Rhonda Alves
Assistant Academic Director
Listening is not some thing that most people do very well. I have certainly learned some hard lessons that might have been avoided if I’d "only listened." One of my mother’s favorite phrases is "if you’d only listened." I hate to admit it, but I should have listened to her some of the time.
She insisted I take Spanish and typing in high school, and I talked Mr. James, my principal, into letting me drop those classes. We both knew my mother was a formidable woman, so we didn’t tell her until after I’d graduated. She was snotty about it. Still is. My freshman year in college she gave my older sister a beautiful china cabinet. Guess what I got? A typewriter. Not a particularly useful gift for me, but I think she relished every penny she spent on it.
After awhile, the machine assumed a menacing look, something like the air-conditioner in Brave Little Toaster. The paper-roller appeared ready to smash my fingers should I dare insert a piece of paper, not that it mattered because I couldn’t type. It began to smell like the doctor’s office when I walked past it. I had visions of vaccinations.
During the first four years of my teaching career, I managed to con friends into typing my tests. After that, I had fewer friends. When they removed the ditto machine from the workroom, I knew it was time to bite the bullet. So at 27 I hauled the ogre out of the closet and pecked away. I can type now and my life is much simpler, but don’t tell my mother. Another thing that is unnecessary for her to know involves a summer during which five students in my multi-level English class had failed the exit exam several times. They were bright individuals whose only difficulty with the test was that they didn’t speak English. They only spoke Spanish. I knew I was in trouble. Thank goodness I had bilingual students in the class who could help me and the five students eventually passed the test. I should have listened to mother.
You would think these incidents were enough to make a good listener out of me, but such is not the case. Driving down the road the other day I zoned out while my 7-year old son chattered with what appeared to be dogged determination. On and on he went! It wasn’t until I heard the end of a dirty little ditty that my ears perked up.
"What did you say?"
He repeated the limerick.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
We now have a better understanding about language and meaning, and I am working on actively listening, but it is definitely a work in progress.
Why are people poor listeners? Do they just need to get the quarters out of their ears (to steal an old cliche), stop daydreaming, and pay attention? Society thinks because people can talk, they should be able to listen, but listening is a skill -- not a gift. We have to learn to listen.
Curriculum requires that we teach students to listen, and practice is a key element. The UIL Listening contest is a great way to support this effort. Script topics are taken from a variety of subject areas so transference of listening skills is reinforced. Participants must actively listen and take notes while the speaker reads a seven to 10-minute script. Students may then use their notes while taking a multiple-choice test. It’s no panacea for poor listening, but it is a fun way to teach and learn listening skills.
If your campus does not participate in the Listening contest, check into it. A description of the contest is posted at http://www.uil.utexas.edu/aca/ejh/listen.html. Last year’s scripts and tests are available from UIL.
Anything can be used to prepare for the contest: children’s books, newspaper articles, and other materials.
Consider using the contest format as a class activity. Correlation between the TEKS and listening contest are included in this publication. I hope you’ll think about volunteering as a listening contest coach.
President Calvin Coolidge said it best when he said, "No man ever listened himself out of a job."
If you won’t listen to me, at least listen to your mom!