Is silence more eloquent than words? I was about to find out. Having woken on Thursday morning with a sore throat, I had a four period day followed by Y11 Parents’ Evening. By the time Friday dawned, my vocal register was somewhere between Cher’s vocoder, a teenager mid-voice-break, Frank Butcher, and those people who do creepy whispering videos (don’t know them? that’s what Google is for).
So I had no voice. I couldn’t talk. Friday looked like: double Y12, Y11, Y10, Y7, tutorial. Like many of us, I had heard tales of laryngitic teachers of yore, venturing forth voiceless amongst the multitudinous hordes of Y11; I too wanted to join this mythological brethren. Silent teaching? Bring it on.
And my lessons were affected – but not in the way I had expected.
Usually I greet students at my door, saying good morning/afternoon and checking uniform, so already the start of the lesson routine was challenged. Instead, I…
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The Echo Chamber 