Silence

Sometimes I can be very quiet. Extremely quiet. And I mean it: I’ll sit there in class just staring into space, probably thinking or pondering about some random thought without saying a single word.

So a few weeks ago, one of my classes moved to the computer lab for the day. As it is usual for me on those days, I quietly sat down in front of a computer – the one in front of the large window – and logged on. Not very interesting, right? Well, I started my work, and realized I was being extremely productive that day. To make the long story short, I finished everything in a matter of minutes.

And that was all. Well, not really. Here comes my trivial anecdote. As I sit there, it suddenly gets very quiet – everyone is working. All I hear are keystrokes, clicks, and the occasional voice of a teacher down the hall. I turn in the rolling chair a bit, and look into people’s computer screens; a bit nosy, I know. I see a few browsers, online chats, and word documents.

It suddenly hits me: we are all working on transmitting our knowledge to the teacher and each other, but yet we don’t say a word. Two kids chat on Gmail while they sit next to each other; a student works on a presentation for the class – which, as it turns out, we’ll never present – rather than just talking to us. Outside, by the stadium, two girls walk together, but are completely focused on their phone screens. I’m also guilty: I’d rather Google something than ask a question to whoever is next to me.

What does this mean? I don’t know. I guess I could insert some brainy statistic on how we are becoming absorbed by technology. Or I could sit in silence, pondering about silence itself instead. 

Conrado Brenna