Choices In Life

At the end of Grade 11 every student in Sri Lanka stands at a small crossroads, and the questions all feel huge. Bio-Science or Maths? A/Ls at the same school or a new one? A career here at home, or the bright lights of a job abroad? You don't yet know the answers — and that's fine, because this unit isn't really about choosing. It's about getting the English to talk and write about choosing: to weigh a future, to argue a case, to say "if this, then that" without tying your sentences in knots.

That's why the grammar here is the grammar of life-planning: the future tense (what will happen) and all three conditionals (the real "if", the dreamed-of "if", and the too-late "if"). The big real-world topic that ties it together is brain drain — the way our most skilled doctors, engineers and teachers leave for opportunities overseas — and by the end you'll be able to argue both sides of that in clean, formal English. You'll write a career-choice paragraph, a debate speech and a 200-word "Choices in Life" article.

Read those three again and notice they all follow the same quiet recipe — it's a template you can borrow whole for your own paragraph. Each one names an ambition ("I want to be an expert in IT"), then the A/L stream that leads there, then the real obstacle standing in the way. Rizwan's is honest and specific: he wants Moratuwa, but "I need to improve my English as the lectures are conducted only in English." That last move — naming the one true challenge — is what lifts these from a wish-list to a plan. And look at the tense doing the heavy lifting: "I will have to follow", "I will study" — the future, because a plan is by definition about what hasn't happened yet.

This passage is a gift for the exam, because it hands you a ready-made, balanced argument — and balance is exactly what a debate or an article needs. Notice how it's built: first a clean definition ("brain drain refers to the emigration… of skilled professionals"), then the causes (better jobs, war, political instability), then the effects (economic loss, slower development), and finally the solutions (create jobs and research at home). Definition → causes → effects → solutions: memorise that four-step shape and you can structure an essay on almost any social problem. And spot the unit's grammar living inside the last paragraph — "If there is an increase in job opportunities… we can reduce the brain drain" is a Type-1 conditional doing real work, presenting a genuine, possible future.

When you talk about a plan, you are pointing at a moment that hasn't arrived yet — and English gives you two slightly different ways to point. The difference is whether you see the future action as a single dot on the timeline, or as a stretch of time you can picture yourself inside.

Think of it like planning a journey. Simple future (will / shall + bare verb) is the dot — one clean act, a prediction, a decision, a promise: "The school will reopen on September 2nd." You're just placing one event on the calendar. Future continuous (will be + V-ing) is the stretch — it freezes a particular future moment and shows the action already in progress at that moment: "We will be answering our English paper at this time tomorrow." Same tomorrow, but now you can see yourself mid-exam, pen moving.

• It will rain this evening. (a plain prediction — one dot)
• This time next week I will be sitting in the A/L class. (picture me inside that future moment)
• I will help you with your form. (a promise — a single decided act)
• Don't call at eight; we will be having dinner. (an action already in progress then)

Choosing is easy once you ask one question: do I just want to state that something happens (→ simple future), or do I want to paint it happening at a named time (→ future continuous)? Most predictions and promises are the simple future; reach for the continuous only when "at that exact moment" matters.

The three "if" sentences scare students because they look almost the same, but the secret is that each one lives at a different distance from reality. Picture a ladder. The top rung is real and likely; the middle rung is a daydream; the bottom rung is a regret about something already over and impossible to change. Decide which rung your sentence is standing on, and the grammar follows automatically.

Type 1 — the real, possible future. The condition might genuinely happen, so you keep the if-clause in the present and the result in will: "If there are enough jobs, skilled workers will stay." This is a serious prediction, not a fantasy. Type 2 — the unlikely daydream. You step one pace back into the past form to signal "I'm only imagining": "If I were the Health Minister, I would build rural hospitals." (We say were, not was, in this imagined world.) Type 3 — the impossible past. It's too late; the door is shut. You go all the way back with past perfect + would have: "If Nisali had run faster, she would have won." She didn't — so it's pure regret.

The mistake that costs marks is sliding a "will" or "would" into the if-clause — the "if" half never takes them. The trick: name the rung first (possible? daydream? too-late regret?), then build. Test 10 / 12 of nearly every past paper mixes all three in one passage, so this single decision wins you a clutch of marks.

A debate speech isn't won by having the best opinion — it's won by signposting, so the judge always knows where you are. Think of these phrases as road signs: they tell the listener "here comes my argument", "here comes my rebuttal", "here comes my conclusion". Use them and even a nervous speaker sounds organised and confident.

The unit ends with the motion "We should make use of our skilled knowledge by accepting international career opportunities." Whichever side you draw, open by stating it clearly, march through your points with signposts, and land a firm close. Here's the toolkit:

• FOR: "It is obvious that… · The figures show… · Furthermore… · Today's globalised economy demands… · No country can afford…"
• AGAINST: "On the contrary… · We must consider… · However… · The brain drain damages… · A country that loses its best professionals…"
• Closing: "In conclusion… · To sum up… · Therefore I urge you to…"

Notice the pattern in a strong speech: address the audience ("Mr. Chairperson, judges, friends"), state your side, then "Firstly… Secondly… Thirdly…" with one reason each, ideally backed by a number, then a warm, memorable close. Structure beats fireworks every time.