Grammar with a Twist: Fun Ways to Teach the Rules (and Break Them)
Michael Rabbidge
As a language educator with years of digital ink staining my fingertips, I’ve unearthed a golden truth: grammar doesn’t have to be the dusty, dreaded monster lurking in the textbook. It’s the heartbeat of communication and teaching it can be a wild playground instead of a grim prison.
Over time, I’ve acquired quirky, effective ways to sneak grammar into lessons—whether through explicit rule-driven clarity, implicit context-driven discovery, or a delicious mash-up of both. Drawing from approaches like deductive teaching, inductive exploration, and communicative flair, here’s how I keep the grammar spark blazing.
Let’s kick off with the deductive approach—laying out rules like a treasure map for students to follow. My favourite? “Grammar Detective.” I hand students a short, absurd story—like a pirate bungling “their,” “there,” and “they’re” while chasing cursed gold. The mission: hunt down the mistakes, explain why they’re off (e.g., “The crew lost they’re ship—oops, possessive needs ‘their’!”), and fix them. It’s structured, competitive (points for every catch!), and drills rules like possessive pronouns or subject-verb agreement. Pair it with silly examples—“The dog bark loudly” versus “The dog barks loudly”—and they’re chuckling while grasping why that “-s” matters. Explicit doesn’t mean dull; it means crystal-clear, and clarity can wear a pirate hat.
Now, flip the script to the inductive approach—letting grammar bubble up through discovery. “Story Weaving” is my ace here. Students craft a tale together, one sentence at a time, guided by sneaky prompts like, “Describe the hero with ‘who’ or ‘which’” or “Add a twist using ‘had been running.’” They’re too busy dreaming up a time-traveling baker to notice they’re wrestling with relative clauses or the past perfect. Or try music: I toss them lyrics from “Sweet Child O’ Mine” and ask, “Why ‘She’s got eyes’ and not ‘She have eyes’?” They analyse, spot the pattern, and boom—grammar clicks without a lecture. It’s critical thinking dressed up as play.
For an implicit twist, I lean into the communicative approach, where fluency trumps perfection. “Life Story Swap” is a winner: students chat in pairs with prompts like, “Have you ever travelled somewhere wild?” They stumble through present perfect naturally, picking it up from the flow of real talk—no drills needed. Or take task-based language teaching (TBLT): they plan a heist (why not?) and write an itinerary—“We will sneak in at midnight” or “We’ve already scoped the exits.” Grammar emerges to support the task, not dictate it. I nudge corrections subtly, keeping the vibe alive.
Blending explicit and implicit? Enter “Grammar Karaoke,” a hybrid hit. I give them a song skeleton - “I ___ (go) to the store if I ___ (know) you were out of milk”—and they fill it with conditionals (deductive rule application), then belt it out (implicit rhythm of language). It’s loud, messy, and unforgettable. Another mash-up is “Rule Breaker’s Club,” dipping into contrastive analysis. I teach a rule—say, possessive pronouns—then dare them to break it: “Mine book is lost!” They laugh, but explaining why it’s wrong (especially if their L1 skips possessives) locks it in.
The magic ingredient? Keep it active. Whether I’m channelling the focus on form—correcting “I go yesterday” to “I went yesterday” mid-story—or the lexical approach with chunks like “I’ll catch you later,” I make grammar a game, not a sermon. Mix deductive clarity with inductive discovery, sprinkle in communicative chaos, and toss in some absurdity. Dread morphs into delight. If I can relish teaching “who” versus “whom” for the hundredth time, they can revel in learning it.