“Who is at the top of the social hierarchy in ancient China?” I asked one of my students. She had just copied out the hierarchy in her notebook and all she had to do was read from the page. She hesitated, her eyes wide with anxiety. My student has – an anxiety disorder that renders a person unable to speak in certain social situations, and I hadn’t heard her voice for the first three months of the year. I was about to answer for her, by pointing at the notebook, when I bit my tongue.
I had attended a professional learning session at school the week before. The facilitator told us that most teachers only wait seven seconds for a student to respond, before moving on. As a result we don’t encourage kids who are quieter, or those with individual needs to share. When I heard that fact I’d scoffed internally, after all, I’ve always tried to run the kind of classroom where everyone participated. Now, as I was about to move on from my student, I realised that this was all too true.
My student has an anxiety disorder and I hadn’t heard her voice for the first three months of the year
While I attempted to give everyone the opportunity to speak, I did find myself moving on from shy students or those who needed a much longer processing time.
I decided I would change this pattern. Back in the classroom, I clenched my jaw and counted backwards from 10 slowly, waiting. My student still didn’t respond. I repeated the question gently. “See? You wrote it down in your notebook,” I prompted.
She took a deep breath and read, “Emperor,” her voice questioning.
“Yes, wonderful work.” I ticked her notebook and wrote a comment.
I practised my internal counting the rest of the week with that student, and others who were more introverted. I noticed that many of them are well acquainted with teachers’ impatience and have used that to avoid speaking. They had learnt that most teachers didn’t wait long enough, and all they had to do was outlast that initial moment.
As I persisted, I noticed that the wallflowers began to speak. That by giving them space to feel comfortable and process things, they would open up. The classroom discussion became much more equitable with all students contributing and sharing.
I soon learnt that my new-found skills were following me home from the classroom. There’s a saying, “She could talk underwater with her mouth full of marbles,” and I think it’s an apt description of me. I’ve “never met a stranger” and can have a chat with anyone, anywhere. I don’t know if it’s my extroverted personality or having a mother with bipolar disorder – I grew up watching her talking to doctors and strangers in the waiting rooms of hospitals as she battled bipolar episodes throughout her life. It was normal.
The downside of being a talker is that I was never much of a listener. I found silence uncomfortable and would bomb it with words, happily sharing my life story with anyone to fill a quiet moment. Instead of actually listening to people, I was always waiting for them to stop speaking so I could share my next thought. Many a time I would come home from a social outing and have flashbacks to the conversations I’d had, cringing at my revelations and the faces of those I’d cut off mid-speech.
As my listening skills improved, I realised I was more present in the moment, leaving space for others to share
As my listening skills improved, I realised I was more present in the moment, leaving space for others to share, and validating their feelings by acknowledging them instead of jumping in with a related anecdote or advice based on what I would do in that situation. Slowly, my conversations became deeper and more intimate.
There is a final surprise, too: the more I practised the art of listening and embracing silence, the more I began to like my own company. As an extrovert, I feed off the energy of others. If too long passed without socialising, I used to find myself trolling through the contacts on my phone, searching for someone, anyone, to speak to. But I am learning to find pleasure in solitude.
When I attended a social event, I used to bounce from person to person, sharing sparkling anecdotes and practising punchlines. I’ve always been a storyteller. After all, this is our lifeblood as writers. But slowly, I am learning to become a keeper of stories. These days, I am more likely to be the one in the corner, having an intimate conversation with others, enjoying the spectacle around me and feeling content – for once – to be an observer.
is an award-winning author of Sabiha’s Dilemma and Alma’s Loyalty, the first two books in her own voices young adult Sassy Saints Series. Her books are published in e-book, paperback, hardcover, large print, dyslexic font and audiobook.
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