I love teaching.I just got tired of making everything.

The problem

Level 1A does not describe one learner.

In the same Zoom classroom I may have:

• a student who knows one or two words of English
• a student still learning the Roman alphabet
• a student with limited formal schooling
• a student who can already answer simple questions
• a student nearly ready for Level 2

Then new absolute beginners can enter the class at almost any point in the term. There is no pre-Level-1 class.

So I need a way of teaching that lets everyone participate in the same lesson — without asking a new learner to produce English they don't yet have, or boring stronger students to death.

That led me increasingly toward comprehensible input and storytelling.

The basic idea

I don't start by explaining English.

I don't start by explaining English and then asking students to use it. I try to make English understandable while we're actually communicating.

That distinction changed almost everything about the way I teach.

The theoretical foundation comes largely from Stephen Krashen's work on comprehensible input and the affective filter, and from TPRS — Teaching Proficiency through Reading and Storytelling. But in practice, it is much simpler:

The classroom itself becomes the lesson.

“Good morning.”   “Are you tired?”   “Does Maria like coffee?”   “Does Tim want water or tequila?”

Every exchange is potentially comprehensible input. And if people laugh, disagree with me, correct me, or tell me I'm crazy — even better.

A worked example

A story can begin with almost nothing.

That's enough. Each sentence gets a clear picture. Then we stop. We talk about it.

Is Tim thirsty?   Is Tim hungry?   Does Tim want water or coffee?   Does Tim want 100 bottles of water?   Maria, what do you drink in the morning?

Differentiation

One classroom. Different questions.

After a single sentence, the questions fan out. Every student hears the same target language — but each is asked something they can actually answer.

The curriculum

The curriculum still matters.

I teach with BurlingtonEnglish Core Basics. It remains the spine of the course. I follow the modules and required language in sequence.

The storytelling doesn't replace the curriculum. It gives students another way into it.

If Burlington is teaching food vocabulary, present-tense verbs, or questions with do, those become the raw materials for that day's story and conversation. Students meet the same language repeatedly, in different forms — rather than once in a textbook exercise, and then never again.

The medium

The classroom is a small screen.

My students aren't in a room with me. They're on Zoom — often watching on a phone, alone, at the end of a long day.

That changes what teaching is. In a classroom, the thing that lowers a beginner's anxiety is the room itself. On a small screen, there is no room. There is only the picture.

So I treat the feed as part of the method, not as decoration:

• a professional microphone, so the voice is close and clear — never tinny, never far away
• real lighting, so I'm a warm face and not a dark shape
• strong, legible imagery, sized for a phone, so every word has something to hold onto

A beginner who can hear every word and read every image — who feels a person on the other end — is a beginner whose anxiety drops enough to stay.

But that's not the whole reason they come back. Since I started teaching this way, I'm sometimes shocked by how many show up nearly every day. I don't think it's discipline. I think it's fear of missing out — not on a lesson they could watch later, but on the group experience. The live story. The laughing. Being called on. The thing that only happens once, and only if you're there.

Most online learning is something you do alone. This is the opposite.

I treat my students like customers, because they are. Attendance is voluntary — they vote with their feet. When someone apologizes for being late, I tell them the same thing every time: better late than never. You've got kids, jobs, real lives. Come whenever you can — I'll be here. Nobody shows up because I require it. They show up because the hour is worth it.

So that's the whole job, really: make the hour worth it — as easy, as clear, and as good as I can make it. I'm trying to start a habit.

For absolute beginners online — where quietly disappearing is the norm — that second number still surprises me. I don't have a controlled study, and I wish someone did; the effect of presence on persistence in online adult ed is basically unmeasured. But the students vote every day, and they keep showing up.

Then the economics changed

Then AI changed the economics.

This kind of teaching creates a ridiculous production problem. A short story may require dozens of consistent illustrations. Then I need:

• a teaching deck
• story text
• a video version
• vocabulary activities
• games
• a web page
• homework reinforcement

And tomorrow I need another one. And I'm teaching multiple sections.

Before AI, the obvious response was:

You can't possibly do this every day.

And that was correct. Now I can.

Revision

The classroom edits the curriculum.

My classes are transcribed. Afterward, I can look at what actually happened.

Where did students get confused? Which picture didn't communicate what I thought it did? Which question worked? Where did the story slow down? Was a game too difficult? Did students unexpectedly get excited about something?

Then I can change the material before the next section meets.

What didn't change

AI didn't replace the part of teaching I love.

Not a demo

Everything here comes from an actual classroom.

This isn't a demonstration of what AI could someday do. I'm using this system now, with adult Level 1A students.

The materials evolve because real students use them. Some work. Some fail. Some get rebuilt four times. That's part of the project.

I'm publishing what I learn because I think other teachers may be facing the same problem: