I am not used to going unheard. In fact, many people (my mother included) find it impossible to tune me out at times. I’ll confess—I’ve probably been the loudest, most obnoxious person to ever inhabit this campus (save for James Knight, perhaps). However, for some strange reason, every Tuesday and Thursday, I feel completely silent.

You see, on these days, I’m slated to belt the morning announcements, supposedly bringing enlightenment and joy to all who hear me.

But instead, you “Hyde” in pure terror at the mere sound of my voice. I needn’t have you barge into my peaceful second period, you surely feel. My one blissful moment where I am guarantied, by the government no less, 95 minutes of Mac free, bona fide, purely educational time, you may contend.
While I am good for all the therapeutic bills sent my way, I have one argument in my defense: No one listens to the announcements. Ever.

I hear your protests. (“My class is too loud! My teacher begins the lesson as soon as the bell rings! They aren’t relevant enough to me!”)

Let’s face it: Your arguments are invalid, not only because this school is run like Soviet Russia, but also because my average volume is plenty loud to be heard over your teachers, fellow students and, possibly, even an invading army.

The only explanation you have left is I really don’t care, despite the hours that the ASB and countless others put into making the morning announcements as painless, entertaining and concise as possible. That’s like saying that you drive an SUV powered by orphan tears and puppies … it hurts deep.

Why do you insist on ignoring me when I show you nothing but love? Why, oh why? This concept is completely foreign to me.

While I understand being ignored in person, perhaps even completely disregarded, to be ignored in an official capacity? That does not compute.

I can understand students who tune out to study for an upcoming test, to contemplate how to best Saran-wrap a friend’s car or to strategize how to best ask that certain someone (nudge, nudge) out, but otherwise your attention should be completely devoted to the most informational and important part of your school day: the announcements.

They not only deliver important news pertaining to the school, but they also provide something that is fast disappearing in modern life, the shared experience. Few are the instances one can share time with 1,400 other people.

Beyond that, the announcements bind the school together by providing individuals and organizations with recognition and giving the school a common agenda. Many a time, student leaders complain about lackluster attendance at one event or another. ASB invests countless hours into boosting publicity for school events, but the burden of responsibility ultimately rests with you, the listener.

In the end, the entire school loses out by ignoring the announcements. My plight with the announcements in many ways mirrors my plight with writing opinionated newspaper columns. While I might lift my spirits in the hopes that students will read my meaningful words with the utmost perspicacity, I feel somewhat hurt when I find otherwise. When you skip over my article or tune out of ASB announcements, I feel that my efforts have been effectively squandered.
So please, listen to the announcements. They just might make your day.