Living deeply takes time

A scene in a recent class: We were having a rather interesting discussion the other day. As the discussion went on, I noticed that the whole group was quieting down and the conversation slowed down. Then . . . silence. Not the silence of comatose students or of students who had tuned out, but rather the kind of silence that accompanies deep reflection, almost like the silence of the monastic community after listening to a powerful reading at the Divine Office. It was obvious that the discussion had sparked something within. The last thing they needed was for me to reproach them for not continuing the discussion, or for me to move on to a more trivial topic in order to "snap them out of it"--something that happens all too often in a world where people are being conditioned to become more and more shallow.

Suddenly an idea came to mind. "Ok," I said, "it looks like you are all at work processing what we've been discussing, so I invite you to take out your journals and continue the inner conversation on paper." It was wonderful to behold: without a second's hesitation, each of them dove into the page and started writing, and this continued for 5 minutes before I asked them to stop. At that point they were all still writing.

I asked them what they were writing about (indicating that it was perfectly okay to "pass.") One by one, they shared the topics of their musings. More than a dozen students spoke. Each had grabbed onto a different aspect of the discussion.

A couple of thoughts about the experience:

• This is so much more important than "teaching to the test," as so many teachers are forced to do these days.
• The students each moved in a different direction. They were learning what they were ready to learn, and pondering what resonated with their own lives. How could one possibly determine what it was they were "supposed to be" learning, or even dare to test them on the day's discussion. That would be a violation of their experience, and if the test didn't address what was most important to them, it could also be a trivializing of the important learning that had taken place. At that moment, I didn't need to grade them; their faces told me all I needed to know. (And I'm sure they'll tell me more in their next reflection paper.
• So often in our treadmill world, we are dragged from experience to experience until our minds are crowed, our sensitivity is dulled, and our souls are starved. It is so important to take the time we need to process what has been happening in our lives.
• After watching a powerful movie or play, I would much rather spend a few minutes with my journal, than have to listen to what those around me thought of the movie (therefore taking myself out of the experience). There is a time and a place for those interractions as well, but before they occur, we need to have the time and the space we need to, as is said of Mary, treasure these things in our heart.