Do You Hear What I Hear?--Finding Value in Listening

     Have you ever listened--I mean really listened--to the sounds around you? I sometimes step outside at night to listen to the sounds of my neighborhood--the hum of the cars skidding over the railroad tracks that run behind my house. The gentle rhythm of the cicaidas. A dog barking in the distance behind my neighbors' wooden fence. Listening always slows things down for me. I suddenly become aware of so much of my surroundings.

     I've learned in life that there are listeners and there are talkers. One of the first things I've ever noticed about my husband and his family is how it's hard to get a word in edgewise. They like to talk, leaving the listening up to others. My huband and his sister are the most fun to watch, as they battle in a tour de force that just might resemble a Civil War battle when it comes to talking wars. Someone eventually surrenders while the other inundates the air with words. With my more timid personality, I always have had a hard time trying to compete to speak. So, I remain quiet much of the time. I listen.

     I've always been a listener. In high school when they handed out senior superlatives--most of which were humorous and gently poking fun at members of my class--I received Best Listener.

I have this face that screams, "Tell me your story. I'll listen to every word. I won't judge, and I won't tell anyone else." It's not easy sometimes to feel like you don't have a voice. Yet, sometimes I view my role of secret keeper as far more important than the person who tells them. Most of the time I find value in being all ears.

      There really is something valuable about this skill of listening. And it's something I don't think we do enough of in this world. I'm guilty of it, too. My kids will be saying something to me, and I'll be doing something I deem "important" at the moment, and all of the sudden their words are just words--floating in the air void of meaning and understanding. "Are you even listenng to me?" one of them will say, and I quickly try to repeat what my subconscious has heard. My husband gets the same treatment sometimes. This weekend when he was droning on about Aaron Judge and the Yankees' chances, I know I did not hear all of the words and am grateful there wasn't a quiz following our conversation.

     A friend of mine recently posted this image on Facebook.

The Dalai Lama's words are so important. We've got to listen to learn something new. This past month as the school year began, I have made a conscious effort to listen. Here's what I've been listening to and what I've learned:

      First, I listened to a former student as he challenged me upon his graduation to incorporate the song "Wish You Were Here" into one of my lessons. I found this idea amusing at first; I will be honest. I have used music in the classroom in the past, but how in the world would Pink Floyd fit into one of my lessons? I listened to the words of the song that I had heard so many times before, but this time I really listened. And then it hit me. The song became an introduction to literary analysis in my IB English 11 class. We analyzed one line of the song and gradually deciphered meaning from the entire passage. And this became my opening message for you,  my students: Not to be a lost soul swimming in a fishbowl year after year. I encouraged you to try something new, to set new goals. You listened; this phrase has crept up into your writing and your attitudes. And I learned that perhaps we as teachers don't have all of the ideas and answers. We need to listen to the challenges our students throw at us sometimes.

     The most recent project, called "Humans of Atlee" required you to interview someone at Atlee and listen to their story. In collaborating with Mr. Leise's graphic design students who will create a design around your writing, we will continue to demonstrate true communication skills. This idea of really listening to someone's story is not something we always stop to do. I've talked to many of you who have been inspired by the people you've interviewed and who learned something new in these stories.

      Theory of Knowledge has also been a class where I learn far more by listening than talking. That class lends itself to listening to ideas and formulating opinions and maybe even reforming those opinions sometimes. The current senior TOK class has spent the past month studying history as an Area of Knowledge. In doing so, perhaps the most profound lesson was our Socratic seminar discussing what happened in Charlottesville this summer. I watched as people who usually are quiet in seminars had their voices heard and people who speak quite regularly were able to listen. I listened to the differing opinions around the room, and I marveled that the classroom could be a place for people of your age to express such opinions. So often I feel like we stifle our ideas because we are afraid of what others will think. This was not the situation on that day discussing Charlottesville--a day we may not have agreed but one where we did listen to each other.

      Just last week the junior TOK class painted rocks with inspirational messages as an introduction to CAS (Creativity, Activity, Service). We walked over to Cool Spring Elementary School (taking the long route) to leave our mark (or rocks) for the students there to find. As I listened to the sounds of the voices of you on that walk, there was an energy that inspired me. Later that evening, Dr. Brown, the principal at Cool Spring ES, sent me an email thanking us for bringing joy and inspiration to the Dolphins. I couldn't help but think of the power of listening in this situation. These young kids were inspired by our messages. These young kids just might have a better day because of a painted rock they found on their school grounds. These young kids are listening.

     We need to continue to listen to one another instead of constantly wanting our voices to be heard. Sometimes, it's in the listening where we learn the most. This Saturday, I had the honor of attending everyone's favorite 9th grade Pre-Bac teacher Ms. Shivers' wedding.

As my husband and I sat at a table with no one we knew, I started thinking about this idea of listening to others. I started thinking about how the people closest to us were at one point strangers in our lives. That idea is pretty amazing if you think about it. As I listened to the gentleman next to me--a complete stranger--talk about growing up in Atlanta (something this native New Yorker definitely could not relate to), I realized I have a lot to learn about people and can only do that by listening. I realized how we can impact a complete stranger just by listening to his story.

     As I allow this blog post to come to an end, I want to reflect a bit on what happened in my classroom last year. Back in February, I spent a day out of my regular instruction promoting to my students the idea of living your life one percent better than the day before. What I thought was going to be just another lesson that didn't mean a whole lot turned into something vastly different. My students listened. And gradually, they changed. And so when I presented this same idea to you this year, I have marveled at the number of you who have already written about it or talked to me about the idea. It's simple really. Do something--just one thing--better than the day before. I challenge you this month to allow that one thing to be to listen to one another. I challenge you to let your voices be heard but also take the time to listen before you respond. Listen to the sounds of each other's voices to car horns to good music. Listen to the strangers you meet in this world instead of being dialed into your phone or avoiding making eye contact with others. I think about the sounds that I hear on a daily basis: the high pitched voices of my children, fire trucks speeding down New Ashcake Road, the sound of the keyboard, the crack of the baseball bat at Atlee Little League, laughter, my phone indicating a new text has come through, students engrossed in heated discussion, the music of the Beatles, Dr. Wheeler's confident voice on the morning announcements, the sounds of the last bell on a Friday, new words that only teenagers seem to know and speak, the alarm at 5:20 am as I pull myself out of bed, the student who just needs someone to talk to. No matter how much everyone around me continues to talk, I will be listening--always listening, always learning.