In order to call out the best efforts of children, a teacher needs to study well the art of questioning. The range of possibilities in questioning is very wide. If a rational, sensible question is regarded as the central or zero point, there are many degrees below it in the art of questioning and many degrees above it. Below it is a whole host of half-rational or useless questions which would better be left unborn: What does this word mean? Why didn't you study your lesson? Why weren't you paying attention? What is the definition of also? How many mistakes did Mary make? Much time is sometimes wasted in trying to answer aimless or trivial questions: Peter, what does this strange word mean, or how do you pronounce it? Ethel may try it. Who thinks he can pronounce it better? Johnny, try it. Perhaps somebody knows how it ought to be. Sarah, can't you pronounce it? Finally, after various efforts, the teacher passes on to something else without even making clear the true pronunciation or meaning. This is worse than killing time. It is befuddling the children. A question should aim clearly at some important idea, and should bring out a definite result. The children should have time to think, but not to guess and dawdle, and then be left groping in the dark. The chief aim of questions is to arouse vigor and variety of thought as a means of better appreciation and expression. Children read poorly because they do not see the meaning or do not feel the force of the sentiment. They give wrong emphasis and intonation. A good question is like a flash of lightning which suddenly reveals our standing-ground and surroundings, and gives the child a chance to strike out again for himself. His intelligence lights up, he sees the point, and responds with a significant rendering of the thought. But the teacher must be a thinker to ask simple and pertinent questions. He can't go at it in a loose and lumbering fashion. Lively and sympathetic and appreciative of the child's moods and feelings must he be, as well as clear and definite in his own perception of the author's meaning. Questioning for meaning is equivalent to that for securing expression, and thus two birds are hit with one stone. A pointed question energizes thought along a definite line, and leads to a more intense and vivid perception of the meaning. This is just the vantage-ground we desire in order to secure good expression. We wish children not to imitate, but first to see and feel, and then to express in becoming wise the thought as they see it and feel it. This makes reading a genuine performance, not a parrot-like formalism.