Accuracy of the teacher’s speech

Student of Andijan State Institute of Foreign Languages

Tursunxo’jayeva Malika Abdusamat qizi

abdusamadovnamalika@gmail.com

932412315

Supervisor: Isamutdinova Durdona

Annotation: This article explores the importance of clarity in a teacher’s speech during the educational process. Clear, comprehensible, and logically coherent speech positively influences students’ knowledge acquisition. The study analyzes the main principles of speech clarity, methods to achieve it, and the relationship between speech culture and the teacher’s pedagogical skills.

Keywords:teacher’s speech, clarity, speech culture, pedagogical skills, effectiveness of education

1. The concept of precision

Clarity means that an idea expressed in speech is conveyed clearly, clearly, without hesitation. A teacher’s speech should convey knowledge to students in a clear and understandable form. If a teacher speaks abstractly, confusingly, or inaccurately, it negatively affects the students’ process of accepting knowledge.

2. Main features of teacher speech

Clarity: Ideas are expressed simply and clearly.

Logicality: Sentences and thoughts are interrelated and orderly.

Intelligibility: Speech is built in a language appropriate to the age and level of knowledge of the students.

Brevity and laconia: Redundant words, sentences that are not related to the topic are avoided.

Sounding accuracy: Pronunciation must be correct and fluore.

3. Methods to achieve accuracy

Advance preparation: Create a thoughtful plan for the lesson.

Highlighting Important Points: Illustrate by highlighting, with examples.

Using plain and simple words: Interpret complex terms separately if necessary.

Monitoring communication: Checking whether students understand.

Maintaining logical consistency: Each idea should be linked to the previous one.

4. Factors that compromise accuracy

Vague expressions and abstract expressions.

Unnecessary complexity and unrelated thoughts in speech. Pronunciation and grammar errors.

Being too low or too loud the volume.

5. Accuracy of teacher speech and teaching effectiveness

Clear and understandable speech will ensure that students can:

actively listen to the lesson,

Have a deep understanding of the topic,

Helps him answer questions accurately and independently. Also, clarity makes the lesson fun, dynamic, and effective.

6. Ways of developing teacher speech

Perform special exercises in speech culture.

Learning techniques for storytelling and information.

Read books and constantly work on yourself.

analyze their own speech, recording sessions with audio and video.

7. Scientific and theoretical foundations

From the point of view of psycholinguistics, clarity is the clarity in the process of encoding and decoding an idea.

Corresponding to each subject, the accuracy of the teacher’s speech will also be specific. For example, if in the speech of a mathematics teacher, clarity is manifested in strict formulas and logical sequences, then in the speech of a literature teacher along with clarity there must be expressiveness.

In modern education, with the help of technologies (presentation, audio-visual means), speech clarity is further strengthened.

In didactic science, accuracy is considered as an important condition that contributes to the active cognitive activity of the student.

The importance of accuracy in teacher speech:

Quickly and correctly forms knowledge in pupils.

Increases the interest and attention of the audience.

Will help to perfectly understand the material being studied.

Develops students’ ability to think independently.

Recommendations to improve speech clarity:

Careful preparation for each lesson.

Express ideas simply and briefly in sentences.

Timely and correct interpretation of subject terms.

Speak a language appropriate to the level of the audience.

And the following are also important

1. Clarity of thought

The teacher must express his thoughts in an understandable way, without confusion. It is necessary to explain both complex ideas in a simple and logical sequence.

2. Lexical clarity

The meaning of the words and terms must be clear. Avoid unnecessarily complicated wording, choose words that are relevant to the topic and understandable to readers.

3. Syntactic accuracy. The structure of the sentence should be fluent and laconic. Too long and confusing sentences should be avoided.

4. Loyalty to the subject. The teacher expresses each of his thoughts without deviating from the topic being studied. The main focus is on unlocking the topic’s content.

5. Order and Logic. Ideas need to be in a logical connection to each other. Simple concepts are explained step by step, then complex concepts first.

6. Create Ease of Understanding

Bringing a complex idea to a simpler form for readers by giving examples, comparisons and analogies where necessary increases accuracy

In conclusion, the accuracy of the teacher’s speech is an important factor ensuring the effectiveness of the educational process. Through accuracy, knowledge is conveyed to learners in a clear, understandable and impactful manner. The teacher must strive to express his thoughts clearly, logically and purposefully. The clarity of speech serves students to develop a deep understanding of the topic, the development of their independent thinking and reasoning skills. Therefore, each teacher should always pay attention to the accuracy of his speech, consistently work on its development.

References:

1. Gafurov M. — “Fundamentals of speech culture”

2. Azizkho’jayev A. — “Pedagogical technologies”

3. Vygotsky L.S. — “Communication and thinking”

4. Soliev A., Makhmudov M. — “Pedagogical skills”

5. Levina R.A. — Rhetoric and Culture of Speech

6. Kara-Murza S.G. — Fundamentals of speech culture and communication

Jurayev M., Islamov I. – Fundamentals of speech culture, Tashkent, 2018.

7. Ochilov M. – Uzbek language and speech culture, Tashkent, 2019.

– about the accuracy, types of accuracy and accuracy of speech in teaching activity.

8. Toshmatov M. – pedagogical skills, Tashkent, 2020.

– Details about the teacher’s speech, pedagogical techniques and methods of expressive expression.

9. Sultanova D. – Culture of language and speech, Tashkent, 2017.

– about compliance with the norms of language, accuracy and accuracy of expression.

10. Materials of the State Testing Center under the Cabinet of Ministers of the Republic of Uzbekistan –

– modern requirements for speech of teachers, recommendations for speech culture.

11. Aristotle – Rhetoric – The art of speech, the ancient theoretical foundations of clarity and logical expression.

12. Cicero (Mark Tully) – De Oratore – Ancient Roman experience in the culture of speaking, clarity and expressive speech construction.

13. Quintilian – Institutio Oratoria

– principles of speech structure, clarity and fluency for teachers and speakers.

14. Dale Carnegie – The Quick and Easy Way to Effective Speaking

– modern methods of speech clarity, clarity and clarity in public speech.

15. Herbert Paul Grice – Logic and Conversation – Modern theories about the principles of communication in speech (clarity, brevity, relevance).

Views.

الرحلةُ إلى الداخل

تغريد بو مرعي – لبنان – البرازيل 

الظلُّ الذي سبقَ ظلّه

توقف أمام قطار الزمن

 فرأى

أنّ العابرين لا يحملون وجوههم،

وأنّ الخطى لا تترك أثراً إلا في الذاكرة.

تأمّل ذاته المنفلتة من زمنٍ لم يكتبه،

كان يعلم أن الماضي لا يعود،

لكنّه لم يكن يدرك أن الحنين

هو شكل آخر للوقوف في محطة لا تصلها القطارات.

سأله الزمن:

“لماذا تسبقكَ، أيّها الظل؟”

فأجاب بصوتٍ لا يسمعه إلا من فقد صوته:

“لأنني أدركت أنَّ الضوء يتأخر أحياناً،

وأنَّ الحقيقة ليست فيما نراه،

بل فيما يُحجب عنا.”

وحين عاد القطار ليعبر من جديد،

لم يتحرك…

لأنّه علم أن بعض الرحلات

لا تكون نحو الأمام،

بل نحو الداخل.

THE JOURNEY WITHIN

The shadow that preceded its own

Stopped before the train of time,

And saw

That the passersby carried no faces,

And that footsteps leave no trace—except in memory.

He contemplated his self, escaping from a time he never wrote,

He knew the past never returns,

But he hadn’t realized that longing

Is another form of standing at a station no train ever reaches.

Time asked him:

“Why do you go ahead of yourself, O shadow?”

And he replied with a voice only those who’ve lost theirs could hear:

“Because I’ve learned that light is sometimes delayed,

And that truth is not in what we see,

But in what is hidden from us.”

And when the train passed again,

He did not move…

For he had come to know that some journeys

Are not forward,

But inward.

©®TAGHRID BOU MERHI – LEBANON – BRAZIL

First of all, we wish everyone a very happy Earth Day! Here’s a picture from regular contributing artist Jacques Fleury.

Poet and essayist Abigail George, whom we’ve published many times, shares the fundraiser her book’s press has created for her. She’s seeking contributions for office supplies and resources to be able to serve as a speaker and advocate for others who have experienced trauma or deal with mental health issues.

Also, the Educational Bookshop in Jerusalem, a store that has the mission of peaceful dialogue and education, invites readers to donate new or gently used books (all genres) that have been meaningful to them, with a note enclosed for future readers about why the books were meaningful. (The books don’t have to be about peace or social justice or the Mideast, although they can be). Please send books here. US-based Interlink Publishing has also started a GoFundMe for the store.

We’re also having a presence at the Hayward Lit Hop festival this year, and we encourage everyone to attend this free, all-ages event! Many local writers will share their work and we will also host an open mic.

Passing along a message from someone who contacted us. If you’re interested, please email Mark directly at jennybridge45@gmail.com

Hi there, As a seasoned coordinator of educational events, this is my official introduction. Mark is my name. I hope our conversations won’t be hampered by my hearing loss. For an upcoming workshop, I’m searching for an illustrator, cartoonist, or artist to work with on a project. I’ll go over the project needs in detail and pay your fees in advance if you can assist. Once I indicate what has to be depicted or drawn, you can estimate the cost.

Mark Stewart from Ohio, USA.

This month’s theme is Lost and Found.

Brian Barbeito shares a mindful reflection on walking a paved road, finding a human place in nature. Rustamova Asalay depicts a farmer in tune with the sun and the cycles of nature. Stephen Jarrell Williams contributes several different ways of looking at and interacting with a city plaza. David Woodward contemplates life and aging while observing his garden, yet to bloom. Sayani Mukherjee dreams of flowers, rivers and mortality, biological life undergirding a modern city. Grzegorz Wroblewski, in a second set of poetry translated by Peter Burzynski, probes the corporeal and how we nourish ourselves.

Maniq Chakraborty speaks to being a lost traveler on a psychological journey. David Sapp writes of ordinary people and the weight of regret for their past choices, whether justifiable or not. Mykyta Ryzhykh’s poetry portrays people trapped in memory or dreamtime. Graciela Noemi Villaverde laments our human limitations: mortality and fragmentary knowledge. Sheila Murphy addresses isolation, confusion, and the weakness of language when it comes to expressing inmost feelings.

Bokijonova Madinabonu Batirovna’s piece explores the universality of grief and how it fragments and hardens some people’s selves. Denis Emorine’s novella Broken Identities explores the weight of the past, even a past we didn’t live through, and how it affects our sense of self. Tamara Walker (T.A. Aehrens) explores the practical and psychological process of repentance and healing from cultural sins in her novel Leaves from the Vine in an interview with editor Cristina Deptula. Vo Thi Nhu Mai’s elegant, understated poems express the weight of memory and unanswered questions.

Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s poem, translated from Greek to English, and then to Bangla by Md. Sadiqur Rahman Rumen, expresses a warmer view of the past and nostalgia for the simple kindnesses of her childhood. Sterling Warner’s poetry revels in nostalgia, nature, and culture – from Silicon Valley to Oktoberfest. Mahbub Alam describes in great detail the Bangladeshi New Year celebration. Rashidova Shaxrizoda pays homage to her cultural past and the poetic heritage of Alisher Navoi. Kylian Cubilla Gomez looks at nature and culture with a whimsical and curious eye. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa learns from the past while planning for the future and playfully musing about the present.

Nigar Nurulla Khalilova’s poetic speaker leaves a beloved to pursue artistic dreams in a journey that resembles a camel caravan. Lalezar Orinbayeva reflects on how her youthful dreams have changed over time, but she has not lost her optimism or determination. Ismailova Hilola outlines events that inspired her to become a teacher, how she found her life’s calling.

Eshboyev Oybek Davlat Oglu also speaks to education, highlighting potential roles for e-learning. Shahina Olimova researches the use of role-playing games in English language learning.

Chimezie Ihekuna shares his life’s purpose, asserting his artistic independence and desire to make the world a better place through writing and music. Biljana Letic of the Balkan Beats radio program interviews Maja Milojkovic about the spiritual, intercultural, and humane inspirations behind her writing. Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna’s poetry celebrates the beauty, grace, and discipline that goes into crafting haiku. Vernon Frazer positions words and shapes and fonts onto three pages with a loose theme of music. Rizal Tanjung explores the nuances and ambiguities within Anna Keiko’s abstract paintings. Jim Meirose’s piece mutates language into a mix of fonts and verbs and sounds, giving the sense of flying a plane.

Jacques Fleury also experiments with language as he reflects on learning to “go with the flow” of life, even when life’s “flow” is uneven, in a piece crafted during meditation. Gabriela Marin’s gentle poems evoke dreams, intimacy, and the imagination. Duane Vorhees’ pieces speak to attraction and intimacy, longing for human and poetic muses. Sam Hendrian explores moments of human connection and faux-connection.

Eva Petropoulou Lianou urges human solidarity and friendship: she wishes for women to stand together and befriend each other. Dr. Jernail S. Anand’s essay reminds us that society’s leaders should represent ethical values beyond money and power. Rahmat A. Muhammad expresses her hopes for international and domestic peace within her country. Ahmed Farooq Baidoon urges the world to become worthy of its children. Isabel Gomes de Diego’s photos celebrate new and burgeoning life in various forms. Isaac Aju’s short story challenges the Nigerian social taboo about middle-aged women remaining unmarried, celebrating a broader scope of people and lifestyles.

Even as we find some new joys and new lives, we sadly lose others. Ahmed Miqdad laments the destruction of Gaza and its ravages on both land and souls. Emran Emon decries the killing in Gaza and the U.N.’s lack of action. Daniel De Culla lampoons those who lead humanity while willfully ignoring climate change.

Sandro Piedrahita’s tale of conquest, tragedy, and some tiny justice finally served dramatizes the Spanish colonization of the Incas. Z.I. Mahmud explores dystopian elements within Margaret Atwood’s feminist classic The Handmaid’s Tale.

On a more personal level, Anna Keiko’s youthful-sounding poetry expresses tender lovesickness and fear of losing her beloved. Taylor Dibbert’s weary poetic speaker gives up on the dating world. Bill Tope’s short story presents a tragic interpersonal situation with tenderness, causing readers to think about the role of the justice system.

Christopher Bernard’s piece illustrates how humans can defend ourselves against all sorts of danger with calm, mindful preparedness. We hope that this issue will not only charm and entertain, but inspire and strengthen you to face the days ahead.

A Letter to My Favorite Drug

Accustomed to ending the day on a high note

In the most artificial way possible,

Rising up out of my body

Through elevated corporal cravings.

But sometimes you show up and disrupt

My habitual rituals of obituary-courting,

Your sheer presence rendering me euphoric

Before you’ve spoken a single word.

Yes, the freedom to converse through silence

Is a most precious one indeed,

Raising and lowering my blood pressure

With simultaneous tenderness.

Three hours seem like one

Which of course is not enough

To savor the indispensably insignificant details,

The essential nonessentials.

Go to bed later, wake up earlier,

Energized by our low-energy synergy

And wishing I could imbibe your magic potion

Every day of the week.

The Silence In Between

Woke up at 1 AM

To a cacophony of moans

Almost shattering the window

With operatic decibels.

Good for them,

Bad for me

Still barely fresh

From a pre-sleep fantasy.

Calculated their level of closeness

By listening for the silence in between,

The vulnerable moment

When the script turns into improv.

Shower came on quick enough;

Must have been successful

And a little bit stressful

Remembering each other’s names.

Then a sequel session

Shook the walls once more

But I stopped keeping score

Certain it would end with a closed door.

Nearby Farness

Hoodie to the left, hoodie to the right,

Shields against peripheral vision

So that beauty stays a question mark

Instead of a period.

Better to be trusted than loved

Although it’s nice if you can be both,

Blessed with distant proximity

And nearby farness.

Crumbs of conversation

Scattered in an imaginary forest

Where people require other people

To find their way back home.

Some get their kicks on what-if situations,

Taking communion at the Church of Friday Night

In which bartenders consecrate a glass of California wine

While choirs sing “Sweet Caroline” with no-strings-attached ecstasy.

Others brand themselves as stubborn dreamers

Refusing to search for what refuses to approach them

Without considering the possibility

They’re too well-hidden to be found.

Hoodie up above, hoodie down below,

Angels and mortals locked in a staring contest

Destined to continue for eternity

Since they’re both afraid of flashing their eyes.

Showed Promise

Stumbled across the obituary at precisely 12:00,

The usual time for mid-year New Year’s resolutions

As the drunkenness turns to queasiness

And the pleasure starts to sting.

26 and two days counting;

Didn’t even have the glory of 27,

Just a halfway thought-out header

That read, “Showed Promise.”

Showed promise for what exactly?

Capitalistic success?

Perhaps a Wikipedia page

Or picture on a restaurant wall?

Anyhow, it didn’t matter;

Whatever promise was shown had faded

Unless there was an accompanying suicide note

To inspire posthumous adulation.

Wandered to the cemetery the next morning,

Paid respects from a stranger

Which are sometimes sincerer

Than the rehearsed well-wishes of a friend.

Assured him he was more

Than what he had not yet become

And that what he already was

Was all he ever needed to be.

Big Sister

The tiny head had been there for more than an hour

And would likely remain until the train stopped,

Ejecting them both onto a crowded platform

Full of 9-to-5 fighters and 5-to-9 nurturers.

She of course belonged to the latter group,

An invisible angel seen as just another tired face

Accustomed to questions and quests for answers

That even her parents couldn’t fulfill.

Tried to hide the number of times she cried in a day,

Microchipping Kleenex into her eyes

But was frequently met by the sudden surprise

Of an old lady staring sympathetically.

No sympathy was required though,

No hand-me-down advice;

The source of her fragility

Was also the source of her strength.

Which didn’t stop her from doubting

The legitimacy of that tiny head

Gracing her shoulders with trust

She feared she couldn’t live up to.

*PEACE ANTHEM* 

_With breath, tucked back into her mouth,_ 

 _A sister opens her heart to photograph_ 

 _The bullet she holds on the chest_

 _With grief, mixed in her coffee mug,_ 

 _We saw her veins, hemorrhaging._

 _Same as home, carrying weight of dead soldiers_

 _With darkness in our lives,_ 

 _Bandits visit our homes to build us a prison on our minds_ 

 _& with faces we mourn,_ 

 _There are countless people coming_ 

 _To pass through this gate of grief_

 _& With God on our lips,_ 

 _We’ll water the flowers again,_ 

 _With hope, love, a whisper, a plea for peace._

Rahmat A Muhammad is a poet from northern Nigeria.

April

“Help me, God,” he muttered under his breath as he wiped his clean-shaven face with large hands. Eddie knew he hadn’t lost his mind. Hadn’t the county shrink declared him fit to stand trial? Branded with a diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder, Eddie had languished in lockup since last year, awaiting trial. He had also, inexplicably to him, been declared a flight risk, when in fact he had no money, not even a car. He couldn’t make bail. When he was a young teen, he had spent time in juvenile detention for such offenses as panhandling, wandering around without proper ID, trespassing, and the like. But this was so different. It was, his lawyer had told him, deadly serious. He may have ASPD, but still he would face the music for his most serious alleged misdeed yet: rape.

Her name was April. She was beautiful, with long, supple, athletic legs and blond tresses that spilled down past her shoulders and ample breasts. She had a bronzed, radiant complexion from basking under the Georgia sun for all the world to see. Eddie had spied her clandestinely many times but had been afraid to approach her. She lived four houses down from him, in a large, two story home that was painted dark blue and was known throughout the neighborhood as the Blue House. Her parents were attorneys or something, and away a lot.

Eddie wasn’t clever with words and didn’t know how to be cool with a woman the way his friends could. In her yard, April wore a string bikini that showed darn near everything, almost revealing her private parts. This made Eddie uncomfortable at first, but he overcame his discomfort as he got to know her. Unlike most people he knew, April talked to him, not at him, and asked him about his life and what he liked to do when he wasn’t working at the restaurant where she also worked. So at first he made stuff up to make himself sound more interesting. He liked to skydive and hunt bears in the wild, he told her. She told him she didn’t like guns or hunting, and he told her he wouldn’t do it anymore. As he grew to know her better, Eddie came clean and told April that he didn’t know how to skydive and didn’t even own a gun, much less hunt.

“I knew you were fibbing, Eddie,” she said with that laugh that sounded like ice tinkling in a glass. April wore pale pink lipstick on her rosebud lips. Eddie loved her lips and longed to kiss them. He’d never kissed a woman other than Aunt Trudy, with whom he lived. April might have thought there was something wrong with him because he didn’t really know how to kiss, but no. She was patient with him; she showed him how to pucker his lips, lean into the kiss, and relax.

“Put your arms around me, Eddie. Put your hands on my hips; that’s right.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he protested. She laughed, but not at him.

“I’m not made of glass,” she told him. He took a great breath. He instinctively trusted her. Unlike a lot of the people Eddie had met, April hadn’t a mean bone in her body. Other people called him retard or stupid, and made him feel ashamed. She liked Eddie; he could tell. And he was soon crazy in love with her. They began to spend long hours together when they weren’t working and when April wasn’t in school. She told Eddie that she worked hard at her studies.

“I don’t want to work in a restaurant my whole life,” she said. Neither did Eddie, but he’d worked there for ten years, since he was sixteen, and had dropped out of the special school; he didn’t know what else he might do. April encouraged him to become a student like her, but he didn’t know. He’d never been that bright in school. Always self-effacing, he repeatedly put himself down.

“You’re not stupid!” she told him pointedly, almost losing her temper.

“But you study calculus. I can barely do fractions,” he replied honestly.

“Go to the library and get a book on math, and we’ll work on it together,” she insisted. “I’ll prove you’re smart.” So he did, and it worked out beautifully. Before he knew it, she was teaching him algebra. Eventually, Eddie’s feelings towards April began to evolve; he became more focused on her, more possessive, and more committed. He discovered, to his surprise, that he wanted a life with this wonderful woman. Best of all, she seemed to feel the same way.

“Oh, Eddie, I can’t wait to make love to you,” she said unexpectedly one day after work. They were alone in her bedroom at the Blue House and, following her shower, she wore nothing but a thin robe, green like her eyes, Eddie flushed, embarrassed but in the same frame of mind. Eddie, of course, had never made love to anyone. What if he couldn’t do it? he wondered. All those ads on TV about ED and everything. Maybe, he thought, he should get some pills, but he’d be too embarrassed to ask for them. What if he let April down? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He’d have to quit his job at the restaurant and hide away in shame. He began to hyperventilate. April touched his arm. Her hand felt warm.

“I think you’d make a wonderful lover, Eddie,” she told him. She looked straight into his eyes, and again, he believed her.

“Have you ever…” he began.

She smiled. “Of course,” she said gently. He stared at her in awe. “Eddie, I’ll teach you everything I know. “It’ll be like the fractions,” she said lightly. “Only more fun.” Whatever April told him, Eddie believed.

During his time in jail, men had approached him and wanted to have sex with him, but Eddie was a large man and very strong. So far, they had kept their distance. Most of the time he was kept in solitary because of the seething hatred the other inmates had for rapists. How were they any better? he wondered. In lockup, Eddie wasn’t called by his name but rather “chomo,” whatever that was supposed to mean.

Finally, one afternoon, they did it—they made love in April’s bed. Eddie had been afraid to reveal his body, feeling self-conscious about his appearance, but April was impressed with his physique.

“Ooh, Eddie, you have a fantastic body,” said April with a delighted squeal, running her hand down his chest. Eddie had lifted weights for ten years because he liked to be strong, but he had never thought much about how he looked. He smiled. April was a skilled lover, thought Eddie. She knew just what to do; she never hurried him, and their bodies melded into one. She was like a force of nature. This was but the first of many times.

It all came to a tragic end one day when Eliza, a friend of April’s, entered the Blue House uninvited and stole up the stairs to April’s bedroom. There she spotted the two lovers, wrapped in each other’s arms and fast asleep. Soon, a tender secret became town gossip and then common knowledge. April’s parents were stunned. Authorities were summoned, an arrest made and charges filed.. Eddie, impoverished, was accorded only a public defender.

So Eddie had spent the ensuing nine months locked away in jail, awaiting trial, his aunt and his attorney his only visitors. He stood in his cell, his large, powerful fists rigidly gripping the bars. He hadn’t known that what he was doing was wrong. To him it had been about love. His mind drifted back to April; the worst part of his incarceration was his isolation from the woman that he adored. Just two days from now, he knew, would be April’s birthday; she would then turn seventeen. Eddie had never before even heard of statutory rape.

…