Each fall, the first grade teachers in the school where I work usually take their students for a listening walk. The walk usually coincides with a unit on the five senses. They don't go far -- around the perimeter of the school grounds or, if the teacher is feeling adventurous, perhaps all the way around the block. When you have twenty or so six year olds to keep track of, even a short distance can seem like a long way. Sometimes it's a lot like herding sheep. The idea is to get the kids to stop talking long enough to listen to the world around them. When they get back to class, the kids, with the help of their teacher, make a list of the things they heard and write sentences about them.
Most of the time, their observations are pretty mundane. "I heard some crickets. I heard the wind blowing the branches. I heard a dog barking. I heard a car. I heard a fire truck." Now and then, though, some real gems crop up. "Today I heard Mr. B. saying some bad words to the slide." Mr B. was the custodian and he'd had to clean some graffiti off the playground equipment.Occasionally, when the teacher isn't looking, some peculiar things also find their into a few pockets.
Last year, a teacher found one of her student's desk filled with wads of cotton. Upon further investigation, she learned the cotton came from a couple of tampons (unused, I should point out) three boys had found during the listening walk. At first they thought they were bullets of some kind. After taking them apart and finding nothing but boring cotton, they'd concluded they weren't bullets at all. In fact, they weren't sure what the heck they were. In previous years, kids have pocketed other things - lipstick cases, condoms, a rock somebody thought was a fossil but, in fact, was a dried out dog turd. This was the first time for tampons, however. There's been a debate about whether or they should put an end to the listening walk. But, as somebody pointed out, you can't stop kids from exploring their world. That's part of being a kid.
Exploring the world is also part of the writer's job. If something catches my attention, I stop to look and listen. I want to know more about it. If we lose our curiosity about the world, how can we ever hope to write about it? Last year during the holiday season, I was in Lord and Taylor's when I heard a child crying and screaming. Soon I saw a kid about 10 years old or so being led out of the store by two adults. Wondering what all the noise was about, of course I stopped and stared. One of the adults holding the boy's arm glared at me. "Hasn't anybody ever taught you it's impolite to stare? He's autistic! Get a life!"
Well, I do have a life and much of it involves examining things closely. Besides, I had no way of knowing he was autistic.
