Thursday, November 6, 2014
It spilled into the very important assessment time. Students were supposed to be writing "My Yesterday Story" in their journals. It wasn't to be. Several students couldn't even remain in their seats for a full minute. And the talking was both excessive and loud.
I couldn't hear the student I was testing. I 'd been interrupted too often, and I was still on the first student!
"Stop talking," I said in a loud voice. (I'm certain I'd said that at least a million times that day.)
But the utterances continued. I could see the culprit, and I stopped the assessment yet again to redirect the student, this time by name.
"Stop talking now, David!"
I continued with the assessment for less than a minute when the monotonous drone resumed.
"I don't know who's humming, but it better stop NOW!" (I think my own voice was at glass-shattering decibels.) "STOP HUMMING!"
It wasn't exactly pin-drop quiet, but it was remarkably improved. Yet the hummer continued to hum -- softly and steadily.
It was only after I'd dismissed my students and safely put them into their parents' cars or hands that I returned to the room. I proceeded to the table where I'd left the microphone transmitter of the FM system that I'd used while assessing students today. The district audiologist had only delivered this new FM system for me to try out the day before. The telecoil in my cochlear implant processor activated automatically when the neckloop I was wearing came back into range of the transmitter.
And there it was. The hum. And not a student to be found.
Apparently, the telecoil picks up the hum of the overhead fluorescent lighting. I didn't know.
I owe my students a big apology tomorrow.