The Sound of School
What does school sound like?
The rub of pencils and pens against marble notebooks and test papers.
The taps and squeaks of whiteboard markers and “smart”-board pens, hypnotically accompanying the tired lecture of the kind yet pressured secondary-school teacher.
The distinct groans of students over the test next week and the essay due the day before.
The shy cheers of those same students over the cool engineering project they’re starting in class right now…
The bell.
At my school, it rings a somewhat sharp G — a bright, penetrating, electronic sound punctuating 55-minute class periods and 5-minute segments of “passing time.” At yours, it might be be a flat D and a 45-minute class — or even a 90-minute with block scheduling — but the result is the same. Like Pavlov’s dogs, we are conditioned to the bell, shuffling our book-bags and shifting in our seats when it tolls despite the teacher’s insistence that she dismisses us, not it.
But something strange emerges when you compare the iconic subjects of behaviorist study with us products of public-school machinery. When the dogs hear the bell, they expect satiation — that food will arrive to fill their eager stomachs. When we hear the bell, satiation — in the intellectual, spiritual sense — is just as often taken away. Projects just begun with an inch of enthusiasm must now await another day. Discussions sparking numerous exciting personal and real-world connections and kindling new intellectual and emotional understandings must now be extinguished to silence. Difficult maths near grasped in intuition must now be forsaken for the history class that follows — is there any wonder that students needing time to process deep often think they cannot learn?
When we regiment classes by the bell, we often cannot fully engross ourselves into learning. Is it worth it to enjoy class if I will be sore when the fun reaches its untimely end? We learn it’s okay to just “do” things without completing them or doing them well. We learn to be satisfied with the extrinsic rewards of grades and live by the external rhythms of clock-time. Rarely are we let loose to seek the intrinsic rewards of “Eureka!” and groove to the internal rhythms of thought-time. Rarely do we discover our potential for a challenging and deeply satisfying self-fulfillment; rarely do we have a taste of flow.
But once we find that flow, then we are truly empowered. Then we’ll have a passion — whether that be medicine or music, computers or cars — that lights up our being, motivating us to challenge ourselves more and more within our interest, and eventually beyond. We’ll embark on projects in robotics thinking that’s the only thing we like, only to realize that now we just have to read up on psychology and language and philosophy because wow AI is so interesting. We’ll develop into creative, productive beings — not merely kids who write essays and make pretty posters and PowerPoints for the sake of classroom activity, but engaged citizens driven to contribute meaningfully to the community, eager to share their passions and give their gifts for a brighter, happier world.
And we’ll be happy, too, having not merely the pleasures of luxury, but a profound love of life.
What does school sound like, in my dreams?
The scherzo of pencils and pens in the hands of students hunting down the latest community news.
The skitter of fingers flying on computer keyboards and tablets, delightfully accompanying the boisterous conversations of multinational youth all convening to learn (in different languages!) by Internet.
The laughs of children and adults bantering over fascinating mathematical puzzles, teaching each other STEM in the manner of sci-fi and The Number Devil.
The clash of cymbals, the vibrato of cellos, the angelic chants and expressive scats of choirs — the music of students and teachers (now forever learners) performing, composing, improvising — the creation of wonderfully resonant harmonies aural, spiritual, and social…
The sound of flow.
