Silent School

At school, I was known as 'the girl who doesn't talk'. I had selective mutism (sm) - an acute anxiety response that paralyzes the vocal cords. Basically, I could talk fine at home, in fact, I was quite an animated, chatty kid, but at school my voice just seemed to shut down. I only spoke when spoken to and generally responded with one word answers. Often my anxiety overwhelmed me to the point of total muteness. My whole body would freeze and my words would remain locked inside me, blocked by a painful lump in my throat.

Different is the last thing you want to be as a kid. I desperately wanted to just blend in, not stand out, but my sm shone an unwanted spotlight on me. Kids are good at pointing out anything different. As a consequence, I suffered. School was generally an unpleasant experince, at times, traumatic. I endured it, day in, day out with a focus on surviving. I felt most comfortable in class, during lessons where the attention was off my 'problem'. That said, informal discussions and any presentations such as sharing morning news were quite torturous. Play time was also a big challenge. Navigating the social realm was probably the most difficult aspect of my schooling experience.

By the age of about nine or ten, I began entertaining fantasies about an alternate reality. One of them was being home schooled by my mum. She was teacher material, I figured. It was a great solution. Unfortunately, it remained an unfulfilled dream. I'm not sure if I ever did propose the idea to her - I carried alot of shame and hid my sm from my family. Had I proposed it, I suspect she would have dismissed the idea. Perhaps the notion of probable rejection deterred me from bringing it up altogether. I had another brilliant idea though. I created in my mind a school environment where I could be me, feel the same as everyone else.

At Silent School, the golden rule would be ‘no talking allowed’. Kids would have to communicate by writing things down. Each one would have a note pad just for this purpose, and carry it around with them. There would be cards available on the teacher’s desk and on each student’s desk for things like ‘I’m thirsty’ or ‘I need to go to the bathroom’.

I would be able to join in with sports like netball. I wouldn’t be told ‘Jania, call for the ball’ by anyone. We would have to use our hand signals to say ‘here’. I could show what a good player I am.

In drama, I would be able to get on stage, dressed up in costume. We would have to read our lines but act them out. I would be a great character. I would use my facial expressions and body to tell the story. Everyone would applaud my amazing acting skills.

In morning talk the teacher (the only person permitted to talk out loud) would read out my news. All the kids would be listening and thinking how wonderful my news was. They would see that I am an interesting person and they may want to play with me at lunchtime.

My report card at the end of the year would say all of the things I had done right, and been good at. It would never say, ‘Jania is too quiet’ or ‘Jania needs to speak up in class’.

No one would think I was different. I would be like everybody else. I would be able to have fun and learn and enjoy school. I would probably get up early because I would be excited to get to school each morning. I wouldn’t feel afraid. I wouldn’t feel that horrible cold, dark, scary feeling in my tummy. I would get good grades and show people how smart I am. People would see that I have interesting things to ‘say’ and that I can be lots of fun. And best of all, no one would ask me that question, ‘why don’t you talk’. Everyone would know that it was simply the rules.