Hong Kong may not have toxic mortgages, but we have toxic English textbooks. In this category, the one that takes the biscuit goes by the misleading title of Developing Skills. For decency's sake, its publisher and authors, local Chinese with an expatriate thrown in for good measure, will remain nameless. Developing Skills is not about developing language skills, but exclusively about developing skills for exams. Its 'Reading and Writing' module is more than 280 pages of pure tedium, of drills and filling in the blanks. It is so skull-numbingly boring that teachers openly beg for the early arrival of Fridays. It is a textbook illustration of how not to design a textbook. For one thing, it crawls with errors. Here is a sample: 'Tall, dark and beautiful, I love Michelle for her stunning talents ...' This is what grammarians call a 'dangling modifier', for its misplaced subject. Under 'Guessing the meaning of words from context', the book includes among its exasperating examples this sentence: 'Research has not yet confirmed that insomnia, which is a sleep disorder, is directly related to stress,' reminding students that 'You can guess that insomnia is a kind of sleep disorder'. There is no guessing involved, only a definition! Under 'Understanding Denotative Meanings', it explains 'foreign' as a dictionary entry. But it fails to tell students that the Hong Kong habit of calling anybody non-Chinese 'foreigners' is offensive, especially to those who are long-time residents. Discussions of denotative meanings are meaningful only if paired with connotative associations. This example on 'co-ordinating conjunctions as transitions' defies logic: 'Business class is more expensive than economy class on flights, yet it has better meals and more comfortable seats.' Unbelievably, this is cited as an example of 'contrast'. In writing letters to the editor, it talks tiresomely about 'the introduction', 'the body' and 'the conclusion', citing the following as a 'useful ending': 'I hope this letter will encourage others to take an interest in [...] to show their concern for this issue.' Apart from its offputting didactic tone, the sentence needs sorting out. The ignorance of collocations is a sure sign that the authors are non-users of authentic language. Consider this beauty: 'It tells people how to gain fortune and luck.' You don't 'gain' fortune. Another telltale sign is ignorance of register, or the social appropriateness of expressions. In a formal letter from a donor, there is a sudden shift to breezy informality: 'We are going to select 500 toys as prizes ... By the way, I would like to know more about the delivery arrangements ...' This is a model letter? Education is supposed to be a preparation for life. Ours is a preparation for exams. Many see a correlation between the mindless, mechanical response of the clerk and the CEO at the Caritas Hospital to a fatal medical emergency, practically on their doorstep, and our mindless approach to education. Good textbooks are not merely foundational in content, they are also aspirational in design, offering students bite-size samples of literature, biography and world knowledge. They prepare them to be global citizens by teaching concepts and vocabulary shared by the educated universal middle class. By this yardstick, mainland English textbooks are far superior, despite Hong Kong being an international city. They introduce students to the lives of wildlife crusader Jane Goodall, prison reformer Elizabeth Fry, and political holy man Nelson Mandela. Students also get a taste of English humour and non-verbal communication, and an armchair tour of New Zealand, while grammar and other important language items are learned contextually and presented seductively. No wonder mainland students show a hunger for English, while Hong Kong students avoid it like the plague. Mainlanders are known to buttonhole native speakers in Starbucks to try out their English. Hong Kong students run away from 'foreigners'. Philip Yeung is a freelance writer. philipkcyeung2@yahoo.com
