The liquid song, flowing between long silences,
Drew me out from sunny meadow into dense trees.
Pushing through undergrowth, I came into open ground
Under a canopy of needle and leaf, like a chapel,
Presided over by a wood thrush
Waiting silently, then pouring out music
that held me still and quiet, stanza after stanza.
In a classroom, do not fear silence.
Ask a question, then embrace quiet, extend it.
Above all, don’t fill silence with your own voice.
A few moments might seem like 4’33’’, but
Long silences allow themselves to be broken
By students who have never spoken before,
A hesitant hand raised, a halting start,
Then, responding to frowns of understanding,
Hearing their own insights, a sunrise of confidence.
Like suddenly finding yourself near a bird in the woods,
Such events are born of silence, fragile, magical,
Too easy to disturb, too delightful to miss.
Gale Rhodes
