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noise
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2022-05-25
My Hands Are Raw and I Can't Think
Listening to Marketplace on the radio each morning as I arrived at work in mid-January of 2020, I never suspected that what was forcing cancelations of Lunar New Year celebrations in China would leave me with raw hands and ringing ears. At that time, I was working at the Census Bureau for the lead person responsible for on-the-ground execution of the 2020 census in Idaho. The work involved data analysis and strategic planning, as we created and staffed a field operation to complement the Census Bureau’s attempt to transition from the traditional door-to-door canvassing to online self-reporting. In the early days of the pandemic, we tried to maintain business as usual as we, and most of the country, watched cases rise. When things got bad enough, a mandate from Washington shut down our office for nearly six weeks. When our team was called back, we entered a totally new world. The Census Bureau leadership had mandated a hyper safe work environment and work rules. The office furniture was completely rearranged to create social distance. A six-foot perimeter around every desk was marked on the floor to ensure work interactions took place at a distance. Similarly, walking paths were marked on the floor and one-way traffic was encouraged. Everyone was issued a box of masks and hand sanitizers and soap dispensers were everywhere. The visual was pretty laughable but it is my hands and ears that carry the strongest memories of attempting to work in this environment. Trying to comply with the guidelines meant more hand washing and sanitizing than one would likely see around an operating room. The government, while trying to be a really good parent, however, had failed to supply hand lotion. Shame on me! I didn’t bring my own and raw, chapped hands became my red badge of courage, and compliance. Additionally, I will never forget the volume in that concrete block room. A room full of people on the phone can be noisy; but social distanced work conversations meant masked people shouting to co-workers as they stood six feet from their desk. It was the definition of cacophony. The work I was doing required a lot of attention to detail and I remember it being so loud at times I could not think clearly. There were time I would go outside to listen to quiet of the traffic on the busy street in front of the office. -
2020-12-08
Teaching Middle and High School Virtually in the Pandemic
I taught both middle and high school during the pandemic, which required virtual learning. I lived with a roommate and both of us couldn’t teach at the same time in the same room, so I taught exclusively from the floor of my walk-in closet. I sat on the floor of that 5’x3’ closet every work day for 9 months. The carpet was scratchy and my legs would often fall asleep from sitting in one place too long. I often woke up just before class started at 7:30AM and was groggy. Many of us ate breakfast during first period. The thing that bothered me most however was the silence. The only sound of class was me, talking. My lecture, my out loud readings for accommodated students, and my replies to students typing in the chat were the only things I heard for 5-6 hours of the day. There were none of the usually noises I associate with my job: idle chatter from every corner of the room, tapping of pencils, the pencil sharpener, a student blowing their nose, clicking of pens, hoody zippers, crinkling paper, students moving around in their chairs, chip bags opening, metal water bottles falling on the floor and a student yelling “foul” afterwards, occasional shouting, crying, and groaning. Students very rarely, if ever, turned on their cameras or mics to talk to me. I surely was isolated more than the average remote worker; yes, I talked all day, but it felt like it was talking to no one. I don’t have much tangible evidence to show from the pandemic. Frankly, I didn’t do anything noteworthy of documenting. The three pictures attached are from the beginning of the pandemic, around December 2020. Google Meets hadn’t quite caught up to some of their pitfalls technologically and teachers had to “kick out” each student manually, and when 7-10 of your students are AWOL, it can get tedious. I started to make up dumb games and sing songs to entertain myself, please enjoy my new line to the Oompa Loompa song. You can see that all the students are just icons—no faces, no voices. For reference, I have attached two videos of the end of the school year from before the pandemic. You can hear how loud the classroom is with all the students talking to each other, or playing games and dancing to music. After seeing these small clips, you can understand just how soul-destroying it was to teach to a bunch of digital circles who made no noise. -
2021-04-08
Cocomelon or Blippi
In the early stages of COVID, I was in Utah finishing up my Bachelor’s. Finally, after reuniting with my sister’s family in Washington, not only did I have a hard time adjusting to the noise, I had to deal with the 24/7 nonstop routine of my nieces and nephews watching either Cocomelon or Blippi. We can’t even have a movie night because the kids will end up crying to change the movie to Cocomelon or Blippi. Night and Day, my nieces and nephews would be singing to the nursery rhymes on Cocomelon or the opening song of Blippi. Although there were times when I would get annoyed or frustrated watching the same thing on the television, I am grateful for these moments. After spending many years on my own, I am thankful and blessed to be with my family during these times. In the end, it became a routine for me and my nieces and nephews to watch Cocomelon or Blippi in the evening. Not only do I get to see their sweet smiles, but I also get to hear their cute little chuckles and laughter while singing “The Wheels On The Bus” or spelling Blippi’s name. The noise that I once had a hard time adjusting to and the overbearing sound of the nursery rhymes from cocomelon or blippi's name did not matter as their sweet laughs and chuckles filled the house every evening making COVID quarantine bearable. -
2022-02-03
A Return to Noisy Normalcy
Due to the rising number of Covid cases in Baltimore County Maryland, many schools had to teach students virtually for a two week period. Teachers, such as myself, gave lessons from the quiet abodes of our homes or empty classrooms. After two weeks of little sound besides the occasional 'ping' of a new email, we were allowed to return. The recording provided is the sound of hallway traffic and chatter from right outside my classroom. The peace and quite of virtual learning directly contrasts the sensory experience from stepping outside my classroom to greet students. As normal in-person teaching duties have returned, the sound of slamming lockers, excited chatter, frantic test talks, footsteps, and warm greetings have returned with it. While reopening schools brings with it new challenges and concerns, for now teachers and students alike can appreciate some noise and normalcy. -
2020-09-30
The Sounds of What is Lost
This story speaks to the ever-changing sounds of the pandemic. Sensory history allows us to engage with the past in ways the invite the senses of the past back into the story. As my partner and I were navigating all the trials and tribulations conjured into existence by the events of the past year and a half, we noticed how silent our home full of sadness and confusion had been. Gone were the overhead aerial shows, the chatty neighbors, the rattling railway tracks... Now there was nothing. Our sense of sound changed dramatically and began to represent how fractured our connection to the world was. We had to be plugged in to tune each other out. We had to stare at a screen to see a familiar face. While most things felt, looked, and smelled different, there was nothing that sounded the same. -
2020-04
Clean Hands and Empty Spirits
This story is a small snapshot into how I felt mentally, and smelled, heard, and touched physically during April 2020. It talks about how the smells and noises around me at the time contributed to my worsening mental state and the feeling of hopelessness. This is important to me because it was this time that I learned that I am mentally stronger than I think and that I can get through rough patches with the help of my husband. It was not a fun experience, but I grew from it. -
2021-01-14
The Silencing of Industry
The sensory experience that overwhelmed me the most as the United States, and the world, came to an abrupt halt when it was realized that we were in a pandemic virus outbreak was an aural experience—it was the overwhelming silence that came with the world stopping. I live in a heavy industrial town on the Pacific coast Of Washington. While I live about fifty miles from the cities and one hundred miles from Seattle the economy of this area is based around heavy industry and there is constant noise that comes with this. There is a port a mile from my house that is said to be the busiest deep-water port on the northwest coast. At this port soybeans, wheat, oil and lumber are shipped out and German cars built in Mexico are brought in, among other commodities. In my neighborhood there are four train tracks. The closest one is about five hundred feet from my house, the next three are another three hundred feet further. Those train tracks bring goods into the port like soybeans and wheat from the farm fields west of the Cascade mountains and fuel and oil for the ships and for the operations at the port. The train tracks also ship out the cars that come in from Mexico to car dealerships throughout the Northwest. Across from the four train tracks there are lumber mills. The lumber mills load up chip trucks (trucks that carry sawdust from the sawmills to paper mills) and the chip trucks roll in and out of town on a constant basis. The log trucks also roll through town on a constant basis and the log truck drivers as well as chip truck drivers live in the area and park their trucks at their houses. All of this leads to a very noisy area for such a small population. This has never bothered me as the only thing that I really miss about living in cities is the noise. This is the reason why the first thing I noticed as the Covid-19 shut down occurred was how much silence there was. No longer were there log trucks and chip trucks rolling through town. No longer was the rumbling and squelch of the train heard in the early morning and the late afternoon throughout the town. No longer were the airhorns and warning sirens heard from the port. It was just pure silence. -
2020-10-14
So Much Noise, So Little Peace
I wrote this document to describe the constant noise that surrounds me on a daily basis. -
2020-10-13
The end of quiet time in the home.
I am very lucky. I have a job that allows me to work 12-hour shifts, which means I have three or four days off a week. I used to have the time while my daughter was at school and my wife (a teacher) was at work to relax or work on my master's classes. These classes take concentration and time to read and write, and noise is very distracting to me. I should also mention that we purposely bought a small house, less than 1300 sq. feet. Suddenly in March, 2020, my world (at the risk of sounding selfish) was changed. My wife was teaching from home, juggling rooms back and forth with me for computer usage etc., while my daughter was asking for help with school. The voice mail attached is a memory I have of my comfortable little environment changing. This particular voicemail surely caused stress and anxiety to the parents of 16,000 students in one district. Even today listening to it feels ominous. Ironically, today I dropped my daughter off for the first time at in-person school, and I was sad to see her go. *Voicemail sound file from my child's school district announcing school closures. -
2020-10-12
Loud noises and Quiet Cooking
There are two things that have marked this pandemic for me: sound and smell. He sounds of slammed doors from a very bored, angry, unsure ten-year-old boy and the smell of my late-night cooking. As a 10-year-old, he felt set adrift, when schools closed, and he couldn’t go play with his friends and they couldn’t come here. How do you explain the concept of pandemic to a kid without scaring the crap out of them? Because he was slamming the door to his room almost anytime he was spoken to, the dogs, of course, had something to say about it, because, well, they’re dogs. So, most of the day, there was slamming doors, constant barking, yelling (him), more yelling (me), crying (mostly me) and just really wanting some peace. So, I began to cook. Stock, one of the first things I learned in culinary school. Tomato sauce. Pasta. Cookies. Bread, and no, I didn’t get on the sour dough band wagon. And I would do this late at night. When it was quite and cool. Filling the house with the rich smells of food. Meals that have been frozen, stock that has been frozen or canned, cookie dough stashed away to make cookies later. I could think while I cooked. It was and is, my de-stressor. The picture is of one of my creations – “Ravioli Lasagna” – basically, using fresh ravioli (this is ricotta and spinach) as your lasagna “noodle”, layered with marinara, mozzarella and sweet Italian sausage. -
2020-09-03
Fewer planes and much less noise
I was offered a job at Arizona State University at the last minute. How last minute? I had already started teaching on campus in my previous position when I got the official offer. We moved to Tempe, AZ in the offseason. The rental market was full of pricey AirBnBs, but not a lot of homes for rent. I have two kids and a dog, so we set our sights on a house. I also wanted to be close to ASU, preferably walking distance, but I knew that was a big ask. We did, however, find a home. It’s walking distance to Rio Salado, downtown Tempe, and ASU. The catch is that it’s in the flight path for the Phoenix airport. When a plane flies overhead it sounds like a long, dull roar. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself talk or talk to anyone around you (if you’re outside). Before COVID, the planes flew in and out of the airport like taxis. I counted how often they flew overhead, and it was about every 54 seconds for most of the day. Sometimes it felt so loud you didn’t want to sit outside. Post-March, however, everything has slowed way down. There are fewer planes, and that means we sit outside a lot more and enjoy our outside space. I recorded the sound of a plane passing overhead while I hung up laundry to dry. It gives a sense of how long the sound takes over the area. -
2020-08-20
Sensory history and the pandemic
I've been thinking about sensory history and how often it's left out of historical records. We often don't stop to comment on observations we make every day like noise of a busy street corner or the smell of muffins baking in the kitchen. I'm teaching HST643 Global history during Fall B with a module on sensory history. I'd like to ask students to add a perspective on the sensory history of the pandemic. I posted this thought in the JOTPY Slack workspace and Shanna replied with a really interesting observation about sound: “…there is an odd tension of noise inside my home and silence the second I step outside. I find myself needing a quiet space when I’m in my house. Yet the second I walk outside, it’s way too quiet that I start to feel uncomfortably lonely and in need of human connection.”