Quiet March
A story is a shifting creature, an eternal mirror that catches our lives at unexpected angles"
- Madeleine Thien
I am not sure that I have been witness to a month that has had so many interesting dips, turns, roadblocks, snags or hurdles. So many questions, wonderings… so much stress. As teacher I have gone from being surrounded by teenage sass, smiles and chaos, the trial and upheaval that is puberty to… stillness. My days were filled with quirky children, loudness, endless questions and constant problems needing creative (and often negotiated) solutions. Learning was happening - often repetitive lessons - the difference between inside and outside voices, or how to not fling ones self around a room with reckless abandon, or maybe we should not climb the walls and stick things to the ceiling. Or that kindness is constant - not just when you want to sit on the spinny chair. Curiosity was always close at hand, maybe not necessarily directed towards curriculum - but often directed towards more important things, like the way of the world and exactly how does one ask a girl out? OR why are boys like that? Or do you know what class I have? OR what is the point of math anyways? Or do you have a pencil? Or is water wet? Or when is lunch? OR - often the most important - do you know what we are cooking in foods today?
Then school was closed.
My room now is filled with a quietness tinged with a sorrow that is hard to define. Quiet should be peaceful not pensive. I often wished for quiet when my classroom was brimming with personalities. I wondered how my room could contain so many differing, sometimes clashing - colourful souls. But we did, we managed, we got through each day. And now I find myself sitting amidst a room on mute. Full of empty desks, unoccupied chairs, contemplating something unheard of - a perfectly clean whiteboard and a box full of pencils - realizing how much I miss their noise.
Collecting the photos I have taken this month, I cannot help but notice there appears to be a common theme - the shadows are deeper, the focus slightly off, a stillness. A pervading melancholy stems throughout - these photos are quiet.
