Resolution
No problem, they told him. You have very well-behaved students, they said.
Yet they are still middle-schoolers, full of fidgeting and shuffling, murmers and whispers with each other, or lost in their own individual worlds, even though the bell to begin class rang over a minute ago.
And the tacher barely able to speak above a whisper.
Everyone has been accommodating while he heals; even the kids work fine with minimal instruction. But he has to get this room full of wandering minds to focus, first.
Glancing around the room, his eyes settle on the piano in the corner, and he has an idea. The students barely notice as he walks over to it, and with a sweeping motion of his index finger, solidly hits Middle C.
“Do,” the instrument sings
The commotion among the desks mutes somewhat, but not completely. He continues.
“Re.”
“Mi.”
It’s noticably quieter in the room.
“Fa.”
“Soll.”
He winces a little - this piano needs tuning. Still, he goes on.
“La”
“Ti.”
He stops, letting the tone dissapate into the silence, and looks across the room. All eyes are on him. He holds their gaze as they look back to him, expectant.
But he turns from the keyboard, feeling the tension around him as he walks to the whiteboard and starts writing the day's lesson. The room is pin-drop calm, so he barely senses the movement behind him.
“Do!”
He smiles for a moment, then waits another beat before turning around, lest he catch the brave soul who darted forward to resolve the scale. He has what he wanted, after all, their complete focus on their teacher.
Now they can begin.
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Entry for LJ Idol: Season Eleven, Week 1; Topic: Resolution. This story based on an anecdote I heard in a college music class.