An Epiphany

Last week I announced about the Speaking assessment to be conducted for the term. The students had to deliver a speech as / about any of their favorite fictional characters. When I explained about the task and discussed the rubrics, I couldn't spot the usual excitement but an unfathomable fear. They weren't excited but hesitant. I gave them a week's time for preparation.

Yesterday I started calling out their numbers for the delivery.  I had expected some peels of laughter and titbits of information as the topic was something dear to the students. To my surprise out of the ten students I called, only three students could speak confidently; some had come unprepared whereas others simply fumbled despite preparation. The class looked too eerie to proceed further that I had to postpone the assessment. 

The period was about to end in ten minutes and the students were not ready to listen to any serious teaching. So, I thought of narrating a story. Before that I instructed them to close their eyes and visualize whatever I narrate. Some closed their eyes, some grinned and opened  one of their eyes cheekily, others started mimicking snores. Despite those distractions, I started slowly but firmly. Now the entire class fell into silence.

I went on... 

"It's a dark snowy night. You’re standing in the heart of a dark forest. Snowflakes drift down in slow, silent spirals, settling cold against your skin. The world is utterly still—until, from somewhere deep in the night, a faint rush of water reaches your ears. You move toward it, step by step, carefully. Above you, the full moon hangs bright and heavy, the only light cutting through the dense foliages of the forest. Then, at your feet, a small puddle appears, gleaming like a piece of the moon itself. You reach out and touch it. The moment your fingers brush the surface, the water bursts into a shimmer of silver light… and that’s when you open your eyes...” 

With that I asked them to open their eyes and continue. To my surprise, hands shot up across the room, all wanting to take the story forward. Unlike the last time, they were not reluctant. I couldn't believe that the same students who stood tongue-tied and fumbled were now stealing the show. Though I thoroughly enjoyed the session, I wanted to know the reason behind the change in attitude. 

I asked my AI companion fort the reason. 
I narrated the incident and prompted, " As a teacher of English, what can I deduce from this. Psychologically / practically" 

It responded, (Generated with ChatGPT)

1. Your students’ spoken English problem was never linguistic — it was psychological.

Deduction:
Their silence earlier wasn’t inability. It was inhibition triggered by exposure, not by incompetence.

2. You accidentally used a classic technique from drama pedagogy and ELT — “decentering the self.”

Deduction:

You shifted the focus from “Me being judged for speaking” to “The story happening to me.” 

3. You triggered narrative schemas — the brain’s easiest speaking pathway.

Deduction:

When people panic, they struggle to retrieve vocabulary. But when given a story starter:

• The brain automatically connects to stored scripts (movies, books, known plots).
• They’re not “inventing from zero”; they’re remixing existing mental templates.

4. Closing their eyes removed the social comparison threat. (Weakened the amygdala’s threat response.)

Psychological deduction:
Visibility = vulnerability.
Invisible = freer expression.

5. You tapped into sensory imagery, which boosts fluency.

Deduction:
Concrete sensory details are more effective than generic prompts like “Talk about your favourite character.”

6. You destroyed the monotony of “assessment atmosphere.”

Practical deduction:
Assessment doesn’t have to be dry; when the setup is creative, output improves automatically.

The response was an epiphany which gave me a clear picture of students' psychology. I could then understand why the students who communicate in English round the clock can not speak clearly for a minute in front of the class. 
I logged out with the satisfaction that I had successfully decoded the mystery.