SSR (The Sound of Silence)

It's quiet.

The room is at peace. The air-conditioning unit has set the air to that perfect temperature of "cool" that my cheek is calm to the touch. It even sends my eye lids into a lull so peaceful that I have to struggle to keep them open. Natural light cascades in from the window like a silent tropical waterfall. Time nearly ceases to exist, only reminding me of its presence by the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall across the room.

Tick... tick... tick... tick

In fact, other than the four-count melodic rhythm of that metronome, the only other sound is pleasing. It's the gentle flipping of pages.

I'm not at the library. I'm in my classroom. Twenty-some ninth graders are all quiet- amazingly quiet. They are all on the same task. Having taken months to train, all I have to do is say the phrase, "Reading time has begun," and all go to work, save for the occasional nodder, a victim of the peaceful setting.

Of course it's April and school will be out in five weeks. We are far enough along in the school year that I can reap the rewards of drill-instructor-like training to whip these students into shape. All whining has ceased, all questions as to the validity of SSR (silent, sustained reading) have been sufficiently answered. We are still far enough away from summer vacation that I don't have to worry about them getting antsy. So for a peaceful thirty minutes today, and twice a week, we sit in silence and enter our own little dream worlds created by each individual author.

SSR is an oasis in a desert full of foul-mouthed teen talk in the hallways, the cafeteria, or whenever the teacher's back is turned- generally any time they can think they can get away with it. But I don't have to think about that right now. Right now there's just... silence.

And then the bell rings.