Be Still, and Know
At my age, I should have acquired a lot of information, and I have. I am still eager to learn. In education, we call this habit of expectation "lifelong learning." It means, first, maintaining an attitude of openness and curiosity. Secondly, it means clearing the space for learning to happen. When we are too busy with activities, the silence cannot fit in, and we need silence to begin again with clarity. Each hour, when it is possible, I like to seek a few minutes of quiet. If you have not had precious moments of silence today, let's try it now. I'll give you an image to focus on, and then when you are ready, you can close your eyes and just settle into complete stillness, mind and body.
I think of the familiar Biblical advice: "Be still, and know that I am God." Jackie Trottman addresses this in her web article (below), explaining that it is in stillness that we can receive much needed guidance, love, and peace. Like every other fruitful action that we want to take, learning takes place best when it is rooted in love. It's hard to pay attention when we are anxious. This week, I had an unpleasant experience in the classroom. Some of my students were completely absorbed in whatever was on their cell phones and a few were sleeping instead of listening to me teach.
I always have to weigh the concepts: is this irritation that I am experiencing just about my own feelings? or am I truly concerned about what they are missing when they choose to be distracted or to otherwise tune me and our materials out? Yes, it hurts my pride to be ignored, but really... after 18 or 19 years of teaching, this is not a surprise. More importantly, my work is to create an environment that is stimulating and to reject interferences that destabilize that environment. I tried a few gentle reminders. I asked for participation. I made a few jokes. It did not induce change in my disengaged students. Can you guess what happened next? I "brought the hammer down."
What does that mean, exactly? To me, it meant to use an instrument, a heavy one, to make a sound, to startle, to indicate a certain kind of power, to invoke authority. However, I'm always curious about idioms such as this, so I did a little investigation.
The Word Detective --- I've provide the link below -- tells us that the expression may have arisen from courtoom vocabulary, in the sense that the "hammer" is a gavel, and the "judge" is pronouncing judgment, and it is usually quite harsh. The word is older than that, though: as early as the 14th century, a "hammer" was a person who beat down or beat back the opposition.
Wait, you're thinking. How did we get from all of that talk about stillness and the anxiety-free classroom to a noisy, threatening hammer? Well, remember, when the judge brings the gavel down sharply on the stand, he or she often does so with the verbal command, "Silence!" or "Order in the court!" Noisy rancor or confusion has made the courtoom unsuitable for the serious proceedings at hand to continue. The judge must restore order, and to do so, he or she must first demand silence. The gavel (hammer) calls for our full attention.
After I had captured my students' attention, I made adjustments to our classroom habits. I let it be known that we would be writing more, since students are having trouble focusing on simply listening --- I explained that writing is not a punishment; it is an alternative when students are unable or unwilling to sit quietly when necessary and to participate when asked to. Since some of my students have been doing neither, the second adjustment I made was to begin calling on specific students, by name, rather than putting questions to the general group that remained unanswered or that were answered every time by the same conscientious student. My third change was that we will begin having unannounced (pop) reading quizzes, since students are not prepared for class discussion. Finally, I outlawed cell phones in the classroom. I said I don't want to see them; put them away.
I was met with resentful silence by some, and by respectful silence by others. Either way, the silence was accomplished, and we could be restored to readiness.
It didn't feel good, at first, to bring the hammer down. Later, however, when students began to come by my office to apologize, to write me with questions about how to change, I saw that I had been right to do it.
Sometimes, when I am wiggling about, running all over the place, taking on too many projects, and not listening to the still, small voice .... my own true voice, or God's voice, or the voice of the angels, or of my loved ones, or of my creative spirit... the universe must bring the hammer down. It has happened in different ways in my life. Recently, I have had trouble sleeping (more trouble that usual for this insomniac), and I have lost the energy for yoga and other self-care activities. I have distracted myself with food and wine, film, and "things I need to do." My body and mind have been saying, "Be still. Start with love and go from there."
I'm outside; it's a bit cold, but the sun is shining, and I'm sitting in the sun letting the bright light of the sky illuminate my work in this writing. The puppy is eating a pinecone in a bath of sunlight as well. We have no music but this stillness. From here, my heart and mind and soul can open up again to whatever experiential learning the day brings.
I wish you stillness. I wish you someone to bring the hammer down if necessary, so that your attention might be drawn back to the source of your strength and receptivity. When you are ready for some gentle music to accompany you back to the sound and the fury, you might try this splendid selection from Paul Horn called "Inside the Great Pyramid." The CD cover for his collection of music called "The Stillness Inside" is featured above (borrowed from paulhornmusic.com).
Here are the websites I mentioned earlier:
