"What if the coursebook you chose this year could actually inspire change—not just in your classroom, but beyond it?"
It’s a question I often ask myself. Because, let’s be honest, coursebooks have long been the starting point in most language classrooms. Neatly packaged, predictably structured, and designed to tick all the CEFR boxes. But in a world, that’s anything but predictable, is that enough?
I’ve come to believe that coursebooks should do more than just teach language. They should mean something. They should help our students connect, reflect, and, ideally, act. That’s why when I choose a coursebook, I’m not just looking at grammar charts or reading passages. I’m asking: Does this book support my learners in becoming thoughtful, responsible citizens of the world?
It might sound ambitious. But I’ve seen what happens when it works.
- Let purpose drive the choice
I teach with a blend of Concept-Based Learning, SEL (Social-Emotional Learning), CLIL (Content and Language Integrated Learning), and Project-Based Learning. These approaches ask students to explore, to care, to create. So, the materials I choose must leave room for that.
Some years ago, I came across a coursebook that looked polished and modern. But every topic felt recycled—travel, fashion, school life. It wasn’t bad, but it didn’t push any boundaries. There was no room for exploration beyond the textbook.
That was a turning point.
Now, I choose materials that are flexible, relevant, and meaningful. I look for books that spark curiosity and can be shaped around real-world issues—like the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). When a unit on “homes” leads to a discussion on sustainable architecture or affordable housing (SDG 11), language learning becomes about much more than vocabulary.
- Use the coursebook as a springboard not a cage
No coursebook will ever align perfectly with every goal you have as a teacher. And that’s okay. What matters is how much freedom it gives you to adapt and build on it.
For instance, a simple unit on food can open a door to SDG 2 (Zero Hunger). My students once researched local food banks, wrote letters to community leaders, and presented their findings in English. We started with a two-page spread in the coursebook, and it ended with a real campaign they cared about.
That kind of energy doesn’t come from the book alone, it comes from what we do with it.
- Think critically, not conveniently
Sometimes we choose coursebooks because they’re popular, or because the publisher has a strong track record. Other times, it’s because they’re the ones the school has always used. But familiarity shouldn’t be the deciding factor.
When evaluating new materials, I’ve learned to slow down and dig a little deeper. Who’s represented in the content? Are the tasks encouraging students to think critically, or just complete mechanical drills? Does the book allow for project work, reflection, or interdisciplinary links?
Better yet, I now involve colleagues in the process. We’ve created checklists based on our shared vision—one that includes space for SEL, SDGs, and student voice. It’s not about finding the “perfect” book. It’s about finding one we can work with.
- Avoid the Aesthetic Trap
Here’s something we don’t say enough: a glossy cover and high-quality images don’t always mean the content is sound. I’ve fallen into that trap before. Beautiful design doesn’t guarantee depth.
Now, I look beyond visuals. I spend time reviewing the progression of topics, the types of questions asked, and how culture and diversity are portrayed. I pay close attention to how grammar is introduced—is it purely deductive, or does it invite learners to notice patterns and construct meaning?
A good coursebook needs substance. Everything else is just packaging.
- Embed Values, without preaching
One of the most powerful things we can do as language teachers is to show students that English isn’t just something to be learned—it’s something to be used.
Used to tell stories. To ask difficult questions. To raise awareness.
That’s why I link International Days—like the International Day of Peace, or Earth Day—to our lessons. Not through lectures or extra worksheets, but by shifting the focus of existing units. If we’re reading about cities, we also explore how cities can be more inclusive and environmentally friendly. If we’re studying inventions, we think about which ones are helping solve global challenges.
This isn’t just about adding global topics to the curriculum. It’s about giving learners a sense of purpose. It’s about reminding them—and us—that language connects us to the bigger picture.
- The Bottom Line
So, what makes a coursebook truly worth using?
For me, it’s one that doesn’t close the conversation but opens it up. One that supports learning and leaves space for imagination. One that helps students grow not just as English speakers, but as human beings.
In the end, no coursebook will ever replace the teacher. But the right one can become a powerful ally in creating lessons that matter.
So, the next time you’re faced with choosing a coursebook, ask yourself this:
Will this help my students pass a test? Will this help them understand the world—and their role in it?
Choose the one that does both. But never settle for the one that does neither.
