Tag: voice

When I Stop Talking

Posted on September 5, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’ve always been a pretty quiet person. I love the silence of the morning, the quiet only punctuated by the cawing of crows heading east towards the fields, the spurt of the coffee maker, and the rhythmic splat of the sprinkler as it sprinkles my garden before the sun comes up.

I love the quiet of reading books snuggled under a soft down comforter, the scratch of my pen on journal paper, and the hiss of the candle welcoming me into the daylight.

I never much enjoy talking on the phone, talking in groups or talking at parties. I think it’s odd that I chose a job where talking consumes so much of my day. I’ve been told that my teacher-talk is like a kindergarten teacher, explicitly outlining each step of a lesson and highlighting expectations. I explain that teaching middle school is just like teaching kindergarten. When I stop talking, they notice.

I enjoy talking with my children the most. The times when we’re driving in the car and they see something that reminds them of a story from school, or when I need to explain something very serious, or when we just giggle together are my absolute favorite. The way they talk as teens is so different from when they were little – in many ways, it seems like the stakes are much higher now. They need me to listen more now than ever. There is a shift going on – a time to carefully choose my words, softly encouraging them to listen.

When my children talk to me, they share little bits of their soul. Sometimes those bits are broken-off shards, sharp, piercing and painful. Other times they are soft, pillowy bits of fluff that slip from their mouth and bounce around the room.

Sometimes when they talk it is hard to hear them – especially when their words tumble out at warp speed, piling on top of each other like wooden blocks poised to crash to the ground. We stop, pause, and take our turns at being heard.

Their words matter to me. When I listen to their young voices I hear my hope for their future. I hear their curiosity about the world, and their questioning human morality. When I listen to their words I see their children speaking, years from now, asking for their wisdom. I hear their minds whirr as they process what they see and who they have heard. I hear myself in their words.

I know the quiet is coming soon. They will be gone, moving into their lives and exploring the world more quickly than I would like. They will use their voices to share, teach, and understand. They will deepen and stretch and take in so much more than I can imagine, more than I could ever tell them. I will hunger for those car rides and late night conversations when I had their attention, when I could teach them what I thought they should know. And when those days come, I will drop everything for their phone call, eager to hear their voice, desperate to listen for my words coming through their soul.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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365 Days of Finding My Voice

Posted on June 27, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

When I was a little girl, I was terribly shy. Talking to most people was a physical impossibility for me – I’d rather hide behind a tree than have to speak to my friend’s parents as they opened their door. I was perfectly content burying myself in library books, finding great adventures through someone else’s life stories.

It was amazing to me, as I started my teaching career, that I could actually stand in front of people – children and adults – and actually say something that people wanted to hear. I still have those moments, honestly, when I look out at my classroom in amazement that every eye is on me. Kind of makes me shudder sometimes.

Contrary to many childhood lessons, being shy is not a disability. There are benefits, of course, but it takes a great deal of self-reflection to discover them. Shyness means that one can step back, observe situations, and hopefully think before speaking. Being shy is a great quality for people watching – one of my favorite hobbies. And of course, being shy allows us to create our own thoughts and opinions without having to share them with anyone else – which would create an opportunity for making a mistake.

First-born children, like me, are somehow inbred to be perfect. Just ask my sister, who came only 13 months behind me. No matter what I did, it was always subject to great scrutiny as the ‘golden child’. That’s a mighty high reputation to uphold, for sure.

Living life as a shy, first born of first-borns created an inner determination to break the cycle with my own first-born. Wanting so desperately for my daughter to have her own voice, however, was really what allowed me to find my own.

Suddenly I couldn’t hide anymore-I was someone’s mom. I needed to be the one to speak, teach, and nurture the little voice I had created. At times, her ‘voice’ nearly deafened me in those early days, but as she grew, we blossomed together. We both learned to ask for what we wanted, demand what we needed, and express our feelings and beliefs clearly.

So last summer when I let loose this blog, my voice was born. Surely, it was shaky at best, but it stumbled out of me and landed firmly on the page and kept tumbling and somersaulting and back flipping until before I knew it, I was a writer. Thousands of others, some as introverted as I, were hearing my voice.

Over the last 365 days, I’ve learned to trust it, listen to it, and share it. I’ve learned to pause, ponder and pour it out onto the page. I’ve learned to watch and heed the commentary it produces, to observe the emotions it creates, and to suspend that inner critic who cautions me that I’m treading on the brink of disaster.

Now that I have a little girl, I’m not so shy. Talking to most people is not a physical impossibility anymore – as long as I can let my fingers do it for me.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Stand Up

Posted on June 12, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

what do you get

when you stand up

for yourself?

results,

reactions

or regrets?

what do you get

when you sit up

and speak your mind?

relief,

resolution

or regrets?

what do you get

when you shout out

and say your truth?

reassurance,

retreat

or regrets?

me?

I get a little of this

and sometimes

a whole lot of nothing

but

never

many

regrets

when I stand up

sit up

shout out

I get it-do you?

stand,

sit,

shout

shut up

and stay

the same

you’ve always been

Jennifer Wolfe

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Friday Photo: Have You Ever?

Posted on April 7, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Have you ever felt that

If you hold it in one more hour

Minute or

Second

It will explode

And your insides will stop absorbing

All

While your body will simply

Reject

And release?

Have you ever felt that

If you don’t find someone to

Listen or

Care

It will dribble

And spew out your mouth

Urgently

While your friends will simply

Watch

And weep?

Have you ever felt that

If you say it out loud

Honestly and

Deeply

It will change

And you will gather yourself up

Gracefully

While your soul will simply

Endure

And persist?

Have you?

Jennifer Wolfe

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The Universe is Taking Care of Me

Posted on February 6, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Sometimes we all are so caught up in how we want things to be. Who will win an election, who will find the right relationship, what college our kids will be accepted to, what treatment will be found for an illness, what job might open up for us. We face these all-important, and sometimes critical, issues in life. However, I wonder if perhaps we are all just trying a bit too hard to make it happen.

I will admit I am a cerebral person. I stay up in my head all the time. I like it there. I like to think, to ponder, to imagine what if. I have never been one to jump into huge risks, or vocalize my thoughts immediately as they come to mind. I keep them ‘up there’.

Interestingly, I also wear them on my sleeve. Emotional, shy, sensitive – all adjectives used to describe me my entire life. It’s hard to feel intensely and try to keep it inside. I’ve never been good at lying or keeping secrets. Mix that all together, and I often find myself missing opportunities, misunderstood, or thinking of what I ‘should have said’ 30 minutes after the occasion ended.

So in the last few years I have kind of surprised myself. Surprised my family and my colleagues, too. I’ve decided that I needed to let these feelings and thoughts out of my head and heart and put them in motion. Like a slow leak in a balloon, I let the control in my head move towards my center. Using my contemplative nature, instead of thinking it out I let it settle and sink in. I acted on intuition over intellect and to my great surprise, amazing things started to happen.

I found myself in the mountains of Nicaragua, along with my children and complete strangers, mucking in the dirt and rocks to build a school. I found myself teaching and coordinating a new program at my school to help kids and families find their confidence and success. I found myself on a zip line flying over the jungle to challenge my fear of heights. I found myself applying and earning a government grant to study global education, with plane tickets for Washington D.C. and Indonesia. I found myself writing, testing the voice that began to emerge and finding new writing friends to share and learn with. Now, I find myself writing for Yahoo, my thoughts and words about education and parenting shared with an unlimited audience.

None of these experiences would have happened if I remained locked inside my head. There are too many reasons I could create to explain them away. There are too many risks, too many challenges, too many other people who would be better suited. Except that, the universe is taking care of me.

My writing friend Brenda Moguez, who shares her head and heart with the universe on a regular basis, writes in her blog ‘Passionate Pursuits’, “just once, this singular time, I’d like a leg up, the map, the golden key, the spoonful of sugar, the ruby slippers, and one of the wishes Genie gave to Aladdin. It’s ballsy of me to ask, I know, but I have good reason. I looked at karma’s life ledgers and I am showing a substantial overpayment. The same auditors, who tally the votes for the Academy Awards, keep karma’s book, so the numbers are accurate. Trust me.”

I couldn’t agree more. Karma’s life ledgers do keep the tally marks next to our name. Santa Claus does know who has been naughty and who has been nice. Cinderella’s fairy godmother does turn a pumpkin into a carriage so she can meet her handsome prince. And the Blue Fairy does bring Pinocchio back to life after he proves his bravery, honesty and selflessness.

But all of those magical experiences would remain in the ledger book if not for one thing: the voice and actions that put them out into the universe to be answered. As the great philosopher Bill Cosby says, “In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.”

Is this what holds so many of us back? It’s our lives; we have to want it to happen.

In the end, I believe a combination of desire and action allows the universe to move. Trusting that we will be taken care of, that things will happen the way that they are supposed to, not necessarily how we think they should.

That, and a bit of fairy dust.

Jennifer Wolfe

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