Ali 1

Mallak Ali

Ms.Gardner

English 10H, Period 5

23 January 2018

Reflective Essay

“You should get your hearing checked.” Seven words that have been uttered to me

countless times.

Within a class, one is expected to attentively listen to the curriculum being taught; which

is what I have done for as long as I’ve known, or I’ve at least tried to. The other second graders

that surrounded me sat and listened with ease as I repeatedly asked the student next to me what

the teacher was saying. In response, Ms.Sundus raised her voice to a volume well understood,

angrily shouting in Arabic, “ ‫ ”ﻣﺎ ﺑﺘﺤﺘﺮﻣﯿﺶ‬, which in translation means that I was being

disrespectful to her and to the class, followed by the universal phrase used by teachers, “If there

is something you would like to say, share it with the class.” Frightened and somewhat

embarrassed, I shriveled up in the red wooden chair as my face’s color instantly mirrored the

chair’s. After what had felt like eternity, the bell rang and my little legs scurried out of the

classroom so quickly that my upper body could not keep up. With only a 5 minute break, I went

to the bathroom and washed my face clean of its bright red pigment. “Maybe everyone is right.

Maybe I do need a hearing aid,” I said, internally questioning myself and letting the opinions of

others sink in. For the slightest moment afterwards, there was pure silence and my thoughts

cluttered each other within my eight-year old self’s brain.

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Once more, the bell rang and I walked into my English class, greeted my teacher, and sat

in my chair. She spoke in a soft, sensitive voice - very calming to the ears. Fortunately, I sat in

the very front of the class, where the struggle to capture every word spoken, was non-existent.

Finally granted the opportunity, I settled into my front row view and consumed every word with

aching curiosity.

Growing up in Palestine, loud noises meant a time of celebration, a time of prayer, a time

of communication amongst one another; loud noises meant power as a community. However,

these inspirational and joyful times contributed to deafening of my ears along with others. With

laughter, I reflect on this conclusion; somehow, I am humored by the fact that while I use my

ears in more extreme circumstances than usual - blasting music, echoing prayer bells, yelling

grandparents- I wear out the two “auricles” quicker than others, leaving me to ultimately “age”

quicker than others. This leads to the simple equation that states: exceeding the recommended

limit equals harmful effects; therefore in extreme circumstances, permanent silence may occur.

Within times of silence, horrifying images come to mind, similar to those in a horror

movie. Specifically, the moment before a character is brutally murdered where there is a soft,

almost silent, melody that rings within the audience's ears, easing them into the scene, while

knowing that they should always remain alert. In silent nights as child, my ears were always

cautioning me, even while asleep. They themselves remained alert, consistently protecting me

from the monstrous gremlins creeping within my thick walls, never failing to insure my safety. I,

however, repeatedly ignored my task of protecting them, knowingly damaging my “tympanic

membrane” as I raised the volume to high and, ironically, drowned out all the noise. All the
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chatter, all the bickering, all the happiness- I denied all of it and continued to insure my

permanent silence.

Along with the sheer fact that I contributed to the deafening on my ears more than others,

another thought developed through the mist of this personal revelation. Not only had my ears

been there to alert me, but the two listening devices also somehow managed to manipulate what

was being said to me since I could understand languages. Over the many years, my ears have

been constantly filtering out phrases that are unkind for this world, keeping my innocent

“cochlea’s” sheltered through the verbal war of life. Nevertheless, its defense mechanism has

weakened over the years, slowing allowing mass quantities of societal and personal viewings

break through the gates of the “external auditory canal”. As a result of this break-in-and-entering,

myself, and perhaps millions of other children alike, are left with a small amount of help to guard

ourselves which leads to us slowly lower our shields and allow the absurd opinions of society

flood in. “Why do you talk so loud?” “You should’ve heard me the first time.” “You should

always be listening.” “Don’t you think you should see a doctor ‘bout that?’ Once again,

returning to a classic more memorable than the Titanic, “You should get your hearing checked.”

A phrase that has been told to me so many times that the words quickly lost all meaning.

Through all the agony, through all the bitter-sweet moments, through all the laughter, my

ears have clung on so tightly to the point of no escape; never will they leave me, never will we

part ways. Even in the far future when we are both aged and wrinkly, my ears will always be

satisfying my wants and denying its own and for that I thank you, ears. I thank you for all you

have overcome and I sincerely apologize for all I have done. Once again, thank you.