Benjamin Franklin Senior High is an image that emphasizes silence for me. As I sat by my computer looking through the photos I had taken this summer, I came across some of my old high school. I had taken these pictures on an evening out with my mother because I thought the campus looked so beautiful.  I neglected to see however, how much of the beauty I saw was due to the silence of no students walking around. When I was a student here I remember always feeling like the students' lack of interest in the school or in academia itself made way for trivial conversations and relationship that cluttered the halls of the school with noise- trivial noise. Now, as I think back on my thoughts, I realize how much of what I found so trivial was voice in the midst of silence. What I found to be so trivial, because it didn't revolve around academia, the poster board image for change and growth, was in fact a response (possibly a response they were unaware they were sending, but a response nonetheless) to media's constant protrayal of the school as an urban public school in need of assistance. Kids were acting out the very image they were being protrayed as: bad kids who are uninterested in education. Althougth I don't know whether this voice was a voice of choice or whether it was a voice that was imposed on the students, I wonder whether either voice is being heard, or whether it remains silent? 

Hi-- my name is Claire Johnson and I'm from Portland, OR. 

I must begin with stating that I don't think I was very "happy" at any of these places, but that each one brought out different sensations or feelings, and not all of them close to happiness. I was physically uncomfortable out doors because of the heat, and in the case of Morris Woods, the misquitos. MW was the second to last stop on this mini-hike, which was perhaps either unfortunate or lucky, as my time spent on the Dalton staircase was marred by nursing/trying not to scratch my bites (lucky because it was my last stop). However, I think out of the indoor spaces I enjoyed my time at Dalton the best, as I saw the space as the most dynamic--the closest to being outside without actually being outside, which presented a nice dichotomy. Plants would not have been very successful inside that space, though because the outer world was visible I suspected the plants/trees I did see there were content indeed. In one final note, my time spent inside Park Science (I walked all over but could not find the room--I settled for a geology-looking hallway) was the most intellectual and inquisitory, yet the natural, living world could not be seen. I had an awareness of knowledge which I did not have in other areas I wandered to, though the physical space was a bit unpleasant.

Today when we were sharing our observations of silence, I noticed that many of us brought up this routine of stressing ourselves out right before we sleep at night. I'm guilty as well! Even when I actively search for silence, my thoughts don't stop and all of a sudden it gets really loud in my mind. It was frustrating that I couldn't be silent in my mind. I thought silence would be easy to come by but it's not. Although I did think of a moment of when there's absolute silence... when I'm asleep! My mind eventually stops racing with thoughts and I can finally fall asleep. I don't think any kind of sleep means there's silence - it's the dreamless nights of sleep I'm specifically thinking of. I'd like to think that while I sleep at night, there is some form of silence that I can acheive.

This is a picture I took while I was abroad.  It was during our two week travel break.  Being abroad in general was a much less stressful environment than being at Bryn Mawr and during travel break, I was generally even more relaxed.  I chose this picture because I remember feeling that my mind was very clear and quiet and today in class one of the main themes seemed to be silencing our minds. I kept a blog while abroad and wrote this about the hike: We had the hike first thing after breakfast and I wasn’t super excited, but once we were out in the woods it was a really wonderful and relaxing experience. It reminded me of hikes I’ve been on with my family (with my grandparents in Connecticut and with my dad in brother in New Hampshire). Although I wouldn’t say my mind was completely free of stress ( is it ever? ) I was definitely more relaxed and at peace in the woods than I have been in such a long time…

In the introduction to Fires in the Mirror, it was hard for me to understand and, from what I did understand, agree with Smith.  On page XXIX, she writes, “If only a man can speak for a man, a woman for a woman, a black person for all black people, then, we once again inhibit the spirit of the theater, which lives in the bridge that makes unlikely aspects connected.” I can agree to some extent people with different identities can sympathize, and perhaps even empathize, with each other. However, for instance, in the case of race, I cannot imagine a latino or a white man depicting the character of a black individual and vice versa. Sure, one can depict simple commonalities like hobbies, basic expressions, etc; but a latino/white male will never know how it feels to be black in America and to carry that “burden.” With that said, I don’t think Smith effectively acknowledges how people can overlook huge differences like sex, race, etc to see commonalities. These “isms” are so ingrained in our society that I think they will always be an issue—one that is hard to overlook. Perhaps the “spirit of the theatre” is only doable in theatres but seems highly unlikely in reality.

When I first started reading the Deavere Smith text, I had to double check to make sure I was reading the right thing. I think I was so hung up on the fact that it's an article pertaining to theater and performances... and I checked out momentarily.  What really caught my attention was her observation about the difficulty she had in memorizing a passage: "I had not controlled the words. I had presented myself as an empty vessel, a repeater, and they had shown their power" (XXV). I immediately thought of Paulo Freire and the concept of "banking education" and got really excited that I could tie in something from this course to a previous Education course I had taken! In our Critical Issues class and E-Sem, while I struggled to understand and come to terms with the fact that my all-knowing teachers may have viewed me as an empty vessel waiting to be filled with knowledge, I never dwelled on the idea that I could use my voice to improve my learning experiences as a student. I thought maybe making class a little more interactive could do the trick but I never thought of explicitly using my voice to create change. I can't just expect for my teachers to change things on their own - I have to use my voice to make change because as Deavere Smith's Shakespeare teacher said, speech is an action. Using my voice would be an example of me having the agency to change the way I'm being taught. It seems painfully obvious now that I think of it.

"I recieved the message of anglocentrism, of white supremacy, and I internalized it.  As a writer, as a human being, I have had to accept that reality and deal with its effect on me..."

Cliff

"Does the inability to empathize start with an inhibition or a reluctance to see? Do racism and prejudice instruct those inhibitions?"

"The mirrors of society don't mirror society"

"...tension can be productive in so far as it causes motion, and that we watch and document that motion"

Smith

This is a illustration I came across while traveling last semester, by two artists named Anders Meisner and Mical Noelson. It's a sort plump, child-like body with straw hands and a straw head. It has neither a mouth nor ears, and therefore has no voice -- a type of artistic scare-crow. Having grown up on a farm in WV, I feel very comfortable and familiar with not speaking or being spoken to for long periods of time, as my experience in such a rural place involved less people and and those people spoke much less often than many of the people I've met at Bryn Mawr and in Philadelphia. I can relate to the straw-headed figure, non-verbal. However, not using verbal communication isn't necessarily silence, although we sometimes consider the pauses in between bits of dialogue to be "awkward silences." Ignoring the myriad of other sounds, the "background noise,"  only acknowledges human voices as noise and denies all other sounds. Similarly, we are much more inclined to consider the absence of man-made or industrial sounds to be silence, when nature is full of sounds and life. Is this a human-centric, speech-centric view of the audible world? Is it us defining silence only in human terms?

The imagine represents a human quietness which I can relate to and enjoy, but not a silence -- a natural soundscape.



 

It was hard to find a representation of silence. In every google image search, I would find scenic images but then I would think of today's activity and how in the beautiful woods surrounding English house, silence was never void of noise. So, I have decided that the best representation of silence is its opposite: noise. Back home in Boston, silence for young activists is never accepted and was oppressive when enforced upon them. Thus, I have attached two images. Whether it is a small rally about student inequality or a large protest about the future of our nation, perhaps silence is best represented when people use it to make meaning--to add their own original sound to the ever-present soundtrack around them.

Hi Everyone! 

     My name is Alex Beda, and like you, I'm a freshman. I'm from Woodstock, Vermont and I'm planning on majoring in wither Economics or International Studies with a minor in French. Now onto the assignment: 

My Ranking:

1) English House

2) Morris Woods

3) Park Science Building Lab

4) Glass staircase Dalton Hall

5) Campus Center Parking Lot