A liturgy for engaging with the quiet student.
I enter the room and take attendance.
Sherlock, Apple, Lebron, Raine . . .
All present
In body and voice,
Except for one whom my eyes grasp clearly
But my ears fail to hear.
I stoke my judgment by marking “here” but sighing and murmuring
Under the weight of my breath Why do you even come to class?
My murmurs have joined the chorus of discord and the symphony of shame of the multitude of voices.
Do I call on this one student yet again? Do I fear the diversion of eyes?
The pin drop silence?
Or do I begrudge the chiming in of others who seek to lessen the discomfort of a friend but unknowingly rob that same friend of
fecundity and fruit?
Teach this teacher, O Teacher of teachers, to see and hear
A different chorus,
A new symphony
Of compassion, understanding, and concern.
Teach this teacher, O Teacher of teachers, to compose a new melody in my heart, that my classroom, in time, might become one of acceptance, consolation, and support.
Teach this teacher, O Teacher of teachers, to see past the silence
To the spirit that cries out
To Yours,
The soul that whispers of the wonders
Of a life that bears The Image,
The heart that beats the cadence
Of a life made to be heard just as
groaning, booming thunder
hissing, crackling fireworks
roaring, crashing waves.
Help me make a simple
knock
At the door
Of this student’s heart,
In your timing and wisdom.
Make me a friend to the friendless
And a listener
To the one who has been untimely silenced bythe worries of life,the mockery of men,the cloud of shame,the clanging cymbal of failure and mistakes.
Give me eyes that see and ears that hear,
And let the quiet student speak again, sing again, learn again.
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