An Interview with Scott Thornbury: Learning from the Past, Teaching in the Present

When I sat down with Scott Thornbury, I might have expected to meet an educationalist obsessed with finding the latest method. With a reputation as one of the most respected voices in language teaching, and as the author of a catalogue of highly regarded teaching books including ‘66 Essentials of Lesson Design’ and ‘30 Language Teaching Methods’, he has shaped ESL classrooms around the world.

Yet in conversation, I encountered an educator who returns again and again to the more understated human aspects of education. For young teachers setting out in a profession that often feels caught between static curricula and rapid social change, Thornbury’s reflections are an important reminder that teaching is not about perfection or performance, but about something far simpler: finding authenticity, and moments of human connection in the classroom.

A Career Which Found Him

Thornbury never set out to be a teacher. Like many, he admits it began pragmatically: English teaching was a way to travel. But it stuck. “I can’t remember at what point I realised this might be for life,” he told me, “but I think it was the point where I was really enjoying it, and still do, and found it really fascinating.”

That sense of enduring curiosity still drives him. Teaching was not a choice made once, but a vocation discovered through doing, through being in classrooms and reflecting on what worked, and what didn’t. For those starting out, his story carries a reassuring message that a teaching career does not arrive fully formed. It will evolve over time, and to sustain it you should remain curious, and keep learning alongside your students.

In the 1970s, when Thornbury trained, teaching was highly performative. It suited him at first — he had worked in theatre and even considered joining the English Teaching Theatre, but, he laughs, “because I couldn’t play the guitar, I had to decline.” Yet over time, he grew uneasy with the idea of the teacher as actor. “It's an advantage to have these kind of these performative skills,” he admitted — projecting voice, using gesture, managing presence. However he was quick to add: “But I think more importantly, the human values of curiosity and the ability to interact naturally with learners matter most. Not adopting a fixed teaching voice, or at least being able to step out of it when needed.”

This shift from centre-stage performance to background presence is something many young teachers struggle with, especially in the early years of the profession. However, it is a perspective that can steady new teachers who feel pressured to put on a show in every lesson. For Scott, what really matters is not spectacle but connection; rapport, as well as the ability to make students feel seen. “Curiosity and perseverance [are essential] in language teaching; starting and maintaining conversations with learners, and not giving up just because you don’t immediately understand what they’re saying.”

Discovering Humanistic Principles

Asked about turning points in his philosophy, Thornbury described stumbling across Earl Stevick’s ‘Teaching Languages: A Way and Ways’, in Cairo in 1980. “That completely changed my thinking,” he reflected. Until then, he had been frustrated with the narrow methods of his training. Stevick offered a different vision: language learning as a whole-person process: cognitive, emotional, and social. “I was kind of ready for it,” Thornbury said. From then on, he sought ways to bring learners’ individuality, feelings, and voices into the classroom.

“I've always said that language teaching combines two really important human endeavours [education and language]…bringing the two things together seems to be endlessly interesting because both subjects are intrinsically human.” That conviction explains why Stevick’s words resonated so strongly with him. Language teaching was not just the transfer of structures, but a profoundly human activity, demanding curiosity, empathy, and openness. From this point on, Thornbury’s work gravitated toward methods and approaches that emphasised those human features.

This emphasis on the learner as a whole person - not a vessel to be filled or a performer of grammar rules - became a thread through Thornbury’s later work, from Teaching Unplugged to his advocacy of “Dogme moments”: those spontaneous openings in lessons when a learner’s question or contribution sparks real, unplanned learning. It is a reminder to young teachers that methods matter, but they should never try to stifle student voices; the richest learning sometimes happens when we allow the unexpected to take centre stage. 

The Archaeology of Teaching

One of the most distinctive features of Thornbury’s outlook is his love of what he calls “the archaeology of language teaching.” He has collected teaching manuals from across the centuries and delights in finding, even in discredited methods, ideas worth retrieving. “It’s fascinating to see how nothing really changes,” he told me. “There’s a cyclical return to certain principles, reinvented for each age. In some of these old methods you find gems worth rehabilitating”.

He points to the 1930s “reading method,” which focused on comprehension when spoken fluency seemed out of reach, and to Charles Curran’s 1970s “community language learning,” where learners generated conversations with teacher support. Both, he argues, contain lessons for today: valuing comprehension, respecting learner agency, and making room for authentic talk.

For Scott, the past is not a museum exhibit to be gazed upon but a living resource, a reminder that ideas dismissed in one era may return with fresh relevance in another. For new teachers, the lesson is clear: respect the history of your craft. Every “new” approach has ancestors, born in particular circumstances. As times change, so will methods; and the ability to draw on their lineage makes you stronger, not weaker.

Lessons That Endure

For all the shifts in methods and technologies, Thornbury’s focus remains consistent. Teaching is human work. It is about connection between people and curiosity to discover. We should learn from the past without being trapped by it, and meet the present moment with openness and humility.

As Scott reminded me, methods come and go, and research questions remain unresolved, but in principle teaching is always the same: people, in a room, trying to make meaning together. For young teachers, often daunted by expectations or weighed down by the search for authority, his example offers something more humble to learn: the greatest lesson is not how to control the classroom, but how to step back, listen, and allow learning to unfold.