Testing, Markets, and the Transformation of English in Bangladesh

In many parts of the world, learning a new language is about more than just memorizing words; it is about gaining access to jobs, education, and a place in the global community. In Bangladesh, English holds this kind of power. For decades, it has been the key to moving up in society, but the way it is taught and tested has changed dramatically. Today, the value of English is not just about how well someone can speak or write; it is about how well they can pass a specific test. This shift has turned language into a commodity, a product that can be bought, sold, and measured like any other good. Researchers have long known that high-stakes exams—tests where the results determine a student's future—can change how teachers teach. They also know that market forces, like parents wanting the best for their children and schools competing for reputation, shape what gets taught. But it was not entirely clear how these pressures play out differently in the various places where children learn English in Bangladesh. Do all schools teach the same kind of English, or does the type of institution create different versions of the language?

To find the answer, a researcher named Md Zahangir Alam from Red River College set out to listen to the people on the front lines: the teachers. He focused on three very different types of places where English is taught in Bangladesh: government-run public schools, private schools where all subjects are taught in English, and private coaching centers that exist solely to help students pass international tests like the IELTS. He interviewed six experienced teachers, two from each setting, asking them about their daily work, the pressure they feel, and how they decide what to teach. He wanted to understand how the rules of the test and the demands of the market change the actual language students hear and use in the classroom. The study did not involve watching classes or testing students; instead, it relied on the detailed stories and experiences of the teachers themselves to build a picture of what is happening inside these institutions.

The research revealed that the English being taught in these three places is not the same thing at all. In public schools, the language is shaped entirely by the national board exams. Teachers described a classroom where the goal is to help students pass the Secondary School Certificate or Higher Secondary Certificate exams. Because these tests focus heavily on written grammar and specific question patterns, teachers feel they have very little room to do anything else. One teacher explained that if a student tries to write creatively, they might lose marks because their answer does not match the expected format. So, the English taught here is a "board-exam English," a rigid version of the language designed to fit a specific checklist. It is safe, predictable, and focused on getting the right answer on paper, often at the expense of real conversation.

In private English-medium schools, the picture is slightly different but still driven by results. Here, the pressure comes from parents who want their children to succeed in international curriculums and universities abroad. Teachers in these schools try to balance teaching real communication skills with the need to show good grades. They might include creative projects or group discussions, but they must always tie these activities back to a grading rubric or a standard that an external examiner will recognize. The English here is "globally benchmarked English." It is polished and standard, designed to look impressive to the outside world. Teachers in these settings often feel they are walking a tightrope, trying to keep their students interested in the language while ensuring they meet the strict standards that define the school's reputation.

The most intense version of this phenomenon was found in private coaching centers. These are businesses where students pay to prepare for specific international tests like the IELTS or TOEFL. In this environment, English is treated almost entirely as a technical skill to be mastered for a score. Teachers described a process where students memorize model answers and practice drills to improve their speed and accuracy. The goal is not to learn how to communicate in the real world, but to hit a specific "band score" that will get them into a university or a new country. One teacher noted that if a student's score does not improve, they simply leave for another center. Here, the language is "test-score English," a stripped-down version of communication that prioritizes efficiency and measurable outcomes over meaning or creativity.

Despite these heavy pressures, the teachers were not just passive followers of the rules. They found ways to exercise what researchers call "agency," or the ability to make their own choices within the system. In public schools, teachers sometimes slipped in small, informal speaking activities that were not part of the official test, hoping to give students a taste of real conversation even if it didn't count toward their grade. In private schools, teachers blended creative tasks with exam preparation, finding a middle ground where they could teach broader skills without losing the support of parents and administrators. In the coaching centers, the room for maneuver was much smaller, but teachers still adapted their strategies to help students improve their scores as quickly as possible. These small acts of resistance and adaptation show that while the system is rigid, human beings still find ways to navigate it.

The study suggests that the way English is taught in Bangladesh is creating a hierarchy of language. There is no single "correct" English; instead, there are different versions of the language, each valued differently depending on where you are and what you need it for. The public school version is valued for passing national exams, the private school version for global mobility, and the coaching center version for immediate test results. This means that a student's access to the most useful or flexible form of English depends heavily on their family's ability to pay for private education or coaching. The research highlights that the tests themselves are not just measuring what students know; they are actively shaping what English is allowed to be. By deciding which forms of language get rewarded, the testing system effectively decides which forms of English are legitimate and which are ignored.

This work offers a clear look at how the forces of the market and the pressure of exams are transforming education. It shows that when language becomes a product to be sold or a score to be chased, the rich, messy, and creative nature of human communication often gets left behind. The findings do not suggest that the teachers are failing; rather, they show that the system they work in limits what they can do. The study concludes that for education to be truly fair, the way English is assessed needs to change. It suggests that tests should value real communication and local context, not just the ability to follow a pattern. Until then, the English of Bangladesh will likely remain divided, with different groups of students learning different languages, all under the same name.