Death by Questions

Mark Fisher, UK

Mark Fisher has been a teacher in Abu Dhabi for fourteen years, and is the team leader of the Foundations program. He believes strongly that students should enjoy studying English. Before joining the Higher Colleges of Technology he worked in various international oil companies and government organisations in Libya, Bahrain, Iran and Saudi Arabia. E-mail:mfisher@hct.ac.ae

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Introduction
How we teach
What can we do?
Conclusion
Comprehension check

Introduction

If children had to answer questions at the end of each chapter of Harry Potter they would never get to the end of the story, and any pleasure that the series of books has produced would have been smothered at birth. However, left to itself, without the interference of well-meaning teachers, the Hogwarts books have probably done more to encourage reading amongst young adults than any other initiative in the last hundred years ( I have no evidence to support this!).

How we teach

As English language teachers one of our much-touted goals is to promote “a love of reading” yet we seem to do everything in our power to do exactly the opposite. We have allowed exams like IELTS to hijack the way that we introduce reading in English to our students. We kill any joy by subjecting readers to “reference” questions, or deciding which paragraph is about what main topic. We also seem to assume that every student must be riveted by recycling, global warming and dwindling rain forests. Our students learn “exam techniques’ and assume, quite reasonably, that this is what reading means. How often have I had students come out of exams saying “ Oh yes, I answered all the questions but I don’t know what the story was about!”
And we ask comprehension questions. Again and again and again. We ask When something happened, and wonder why the brighter students don’t leap to tell us that the answer is 1066 or whatever. Of course it is. It’s written down in the middle of paragraph one. Sometimes we are subtle, and “hide’ the right answer by adding a tricky “ the following year” or something similar. These questions are not only condescending, they are killing any possibility of the imagination starting to fly. Wordsworth was not wrong when he wrote “We murder to dissect” . Any leap of insight is immediately brought down to earth and pegged down by dead questions which add nothing to the experience.

What can we do?

So what can we do? Only in the most perfect of worlds could we ask students to read something and take the initiative if there were areas they didn’t understand. And perhaps they don’t actually know that they haven’t understood the twist at the end. In addition, students like to have something to do to show that they have completed an exercise, even if the only reward is a nod of approval from their teacher.

Conclusion

I wrote a series of short stories about topics that were relevant to the lives my students lived, and I wanted them to know that there were no questions, so no distraction to the actual story. However there was a need for a finishing point to the exercise, so at the end of the story I added three very short synopses of the event, and the students merely had to select the one which mirrored what they had just read. It works very well, and they appear to enjoy it. At least they don’t hate reading any more, or at least, not this kind of reading.

Abdulla the reluctant hero Abdulla could not get up in the morning. If he set his alarm, he turned it off when it rang and went back to sleep. His father bought him a new mobile with a special wake-up ring tone, but Abdulla slept through it.His mother shouted at him, and the housemaid banged on the door. His father threatened to stop his pocket money, but nothing happened. Abdulla slept and slept and slept. He slept until the new family moved into the house across the street.

Abdulla didn’t know there was a new family in the house across the road until he came back from college one afternoon at the same time as a big GMC Yukon stopped opposite him. Abdulla knew it was rude to look at people, but he was interested because they didn’t often have new families in his village just outside Bani Yas. He watched as the father got out from one side and the mother from the other side. She was followed by a few young children, and then some older children climbed out of the back. They were followed by a Filippino housegirl. The father went to the back of the GMC and opened the back door. Everybody helped carry the plastic bags from the supermarket into the house. Just as Abdulla was going to get out of his car, the last back door opened, and a slim person in black got out. All Abdulla saw was a small foot, but it was enough. She wrapped her scarf over her face and disappeared into the house.

It took Abdulla nearly a week to find that her name was Huda. It was not easy, because he couldn’t ask his sisters ! He knew that they would laugh at him. However, the man in the shop at the corner of the road knew all about the new family. When he found out her name he also discovered that she went to the Women’s College, and that her bus came at 6.30 am every morning. Suddenly, Abdulla’s life changed. He decided that his car needed washing, every day, and that the best time to wash it was at 6.30 am, or perhaps a few minutes earlier. Ali was also the first to know that Huda was learning how to drive. He wanted to follow her to make sure she was all right, but he didn’t because he knew she would be nervous.

Because Abdulla was up so early, he started to go to college earlier. Suddenly he found he had more time than before, and instead of rushing late into the class he had more time to look around the college. One day he noticed a big white truck and trailer parked outside the college, with a big red crescent on the side. He had never noticed it before, so he asked one of his friends, Saeed, what it was.

“That is the Hospital Blood Transfusion Clinic” said Saeed. “They take about half a litre of your blood, and give it to people who need it after accidents. My father gives blood every year, but I have never done it. I was always too scared. Tell you what, Abdulla. I’ll give blood if you will do the same. What do you think ? Do you want to help your country ?”

Abdulla was scared, too, but he couldn’t say “No” because other people in his class were listening. Together they went into the clinic. The nurse wrote down their names, and then made a small cut in their fingers and squeezed out some blood. Abdulla stood up to leave, but the nurse made him sit down again.

“This is only for the AIDS and Hepatitis test ! she said. “ You give the real blood through there!” She pointed at a curtain. Abdulla began to hope he had something wrong with his blood, because he was getting more and more frightened. However, they checked the samples, and he and Saeed were healthy, so they had to go through the curtain into the small clinic at the back. They lay down on two small beds, and a nurse rubbed antiseptic onto their arms. She wrapped a rubber band round Abdulla’s arm and then took a big needle. Abdulla felt sick, and he couldn’t look as she stuck the needle into his arm. He looked at the wall instead. A few minutes later he looked at the needle, but when he saw his red blood going into a plastic bag he felt even more sick, so he looked at the wall again until it was over.

“ Never again !” he thought to himself. “I am never going to do this again. Ever! Not even for my country”

Finally the nurses took as much blood as they needed, and they took out the needles. Abdulla and Saeed felt a bit weak, but they were able to walk out all right. As they walked past the nurse, she said

“Which one of you is Abdulla ?”

“I am.” said Abdulla. “Why ?”

“The doctor wants to speak to you. He is in that office.” She pointed at a door behind her.

Abdulla was really worried when he knocked on the door. What had they found in his blood. Was he going to die ? How many more days did he have to live ? Would he ever see his mother and father again ? Would Huda feel sad if he died ?

“ Please sit down,” said the doctor. “ Abdulla, you have very special blood. You are part of less than 1% of the population with this special blood. It is special because your blood can be used for everyone. Sometimes, in an emergency, we have patients with unusual blood groups. They will die without blood and it is difficult to find suitable blood to give them But we can always use yours. I want to put your name on a special list, so that we can come to you in an emergency. Is that OK ? Abdulla, the Emirates needs people like you. You can really help. We don’t want you to give blood in these clinics again, because you are too important for that. Wait for us to contact you.”

Abdulla wanted to say “No”. He didn’t want to give blood again. However, when he looked at the doctor he couldn’t refuse. He nodded, and gave his address and mobile number.

Abdulla didn’t hear anything more for months and months. He still got up early, and watched Huda getting better and better as a driver. He passed his exams in the college, and she passed her driving test. Her father was very proud of her and he bought her a BMW, which she drove faster and faster.

One night Abdulla was sitting with his family. They were all watching a video and drinking tea, when there was a knock on the door. The housemaid answered the door, and a nurse rushed in.

“Abdulla? Which one of you is Abdulla ?” The family looked in amazement. They didn’t know about Abdulla’s special blood.

“We need you at the hospital. There has been a bad accident!”

Abdulla stood up. He didn’t feel well, but he knew what he had to do. He followed the nurse into the ambulance and they rushed to the hospital. The ambulance flashed all its lights, and drove through all the red lights. Everything happened very fast. They rushed Abdulla into a room, and before he knew it, there was a needle in his vein and the doctor was rubbing his arm to make the blood come more quickly. When the plastic bag was full they rushed out. A few minutes later a nurse came in and put a bandage onto Abdulla’s arm.

“Thank God you were near,” she said. “The patient would have died without your blood.”

“Who was it ?” asked Abdulla, as he rolled down the sleeve of his dishdasha.

The nurse looked at her notes. “It was a girl in a BMW. Her name is Huda.”

Comprehension check

Which of the following is the same as the story you have just read ?

Please check the Methodology and Language for Secondary Teachers course at Pilgrims website.