The First Whisper

WHISPERS IN THE CLASSROOM

The morning bell rang, utterly disturbing the building close to it, but for us students, the bell was a warning sign meaning, Boys and girls, come out before the third clap. Boys and girls lined up in different lines, the boy at your right and the girls to the left. We said our morning devotions and made our way to the classroom. Boys chatter filled the air while the girls moved in solemn silence, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes down. Adele followed the line to the class, wooden desks, ink-stained floors, and a portrait of the mighty council hanging high on the wall, photos of men who passed the rules in gold robes with eyes that seemed to follow you. I sat at the back of the class; the back seat is reserved for the girls, while the boys sit at the front, but they can decide where they want to sit down. It was so because we, the girls, aren't supposed to talk or answer questions unless it's related to us or when we are needed to or asked.

“Today,” the teacher began, pacing before the board, “we learn about virtue and order the foundations of a peaceful society.” Her voice was calm, rehearsed. “And tell me why do we say silence is a woman’s greatest virtue?” This question is meant for the girls.

A few hands from the back row lifted, mostly from the girls desperate to sound obedient.

“Because it shows respect,” one girl said softly.

“Because speaking too much is pride,” another added.

The teacher nodded approvingly. “Yes. A woman’s peace keeps her home strong.”

Adele’s hand twitched, just slightly. She hadn’t meant to lift it, but curiosity slipped through her control. The teacher’s gaze caught her.

“Yes, Adele?”

The room went still. Even the boys stopped whispering.

Adele hesitated, then said, “But if silence is all we’re allowed… how do we ever learn to be right?”

The words landed like thunder. The teacher’s smile froze.

Murmurs rippled through the boys’ row; one of them smirked.

The teacher’s pointer tapped against the board, a slow, warning rhythm.

“Adele,” she said tightly, “wisdom doesn’t come from speaking. It comes from knowing when not to.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Adele murmured, lowering her head.

But the question still burned inside her, louder than any answer. But if you don't ask questions how will you know those things you are not supposed to ask? She asked herself quietly.

Mom don't you think that this silence of a thing is a bit exaggerated? Why are you asking? My mom asked me with curious eyes, after we finished drying the fish for dinner. Miss Isabelle told me that wisdom doesn't come from speaking but it comes from knowing when not to – Is it true? I actually don't believe her, I sighed, trying to give up on the topic. Is it not alarming that the time we are allowed to ask questions and question our rights, it will be ignored, and calling silence a virtue? Mum started smiling. I continued ignoring her completely, and the fact she is a woman is an annoying fact. She's supposed to be siding with her gender, not the other way around. She is stupid. I complete my statement with that remark. Shh!! My mom shushes me: Don't let anyone hear you insulting your teacher! unless you want to be punished. I rolled my eyes. She sighed, My love, your teacher is partially right. You need to know when to sneak those wisdoms of yours and know when to bring them out, and you are also right: silence is not supposed to be a virtue. Silence is when you meditate about some wisdom you've reached and how to make that wisdom a living spirit in you, something you want to wander more in your body. Silence is sometimes a sign of defeat, not strength or anything; it shows fear and total surrender, and my love, I don't want you to be silent. I want you to be a living whisper that echoes the word freedom. Do you get it? But for now we need to dwell in silence until it envelops you and your inner self bursts into flames of total hatred of the system. Do you understand? she asked. I nodded. "Good girl." She rested her forehead on my head, and I asked, "When will it happen?" Very soon, my love, very soon. She raised her head and smiled at me, a smile that answers all my questions, a smile that makes me feel accomplished. It's time to go to bed; remember, tomorrow is a great day. I got up. Good night, Mom. I pecked her forehead and went to my room.