Bill pitched his vocal sounds somewhere between a powerful pachyderm and a grunting grizzly.
Yes-siree-bob: I never taught a louder student—not ever, never. Inside or outside: in the morning, & in the afternoon: weather foul, even weather fair: it made no difference. When Bill asked a question or volunteered an answer―same as, same as.
He talked with a classmate and addressed the entire group with a volume of ten-plus. To query the usefulness of algebra, with his thirteen-year-old mate, or argue the number of sides of an octrahexa-whatever might have been acceptable but subjecting the class to a garbled account of why he reckoned Hoss wore a different shaped hat to the rest in Bonanza, thanks, but no thanks.
On days when he was missing from the school bus that ferried him the 50km from his out-of-town village, reminds me of C J Dennis who rhymed; “Where’s the harsh voice, rising shrilly, I would ask [them], ‘Where is Billy?’”
My students didn’t always work beneath the cone of silence. Some lessons provided an opportunity for my charges to chat with their neighbours. In my experience, students can make competent tutors. On many occasions, I stood and listened as one pupil explained a skill or procedure to another student.
Whilst a chatty room may not always indicate an on-task environment, it does allow a child to verbalise their knowledge. This often increases their understanding of the mathematics at hand. In many areas of education: rewards are there, for those who share. Besides, pupils couch an explanation in terms a peer can appreciate. I considered this an effective learning environment for both.
But Bill failed to understand any request to “talk quietly”. I had reasoned, cajoled, and threatened without success. As a teacher who believed problems were best solved in-house, I had exhausted my chalk box of strategies to modify his behaviour. To isolate him in the classroom only exacerbated the situation. A solution eluded me.
Then one day, in desperation, I confronted William with a different approach. Sitting beside him, I did not chide, harass or intimidate. In the middle of my ‘a’-is-not-always-equal-to-5 explanation, & with an almost matter-of-fact voice, I mumbled; “Hey Bill, how come you’re so loud?”
His demeanour didn’t change and he offered me nothing more than a sideways glance.
“’Cause at home, it’s just me an’ dad, and me dad’s deaf Sir, that’s why.”
As a teacher with limited years of experience, a candle kindled in a dark space and strangely, the problem now seemed manageable.
To recognise the reality of home-life for one more student, opened the “eyes of my understanding” to the essence of teaching.
We can teach a lot of things, but if the teacher can’t relate by talking to a group of students, they’ll never be a competent teacher. William Glasser (1925-2013) American Psychiatrist.
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