I am a teacher without a voice. Please don’t get me wrong, this is not a political statement of any sort. I am literally a teacher without a voice. I have succumbed to the occupational hazard of teachers. I have laryngitis – long lasting and reoccurring laryngitis.

I woke up the morning before Halloween with a diminished voice. With the help of my student teacher and MAT (Masters of Teaching) intern, I made it through the day.

Halloween morning dawned and with it, even less of a voice. Those of you who teach kindergarten-grade-two or are parents or grandparents of students of that age know that Halloween is a truly exciting day. Fortunately, for my voiceless state, Halloween is also a day with lots of parent volunteers and their voices. Meanwhile, I drank tea, water, orange juice and soup until I practically floated away.

Thursday morning there was still no voice coming from my vocal chords. I managed to work for half a day before I went home to sleep and wait for a doctor’s appointment. My school’s administrative assistant had to make the call to the doctor’s office for me because of my lack of voice.

The doctor said, “No more teachers talking to the kids.” (It was just like that rhyme, “Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.”) After picking up a small notebook and minigolf pencil and some more fluids, I went home and wrote lesson plans for the substitute.

My family seemed to enjoy my enforced silence. My daughter quickly became an expert at connecting the dots between the two words I scribbled on the notepad and communicating my words as a complete thought. My husband and son were less adept, though I think it had less to do with skill and more to do with their collective sense of humor.

By Sunday evening, my voice was a raspy version of itself and it was audible. This was a definite improvement. The week brought a steady return of my vocal abilities though it waxed and waned throughout the day.

During this silent time, I thought about what it would be like if I taught older students. Would I have been able to teach using alternative means of communication? Would the white board, the overhead projector, the printed word, and limited American Sign Language have been enough for the students? If my students were mostly readers, mostly independent learners, and were managed with only the infamous “teacher look,” I probably would have been reasonably successful, at least for the short term.

In many ways, this bout of laryngitis is a gift. It reminds me of all the students in every teacher’s classroom who have no figurative voice. These are the students who, for whatever reason:

Struggle to learn.

Come to school hungry.

Don’t have warm, clean clothes.

Are worried about a parent’s job, relationship, addiction, etc.

Lack true friends.

Lack a responsible caregiver.

In short, these are the students that all of us, and I do mean all of us, need to remember. When we remember these students we need to take action, to be their voices until they have the ability to speak for themselves.

Particular students are not the only ones without a voice in schools. There are some parents and caregivers who also have no school voice. Oftentimes, the adults have no voice for the same reasons that students may have no voice. And again, all of us need to advocate for these parents until every voice is heard. I am lucky, I know that my time of silence will end. For those students and parents who are disconnected from the school system, the silence may continue unless those of us with voices speak up.

As it was, my students had a variety of reactions to my silence. Some whispered back to me. Others talked louder. Some just kept asking, “What?” I did try to ask some of my first-graders to help me find my voice since I had lost it. Not one of them seemed to appreciate that request – or else they just didn’t hear me.

Have you ever had a negative experience with a teacher, a student, a principal, a class, or a parent that turned out to be a gift that allowed you to understand another’s perspective? E-mail me at conversationswithateacher@gmail.com.