Are We Truly Listening?

Since March, my voice has been very quiet. Almost, crickets quiet. One morning, I woke up with an irritating pain in my back that quickly escalated into me being unable to walk, sit, or drive. Excruciating pain so intense I couldn't think. I tried everything in my arsenal (rest, heat, ice); nothing worked. I sought medical assistance. I kept saying the same thing. I need answers. What is causing this? How can we repair it? I didn't want to slap a bandaid on it, but work towards regaining my healthy, active life. Over and over again I said this as doctors, medical professionals, and my insurance company failed to listen to me. It took me 13 weeks to jump through countless (worthless) hoops until I finally was able to find a doctor who listened. Truly listened. He ran tests, formal and informal. He asked me for feedback. He communicated with me regularly...even out of office hours. He (and the fantastic physical therapist that he recommended) made themselves available to answer my questions, soothe my anxiety, and help me work toward my goal of a healthy back. Having them gave me a positive frame of mind that I could reach that goal even if it still may take several more months.

One day, as I was reclined on an extra-large ice pack, it occurred to me that many of our students may be on parallel journeys to this in their learning lives. They may feel completely overwhelmed by the expectations in our classrooms. They may have obstacles that seem insurmountable. They many feel that their voices are hitting an abyss and that no one cares enough to hear them, see them.

I couldn't help but ask, are we being the kind of teacher that truly listens? Are we talking to them? Asking questions? Listening not only to what they are saying, but what they are not saying? Are we building a foundation of trust with our students so that they know we care about them, not as just a student in our classrooms, but as individuals? Do we run formal and informal diagnostics and formative assessments to determine exactly what they need while giving them an opportunity to set their own personal goals? Do we soothe their anxiety, cheer them on, and provide guidance that they can build upon? Are we willing to go above and beyond what is "expected" as a classroom teacher to give our students what they need? Again, I ask, are we truly listening? Because if we are, it can make a world of difference in the life of that student even long after they have left. That's what they need. That's what they deserve.