Why Some Stories Kill Discussion (And Others Create It Instantly)

Introduction

Most teachers have experienced this moment.

You finish reading a story.

You pause.

You ask an open question.

It’s a good question. You thought about this long and hard. It should invite lots of responses.

But nothing happens.

 

The room stays quiet. A few students avoid eye contact.

Someone eventually gives a short, careful answer — and the discussion ends before it begins.

In situations like this it is very easy — tempting, even — to blame the students.

They’re tired.

They’re shy.

They don’t like speaking.

They don’t have the language.

 

But very often, the real problem comes earlier.

The story itself didn’t invite discussion.

 

Some stories leave no space for opinion.

Others quietly demand it.

 

In this guide, I want to look at why certain stories shut discussion down.

I also want to explore why others seem to generate conversation almost automatically, even with lower-level learners.

Are you ready? Then let’s begin…

Discussion Doesn’t Come From Questions

Many lessons end with discussion questions — and still fall flat.

 

The teacher asks:

What do you think about this story?

Do you agree with the character?

Would you do the same?

 

And the response is silence.

Or the dreaded one-word answers.

Or the same confident student speaking while everyone else waits.

 

I don’t know about you, but I have been in this situation many times…

 

I ended up asking more questions, while quietly sweating in front of the whiteboard, then moving on to easier questions.

Finally, in a desperate bid to get someone — ANYONE — to say something, I would write a bunch of sentence starters on the board.

 

I think the character is…

In my opinion, this was a mistake because…

If I were him, I would…

 

And still a huge resounding wall of silence in the room.

The students all glancing at each other as if to say, What is he doing?

 

Not their fault. It was all me.

 

In situations like this, the problem is not the questions.

Discussion doesn’t begin with questions.

It begins with tension.

 

And the tension — the sense of conflict — can be found in the story.

If the story itself is settled, polite and everything resolved, then no sense of clever questioning can save the day.

Stories That Kill Discussion

Some stories are just made for discussion.

While other stories simply shut discussion down before it even starts.

You know the kinds of stories I mean?

Everything seems to be resolved nicely and neatly. Every single motive is explained clearly by the writer.

And the story often offers a clear moral lesson where we can all learn something valuable.

Or the absolute worst sin of all, the writer tells the reader exactly what to think.

 

The big problem with stories like this, apart from the fact that they are totally unenjoyable to read, is that they leave no room for interpretation.

Everything is so tidy and clean and packed away into little boxes.

 

If, by the end of the story, the writer has explained who did what, who was right and who was wrong, why the villain did this, and how and why and therefore, there’s nothing open for discussion.

Sure, you can ask reading comprehension questions, but by the end of the lesson you want the students to give you their thoughts and opinions.

You want real discussion and you can’t get that if the story has all the loose ends tied up.

Why Clarity Can Be The Enemy Of Conversation

I think there is often the idea that teachers should choose stories that are clear and simple.

Unambiguous and suitably vague.

This is how I personally find many stories in ESL books.

They are just bland and, quite frankly, dull.

The story is neat and all the endings tied up clearly.

This advice is well-intentioned — especially for lower levels.

 

But excessive clarity can remove the very thing that generates talk.

There are many examples of stories where the bad character is so obviously bad.

Or a story where the great moral lesson is spelt out clearly in the final paragraph.

A story where any misunderstandings and doubts are resolved perfectly and displayed before the reader.

 

Learners understand these stories — and then move on.

There is nothing to argue with.

Nothing to question. Nothing to push against.

Stories That Create Discussion Naturally

By contrast, stories that spark lots of discussion in the classroom tend to share a very different set of qualities.

There might be imperfect decisions made by the protagonist of the story. The main character may be offered a dilemma, two not-so-great choices, but they have to pick one.

Imagine the questions you could ask here!

 

Why did the main character choose this option?

Do you think they were right to do this?

What would you have done?

 

Or the main character might have an unclear motive.

For example, the main character might open a letter, read it, then shove it in his pocket before excusing himself from the room and leaving.

We have no idea what the letter said and we don’t know how the character feels about it. They could be angry, delighted and very disappointed.

 

And again, the questions could be fantastic. Such as:

What do you think the letter said?

How do you think the main character feels about it?

How would you have reacted?

 

The ending of the story could have a very uncomfortable outcome. The main character could be facing a new challenge. Or another dilemma.

An unclear motive means we can see what a character does, but not fully understand why — and that gap is where discussion begins.

 

Or the story could present some very dubious moral issues.

These kind of elements in the story are the kinds of things you need in your classroom.

Because then the students are more likely to discuss it.

 

These stories don’t ask the students for discussion.

They literally grab them by the arm and demand a response.

Learners don’t need advanced English to talk about these stories.

They need something unresolved.

A moment where they think:

I would not have done that.

 

That thought is the beginning of language. From there, the student is just trying to express his or her thoughts to you.

They are not thinking about how to use perfect grammar or the right pronunciation.

Small Uncertainty Beats Big Themes

In the past, I tried to pick stories to use in the classroom that had big themes.

Stories about war or politics.

Or social issues or global problems.

 

I think many teachers have done the same thing. But I think these kind of stories can often fail.

Especially if the story is about war or politics… Those kind of subjects should probably be avoided like the plague!

 

But quite often, it’s the small, human moments in stories that can generate far richer and deeper discussion.

 

For example, a character lies to avoid an awkward conversation.

This is something that we can all relate to. We have all done this in our lives, so it is easy to discuss.

 

Or a character stays silent instead of defending a friend. A very common human story here.

Then again, a person chooses comfort over honesty. This is also a very well-known theme in life.

 

Stories like this feel very familiar.

 

English learners recognise these themes immediately — even if they cannot express their reaction to these ideas perfectly.

And once they recognise the themes, this creates a sense of urgency.

 

Now the students are thinking:

I want to say something about this.

The Role Of Discomfort

Good discussion usually begins with mild discomfort.

Not shock.

Not controversy.

Not outrage.

But a quiet sense of unease.

 

This is the moment where learners think:

That felt wrong.

I’m not sure I agree.

Why did they do that?

 

This discomfort is greatly productive in the classroom.

It creates opinion — and opinion creates language.

And the language comes almost naturally. The student is not thinking about using perfect grammar or sentence structure.

 

But if there is no discomfort, discussion becomes polite and shallow. Almost meaningless.

With it, learners lean forward.

They gain confidence. And they improve.

Characters Matter More Than Topics

Quite often, a story about a big idea or theme can fall flat.

But a story that focuses on a believable character can usually work much better.

 

If the learner is reading a story that is led by a character, now they can connect to the mistakes the character makes. Their fears or their selfish deeds. Or their hesitation in taking an important step.

These are real human feelings and emotions, so it is much easier for the student to feel any sense of empathy or connection.

They may not admire the character.

They may not like them.

But they will recognise them.

 

And recognition matters more than agreement.

Let Learners Dislike The Characters

I have seen and had to use stories in the classroom that force a certain narrative.

Where the student is pretty much told to respect the text, accept the message being put forward and to search for the right, agreed-upon interpretation of the story.

This just kills discussion immediately.

Because what is there to talk about?

 

But what if the student really hated the main character?

With a story like that, the student is totally connected.

 

Stories become much more powerful when learners feel allowed to say:

I didn’t like him.

I hated him!

She was wrong.

That ending didn’t feel good to me.

What is wrong with this person??

 

These reactions are not failures of understanding.

They are very clear signs of engagement.

 

When learners disagree with a story, they begin to use language for what it is really for.

To express judgement, uncertainty and opinion.

Discussion Is A By-Product, Not The Goal

The strongest discussions often happen when you stop pushing and let the silence sit.

You ask fewer questions.

Allow the discomfort to hang in the air.

 

If the story is doing its job, the students will lean forward.

They will talk — not because they are told to, but because they have something they need to say.

This is where you want the class to be.

What This Means For Teachers

If discussion regularly fails, it’s worth asking yourself the following questions:

Was the story too neat?

Did it explain too much?

Did it leave anything unresolved?

 

Often, the solution isn’t better questions.

It’s better friction.

 

Stories that leave space for doubt, disagreement, and discomfort do more than generate discussion.

They teach learners that language is not just about correctness — it’s about making sense of human behaviour.

And that is where real communication begins.

Conclusion: Discussion Lives In What Stories Leave Unfinished

Good classroom discussion doesn’t come from clever questions or energetic prompting.

It comes from the stories that leave something unsettled.

 

When a story explains everything, resolves every conflict, and points clearly to its message, learners may understand it — but they have nothing to respond to.

Stories that create discussion tend to do the opposite.

These kinds of stories leave any motives unclear.

They allow the characters to make very questionable choices.

And they end without any full resolution.

These gaps create friction — and friction creates language.

For teachers, this shifts the focus.

Instead of asking:

What questions should I ask after this story?

A more useful question becomes:

What does this story leave open?

When a story leaves space for doubt, disagreement, or discomfort, discussion no longer has to be forced.

Learners speak because they have an opinion — not because they’re required to.

And that is when discussion stops feeling like an activity and starts becoming communication.

Thanks for reading.

If you have thoughts on this article — or experiences of using stories in your own classroom — I’d genuinely love to hear them. Feel free to leave a comment below. I read every one.

And if you’d like more practical teaching guides and story-based lesson ideas like this, you’re very welcome to join my mailing list using the link below.

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