Listening is becoming a lost art. Commotion and sound is all around us. Sometimes it’s not completely our fault that we are starting to not listen to each other. However there are things we can do to be better. We can turn off our own little noise box plugged into our ears and make eye contact with those who are speaking to us. Listening to each other shows respect and appreciation for the other person. When we listen to others we help them feel valued and understood.    

At this time we have all kinds of different personalities and children that attend my elementary school. We have children that have constant runny noses, boys that sweat a lot, and girls that wear too many layers of socks. There is a small group of boys who group up in the corners of the playground and pretend that they are in a rock ‘n roll band. We have artists, diva’s, bullies, underdogs, athletic kids, and then there is me. I am not sure where I fit in. I weave in and out of groups. I try to stick up for the underdogs and I avoid the kids with allergies. All in all I feel like my passion right now is soccer. If I was born in a different era, in a more populated town, and we had the financial means to play club soccer (with all the fine accessories) I think I could kill it! 

Before morning recess begins we decide to play a cold game of soccer. It is late fall and the frozen dew hangs onto the tetherball pole like miniature teardrops calling out to anyone to stick their tongue on it. The crevices in the mustard yellow ball are more noticeable as it hangs from a stiff chord. The tetherball is hard and it cracks every time you give it a whirl in the chilly morning. The grass is still green but the dew’s frozen crystals cling to the blades. Our breath can be seen immediately as we walked out onto the playground. We need to move quickly to stay warm for the next fifteen minutes. 

I am appointed team captain and Mick is the opposing team captain. We are friends but we are also rivals on the soccer field. He has a mighty kick that could clear the whole playground. I feel like I am equal to his talents and so we are nominated to choose the teams.

To finally clamber to the top of the elementary sports ring is no small thing. To be nominated captain of a team means that you are momentarily admired, skilled, and anyone is willing to follow you into battle. The place that no one wants to be is ‘the last man standing’. If you happen to be the kid that is picked last it is a severe blow to your self-esteem and you know you need to work on your game a little more during the off-season. This is an era (rather it is the community we live in, our proximity to the equator, or the fact that we are living among swamp water – I am not really sure why this is the case) where nobody really cares what other talents you possess. You could be a great orator, have a killer quilting stitch, serve the elderly, or have a knack at baking whole wheat bread- it doesn’t matter. What matters most is if you can handle a ball- any kind of ball. If you are skilled at a sport then you are on the inside. If you can’t handle a ball…. from where I am standing your future looks pretty bleak. 

I quickly choose my team in the pecking order. I choose from most skilled to least skilled and Mick does the same. We gather out teams together and we scatter our players throughout the playing field. Our goal for the opposing team is the tether ball court. My team needs to score between two trees on the north end of the playground. Each of our teams has a goalie who is a strong player. The air is crisp and it penetrates through our thin jackets and our feet are getting wet running through the frozen grass. The ground crunches under our feet and I soon lose a few players to the cold and from slipping on the frozen ground. The bell is about to ring and I am hyper-focused on the few players left as I help guard the goal by the tether ball court. Mick has caught me off guard as his right foot perfectly connects with the ball. He slams the white ball into the air as he slides to the ground with a satisfied smile on his face. The ball soars high in the sky and is whirling in our direction. I turn just in time to have the frozen white ball smack me right across my frigid left cheek. My team gathered around me and the opposing team ran to my side. Words are being shouted, “Are you all right?”, “Are you going to cry?”, “Oh man, that looks like it hurts!” I respond with an irritated voice, “Yes, it hurts! I am not a crier! The few tears you see are because the icy ball hit my freezing cold face.” I am relieved to hear the bell ring in the background so the kids can take their attention off of me and direct it into their classrooms. The left side of my face is red and sore and I am lucky I didn’t knock my jaw out of my socket. Last year a kid got hit in the jaw and he couldn’t close his mouth or speak the rest of the day. I slowly walk into my classroom with my head pounding and my cheek is sore and hot as a flaming red chili pepper.  

My heartbeat has moved from my chest to my face and it throbs from the impact of the soccer ball. I can’t wait to go outside and get some fresh air during lunch recess. We are finally released for lunch. I painfully eat my lunch and then I walk out the large double doors facing the swing set and the tall metal slide. 

At the time of the ball hitting me in the head earlier that morning I must have jarred something loose in the decision making part of my brain. Next, I decided to do something that was really hurtful to a friend. 

In addition to my heart beat regulating back to normal I decide to lay low this recess and think of something else to do. I walk around the playground and kick at the rocks and watch the kids playing kickball in the outer field. I see a couple of girls under the large willow trees behind the teeter-totter. I walk back to the red merry-go-round and I speculate that there’s a club forming and you have to be a very specific person to be admitted into the secret society. I keep wandering around until I see a couple of girls my age. 

All of the sudden a fun idea pops into my head and I gather my friends around me. “Hey, guys, come here!” They accompany me as I continue to stroll around the play area. I speak in hushed tones, “I have a fun thing we can do before the bell rings. Do you guys want to do it with me?” They respond in unison, “Yeah, sure!” I walk them over to a dark shady corner and I bring them into a huddle, “let’s play a prank on Jill swinging in the swing set over there.” They nod. “Yeah, okay.” I continue on, “Let’s walk up to her and tell her we really want her to play with us. After she accepts our invitation let’s yell, “JUST KIDDING! Then we will run away.” My friend looks at me with concern in her eyes, “Are you sure you want to do that?” I say, “yeah, it’s just a joke and it will be a lot of fun!” Our heads touch together in the huddle and we all decide to make our plan a reality. We put our hands on top of each other’s hands and I say, “On the count of three let’s yell, “friends!” We nod at each other as we look into each other’s eyes. “One, two, three – FRIENDS!” 

We anxiously walk up to the swing set and we approach our friend swinging alone on the swings. She smiles at us and softly says, “hi”. I smile back and say, “Hi ahh-we have a really fun game. Would you like to come and play with us?” The smile widens across her face and she says, “YES! I would really like to come and play with you guys.” As she starts to get off of the swing my friends flank my side with a sense of edginess and we all yell in unison, “JUST KIDDING!” and we turn and run away from her. 

I glance back at her as we are running as far away and I see the pain in her eyes and her head is bent low. I only ran so far until I had a tap on the back of my shoulder from a teacher that towered over me. I look at her black leather shoes and I know in my gut that I am being summoned to her court. 

She looks directly into my eyes and says, “FOLLOW ME!” I follow her in her blue dress, nylons and tennis shoes. Her collar on her tan coat touches the bottom of her gray hair that is in a side part with a slight wave on top and cropped short at the sides. She commands me to stop on the new concrete that was poured last spring. The steps are also newly reconstructed in cement and she sits slowly down on the cold step. She stares into my soul through my blue eyes and she points at me and then motions for me to take a step forward. She says with confidence, “Listen to me and listen to me good.”

The teacher on recess duty has my full attention. I am listening with full intent. She starts speaking to me and I am so focused on the words coming out of her mouth. I absorb every detail she is telling me. As she continues to speak I imagine a picture of God sitting with white robes flowing around him. He sits with a gold crown on his head. A giant gold leafed book with all of the human race’s names inscribed carefully off to the left and to the right is an empty box. Sometimes there are multiple boxes with multiple checkmarks other times there is just a plain vacant box. I am scanning through the names in the book that is propped up on a golden pulpit. I cannot tell if God is mad at me or if he still loves me. I look into his eyes and I can’t feel the emotion that is coming out of Him. I step in front of the book and I feverishly look for my name. I push the pages aside until I come to the ‘D’ section. I look for Da.. Then Dar.. and I finally came to Dari Mickelsen. I hurry to the right of the page to see my mark. There it is. There is my big bold mark. I feel sad that the black check mark has occupied the empty box to the right of my name. I continue to visualize that I am standing and looking at God sitting behind the golden pulpit with the large book propped in front of him. He looks back at me with kindness in his eyes. The teacher interrupts my thoughts, “There is a way to erase that black mark.” I listen with a purpose and respond, “How can I take away my mark? I don’t want it next to my name.” She responds with her piercing gray blue eyes gazing at me, “You need to apologize and make things right and then God will erase that black mark from your name.” I listen carefully to my teacher’s words and beautiful images of making a wrong right appear in my mind. I made a mental checklist of all the things the teacher was telling me as I listened to her instructions. 

Finally listening to my teacher helped me to keep a friendship as I learned to say, “I’m sorry.” As my teacher taught me on the steps of the playground I started to understand the valuable skill of listening. Although swings were screeching in the background, balls were whizzing in every direction, and there was commotion in the corner around the steps I concentrated on the words she was saying. Years have gone by since the incident on the playground and unfortunately listening skills have also declined. Interruptions, zoning out, and letting other distractions disrupt our listening has become the ‘norm’ in our society.

Founder world-wide Scout movement, Robert Baden-Powell said, “If you make listening and observation your occupation you will gain much more than you can by talk.” At the moment the teacher called me over I was pulled into her words and I observed her body language. I started to understand the importance of listening. I followed up with a few questions and then I put my listening skills into action and apologized to my friend.  

Here are few things you can try to improve your listening skills   

1. Unplug, shut down, turn it off. Practice being in a quiet space for at least five minutes a day. This helps you reset and you can  become a better listener. 
2. When someone is talking, let them know that you are listening by responding with, “ahh”, “yes”, or “I understand”. You can also show them your listening with body language: nodding your head, keeping eye contact, and having an open body.  
3. Follow up with questions you had about your conversation.  

A great place to practice listening is around the table. Here is a recipe that can be a delicious after school snack or an addition to your dinner. Enjoy this tasty treat as you listen to others around you. 

Pumpkin Butter

2 sticks softened salted butter 

½ cup pumpkin puree 

⅓ cup honey 

½ tsp pumpkin spice 

¼ tsp nutmeg 

½ tsp salt 

½ cup canola oil 

Directions: Combine butter, pumpkin puree, honey, pumpkin spice, nutmeg and salt altogether. Beat with an electric mixer. Finally, slowly incorporate the canola oil. Store in your fridge for up to two weeks in a tight container. 

Use: Fresh bread, toast, squash

Fun fact- This is called compound butter. You can make lots of other delicious compound butters with a combination of herbs and spices. Drizzle over vegetables, chicken, steak, shrimp, and breads. It’s delicious!  

Resources: 

https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbescoachescouncil/2020/08/11/12-concrete-ways-to-listen-effectively/?sh=56b574046367

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/robert_badenpowell_177987