Stunned by the Silence

             I sat in “Admin Alley,” a junction of sidewalks coming from all directions across the campus.  Students occupied benches between classes, and my mind traveled back to my days there when chatter echoed against concrete walls of surrounding, old buildings. 

            But today… I was stunned by the silence.  No calling out to friends as students made room for one more on the bench.  No laughter as stories are shared about classroom antics or weekend parties.  No pleasant hum of murmuring as lovers shared private thoughts.  “Admin Alley” was filled with a haunting hush.  A troubling silence.   

            Ear buds were stuck into ears while cords found their way to pockets holding iPods.  Fingers flew with texts on cell phones, and emails were checked and answered on lap tops, courtesy of university WiFi connection.

            I gazed at the silent students and saw him approach from the ivy-covered building -- my “home away from home” twenty years ago.  I stood as he trotted to me and broke into his memorable smile.  When he grabbed me in a warm embrace, no students acknowledged the professor’s affectionate greeting of a total stranger, and I stared around in disbelief at their lack of curiosity and attention. 

            Dr. Jake’s well-trimmed white hair stood on end in the breeze that swept across campus.  He laughed and patted it back in place, and I smiled with approval of his facial hair additions that streamed from below his ears and bushed out nicely over his chin. 

            “We have about an hour before class,” my favorite professor said, caught my arm, and led me out of Admin Alley and its disturbing lack of chatter.  “Let’s sit in the café and talk about what you will share with the students. “

            We settled into a booth in the popular coffee house on the main campus, and I sensed the same hush of “Admin Alley,” so different from the old student center filled with conversations from early morning until it closed at midnight.  Dr. Jake ordered our coffee and bagels, and I looked around the room at the same isolating earphones, cell phones, and laptops. 

            “It’s different today,” Dr. Jake said when he saw me frown as I looked around.  “Students today have a different definition of communication from the lessons I pounded into your head years ago.  Technology has turned communication into nothing more than a transfer of information.  It has removed the communicator from the formula.  Energy, enthusiasm, anger, doubt.  Emotions are barely recognized as words fly through cyberspace.”

            I assured him in my work as a communication consultant I talk about that all the time and in his classes I planned to have them do some role playing, reading from a script.”   

            “My parents and grandparents taught me to communicate effectively with the much-repeated script, “Stand still, look me in the eye, speak up, and don’t take that tone of voice with me, young lady.  When it was time to get to the point around our home, I knew exactly what the rules were before I opened my mouth.”

            Dr. Jake chuckled.  “I’m not an old fashioned person and believe rules for good communication don’t change with technology.  But, students today don’t agree.”

            “One element of good communication we never talked about in your class was physical contact.  My grandmother always laid her hand on my shoulder to make personal contact regardless of the message she conveyed.  I try to remember that to this day.  It doesn’t work with a cell phone or laptop, but in this world of distance and silence, sometimes a soft touch is where to start the conversation.  Especially with children.  Surely your students going into teaching careers would agree to that.”

            “They should.  But they feel it takes too much time and they can’t abbreviate the words.”  Dr. Jake threw his head back and laughed.  “And, by the way, I never realized you were getting communication basics from your grandmother before you ever got to my classes.” 

            “Yes, indeed.  I recognized my early lessons the day your lecture was all about fundamentals of communication – Body Language, Eye Contact, Speaking Clearly, and Tone of Voice.  You sounded like my grandmother.”

            “And they are still the same today, so I guess I’m still sounding like your grandmother.  Nothing’s changed.  But technology threatens to make them obsolete.  I still teach basic ingredients of good communication, but also demonstrate dangers of communication with popular, high-tech gadgets.  A student told me recently he was hired for an internship and was never seen or spoken to by the person who hired him.  When I questioned that practice he told me his Dad supervises five employees in software development, who never come to his office.  I questioned his father’s relationships with his employees and I could tell he didn’t fully understand my question.” 

            “I know, Dr. Jake.  I have those challenges in my consulting work.  I never talk with anyone about sophisticated communication tools without first complimenting their ease, speed, and efficiency.  That gets their attention and then I point out the danger signals.”

            “What kind of danger signals?” 

            “Emails or text messages are information sharing, not conversation.  Words sent carelessly cannot be taken back.  These types of communication are non-confrontational and provide a comfort zone for the person initiating contact.  The absence of body language, eye contact, verbal language, and tone of voice can provoke reckless conversations and create needless confrontations.”

            “Let’s keep sharing while we walk back to my classroom before the students start arriving.”  I tossed my purse strap over my shoulder.  Dr. Jake grabbed my briefcase, tucked it under his arm, and we headed out the door. 

            As we walked toward his building, he continued.  “Your comments are right on track.  I know emails ripped off in haste have ended friendships or created breaches in families still not healed.  I want you to hit that issue hard.  Hearing it from someone younger than I am may have a greater impact on these kids.”

            As we walked through Admin Alley, Dr. Jake sensed my dismay and tucked his hand around my elbow, a gesture of affection we couldn’t have enjoyed as professor and student years ago. 

            The class session went well.  “Don’t forget your fundamentals while you talk through cyber space,” I teased as they left the classroom.  No one heard me.  Fingers flew across cell phone keyboards, while others stuck earphones in their ears before they reached the hall.  When the last student was gone, I stared at Dr. Jake with my one eyebrow raised. 

            A sympathetic smile covered his face.  “Come on.  I’ll walk you to your car.”

            As we stepped into “Admin Alley” the hush overcame me once again and we stopped.  I whispered, “What would Simon and Garfunkel think about this place?”

            Dr. Jake smiled.  “Ah, yes.  The Sounds of Silence,” and he continued softly, “’Fools, said I, You do not know, Silence like a cancer grows…’  A brilliant song of profound insight.  Prophetic, in many ways.  Long gone, but not forgotten.”

            We finished the song with gusto, breaking the deadly silence of the famous Admin Alley. 

            Not one head turned to watch and listen.