Introduction

One of the most under-discussed sources of disruption in MFL (Modern Foreign Languages) classrooms is not the listening exercise, not the dialogue drill, not even the grammar explanations (which, if I’m honest, can test even the saintliest patience!). It’s the transition — those fragile 20–40 seconds when students glide (or stumble…) from one activity to another.

Emmer & Evertson (2013) suggest that up to 25% of classroom misbehaviour occurs during transitions!, and I must confess, having survived nearly 30 years of lively MFL rooms, I’d say that in languages itsometimes feels more like 40%. Why? Because unlike other subjects, MFL lessons are transition-packed ! : book → sheet, sheet → mini-whiteboard, whiteboard- device, pair → whole class, listening → oral rehearsal, and so on.

And each of these tiny shifts, if not tightly handled…becomes an invitation for things to go, as my grandmother used to say, a ramengo.

1. Transitions create behavioural “grey zones”

During a transition, the whole structure of the lesson, which a second earlier felt solid enough, suddenly dissolves into a sort of temporary void: no immediate task, no strong focal point, and—crucially—your attention is split between giving instructions, loading audio, locating the right slide, and wondering where that worksheet has vanished to…arggggggh!

This is what I often refer to (half-jokingly, half-traumatically) as the behavioural vacuum where disaster can happen. Why? Because vacuums get filled quickly—with chatter, shuffling, “accidental” pencil tapping, partner-related negotiations, and… the occasional tango-style manoeuvre in the aisles.

I remember once, in a tough school in Bedfordshire, during what I thought was a perfectly innocent “move to your new speaking partner” transition, one of my Y8s decided—completely spontaneously—to stop on the way to inspect another pupil’s pencil case collection. Ten seconds later half the class was involved! All because I’d left a 3-second clarity gap.

Implication for MFL:
If transitions aren’t scripted like micro-routines, students will improvise. And their improvisation rarely matches ours.

2. Ambiguity is the enemy

Transitions force pupils to juggle quite a few thoughts:

• What do I put away?
• What do I take out?
• Where do I sit?
• Who’s my partner now?
• Have I lost my pen again?
• And (inevitably): “Sir, is this due in today?”

If instructions are drip-fed (“Take out your whiteboards… no, don’t write yet… wipe them first… actually, swap with your partner… wait, sit down…”), students are likely to fill those blanks with disruptive behaviour.

In my experince, ambiguity during transitions is rocket fuel for misbehaviour. Pupils aren’t misbehaving because they’re malicious; they’re misbehaving because the situation invites too much choice.

Implication for MFL:
Give complete, front-loaded instructions.
Say it once, say it clearly, check it.
Visual cues help massively—a tiny icon in the corner of the slide can do miracles.

3. Slow transitions invite trouble

A 40-second transition feels short, but multiply that across a lesson and you’re looking at four or five minutes of semi-unmanaged time. Enough to fit in:

• three whispered conversations
• two desk rearrangements
• the great pen-lid hunt
• and, on particuarly bold days, a semi-philosophical debate about why they have to do listening at all.

In my experience, the slower the transition, the more some students interpret it as “down time.” And once they’ve slid into that mindspace, recovering them is like trying to herd caffeinated cats.

Implication for MFL:
Aim for 30-second, high-clarity transitions.
Use timers, model what “fast” looks like, celebrate improvements.
Speed is structure.

4. Teacher presence weakens during transitions

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: during transitions, we often turn our backs at the exact second when we should be most present. Loading the listening track… switching worksheets… pulling up the next slide… and bang—your withitness evaporates.

Students are masters at sensing microscopic shifts in teacher attention. If they sense you’re half-occupied, they fill the gap.

I vividly remember a class in which I simply turned to plug in my laptop charger. Five seconds, tops. When I turned back, one pair had built a tiny Eiffel Tower out of glue sticks. Slow transitions create opportunities; reduced presence magnifies them.

Implication for MFL:
Move through the room as the transition unfolds.
Narrate what you see: “Table 1 is ready… fantastic… back row almost there…”
This creates presence without confrontation.

5. MFL has inherently more social transitions

Because MFL is built around interaction—pair work, role swaps, dialogue practice—our transitions are naturally social, which makes them, of course, inherently much riskier than other subjects, especially if you are big on Communicative tasks. More talking, more movement, more negotiation = more chances for distraction.

Implication for MFL:
Reduce unnecessary movement.
Keep pairings stable for whole phases, not for micro-tasks.
Train “instant roles”: Partner A speaks first; Partner B listens; swap on the signal.

So what should language teachers actually do?

Below are the high-yield practices that, over the decades, have kept my lessons more or less sane—even on those days when the behaviour gods were in a particularly mischevious mood.

1. Script transitions like micro-routines

“Books closed → pens down → eyes on me.”
Practise the routine separately. Yes, it feels silly. Yes, it works.

2. Announce transitions before they begin

“In a moment, you’ll switch to listening. You’ll need your book closed and pen ready.”
Pre-cueing reduces anxiety and faffing.

3. Use clear, affirmative language

Not “Don’t talk while you set up.”
But: “This transition is quick and silent. Start now.”

4. Reduce the number of transitions full stop

Chunk tasks. Have everything on desks already. Every avoided transition is a behaviour win!

5. Keep transitions fast

Use a countdown.
Show what a “good transition” looks like (literally model it—kids love the absurdity).
Make it a class norm.

6. Maintain visibility and movement

Presence prevents escalation.

7. Practise transitions deliberately

One minute of practice in September saves ten headaches in March. And trust me, I’ve paid the price of not doing this often enough.

Conclusion: Transitions are where MFL lessons win or lose the behaviour battle

In my experience and according to research, misbehaviour during transitions isn’t merely a sign of “difficult students”, it’s also a sign of unstructured space. When transitions are scripted, predictable, fast, and well-rehearsed, behaviour stabilises—not because students magically become better, but because the environment leaves them little room for drift. This has always been my greatest concern in the challenging schools I worked at.

In languages, where we transition far more often than most subjects, mastering transitions is—not to exagerate— close to a survival skill. It protects pace, it reduces cognitive load, and it creates the calm, purposeful atmosphere in which acquisition can actually happen.

27th November – Face-to-face course at the James Hornsby School, Basildon (Essex) MFL Conference: a deep dive into Dr Conti’s Extensive Processing Instruction. Enroll here: https://www.networkforlearning.org.uk/courses/2025-12-26/epi-conference-1-jul-2023

1^st December – Online: Implementing EPI at Key Stage 2. Click on the following link to enroll: https://networkforlearning.org.uk/courses/2026-02-04/epi-ks2-4-jul-2024

3rd^st December – St Colman’s College Newry (Northern Ireland) – Becoming an EPI teacher.

5^th December –Listening and Metacognition (Coventry) at Futures Education Institute. Enroll by contacting Nick Mort on Nicholas.Mort@futuresteachingalliance.org.uk

8^th December – Broadwater School, Godalming, Surrey. See details below.

10^th December – Beaconsfield High School, Buckinghamshire. Contact Lauren Manney (see details in image below).

9th December – Star Salford Academy (Manchester) – See details in flyer below

Introduction

Every teacher knows one: that colleague who walks into a room and instantly changes the atmosphere. Students sit up, smiles appear, and somehow learning feels lighter, faster, and more human. We call it charisma, and too often we treat it like magic — something you’re either born with or doomed to envy.

In my experience, charisma in teaching isn’t mystical at all! It’s a skillset disguised as personality — a mix of warmth, competence, emotional intelligence, and authenticity, all wrapped in professional purpose. It’s the invisible glue that binds classroom relationships and turns mere instruction into genuine communication.

Research in psychology and education consistently shows that learners engage more, remember more, and persist longer when they feel emotionally connected to their teacher. In other words: how you make them feel shapes how well they learn. So, charisma isn’t decoration, it’s pedagogy. It’s the difference between a lesson that merely ticks boxes and one which transforms .

Here’s what, in my opinion and observation, defines the truly charismatic MFL teacher — the one students listen to, laugh with, and remember forever.

1. Warmth + Competence = Magnetic Presence

Social psychology is remarkably clear — and I rarely say that. The people we perceive as “charismatic” consistently score high on warmth (they are approachable, caring, genuinely human) and on competence (they clearly know what they’re doing and they exude what I call ‘quiet mastery’). Charismatic teachers manage to strike that elusive equilibrium between the two. Simple in theory, mega difficult in practice.

This isn’t just my observation. Fiske, Cuddy & Glick’s Stereotype Content Model (2007) demonstrates that ‘perceived warmth and competence together predict influence and emotional connection’. In education, both dimensions are pivotal. Patrick, Hisley & Kempler (2000) found that teacher enthusiasm and perceived care dramatically enhance students’ intrinsic motivation and engagement.

What this looks like in the classroom, in my experience:

• Smiling not only with the mouth, but unmistakably with the eyes — students pick up on this instantly!
• Remembering tiny, seemingly trivial personal details about students (“How was your futsal tournament?”).
• Offering crystal-clear explanations and then engineering tasks that virtually guarantee success for every learner without dumbing things down.
• Radiating, in posture and tone, the unspoken but powerful message: “Don’t worry — I’ve got you. You can do this.”

Warm incompetence is endearing but ineffective. Cold competence is respected but never loved. Warm competence — that rare blend of skill and humanity — is charisma incarnate.

And yes, I’ve inhabited all three categories at different points in my career. The real magic begins the day warmth and skill cease to live in separate rooms of your teaching personality.

2. Emotional Contagion: your energy is the room’s energy

Let’s be brutally honest — you are the emotional thermostat of your classroom. Students reflect your mood like mirrors. Hatfield, Cacioppo & Rapson (1994) called this emotional contagion: the subconscious mimicking of another’s affective state. In practice, it means that your tone, your pace, and your posture set the collective temperature.

Hargreaves (2000) demonstrated that teachers’ emotional display has a direct and measurable impact on students’ engagement and classroom climate. Sutton & Wheatley (2003) later showed that teachers who radiate positivity foster greater student motivation, enjoyment, and persistence.

And it’s not about acting like a clown or putting on a performance — it’s about animated authenticity:

• Modulating your voice to reflect enthusiasm and curiosity.
• Varying your pacing to keep the energy fluid rather than monotonous.
• Showing visible, contagious enjoyment when a student nails a tricky phrase.
• Laughing openly when you make your own mistakes in L2 — because you will.
• Being playfully human when monitoring: “Muppets, what did I just say about inversion?”

A flat, monotone teacher equals flat, disengaged cognition. A vibrant, expressive teacher triggers higher dopamine release — which research by Howard-Jones (2010) links directly to improved memory formation.

In my experience, we underestimate how physiological this is. You don’t just teach with your voice or mind; you teach with your nervous system. Dopamine is the brain’s way of saying, “This matters — remember it.”

3. Storytelling

Stories are language’s natural habitat. They are how human brains are wired to think. Charismatic teachers don’t simply explain; they narrate, dramatise, and embellish. They inhabit mini-stories that give abstract grammar or vocabulary emotional weight. These aren’t long epics — they’re micro-narratives that humanise content:

• “When I was living in Madrid…”
• “My friend Pierre always does this ridiculous thing…”
• “Guess what happened to me in the lift this morning?”

Bruner (1991) and Willingham (2009) both remind us that narrative structures activate more brain regions than plain exposition. They promote connection, empathy, and retention.

Even a fabricated story beats a sterile explanation – and trust me, I have fabricated many over the years. No one checks your autobiography at the door — and the brain doesn’t care if it’s true, as long as it’s vivid.

4. Humour (especially self-deprecating)

Humour, as I have observed again and again, is the oxygen of an engaging classroom. Without it, interaction suffocates under the weight of correctness and pressure. Research (Wanzer & Frymier, 1999; Garner, 2006) repeatedly shows that appropriate humour enhances motivation, attention, and affective learning.

The charismatic teacher therefore:

• Makes gentle fun of themselves — never of students.
• Uses playful exaggeration to make a dry concept memorable.
• Employs sarcasm sparingly, for comic effect only, never to wound.
• Turns common mistakes into shared moments of amusement rather than embarrassment.

Laughter breeds rapport. Rapport lowers Krashen’s (1982) affective filter.
Lower affective filter equals more intake and better processing.

In my experience, a class that laughs with you will tolerate almost anything — from dodgy accent to malfunctioning speakers — because you’ve already earned their emotional trust.

5. L2 Presence: you “live” the language (strategically)

Charismatic MFL teachers inhabit the target language — but crucially, they do so strategically and sensitively, not dogmatically. They make the language feel alive and meaningful, yet they also recognise when a brief switch to L1 clarifies, reassures, or saves valuable time.

Research fully supports this nuanced stance. Macaro (2001, 2009) demonstrated that judicious use of the first language reduces cognitive overload and increases clarity, while Turnbull & Dailey-O’Cain (2009) warned that absolute avoidance of L1 can, ironically, impede learning.

So the goal is not linguistic purism — it’s purposeful communication.

They don’t “use French” mechanically; they breathe French with intention and rhythm — but always calibrated to the class’s proficiency and confidence.

For some groups, that might mean 80–90% TL use. For others, a gentler, scaffolded 60%. The aim is never 100% — it’s maximum comprehension, maximum authenticity.

Students feed on that authenticity:

• Natural fillers and reformulations.
• Gestures synchronised with prosody.
• Genuine emotion expressed through L2 intonation.

This creates what I like to call identity contagion — learners begin to feel they belong inside that linguistic universe.

In my opinion, the true art lies in modulation: knowing when immersion empowers and when it overwhelms. The most charismatic teachers I have observed over the years, sense this instinctively and adjust with grace rather than guilt.

6. Boundary-setting with warmth (‘benevolent authority’)

Charisma isn’t synonymous with being “nice.” It’s the artful marriage of kindness and firmness. Students crave structure more than they’ll ever admit, especially children from less fortunate backgrounds. Baumrind’s (1967) authoritative parenting model — high warmth, high control — translates beautifully into classroom dynamics. Marzano & Marzano (2003) confirmed that warm, consistent discipline correlates strongly with academic achievement and lower behavioural disruptions.

The charismatic teacher therefore:

• Establishes tight, predictable routines
• Corrects behaviour swiftly but calmly, without drama or ego.
• Uses proximity, quiet authority, and eye contact instead of shouting
• Praises effort with surgical precision (“That reformulation you just made? That’s exactly what a fluent speaker would do.”).

Such consistency builds safety. Safety breeds trust. And trust, in turn, cultivates charisma.

In my experience, students tolerate strictness — even appreciate it — but they rebel against chaos. “Benevolent authority” is your golden balance point: firm boundaries wrapped in genuine care.

7. A Signature Style

Every charismatic teachr has — and should unapologetically cultivate — a signature style. It’s their calling card, their behavioural fingerprint, the thing students associate uniquely with them.

Examples include:

• The catchphrase that echoes across corridors
• The exaggerated gesture that signals comprehension.
• The infamous timer
• The beloved coloured pens.
• The ritual (“3-2-1, eyes on me.”).
• The infamous Conti eyebrow when someone tries to bluff through a listening task.

Cognitive psychology explains this phenomenon beautifully. The distinctiveness effect (Hunt & Worthen, 2006) suggests that unique cues aid both memory and emotional bonding. Students don’t just remember what you teach; they remember how you made them feel while teaching it.

Over time, these quirks become affectionately mimicked, referenced, even immortalised in farewell cards. That’s not ego — that’s emotional imprinting.

8. Authentic Passion (not generic, but specific)

“Passionate about languages” is a cliché. Real charisma comes from specific passion — that electric, personal fascination that makes your subject vibrate with meaning!

Charismatic teachers don’t say, “I love French.” They say:

• “I love how Italian uses rhythm to express emotion — it’s like music.”
• “I adore the way Spanish handles the past — it’s so elegantly layered.”
• “French syntax is an engineering masterpiece — logical yet lyrical.”
• “German syntax feels like craftsmanship — sturdy, intricate, and surprisingly elegant.”

Research supports this wholeheartedly, e.g. Keller et al. (2016) and Frenzel et al. (2009) found that subject-specific enthusiasm strongly predicts students’ motivation, engagement, and enjoyment.

Specificity equals sincerity.
Sincerity equals charisma.

In my view, this sort of linguistic passion transforms you from a curriculum deliverer into a cultural ambassador. Students don’t just learn a language — they borrow your obsession, and that obsession propels them forward long after the test.

9. Students Feel Seen

Charisma is not fundamentally about projection; it’s about perception. It’s not how dazzling you appear but how validated and capable people feel in your presence.

Carl Rogers (1969) would have called this unconditional positive regard. His research demonstrated that empathy and acceptance build trust, resilience, and self-worth — precisely the emotional foundation of deep learning.

Charismatic MFL teachers therefore make students feel:

• Clever even when they err.
• Capable even when they doubt.
• Safe even when speaking haltingly.
• Noticed in ways that feel personal, not performative.
• Valued not as grades, but as growing linguists.
• Connected to something larger than themselves — a linguistic tribe.

This is why charismatic teachers hear that immortal line:

“She made me believe I could actually speak the language.”

And let’s be honest — there is no higher professional compliment. Not a glowing inspection report, not a pay raise, not even a sold-out CPD tour compares to that moment of human confirmation.

10. You’re Consistently YOU

Consistency, in my view, is one of the most underrated forms of charisma. Predictability may sound dull, but in teaching, it’s emotional oxygen. Research by Marzano (2003) and Stronge (2018) found that teacher predictability, fairness, and emotional stability are among the strongest predictors of both achievement and satisfaction. Students thrive on knowing what kind of energy awaits them when they walk into your room. They are not drawn to mercurial inspiration and unpredictability – as some MFL gurus often argue. They are drawn to:

• Predictably good mood.
• Predictably clear routines.
• Predictably high expectations.
• Predictably fair judgement.

Charisma rests on emotional stability and psychological safety.You can be fiery, gentle, boisterous, introverted — it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s you, consistently and unapologetically.

As I often tell trainee teachers: “Don’t play teacher — become one.” When your classroom persona is nothing more than your authentic self turned up a notch, students sense it immediately. They exhale. They lean in. They learn!

In Conclusion

A charismatic language teacher radiates warmth, competence, emotional energy, and authenticity — making students feel safe, joyful, and capable — while wrapping everything in humour, clarity, and a distinctive sense of identity.

Or, to put it less poetically but more truthfully:

“Be the kind of teacher whose vibe makes kids forget it’s Monday first period.”

1. A myth that refuses to die

In my workshops over the years, one myth just refuses to die… the idea that teaching the EPI way means using Sentence Builders. Some individuals even call it ‘The sentence builders method’!

Let me tell you — it’s simply not true.

Sentence Builders are a tool. A very powerful one, sure — maybe even revolutionary in the hands of a reflective teacher — but still just that: a tool!

EPI (Extensive Procesing Instruction) isn’t about grids or colours or boxes. It’s about how learners process language… how they encode meaning, notice form, consolidate memory traces, and build fluency through repeated, meaningful, deliberate rehearsal of language.

You could teach the EPI way perfectly well using listening sequences, classroom interactions, cue cards, or even a few well-designed slides — if you understand and apply its underlying principles.

In this post I intend to debunk this myth and to propose viable alternatives for those EPI teachers who may want to start the modelling phase in different ways. These alternative techniques do not necessarily rule out the use of sentence builders if one is still keeon on using them, of course.

2. EPI as Process-Based Instruction

At its heart, EPI is a process-based instructional model — and that’s not a slogan, it’s a paradigm shift. It means focusing less on what learners produce and more on how they process input on the way there.

Over the past ten years of EPI advocacy, I’ve seen that the best teachers are those who work deliberately on the micro-skills of each language domain:

• Listening: discriminating sounds, chunking meaning units, predicting what comes next, reconstructing messages.
• Reading: decoding, inferring, processing chunks, integrating information across sentences.
• Speaking: retrieving and adapting chunks rapidly, automatizing pronunciation and syntax patterns, monitoring accuracy of output online.
• Writing: planning, retrieving, sequencing chunks, reformulating, expanding structures with increasing complexity, monitoring accuracy.

In my observation, great teachers don’t leave those micro-skills to chance. They design activities that deliberately recyle and rewire those mental proceses. Every listening, reading, speaking, or writing task becomes a laboratory of cognitive rehearsal. As my co-author, Dylan Vinales, once said: “The EPI classroom is, in essence, an ecosystem of automatisation — not a collection of worksheets”.

3. The MARS EARS framework — with or without Sentence Builders

The MARS EARS sequence is where EPI becomes visible. It takes learners from exposure to spontaneity through a very deliberate chain:

1. Modelling – Rich, meaning-bearing input (spoken, written, visual).
2. Awareness – Learners notice and connect form with meaning.
3. Receptive Processing – Intensive listening or reading tasks demanding discrimination and recall.
4. Structured Production – Controlled oral and written manipulation of chunks. In this phase, Sentence Builders should be used only to ‘warm up’ the students before retrieval practice tasks, to support the weaker ones or to check whether the answers are correct.
5. Expansion – Explicit grammar teaching, Recombination and Extension of what’s been learned.
6. Autonomy/Assessment – Low-stake assessment, diagnosis and consolidation.
7. Review & Spontaneity – Recontextualised recycling leading to automatizion.

Nowhere in that process does it say “use a Sentence Builder.”
You can model, prompt, and scaffold language through a dozen other means — as long as the sequence keeps its cognitive gradient from receptive to productive.

4. The power of chunks and structural priming

EPI draws heavily on usage-based linguistics — the idea that language emerges through repeated procesing of meaningful lexicogrammatical chunks.

Chunks are the brain’s way of simplifying life. They allow fluent speech and comprehension by bundling grammar and lexis together into reusable units.
When learners repeatedly encounter patterns like “I’m going to…”, “Can I have…?”, or “On the weekend I usually…”, something powerful happens: structural priming.

As Bock (1986) and Pickering & Branigan (1998) showed, exposure to a structure increases the likelihood that we’ll use it. That’s why, in my experience, students who are bombarded with the same high-frequency patterns in different contexts start producing them effortlessly. It’s not magic — it’s cognitive economy at work.

But in EPI grammar is also taught explicitly, through deductive teaching or inductive learning, as the teacher feels fit, in the Expansion phase of the MARSEARS sequence. No sentence builders is necessary in this phase either, unless you want to make it easier for the students, that is…

5. Listening as modelling: the interpersonal gateway

One of the things I’m proudest of in my work on EPI is the idea of interpersonal listening-as-modelling.
Traditional listening exercises test comprehension — “Did you catch the right answer?” — and that’s it.
EPI flips that.

In my approach, learners don’t just listen; they use what they hear as a model for their own output.
They mirror, adapt, and reuse the same structures almost instantly.

For example, after a short teacher–student exchange about weekend routines, I might ask students to replicate it with a small twist — change the activity, the day, or the person.
This transforms listening from a passive test into a productive rehearsal — the most efficient form of input processing I’ve seen in decades of teaching.

6. The engine of learning: repeated and varied processing

Every teacher knows that repetition matters… but not all repetition is equal.
Research from Craik & Lockhart (1972) to Webb (2021) confirms that depth and variety of processing are what truly consolidate learning.

In EPI, repetition is not parroting. It’s a cycle of re-encoding: hearing, noticing, matching, reformulating, expanding.
Each re-encounter engages a different network in the brain, reinforcing long-term memory traces and reducing cognitive strain.

Unfortunately, many classrooms stop too soon. They introduce a structure once, practise it briefly, then move on.
But language doesn’t work like that.
In EPI, we recyle chunks over multiple modalities and days — always slightly recontextualised, always processed anew.

7. How You Can Present and Model the Target Chunks Without Sentence Builders

Modelling is where it all begins. And no, you don’t need a grid. You just need clarity, intention, and a bit of creativity.
Here are some of my favourite ways to model chunks without ever touching a Sentence Builder:

1. Flashcards for rapid retrieval and noticing

Create flashcards with the target chunks on one side and visuals or translations on the other.
Start with teacher-led modelling: flash a card, say the phrase aloud, and have learners repeat with rhythm and gesture.
Then move to pair quizzing: one learner shows the card, the other produces the chunk aloud, swaps roles, and times each other.
Later, combine several flashcards into quick oral chains (“On Saturday I go swimming + with my friends + in the morning”), encouraging fluency through speed and combination.
Flashcards keep retrieval active, reduce cognitive load, and strengthen form–meaning mapping through constant low-stakes practice.

All these approaches maintain what EPI values most: clarity of modelling, deliberate recycling, and deep engagement with meaning… and not a single Sentence Builder in sight.

2. Listening-based visual anchoring

Display simple visuals — icons, pictures, emojis — while reading or playing short dialogues aloud.
Ask learners to match what they hear, spot faulty descriptions, or order the visuals.
The picture set becomes your “invisible Sentence Builder.”

3. Guided micro-dictations

Deliver short, chunk-rich dictations like “On Saturdays I go to the gym.”
Learners reconstruct, translate, and underline patterns like “time phrase + verb + place.”
Simple, effective, memorable.

4. Cued oral modelling with substitution

Use cue cards with categories (time, activity, place).
Model examples while changing one cue at a time:

“On Saturday I play football.”
“On Saturday I play tennis.”
“On Sunday I go swimming.”

Learners repeat and adapt — automatisation through meaningful variation.

5. Listening-as-modelling chains

Play a short recording or give a live model. Learners shadow, then reproduce it with one altered detail.
This keeps listening and speaking intertwined — a direct substitute for the Sentence Builder grid.

6. Faulty-translation and reformulation games

Project slightly wrong English translations of accurate TL sentences.
Learners spot and fix them — deep procesing guaranteed.

7. Collaborative classification

Give learners printed chunk strips.
Ask them to group by meaning (activities, times) or syntax (verb + infinitive / verb + noun).
The tactile act of sorting helps internalise structure — cognitive learning by touch and sight.

All these approaches maintain what EPI values most: clarity of modelling, deliberate recycling, and deep engagement with meaning… and not a single Sentence Builder in sight.

8. Interactive oral modelling

Start with a natural class exchange.

“Do you go out on weekends?”
“Yes, I usually go jogging.”
“You usually go jogging? Great! Who with?”
“With my friends.”

Each question–answer pair repeats the target chunks in meaningful variation. The teacher subtly primes the syntax while keeping communication real.

Please note: none of the above excludes the use of Sentence Builders as chunk organisers, scaffolding tools, or as a means to reinforce and consolidate the initial modelling achieved through the techniques described above.

8. EPI as a mindset — and why Sentence Builders still matter

Now, let me be very clear. EPI is a mindset, not a method locked into a specific tool.
It’s about cognitive design, not graphic design.

What defines an EPI teacher, in my experience, is not the slide they show but the mental operations they induce in their learners.
Sentence Builders can do that — but so can good listening chains, reformulation tasks, and carefully scaffolded dialogues.

That said, there is a very solid theoretical reason I’ve advocated Sentence Builders for years.
They work because they align beautifully with John Sweller’s Cognitive Load Theory, particularly his concept of worked examples. Sweller (1988, 1994) showed that novices learn faster and more efficiently when given clear, structured models to study — reducing extraneous cognitive load.

Sentence Builders are, in essence, linguistic worked examples. They make syntax and lexis visible, freeing up working memory so learners can focus on meaningful processing rather than rule-hunting or guessing.

As I often say, they are not crutches — they are cognitive prosthetics, temporary but invaluable.
Once the learner’s brain has internalised the patterns, the scaffold can — and should — fade.

In ten years of EPI advocacy, I’ve seen this countless times: teachers who overuse Sentence Builders create dependency… those who understand their cognitive purpose create fluency.

Concluding remarks

So, no — you don’t need Sentence Builders to teach the EPI way.
What you do need is a deep understanding of:

• Process-Based Instruction: deliberately targeting micro-skills and scaffolding processing across all four skills.
• Chunk-Based Learning: building fluency through patterned input and structural priming.
• Interpersonal Listening-as-Modelling: making listening the springboard for output.
• Repeated, Varied Processing: recyling language across contexts until it becomes automatic.
• MARS EARS: a flexible yet principled roadmap for cognitive sequencing.

If these are in place, you are already teaching the EPI way — Sentence Builder or not.

Because in the end, the true magic of EPI doesn’t lie in the layout of a grid…
but in the architecture of the mind it helps construct.

Introduction

In my experience working with teachers and observing classrooms around the world, one pattern emerges again and again: students appear to “know” a great deal of vocabulary, and yet they struggle to actually use it when speaking, writing, or responding under time pressure in reading and listening tasks. They recognise words — sometimes lots of them — but cannot retrieve or manipulate them fluently.

In 20+ years of classroom observations as a middle manager, I noticed how way too often vocabulary teaching becomes a matter of exposure and rehearsal rather than mental engagement and meaning-making. Correct me if I am wrong but usually students copy lists, drill flashcards, complete gap-fills, and score highly on vocabulary quizzes, but the knowledge remains fragile — it evaporates when cognitive load increases. In other words: they have met the words, but they do not own them.

Over the last three decades, research in cognitive psychology and applied linguistics has shown very clearly that what determines whether vocabulary becomes available for fluent use is not merely how many times learners encounter it, but how deeply they process it.

In my opinion, this is the heart of the matter.

What Deep Processing Means — and Why It Matters

The concept, which I first came across during my MA TEFL and forever changed my teaching, originates from Craik & Lockhart’s (1972) Levels of Processing Framework, which demonstrated that memory durability depends not on repetition or exposure, but on the depth of mental engagement.

• Shallow processing (copying, matching, reading aloud, memorising lists) → weak traces → rapid forgetting.
• Deep processing (comparing, associating, evaluating, personalising, explaining, transforming) → strong traces → durable recall and flexible use.

This aligns with Laufer & Hulstijn’s (2001) Involvement Load Hypothesis, which states that vocabulary retention depends on how much a task induces:

1. Need (motivation or communicative purpose),
2. Search (effort to locate or retrieve meaning),
3. Evaluation (choosing, comparing, justifying meaning).

Tasks high in involvement load → deeper encoding → longer retention.

Likewise, Webb (2007) shows that words processed through generative use (i.e., used in new contexts) are remembered better than those practiced in familiar or repetitive contexts.
Recognition → weak memory
Use in familiar frame → moderate memory
Use in new meaningful context → strong memory

In short:
Vocabulary becomes usable when learners have to make an effort learning it, i.e. must think with it, decide with it, and adapt it.

Students don’t remember what they repeat.
They remember what they process meaningfully.

How to Teach for Deep Processing (with Beginner / GCSE / Advanced Variations)

1) Categorisation & Classification

Why it works: Grouping requires the learner to consider meaning and function, strengthening connections between chunks.

More activities:

Visual cluster map: Project a word/phrase bank and ask students to draw branching clusters on mini whiteboards grouping by meaning, tense, tone or function; then ask them to explain their grouping choices.

Taboo-category race: Give pairs a category (e.g., “expressing obligation”) and a set of phrases; they must race to place each phrase into their category, and then swap boards and justify the placements.

Reverse classification: Present categories only (e.g., cause / contrast / opinion) and challenge students to create or hunt additional examples from previous texts or their own output to fill those categories.

2) Odd One Out (with justification)

Why it works: The learning is in the justification — distinguishing meaning requires deep comparison.

More activities:

Teacher-made set of 5 phrases, where 4 follow a pattern and 1 doesn’t; students mark the odd one and must verbally justify their choice (e.g., tense mismatch, wrong connective effect).

Peer-swap odd set: Each student writes their own 5-phrase set, swaps with a partner who must pick the odd one out and explain why (via mini-presentation).

“Why could this not fit?” variant: Give students 5 phrases and ask them to justify why each one could not be the odd one, forcing them to evaluate all options, not just the obvious odd item.

3) Similar but Different

Why it works: Builds semantic precision and prevents typical GCSE mistranslation errors.

More activities:

Contrast carousel: Students rotate in pairs through stations: each station has two very similar phrases (e.g., je vais vs j’ai l’intention de), and students must note differences in use, tone, register, typical contexts. Then whole‐class share.

1-minute micro-explanation: Individually, students pick one pair of “similar” phrases and record themselves (or orally in class) giving a one-minute explanation: when I’d use A vs B, and why.

Error challenge: Present slightly erroneous versions of both phrases (e.g., wrong person, wrong tense) and students must spot the error and explain which phrase it mimics and how it mis-loads meaning.

4) Personalisation

Why it works: Meaning is remembered best when it relates to self.

My chunk snapshot: Students pick 3 new target chunks and write short diary entries: “This weekend I … using this chunk because …” Then swap with a partner who asks three “Why did you choose that chunk?” questions.

Identity swap*: Students interview each other: they ask their partner “What would you do if … (use chunk X)?” and then report back to the class about their partner’s response, emphasising use of the chunk and how it ties into that person’s life.

Challenge-Plus version: Learners reproduce the target chunk in a personal statement that also contradicts the chunk (e.g., “Bien que je veuille voyager, je ne peux pas”) forcing them to adapt the chunk and link it to personal reality.

5) Retrieval + Variation

Why it works: Retrieval strengthens memory; controlled variation deepens structural representation.

More activities

Flash-variation sprint: In pairs, one student says a chunk in L1, the other retrieves in the TL; then they must change one variable (tense/person/place) and re-produce it in a new sentence.

Time-pressure swap: Use an online timer (30 seconds). Student must retrieve as many uses of the same target chunk as they can (e.g., “on peut” + 4 contexts); then partner must swap one chunk to a new person/tense.

Paraphrase relay: They begin with a target chunk, then each student in a group must paraphrase in TL (change voice, person, tone) until it returns to the origin but transformed. Then reflect: which retrieval was hardest and why?

6) Evaluation & Decision-Making

Why it works: Choosing between alternatives strengthens long-term retention through meaning-based judgement.

More activities:

Ranking discussion: Provide 6 target phrases and ask learners to rate them for usefulness in an upcoming topic (e.g., holidays, future career), then justify their ranking.

Context-match debate: Give contradictory short contexts and pairs must choose which chunk fits better, then debate the decision: “Why or why not?”

Adaptation task: Provide one chunk and ask students to adapt it so it is more formal/informal/persuasive. Then they peer-review: Was the adaptation still acceptable? Why/why not?

7) Controlled Creative Production

Why it works: Creativity within scaffolding enables safe spontaneity.

More activities:

Chunk storyboard: In groups, build a 4-frame storyboard using 3 target chunks. Each frame uses one chunk; students then orally narrate the story using all chunks, adapting tense/person/setting.

Twist rewrite: Provide a scaffolded text (80 words) using target chunks. Students rewrite it from the perspective of a different character or setting (e.g., holiday → career interview) — forcing deep adaptation of vocabulary.

Micro-debate: Give a statement and ask students (in pairs) to prepare a 2-minute argument using at least 4 target chunks. After one round, swap sides and ask them to reverse the argument (challenging them to adapt chunks to opposite stance).

A Daily Fluency Routine (8 Minutes)

Deep Processing Through Oracy: Listening and Speaking

It is often assumed that vocabulary is acquired mainly through reading and memorisation, and that listening and speaking simply test what has already been learned. In reality, oracy is one of the most powerful drivers of vocabulary acquisition, because it forces learners to retrieve, select, adjust, and justify language choices in real time.

When learners listen deeply, they:

• Test meaning hypotheses against input
• Detect mismatches between expected and actual meaning
• Notice functional roles of chunks (opinion / time / reason / contrast)
• Form predictions and revise interpretations

When learners speak deeply, they:

• Choose between alternative formulations
• Justify lexical decisions
• Adapt phrasing to tone, audience, stance
• Reformulate ideas rather than recall rehearsed scripts

This is the cognitive work that drives vocabulary from recognition → retrieval → spontaneous use.

Oracy Deep-Processing Task Table

Conclusion: From Knowing to Owning

According to much research, most learners do not struggle because they lack vocabulary.They struggle because they have not processed vocabulary deeply enough to retrieve and use it fluently.

Deep processing:

• Builds retention
• Speeds retrieval
• Enables flexible, fluent use
• Turns chunks into language behaviour

Less copying.
More comparing.
More evaluating.
More adapting.
More thinking.

This is how we move students from exposure to ownership. On http://www.language-gym.com, we apply every single one of the above transformational principles and techniques.

Introduction

When we speak about reading fluency in the MFL classroom, we are often—understandably—thinking about vocabulary and comprehension. However, research over the last decade has made something abundantly clear: it is not simply what students know that determines their success in reading exams, but how automatically, smoothly, and confidently they can process what they know. Reading is a dynamic orchestration of decoding, chunking, grammatical pattern recognition, and meaning-making—under time pressure. And if one part of that orchestration falters, the whole performance wobbles.

Understanding the Reading Process

L2 reading is best understood as multiple processes working at the same time, not one after the other. Skilled reading is fast, layered, and automatic.

The Reading System: Step-by-Step

1. Visual Word Recognition
   The eye sees the word and recognises its written form.
   (Reference: Grabe, 2009)
2. Lexical Access
   The brain retrieves its meaning from memory.
   (Reference: Nation, 2013)
3. Syntactic Parsing
   The brain groups words into meaningful units (phrases, clauses).
   (Reference: Ellis, 2006)
4. Semantic Proposition Building
   The reader forms a “core message” of what is being said.
   (Reference: Kintsch, 1998)
5. Background Knowledge Integration
   Prior knowledge fills gaps and supports understanding.
   (Reference: Bernhardt, 2011)
6. Monitoring and Repair
   The reader notices confusion and adjusts.
   (Reference: Vandergrift & Goh, 2012)

If any of the first three stages are slow — reading collapses.

This is exactly what GCSE weaker readers experience.

10 Key Facts and Classroom Implications for GCSE Preparation

1) Fluency is more than speed

(Rasinski, 2012)

Fluent reading means:

• Correct words (accuracy)
• Smooth rhythm (flow)
• Words grouped together meaningfully (phrasing)

If students read fast but in the wrong places, they do not understand anything.

Example:

Poor: Je suis / alléauci / néma / hier soir

Better: Je suis allé / au cinéma / hier soir.

GCSE implication:

Teach students to read in “sense groups”—where the phrase makes meaning, not just noise.

Mini routine: Underline phrases, not words.

2) Slow decoding drains mental energy

(Samuels, 1979)

When students must stop to decode lots of words:

• Their working memory gets overloaded
• They lose the sentence meaning
• Confidence drops → anxiety increases → performance worsens

Example:

They decode malheureusement correctly, but by the time they finish, they’ve forgotten the sentence.

GCSE implication:

Focus fluency building on:

• high-frequency verbs
• connectives
• pronoun + verb chunks (e.g., je voudrais / j’ai pensé / il y avait)

Students cannot understand what they cannot process quickly.

3) High-frequency words drive reading

(Nation, 2013)

GCSE texts rely heavily on:

• Common verbs (être, avoir, faire, aller)
• Time and opinion structures (je pense que, c’était, il y a)
• Modals (on peut, il faut)

Teaching 200 hyper-frequent chunks >>> teaching 1,000 topic nouns.

GCSE implication:

Recycle the same useful expressions every week.

Do not chase word list inflation.

4) Guessing from context only works when load is low

(Laufer & Hulstijn, 2001)

Students can only infer unknown words when they:

• Already understand most of the sentence
• Have spare cognitive bandwidth

If the text is too dense → no inference happens → panic.

GCSE implication:

Provide just enough vocabulary first.

Then practise flow.

Then practise inference.

Never the other way around.

5) Phrasing is understanding

(Kuhn & Stahl, 2003)

Meaning is stored in chunks, not single words.

If students can identify:

• Relative clause boundaries
• Connective-based transitions
• Verb phrase groupings

Their comprehension skyrockets.

GCSE implication:

Teach students to mark chunk boundaries before reading questions.

This directly improves translation accuracy.

6) Repeated reading builds fluency

(Taguchi, 2016)

Reading the same short text multiple times:

• Reduces cognitive load
• Improves speed + comfort
• Increases comprehension without teaching new vocabulary

GCSE implication:

Use micro-texts (60–100 words) and re-read daily.

Variety of topics is less important than repeated exposure.

7) Oral reading supports silent reading

(Webb & Nation, 2017)

Speaking text aloud:

• Reinforces word recognition
• Stabilises chunk recall
• Builds rhythm and intonation → faster inner reading voice

GCSE implication:

Do choral reading, echo reading, paired reading — even in KS4.

It is not childish. It is neurologically efficient.

8) Fluency needs automatic grammar chunks

(Ellis, 2006)

Grammar must operate as pattern recognition, not rule consultation.

Example:

Students should recognise:

• negation blocks (ne … pas / n’a pas pu / ne voulait pas)
• tense frames (j’allais / je suis allé / j’irai)
• subordination triggers (parce que / quand / comme / si)

GCSE implication:

We teach grammar by repetition in meaningful contexts, not by abstract explanation.

9) Reading fluency strengthens listening

(Vandergrift & Goh, 2012)

When students already know a chunk visually, the brain recognises it faster in speech.

GCSE implication:

Use the same text:

1. Read it
2. Listen to it
3. Summarise it

This improves Paper 1 + Paper 2 in one move.

10) Confidence is a fluency factor

(Zimmerman, 2000)

Students who feel they can read:

• Take more risks
• Try longer texts
• Persist under exam stress

Students who believe they “can’t read” → shut down instantly.

GCSE implication:

Use visible progress routines:

• Timed re-readings
• Confidence self-ratings
• “Look how much faster I am now” charts

Conclusion

Conclusion

Reading fluency is not a luxury skill—it is the foundation upon which comprehension, confidence, and exam success are built. When students’ decoding is slow, when chunk recognition is weak, or when grammatical patterns haven’t been automatised, everything else in the reading process strains to compensate. Working memory overloads, anxiety climbs, and performance drops. This isn’t a question of ability. It is a question of cognitive conditions.

The solution is not to give students harder texts sooner, nor to plough through long word lists, nor to train them to guess desperately from context. It is to build fluency deliberately and systematically: to recycle high-frequency chunks, to rehearse phrasing, to revisit micro-texts, to read aloud, to stabilise the grammar that actually drives meaning-making in real time. When we do this, we are not simply preparing students for a GCSE paper. We are giving them the tools to read with ease, to process language with confidence, and to experience the feeling—rare but transformative—of language becoming effortless.

Introduction

If you’ve been following the EPI way of sequencing instruction, you’ll know that grammar traditionally appears after a rich diet of structured input and structured and semistructured output work. Learners first experience language through chunks, notice recurring patterns, and only later consolidate those intuitions through explicit rule work. But what if, in some cases, flipping that order actually helps rather than hinders learning?

In this post, I’ll explore why it can sometimes make perfect sense to teach grammar before structured production—that is, to insert explicit form-focused work between the Awareness and Structured Production phases of the MARSEARS cycle. Drawing on cognitive load theory, skill acquisition research, and decades of classroom observation, I’ll show how this alternative version—MARESARS—can be a powerful choice in contexts where accuracy, noticing, and cognitive efficiency matter most.

We’ll look at the eight research-backed reasons for front-loading grammar, the classroom scenarios that call for it, and how this adjustment preserves the EPI spirit while fine-tuning its rhythm. Think of it not as breaking the cycle, but as learning when and how to bend it intelligently.

1. Enhances “noticing” once meaning is secure

When explicit grammar instruction follows a rich modelling and awareness phase, learners already possess enough semantic scaffolding to make form salient. They can link abstract grammatical explanations to concrete, familiar examples, leading to what Schmidt (1990) called noticing: the conscious registration of form–meaning connections. This effect is strongest when explicit focus follows intense exposure to input that has been understood but not yet fully analysed. Placing grammar before structured production ensures that students’ attention shifts naturally from “what does this mean?” to “how is this meaning encoded?” (Ellis, 2002). In other words, explicit grammar becomes an interpretive tool, not a barrier to communication.

2. Improves form–meaning mapping accuracy

When rules are clarified before learners start speaking, they can process input with more precision, aligning forms with communicative functions. VanPatten (2004) and Doughty & Williams (1998) emphasise that learners often misinterpret forms if they must infer both meaning and structure at once. For instance, without prior explanation, French learners might see je mangeais simply as a variant of je mange, not recognising its aspectual nuance. Early explicit input ensures a richer encoding of meaning, fostering more accurate form–function mapping and preventing early semantic flattening. Grammar here acts as a “lens” through which input gains grammatical depth.

3. Reduces cognitive load during first output

Cognitive load theory (Sweller, 1998) predicts that learners can process only a few new items simultaneously. If they must generate output and decode new grammar in real time, they overload working memory and performance collapses. Explicit grammar instruction before structured production acts as a load-reducing scaffold: it externalises some of the decision-making by giving learners a mental framework in advance. When production begins, their attention can focus on meaning and fluency rather than rule retrieval. This sequencing is particularly vital for low-intermediate learners, who are juggling both lexical retrieval and morphosyntactic accuracy.

4. Pre-empts entrenched mislearning

In EPI’s cyclic model, delaying grammar too long risks fossilising faulty automatisms. Once erroneous patterns are proceduralised, they resist correction (Lightbown & Spada, 2013). A short, well-timed explicit grammar focus before structured output helps learners verify or adjust their internal hypotheses before they “hardwire” them. This is crucial in morphologically rich or low-salience domains such as French adjective agreement, German case endings, or Spanish clitics. Here, a little explicit metalinguistic clarity at the right time can prevent months of corrective effort later.

5. Boosts short- and long-term gains

Meta-analyses consistently show that explicit grammar teaching leads to stronger gains in both accuracy and durability than implicit exposure alone (Norris & Ortega, 2000; Spada & Tomita, 2010; Goo et al., 2015). However, these effects depend on timing. When placed after the modelling and awareness phases but before structured production, grammar input consolidates the learner’s representations at the “sweet spot” where receptive familiarity meets analytical readiness. The rule thus consolidates patterns the learner has already subconsciously absorbed, creating durable connections across declarative and procedural memory systems.

6. Increases feedback uptake quality

Lyster’s (2004) and Lyster & Saito’s (2010) work on corrective feedback shows that learners benefit more from recasts and prompts when they already possess explicit rule awareness. Grammar instruction before structured production primes learners to interpret feedback diagnostically. When they receive a reformulation, they can identify which grammatical subsystem was activated, rather than just hearing “error/no error”. As a result, feedback becomes learning rather than policing. In the EPI cycle, this makes the “Review” phase exponentially more efficient, since learners have a shared grammatical metalanguage for processing corrections.

7. Supports proceduralisation

Anderson’s (1983) ACT* model and DeKeyser’s (1998, 2015) research show that skill acquisition follows a three-stage sequence: declarative → procedural → automatic. Providing grammar rules before output gives learners a declarative foundation on which structured practice can operate. The structured production tasks that follow then serve as the proceduralisation phase — converting knowledge about the rule into automatic control. Without prior explicit awareness, proceduralisation risks being noisy and inconsistent, as learners trial-and-error their way to partial automatisation.

8. Facilitates selective attention in tasks

Finally, early grammar explanation enhances learners’ ability to focus on target features during both receptive and productive work. Hulstijn (2001, 2002) and Ellis (2006) argue that attention is a limited resource, and effective instruction must direct it. Knowing what grammatical features to look or listen for makes subsequent input more productive — what you might call “guided input noticing.” When learners enter structured production after an awareness-raising grammar phase, their attention is already “calibrated” to track and retrieve those forms in context, leading to richer noticing loops throughout the cycle.

When to switch from MARSEARS to MARESARS

(Moving Expansion before Structured Production)

You would adopt MARESARS (Modelling–Awareness–Receptive processing–Expansion–Structured production–Assessment–Review–Spontaneity) when the goal is to extend input and awareness before learners are ready to produce. This shift is especially beneficial when:

1. The target structure is low-salience or morphologically subtle — e.g., French agreement, Italian clitics, German articles. Learners need longer input flooding before meaningful output is possible.
2. L1–L2 mapping is opaque or misleading, leading to high transfer risk — e.g., English learners of French gender or aspectual systems.
3. High-stakes accuracy is required, such as exam-oriented or writing-led units where premature fluency leads to ingrained inaccuracies.
4. Diagnostic listening or reading shows weak pattern recognition or persistent misparsing, suggesting insufficient input depth.
5. The rule bundle is complex, combining multiple dependencies (e.g., case + word order, tense + pronoun placement). Expansion tasks can then provide layered, multi-modal exemplars before output.
6. Time-on-input outweighs time-on-output, as in beginner contexts or intensive reading/listening units.
7. Analytically minded or adult learners benefit from extended contrastive noticing and explicit reformulation tasks before they speak.
8. The unit is text-driven or interpretive, e.g., based on narratives, songs, or multimodal resources where comprehension naturally precedes production.

Here are my professional development events organised by the University of Bath Spa’s Network for Learning.

Introduction

Listening has long been called a “receptive skill,” but that label is deceptive. Listening is not passive at all — it’s a fast, distributed, multisensory, and deeply predictive process. Recent cognitive neuroscience helps us understand just how much is happening in those few seconds between hearing sounds and understanding meaning.

In this post, we’ll walk through what happens in the brain during listening and why it matters for MFL teaching.

0. The brain’s processing hubs

The diagram below offers a simple but powerful way of visualising what actually happens in the brain during listening. As shown in the picture, listening recruits multiple specialised areas simultaneously: some focus on decoding sound, others on accessing vocabulary and grammar, while still others coordinate articulation, timing, and multimodal integration. This orchestration of neural systems happens in fractions of a second, enabling learners to transform a rapid stream of sound into meaningful language. Understanding this complexity helps us design listening instruction that aligns more closely with how the brain really processes speech.

1. From Ear to Cortex: The Signal Relay

When sound waves hit the ear, they’re transformed into neural signals and relayed to the primary auditory cortex. This is the brain’s “first stop” for incoming sound. At this stage, the brain isn’t interpreting language — it’s simply detecting and classifying the raw acoustic signal.

2. Acoustic Analysis: Pitch, Rhythm, Phoneme Decoding

The primary auditory cortex breaks down the sound stream into its building blocks:

• Pitch
• Rhythm and stress
• Individual phonemes

Think of this as the brain’s phonological decoder. A learner who hasn’t yet automated this stage will often miss words even if they know them.

3. Lexico-Semantic Processing: Making Contact with Meaning

Next, the signal travels to Wernicke’s area, where the brain accesses the mental lexicon. This is where sounds become words, and words link to meaning.

For language learners, this stage is slower — because lexical access depends on familiarity, frequency, and contextual support.

4. Syntax, Grammar, and Inner Rehearsal

Broca’s area plays a dual role:

• Parsing grammar and syntax (word order, tense, agreement)
• Supporting inner speech — mentally repeating and holding language in working memory.

This is why learners often “mutter along” internally during listening tasks. It’s not a bad habit; it’s the brain’s way of keeping language active long enough to make sense of it.

5. Articulatory Rehearsal: The Motor Loop

The somatosensory and motor cortex engage to rehearse sounds — even silently. This articulatory loop helps learners stabilise new sequences of sounds in memory.

This is particularly relevant in phonologically complex languages, where unfamiliar sound sequences place extra load on working memory.

6. Visual and Semantic Integration

The angular gyrus and primary visual cortex bring in visual and semantic context — for example, gestures, facial expressions, slides, or lip movements.

This is why listening comprehension improves dramatically when teachers provide audiovisual input instead of just pure audio.

7. Timing, Rhythm and Coordination

Timing structures in the brain (notably the cerebellum) coordinate perception and production. They allow us to:

• Keep pace with fast speech
• Anticipate upcoming words
• Align comprehension with natural speech rhythms

8. The Real Listening Chain

Here’s the listening chain in simple terms:

Ear → Auditory cortex (sound) → Wernicke’s (words & meaning)  
→ Broca’s (grammar + inner speech) → Motor loop (rehearsal)  
→ Visual & semantic systems (context) → Meaning construction

Listening is not linear. All these systems work together in milliseconds — predicting, decoding, integrating, rehearsing.

9. Pedagogical Implications for MFL Teachers

These implications have already been discussed at length in several of my previous posts, but here is a brief recap that brings them together through the lens of what happens in the brain during listening. If listening involves simultaneous phonological decoding, lexical access, syntactic parsing, articulatory rehearsal and multimodal integration, then it makes little sense to treat it as a single, undifferentiated skill. Instead, effective teaching should deliberately scaffold and strengthen each component. This means foregrounding phonological decoding through explicit phonics and repeated exposure to spoken input; making space for inner speech and rehearsal through choral repetition and oral ping-pong routines; supporting lexico-semantic processing through extensive, comprehensible input; and maximising multimodal support (gestures, images, lip movements, captions) to lower cognitive load. It also means building in retrieval and recycling, giving learners the chance to re-encounter and automatise sound-meaning links over time. In short, a research-informed listening pedagogy is less about “testing comprehension” and more about orchestrating conditions that align with how the brain actually processes language.

In my approach, EPI, the teacher deliberately targets every single one of the processes involved in decoding aural input through a range of specialised micro-listening tasks which usually involves interaction between the teacher and the students.

Conclusion

If we understand listening as a multi-system, active process, we stop treating it like a black box.
Instead of asking “Why didn’t they understand?” we can start designing listening tasks that support each stage of this cognitive chain — especially phonological decoding, rehearsal, and multimodal integration.

The next time your students listen to you speak, remember: dozens of brain systems are firing in synchrony, trying to transform sound into meaning in real time. Our job is to make that job easier.

Introduction

I grew up in an educational culture where grammar was sacred! As an Italian learner — and later teacher — grammar was drilled into us like holy scripture: conjugation tables chanted in chorus, endless rule explanations, 100% accuracy being a must, red pen corrections worthy of a bloodbath… When I started teaching, I brought that entire tradition with me to England into the classroom, which, because I was still young and stubborn and quite convinced I was “doing it properly,” made me blind to how little of it actually worked.

I genuinely believed that if I explained things clearly enough, if I corrected enough, if I drilled enough, the grammar would stick forever ! But of course… it didn’t. Not the way I expected, at least. My students memorised beautifully, then promptly forgot. They “knew” the rule but couldn’t use it in real time — which, if I’m honest, made me more frustrated than them.

And here’s the awkward truth: as a young Italian teacher who thought grammar was the sun around which all learning revolved, I clung to practices that looked good but did very little. I built lessons around clarity rather than acquisition, around rules rather than readiness… even when, deep down, I felt something wasn’t working. It took me years — and a painful amount of self-awareness — to realise that much of what felt like “good grammar teaching” was, in fact, a comforting illusion.

So here they are — 12 (nearly) useless things language teachers do when teaching grammar. And I say “they”… but I really mean we. I’ve done every single one of them.

1. Aiming to teach “50% grammar and 50% vocabulary” as if they were ‘equal’ strands

Most teachers I know believe that a balanced curriculum means splitting lesson time between explicit grammar instruction and vocabulary teaching. This approach stems from the traditional “building blocks” view of language: vocabulary supplies meaning, grammar supplies structure. But… if grammar doesn’t develop on command, why do we keep treating it as if it does? Extensive input processing research (e.g. Bill VanPatten; Stephen Krashen) has shown that lexical knowledge drives much of language comprehension and production, while grammar tends to emerge gradually through repeated, meaningful encounters. In my opinion, this is where so many schemes of work go wrong: they treat grammar as if it obeyed the same logic as vocabulary. I remember early in my career, trying to give exactly “half the lesson” to grammar and half to vocabulary… and being puzzled when students learned the words but kept ignoring the structures. And let’s be honest, grammar does not bend so easily to the teacher’s timetable, particularly when the learner’s internal syllabus — that invisible, stubborn system — has its own sequence of what it’s willing to process and when! Unlike vocabulary, grammar cannot be “taught and learned” in neatly packaged units… Overallocating instructional time to grammar assumes learners can proceduralise rules through exposure to explanation alone — which they can’t!

Why it feels good: It gives lessons a neat structure and a sense of control.

Why it’s useless: Grammar doesn’t behave like vocabulary — it resists timetabling.

Modest benefit: Helps keep teachers aware of “balance,” though the balance itself is illusory.

2. Starting with a “clear explanation” of the rule

Correct me if I am wrong, but beginning a grammar lesson with an explicit explanation is still one of the most widespread practices in language classrooms! It stems from the belief that a well-sequenced deductive explanation lays the foundation for later practice. I still recall a lesson where I gave what I thought was the most lucid explanation of the subjunctive I had ever produced… my students nodded, smiled, repeated after me — and then, in the next activity, cheerfully ignored everything I had just explained. Have you ever had that moment — when you’re speaking with absolute clarity, and the class is nodding like a choir — and yet nothing sticks? In my opinion, this happens because explanations without prior exposure are like arrows shot into fog: technically straight, but never landing where you need them. According to Bill VanPatten and Rod Ellis, learners must first build a mental representation of a structure through meaningful input before explicit rules can support noticing or refinement. And truly, as any good maestro would say, a rule explained too soon is a rule wasted… especially when the learner — bewildered but polite — nods along while their brain files the explanation under “maybe later.”

Why it feels good: Teachers feel clear, structured, professional.

Why it’s useless: Without mental representation, the explanation floats away.

Modest benefit: Might support later noticing if the input foundation is strong.

3. Relying on form-focused drills as the main grammar practice

Form-focused drills—such as conjugation runs, substitution exercises, or transformation tasks—are seductive because they look rigorous and keep classrooms orderly! I used to run those tidy, military-style conjugation drills… everyone in unison, every verb ending perfectly shouted out… and yet, when it came to spontaneous speaking, the endings dissolved like sugar in hot coffee. In my opinion, drills give teachers a comforting illusion of progress precisely because they’re measurable and neat, not because they’re effective. Research (e.g. Michael Long, Nina Spada, Roy Lyster) shows that mechanical manipulation tends to remain in declarative memory. It is a bit like rehearsing a dance step alone in front of the mirror — elegant perhaps, but never quite the real thing, especially when the music, the partner, and the unpredictable rhythm of actual communication are missing entirely. Drills can support familiarisation, but they don’t develop implicit knowledge on their own.

Why it feels good: Neat, measurable, controlled practice.

Why it’s useless: Doesn’t transfer to spontaneous language use.

Modest benefit: Can build familiarity with forms if used sparingly.

4. Re-explaining the rule every time students make a mistake

This is one of the most deeply ingrained teacher habits! Many assume that if students continue to make errors, it must be because they’ve forgotten the rule. I can still picture myself, twenty years ago, circling like a hawk around one poor Year 10 class… re-explaining the same structure for weeks… convinced that if only I said it better this time, they’d finally get it. But how many times can you explain the same thing before realising the problem lies elsewhere? Personally, I believe this ritual of re-explaining is more about calming our own anxiety as teachers than helping students actually acquire the structure. Research in interlanguage development (e.g. Tracy Terrell, Bill VanPatten, Shawn Loewen) shows that most errors are developmental rather than due to ignorance. To insist too much here is like explaining pasta recipes to someone who’s never boiled water — it simply won’t work, because until they have felt the bubbling pot and the weight of the pasta softening, the words remain just that: words. Re-explaining the rule rarely leads to restructuring; learners nod in recognition but their interlanguage remains unchanged!

Why it feels good: Feels patient and thorough.

Why it’s useless: Re-explaining rarely leads to restructuring.

Modest benefit: Can reassure anxious learners — but that’s all.

5. Teaching grammar points simply because they’re next in the textbook

Textbook pacing and syllabus structure often dictate grammar sequencing rather than psycholinguistic readiness! I remember marching into a lesson one October with full enthusiasm… ready to teach the conditional tense to students who could barely produce il y a without mangling it. It was like trying to hang a chandelier in a house without walls. In my opinion, this is one of the most dangerous habits in language teaching: letting the book decide what learners are ready for. Studies on teachability (e.g. Manfred Pienemann) demonstrate that learners can only internalise certain structures once their interlanguage has reached the appropriate developmental stage. Ah, but here lies the classic tragedy: the book marches on… but the learner does not follow… and the teacher — caught between pacing and patience — often knows, deep down, that the grammar has slid off their students like water off marble. Why do we persist in following the book as if it knew the students better than we do?

Why it feels good: It keeps you on schedule and “aligned” with the curriculum.

Why it’s useless: Readiness isn’t dictated by pacing guides.

Modest benefit: Ensures coverage… but not acquisition.

6. Using isolated translation sentences to ‘check mastery’

Translation has long been used as a proxy for grammatical understanding! I used to assign long lists of translation sentences for homework… very traditional, very proper… and then wonder why, during oral work, those same structures evaporated from their minds like mist. In my opinion, translation is the educational equivalent of teaching someone to ride a bike indoors on a stationary trainer: neat, safe, but utterly disconnected from the real road. If translation worked so well, why was their spoken grammar still full of holes? Decades of research (e.g. Stephen Krashen, Rod Ellis) have shown that explicit, controlled production does not equate to procedural ability. Translation may reveal explicit knowledge, but it does not foster automatisation, particularly under communicative pressure! And let’s face it, no one ever became fluent by translating sentence after sentence in splendid isolation… as if the language were an obedient little puzzle rather than a living, breathing system.

Why it feels good: It looks rigorous, academic, “serious.”

Why it’s useless: Tests explicit knowledge, not proceduralised use.

Modest benefit: May reveal gaps — but doesn’t fix them.

7. Turning grammar into a polished PowerPoint performance

The well-designed grammar presentation is seductive because it looks “professional”! I’ve spent hours polishing slides… adding colour-coded timelines and cute arrows… only to realise later that the only thing students remembered was the animation. Isn’t it funny how the more beautiful the slides, the less they seem to learn? Personally, I think this reflects our obsession with control and clarity more than any real evidence of what helps acquisition. Research on input processing (e.g. Bill VanPatten, Teresa Cadierno) repeatedly shows that even the clearest presentation has little impact on acquisition if it’s not anchored in meaningful, repeated input. It is, as one might say, like serving a beautiful plate with nothing on it — the form without the substance, the music without the notes, the speech without the heartbeat. Learners may understand at the surface level, but they don’t retain or proceduralise!

Why it feels good: Looks polished and authoritative.

Why it’s useless: Presentation ≠ acquisition.

Modest benefit: May aid clarity if tied to rich input.

8. Using grammar quizzes and tests as proof of learning

Assessment practices often reflect institutional priorities more than learning realities! I’ve had entire departments celebrate good grammar quiz results… myself included… only to be brought down to earth the moment those same students tried to speak spontaneously. In my opinion, grammar quizzes are one of the great comfort blankets of language teaching: they give us something easy to measure, not something meaningful to trust. Studies (e.g. Norris and Ortega, Shawn Loewen) show that traditional grammar tests mostly tap explicit declarative knowledge. They produce neat data but don’t reveal whether learners can use grammar spontaneously in real time! And what good is a neat number on a spreadsheet if, the moment a student must actually speak, the carefully “learned” structure vanishes like steam from a pot left unattended on the stove? What use is a neat score when the grammar crumbles in the heat of real communication?

Why it feels good: Gives tangible, trackable results.

Why it’s useless: Measures short-term recall, not competence.

Modest benefit: Helps identify what students can recall — briefly.

9. Rewarding grammatical accuracy over processing and fluency

Accuracy-based grading schemes prioritise error-free production over communicative competence! I used to mark with the merciless red pen of a grammar purist… every error circled, every deviation noted… and then wonder why students spoke less and less each term. Isn’t it ironic how the more we correct, the less they speak? To me, this obsession with accuracy reflects a deep cultural inheritance in language teaching — one that values form over flow. Research on fluency and output (e.g. Merrill Swain, Bill VanPatten) shows that overemphasis on correctness encourages monitoring and risk avoidance. Learners produce less, rely on safe language, and develop fossilised habits! And in this way, what begins as a noble quest for precision slowly becomes a slow suffocation of expression, as if every note in the music had to be perfect before the orchestra was even allowed to play.

Why it feels good: Feels rigorous, high standards, academic.

Why it’s useless: Encourages monitoring, not communication.

Modest benefit: Can raise awareness of accuracy — if not overdone.

10. Relying on grammar-based recasts during conversation practice as the main feedback strategy

Recasts—implicit reformulations of errors—have received considerable attention in SLA research! I once spent weeks conscientiously reformulating every student error during pair work… convinced I was gently shaping their language… until I realised, watching them, that they weren’t even registering half of it. In my opinion, this is one of those strategies that survives not because it works, but because it feels good to the teacher. If they don’t even notice, who exactly are we correcting? Studies (e.g. Roy Lyster, Alison Mackey, Shawn Loewen) reveal that learners frequently fail to notice recasts, especially for low-salience grammatical features. Even when noticed, recasts rarely trigger long-term restructuring unless enhanced (through stress, repetition, or salience). It is like whispering to the wind and hoping it changes direction — a lovely gesture perhaps, but one that rarely moves anything but the whisperer’s own lips. They are far less effective for grammar than for pronunciation! Yet teachers love them because they feel natural and non-intrusive!

Why it feels good: Feels gentle, natural, communicative.

Why it’s useless: Often unnoticed, rarely leads to durable change.

Modest benefit: Can support pronunciation or high-salience forms.

11. Correcting everything: the ‘all-out correction’ fallacy

Many teachers still believe that correcting every single grammatical error during oral production is the most effective way to build accuracy! I can still see the look on my students’ faces years ago… when I stopped them mid-sentence again and again… the spark went out of their speech as surely as air from a punctured tyre. Personally, I think this habit says more about our discomfort with errors than about their pedagogical value. Research on corrective feedback (e.g. Roy Lyster, Shawn Loewen) has consistently shown that excessive correction overwhelms learners, disrupts fluency, and often fails to lead to uptake. And truly, too much correction is like seasoning a dish with the entire salt cellar — unbearable and useless — but worse still when the learner, trying to speak, is interrupted so often that the sentence withers before it’s even born. When every slip is corrected, students focus on monitoring rather than communicating, leading to increased anxiety and reduced output! Do we honestly believe that a wall of correction can build confidence?

• Why it feels good: Creates the illusion of control and rigour.
• Why it’s useless: Overwhelms learners, kills fluency.
• Modest benefit: Works in selective, focused form — not all-out.

12. Believing that everyone can “do grammar”

This, in my opinion, is one of the most seductive illusions in language teaching: the idea that, with enough explanation, practice and feedback, every learner can process grammar the same way! I used to stand there with my conjugation charts and my crystal-clear explanations, honestly convinced that clarity was the great leveller… until I noticed how some students thrived while others — intelligent, engaged, capable — stared back with quiet panic in their eyes. Decades of research (e.g. Peter Skehan, Richard Schmidt) show that grammar instruction interacts strongly with individual differences in aptitude, working memory and cognitive style. Not everyone can hold a rule in their head, process it consciously and use it spontaneously. Some can. Many can’t. And what’s more… they don’t have to. Plenty of successful language learners have never “done grammar” in this way — they’ve simply acquired it through patterned, meaningful exposure. Pretending otherwise creates frustration, shame, and a classroom hierarchy where the “grammar kids” shine and others quietly withdraw. How many brilliant learners have we lost to this quiet, invisible divide?

Why it feels good: Suggests that “good teaching” works for everyone.

Why it’s useless: Learners vary greatly in aptitude and processing capacity.

Modest benefit: Encourages some to engage with rules — but not all can or should.

Conclusion

When I look back at my early years in the classroom, I see a young Italian teacher armed with rules, drills, grammar tables, and unwavering faith in explanation. I thought precision was everything… and communicative reality was something that came after. But language doesn’t work that way — and neither do learners.

These “nearly useless” practices aren’t malicious. They persist because they look like teaching. They make us feel in control. But control isn’t acquisition. Real learning happens in the messy, implicit, input-driven, developmentally timed space where rules don’t always behave.

And so, with a mix of affection and irony, I can say: I was my own worst example. And that’s why I know these habits so well.