Melodic Silence

Most of the time, 615 sounds more akin to a zoo than a library.

For example: I have one seriously ADHD kid I refer to as "Puppy." Puppy scampers around my room on all fours, comes when I call, and more often than not... woofs. (He is, I should note, housebroken.) Puppy also sits nicely and receives pats on the head and cookies when he can be still and listen for longer than 5 minutes.

I am not kidding.

The room is also starting to smell like a zoo. The "budding adolescents" smell significantly less flowery than the term might suggest. Instead, the Phoenix sun melts their hides, turning the air into something reminiscent of the barn at high noon.

There are constant hoots, hollers, monkey sounds, smooching noises. You want to teach onomatopoeia? Stop on by.

Today? I wanted some quiet. I was tired. For once, I just wanted to pretend like I was in some middle class suburb somewhere, with perfect students in perfect rows with perfect grammar and perfect, robotic smiles.

But I'm not mad. I know my limits. I know there still has to be something zany going on to keep their attention. So this is what I said:

"Okay. Here's the deal. Today, I want quiet. Total, still, absolute, gorgeous quiet. With one exception. The only, and I do mean only, thing that should permeate this room... should be..."

"Your voice?"

"No."

"Us breathing?"

"No. There will be no breathing."

(At this, a uniform gasp as several students begin the process of becoming blue)

"No, the only sound I want to hear... is Edgar singing."

For Edgar, you see, likes to pretend he is an opera singer. (Viking helmet, flaxen braids, buxom as all get out... the whole package.)

At this, Edgar's eyes lit up, and from the place where vicious comments flow like molten lava, came a surprising sound; a high pitched, smooth tone, even and clear.

"Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

No vibrato, no old-lady warble. And no adolescent voice-changing cracks. (Do I dare insert a Vienna Boys Choir joke in here?)

And so, for 50 minutes, I had my wish. The students worked hard, and randomly, every few minutes, came a note of glorious clarity.

"Laaaa!"

The class would laugh ever so quietly for a few seconds... and then, my perfect silence remained.

At the end of the hour, all of the work was turned in, and Edgar commented,

"You know? I think I should do this for the talent show."
"You know? I think maybe you're right."

615's very own Pavarotti.