I consider my work with MEd students a privilege. I have fifteen experienced and motivated educators, joining me weekly to learn, partake in collegial conversation, write, engage with narrative, and research their classroom practice.
This morning, as they crafted a memory from their school days, I listened.
What does the silence of a class of writers sound like?
Colourful humming creeping in,
buzzing fluorescents,
whirring projector.
Pen scratching,
pencil dragging,
pen dropping
abandoned.
Page-turning and turning back,
another tearing, banished and thrown.
Buttons clicking in search of a word.
A foreign tongue drifting in,
curiosity lingering.
Water bottles swish,
a whisper and another.
Children laughing from afar,
a sigh.
Back and forth, a table rocking
the rhythm of scribble.
