption if students simply watch, listen, and wait for teacher evaluation. Carefully structured peer interaction can counter this tendency by making participation necessary.

Strategic Use of the First Language as Collaborative Scaffolding

One of Acuña Solano's (2026) reflections is particularly relevant to adult language learning:

“It’s not just to have them toy with new lexis and grammatical structures, but to have them help each other, even using their mother tongue, to clarify doubts they may have.”

This statement challenges rigid assumptions about target-language-only instruction. In some contexts, brief and purposeful use of the first language can support understanding and collaboration. The issue is not whether students ever use their mother tongue but whether its use serves a clear pedagogical purpose.

Cummins (2007) argues against educational approaches that artificially separate learners' languages from their learning. Similarly, García and Wei (2014) demonstrate how multilingual speakers draw upon their complete linguistic repertoires to make meaning. For adult learners, especially those discussing complex concepts or clarifying procedural instructions, strategic translanguaging may function as a bridge toward more confident target-language use.

In an online communicative class, students might briefly use Spanish to clarify a difficult grammar distinction, negotiate the meaning of a task, or ensure that a peer understands a concept before returning to English. The teacher's role is to ensure that this does not replace meaningful target-language practice. The goal remains communication in English, but learning can occasionally require multilingual scaffolding. This approach is particularly compatible with peer learning. Sometimes an explanation from a classmate is immediately comprehensible because it responds directly to a shared difficulty. The learner, in this sense, becomes both a language user and a pedagogical resource.

Reflection as the Final Stage of Collaboration

An often-overlooked component of peer response is reflection. The British Council (n.d.) recommends asking learners what they found helpful or challenging and encouraging them to consider the value of the process. Reflection is essential because collaborative activities do not automatically produce learning. Learners need opportunities to consider what happened and what they will do differently in the future. Schön (1983) distinguishes between reflection-in-action and reflection-on-action, concepts that can be applied productively to language learning. During a speaking task, learners may adjust their communication in response to their peers; after the task, they can analyze what helped or hindered their performance.

For teachers, reflection is equally important. Acuña Solano's engagement with the course itself demonstrates a reflective approach to professional development. Rather than simply adopting a technique because it appears in a respected course, he considers how it aligns with his specific context: young adults, working professionals, online instruction, and a strong emphasis on oral production. This contextual reflection is the essence of adaptation. Good teaching resources are not copied mechanically. They are interpreted, questioned, and reshaped.

Implications for My Teaching Practice

The ideas explored in this unit suggest several practical directions for my own classes. First, I can become more intentional about distinguishing between interaction and structured peer response. My students already work collaboratively several times during online class sessions, but I can provide clearer purposes for listening to and responding to one another.

Second, the Ladder of Feedback offers a practical framework that can be incorporated into oral communication tasks. Rather than adapting it primarily for writing, I can use it to support presentations, speeches, interviews, panel discussions, and other spoken genres. The four stage, clarify, value, concerns, and suggest, can teach students that useful feedback begins with understanding and includes recognition as well as improvement.

Third, I can make peer assessment more focused by assigning explicit roles and limiting the number of criteria. A speaker, listener, and note-taker structure can help ensure that every learner has a meaningful responsibility. Rotating these roles can also expose students to different dimensions of communicative competence.

Finally, I can incorporate short moments of reflection after collaborative tasks. Students can consider not only what they learned about English but also what they learned from their classmates and from the feedback process itself. In this way, peer learning becomes part of the lesson's intellectual content rather than an activity that disappears once the breakout rooms close.

Conclusion

Using the learner as a resource requires a fundamental change in how teachers understand responsibility in the classroom. The teacher does not need to be the only listener, the only responder, or the only person capable of recognizing quality. When learners are taught how to listen, respond, evaluate, and suggest improvements, they become more active participants in one another's learning. For young adults and working professionals in online language courses, these principles are especially relevant. Their experiences can enrich classroom interaction, their professional lives can provide authentic communication contexts, and their maturity can support increasingly sophisticated forms of peer feedback. Yet maturity alone does not guarantee effective collaboration. Learners still need clear instructions, psychological safety, useful language, explicit criteria, and opportunities for reflection.

The contribution of the British Council course is therefore not a collection of activities to be reproduced exactly as presented. Its greater value lies in a set of adaptable principles: a) learners can learn from one another; b) feedback is a skill that can be taught; c) assessment criteria should be clear and, when possible, shared; and d) constructive evaluation should recognize strengths while identifying paths for improvement.

Ultimately, the teacher's role is not reduced when learners become resources for one another. It becomes more deliberate. We design the conditions in which learners can speak with purpose, listen with attention, and respond with care. In my own context, this means moving beyond the idea that peer work is simply an opportunity for students to practice English. It can become a structured community of learning in which communication itself is the resource.

As Jonathan Acuña Solano (2026), that’s me the one reflecting through my teaching practice, I must conclude that collaboration is most meaningful when learners do more than “toy with new lexis and grammatical structures.” Our students can help one another understand, question, clarify, and improve. Perhaps that is one of the most human dimensions of language education: we do not learn only from teachers. We also learn with one another. 

São Paulo, Brasil

Friday, August 28, 2026

📚 References

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