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In the whimsical world of teacher training, where laughter echoes through the halls and memories are made with every misstep, there was a moment that forever etched itself into the annals of educational hilarity. Picture this: I, a seasoned teacher trainer, embarked on a noble quest to impart the mystical art of backward drilling to a group of eager candidates. Little did I know, hilarity awaited just around the corner.
As the sun rose on another day of teacher training, I stood before my enthusiastic cohort, ready to unveil the wonders of backward drilling for teaching connected speech and contracted forms. Demonstrations ensued, and all seemed to be sailing smoothly. That is, until fate decided to sprinkle a dash of chaos into our carefully crafted lesson plans.
The fateful day arrived when it was time for one brave candidate to take the stage and deliver a 45-minute grammar lesson. Among the myriad topics on the agenda, the pronunciation of the target language loomed large. The moment of truth arrived: pronunciation time.
With bated breath and a twinkle of anticipation in her eyes, the eager candidate embarked on her mission to drill the phrase "She'd travel" into the minds of her attentive students. The plan? Backward drilling, of course! Simple, right? Oh, how wrong we were.
As the candidate began her demonstration, she unwittingly flipped the script, quite literally. Instead of starting with "travel" and working backward, she kicked off the festivities with "she." Then, with a flourish of enthusiasm, she uttered "she'd." And that's when it happened.
In perfect synchrony, the students obediently echoed her words, "she'd," "she'd," "she'd," with gusto. But alas, in the hallowed halls of academia, where pronunciation drills reign supreme, "she'd" morphed into something entirely unexpected. Yes, dear readers, you guessed it: "shit."
In that moment, as the entire class echoed the word "shit" in unison, I teetered on the brink of composure. The stifled laughter threatened to burst forth like a torrential downpour, and I found myself struggling to maintain the facade of professionalism. The other observers shared my plight, their faces contorted in a valiant battle against laughter-induced tears.
And thus, dear readers, concludes the tale of backward drilling gone hilariously awry. In the realm of teacher training, where every lesson is an adventure and laughter is the best medicine, this memory remains a cherished reminder of the joy that permeates our noble profession.
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