I love first hour prep. Quiet classroom. No lunch count. An hour of contemplation before the onslaught; with coffee. Occasionally, a teacher or student will put their head in the door to investigate who I'm talking to. Just me.
So sometimes I talk when there is no one else in the room. OK, "sometimes" sounds better but it doesn’t really tell the truth. Actually I talk a lot when there is no one else in the room. I talk out loud, but not very loud. Or I’ll whisper, like you do when you’re in a library and you must say something but don’t want to disturb others. Then there are times when I catch me forming words and statements with silent facial movements that would work perfectly if I were conversing with a deaf lip reader. Last of all is the ordinary babble that goes on in my head when I’m being careful to clench my teeth and prevent any outward show of speech. Only the mind readers are privy then, though I suppose my eyes give away more than I presume.
I admit it. Talking alone is normal for me. How about for you?
I wonder because people act as though it were not normal. When I get caught talking alone people react as though it were peculiar. I respond as though embarrassed. In reality, as often as not, I’m annoyed by the interruption of a satisfying soliloquy. Of course I also enjoy good dialogue. Sometimes. But; like accidentally meeting a friend at the Art Gallery; Now you have to share. You were working through on your own pace, paying attention according to your own interests, being really blunt in your private judgments, and now it’s that whole other set of rules for companions.
Friend: “Oh, you came to the museum by yourself? Me too. I love the freedom! We’re like minded, do you want to walk together?”
Me:(silently) “Shoot.”
Me:(out loud) “Yea, OK.”
I find it interesting that no one thinks it strange if you sing alone. I don’t know how to enjoy a song without hearing it. Thinking about my favorite hymn is insufficient. I have to sing it. I’ll stop if you walk in on me. You’ll probably be thankful for my consideration. You'd've judged me for continuing, but not for the fact that I was making a joyful noise. Whether or not I’m a good singer, it’s not vain to enjoy making the sound and hearing the sound. Who knows? Maybe practice in private will lead to performance in public.
Why not the same rules for conversation? So you’ve caught me practicing my thinking out loud. Why the prejudice? Shush for a minute and listen. I’m actually not half-bad.
So sometimes I talk when there is no one else in the room. OK, "sometimes" sounds better but it doesn’t really tell the truth. Actually I talk a lot when there is no one else in the room. I talk out loud, but not very loud. Or I’ll whisper, like you do when you’re in a library and you must say something but don’t want to disturb others. Then there are times when I catch me forming words and statements with silent facial movements that would work perfectly if I were conversing with a deaf lip reader. Last of all is the ordinary babble that goes on in my head when I’m being careful to clench my teeth and prevent any outward show of speech. Only the mind readers are privy then, though I suppose my eyes give away more than I presume.
I admit it. Talking alone is normal for me. How about for you?
I wonder because people act as though it were not normal. When I get caught talking alone people react as though it were peculiar. I respond as though embarrassed. In reality, as often as not, I’m annoyed by the interruption of a satisfying soliloquy. Of course I also enjoy good dialogue. Sometimes. But; like accidentally meeting a friend at the Art Gallery; Now you have to share. You were working through on your own pace, paying attention according to your own interests, being really blunt in your private judgments, and now it’s that whole other set of rules for companions.
Friend: “Oh, you came to the museum by yourself? Me too. I love the freedom! We’re like minded, do you want to walk together?”
Me:(silently) “Shoot.”
Me:(out loud) “Yea, OK.”
I find it interesting that no one thinks it strange if you sing alone. I don’t know how to enjoy a song without hearing it. Thinking about my favorite hymn is insufficient. I have to sing it. I’ll stop if you walk in on me. You’ll probably be thankful for my consideration. You'd've judged me for continuing, but not for the fact that I was making a joyful noise. Whether or not I’m a good singer, it’s not vain to enjoy making the sound and hearing the sound. Who knows? Maybe practice in private will lead to performance in public.
Why not the same rules for conversation? So you’ve caught me practicing my thinking out loud. Why the prejudice? Shush for a minute and listen. I’m actually not half-bad.