Remember to listen!

We were talking about listening and someone said, "You never let me finish what I want to say!"  Oh dear, what a common thing that is!  It set me thinking of how often I had not listened, but started to assemble my defence when the other person was talking!  Or I had interrupted her saying "Oh, I know exactly what you mean!" Of course I didn't know at all, it was just a way of putting in my oar.

I remember well the first time that I realised that I am not a good listener.  It was the first day of term in a busy Primary School in the West of England.  There was a three-classroom Infants' School and a four-classroom Junior school which was called St. Mary's.  I had never taught what we called Infants then.  My experience, admittedly small, was with older children. 

It had been a glorious Summer, the sun had shone every day in the holidays, and we began to get used to those long, lazy days which provided an excuse to snatch an hour or two in the garden.  But, on the first day of term it poured! I had over forty rising fives in the class.  Those were the days!  They came into the class along with their mothers and the Headteacher who helped me settle a little of the chaos, putting bright blue blazers and macs on the right pegs, and helping the younger ones to change into what they called 'daps' - another word for plimsolls. 

The day went reasonably well, but I decided to start the 'going home' process early as all were bussed to school, this being a rural area.  I managed to get them all into their blazers and macs, and I then looked with foreboding at the long line of wellingtons.  There were a few who had no names printed on the inside rim.  So I started with the lower end and gradually worked my way around the class, telling those who were dressed to sit down in a circle on the floor, ready for a story.  I got to the final few without incident, then I saw a big boy called Michael reaching for a pair of wellies that were smallish, tight-looking and, I thought, definitely not his!  He said what I had dreaded: "These aren't my wellies! "

 

All right Michael," I cut in quickly, "take them off "(I had spent at least five minutes trying to squeeze him into them). He started to say "But Sister.." and I silenced him. "Be quiet Michael, we'll sort it out!"  Looking round, I couldn't see any his size, but I said the only thing I could say.  "Children, take off your wellingtons, and we'll check them to see if you have the right ones." Instant hullaballoo... forty odd pairs of wellies all over the floor. The Head of Infants' came in to see what was the matter, and together we checked and then re-dressed the four-year-olds.  All of them had the same ones on. 

 

Michael, with a red face was shouting something at me.  "These aren't my wellies but...  "You'll have to take them," I said grimly, "we haven't any more!"  "I'm trying to tell you, but you won't listen!" he said.  "They are my brother's but Mum said I was to wear them and she'll get me a new pair tomorrow!!"  As he hobbled on to the bus, I looked at the other teacher,  she burst into laughter, but I felt more like crying.  It was true, I didn't listen, and we nearly missed the school bus.

 

Lesson:     Always let the other person finish before you have your say!

Have a nice end of Autumn, and be careful of the fireworks!