Sometimes I find myself in a state of continual “Shhh…Shhh…Shhh” as I walk around my middle school classroom, monitoring students while they work. I wonder to myself, “How have they all forgotten the art of whispering?” I long to see a clever child sneak in a whispered comment behind a hand nonchalently raised at the chin to mask any lip movement. But no attempt to conceal the chatter is made, and, often, students talk more loudly on purpose in an attempt to get the attention of their peers or even me. I’m seeing this more and more–a compulsive, almost desperate, need for attention in the children and it is troubling, even alarming. I’ve worked with adolescents for over thirty years now, so I’m not naive to the need in kids to socialize, joke around, and have fun while learning. Nope, this isn’t that.
This is different. I’m not sure what has changed, but something has. At first, I thought, “I’m older. Could it be ME? Am I just less tolerant of all this noise?” I don’t think that’s it, though. When I’m walking up and down the aisles of my classroom, shushing as I meander, I also hear myself saying these words again and again. “Be nice.” I whisper to the child who refuses to work with a partner. “Shh, be nice.” I say to the student who has crumpled up the paper we’re working on. “Be nice” and “Shh” are the new mantras I have inadvertantly started sprinkling in between all of my instruction. It feels and sounds almost as if I’m comforting the injured. I could suppose the isolation of the COVID years or our addiction to technology, mainly cell phones, by parents and children alike, are factors in changing the demeanor of kids, but I cannot know, for sure, what has caused this upset in so many of my 6th and 7th graders.
I think about what my students need to move through this angst and what I can provide. As their English teacher, it just makes sense… I will give them words. I will continue to walk the classroom, but I’ll make a point to whisper these words to those in my charge.
“I see you. I notice how hard you’re working”
“I see you. I notice how much you’re struggling.”
“I see you. You’re important to me, to your classmates, to the world.”
“I see you. You’re here for a reason. Let me help you.”
These are words I’ll whisper–words I hope can heal the hurt.
The hurt in them. The hurt in me.
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