The ManicaPost
Morris Mtisi Education Correspondent
Good teachers of English language do not focus and emphasise grammatical correctness and accuracy alone. They also teach to stretch communicative ability from one stage of learning to another.
Language must gain precision, effectiveness and polish from Grade to Grade and from Form to Form. It must gain maturity in the context of both syntax and semantics. If you think I am referring to use of big words that frighten or intimidate the reader or listener, you are terribly mistaken. The beauty of English language is in the sophistication of its simplicity. You communicate to be understood, not to show off your word power. Readers or listeners must not carry with them dictionaries if they want to understand you.
HERE are three model compositions written at three levels, namely Grade 6-7, Form 1-2 and Form 3-4.
The purpose of these models is to illustrate various stretches of language mastery (skills mastery) expected at each level of learning composition writing.
All of the demonstrations are narrative type compositions based on the same topic: MY FIRST DAY AT A NEW SCHOOL.
GRADE 6-7
“Come here Fatso, quick,” one of the boys said pointing at me. “Yes, you! Who else is as fat as a pig?” the boy called Pharaoh added. He was tall, thin, dark-skinned and ugly.
When I got to where he was, he asked me to do a dozen things at once. “Sit down Fatso!” Before I sat he asked me to stand, then to jump and crawl on the floor. Every time I did not do what he told me to do, he would tap the top of my head with a piece of pipe he had in his hand. As it landed on my head it hurt badly. When I cried he told me to smile. ‘Why do you think they call me Pharaoh?” he asked. I had no idea.
“I don’t know,” I answered in fear but thought this was the end of the game.
Then he continued to frighten me. “You will soon know. Now I want you to moo like a cow, then crow like a cock, then bray like a donkey. Finally you will bark like a puppy. If you do it well, you pass the test. Then you can go to your class. You are then a Form One pupil at Chikore Secondary School.”
I refused to be any of the animals Pharaoh wanted me to be. Instead I cried out loud. Before Pharaoh’s pipe tapped on my head the third time, our class teacher, Mrs Ranga, appeared from a corner. She pulled his ears and went with him to the headmaster’s office.
FORM 1-2
“Come here Fatso, quick!” said one of the boys pointing at me. “I mean you Fatso. Who else is as fat as you, young pig?” Pharaoh added. He was tall, thin, dark-skinned and very ugly.
I walked towards him. I was filled with fear. When I got to where he was, he instructed me to do a dozen things at once. “Sit down Fatso!” Before I could sit down, he ordered me to stand, then to jump and to crawl like a baby on the dirty floor. Each time I did not do what he ordered me to do, he tapped me on the head with a small plastic pipe he had in his hand. It was a small pipe but when it landed on my head it really hurt. I cried bitterly. When I did, he forced me to smile. “Why do you think they call me Pharaoh?” he asked. Of course I did not have an idea.
“I don’t know,” I answered. I was terrified.
“You will soon know Fatso. Smile and be happy. Meanwhile I want you to moo like a dairy cow, crow like a cock, then bray like a lost donkey. Finally I want you to bark like a little puppy. If you do it well, you pass the test. Then you can happily go your class. You are then a perfect Chikore Secondary School pupil.
I refused to be like any of the stupid animals he had asked me to imitate. I must have cried very well though.
Mrs Ranga suddenly appeared from around a corner. She was our class teacher. She pulled Pharaoh by his large ears and dragged him to the headmaster’s office. I was most grateful to her. She saved me from the wickedness of this bad boy.
The whole day was pleasant except the part Pharaoh knocked on my head with his pipe. I quickly made two new friends, Chaka and Lebo. They were in the same class with me. We played games in the school grounds and shared our eats and refreshment drinks. Only Pharaoh had spoiled a wonderful day.
FORM 3-4
Entering the school grounds, I suddenly felt an acute sense of fear. I was greeted by two huge boys with hard stern looks on their faces. One of them, the uglier one, I quickly learnt was called Pharaoh. He held a short mean-looking hose-pipe in one hand.
“Come here Fatso, quick!” Pharaoh shouted angrily. He was angrily beckoning me with the small pipe. I turned away twisting my head over my shoulder to see who this Fatso was. “I mean you Fatso! Who else is as fat as a young farm pig amongst you?” Pharaoh added scaring me out my skin. He was tall, thin, as dark-skinned as two December nights put together and very ugly.
Increasingly filled with fear, I stealthily walked towards him. As soon as I got to where he was, the ugly Pharaoh ordered me to do a dozen things at once. “Sit down Fatso!” Before I could sit down, he screamed at me.
“Stand! Hop, skip and jump!” I cannot remember how many times I went through these ridiculous routines over and over again.
Finally he forced me to crawl on the dirty floor like a baby. Each time he thought I was not doing it well, he knocked me on the head with the thick short police-baton-like rubber stick he proudly held in his hand. It was a small leather hose-pipe but when it landed on my egg-clean skull it really hurt.
I cried out loud. When I did, he forced me to smile. “Why do you think they call me Pharaoh?” he asked squeezing out the last atoms of courage left in me. How on earth would I know why he was called Pharaoh? The only Pharaoh I knew was the one in the Bible who was a senseless, insensitive and heartless brute. The one terrorising me now was no better terrorist.
“I don’t know,” I answered almost adding ‘sir!’ In fact I did say “sir”. It only stubbornly refused to come out of my trembling lips. A wave of extreme fear gripped me.
After the hose pipe ordeal, Pharaoh was determined to subject me to more bullying and embarrassment.
“You will soon know Fatso, why they call me Pharaoh. Don’t worry! Smile and be happy! Meanwhile I want you to moo like a dairy cow, crow like a village rooster, followed by braying like a donkey.
Finally, please bark like an angry little puppy. Surely that’s not too much to ask of you Fatso. Quite easy, isn’t it Fatso? If you do it well, you pass the test. Good boy! Then you go to your class. That is the short baptism Pharaoh gives to all the new students who come to Chikore Secondary School on their first day. It is a baptism of fire.
After several other ordeals where I was clearly being reduced to an animal, I wondered what else awaited me next. Then a strange sensation of courage replaced all the fear in me. Cowardice suddenly turned into brave stubbornness.
I refused to behave like any of the animals Pharaoh wanted me to imitate. I must have cried out very well though, I am sure, but never continued to turn the other cheek to the wicked bully.
Suddenly Mrs Ranga appeared from around a corner. She was our class teacher, young, awesomely good-looking and kind-hearted. She pulled Pharaoh by his huge ears and dragged him all the way to the headmaster’s office. It was Mrs Ranga who rescued me from the jaws of this hungry lion.
My first day at Chikore was a wonderful one were it not for one mean bully, Pharaoh. I had quickly made two new friends though, Chaka and Lebo. They were in the same class with me. We played games in the school grounds and gladly shared our lunch-box eats and refreshment drinks.
Many days of early school life may escape my memory, certainly not this one. Ought authorities not do all they can to root out from schools, insensitive bullies who make the lives of new students a memorable hell? I really think so.”
THAT OPENING SENTENCE.
Consider the following options I could have used for the opening sentence: In each example, suggest what Grade or Form it could be suitable?
The air around Chikore Secondary School seemed to be filled with a strong aura of intimidation and fear.
As soon as I entered the school grounds I felt an acute sense of fear hanging in the air.
The moment I set foot on the school grounds, a cold sensation of fear gripped me.
To walk into the school grounds was like walking through the gates of a noisy children’s rehabilitation centre.
To walk through the school’s main gate was like walking into the gate of hell.
A good English teacher will not emphasize the grammatical correctness of English. He or she is also carefully interested in the levels of the effectiveness of the language . . . its shine, its gleam and its expressiveness. If this does not seem to make sense, carefully compare the model pieces at each level (above) from Grade 6 to Form 4 identifying the additional words (new words) and expressions that make each composition more colourful.
