It may just be me. But I am not a person who likes loud voices.
Don’t know where it came from. I’ve yelled at many a football game and at the television when the Dallas Cowboys are playing, but at work, not so much. I teach art you see, so a loud adult voice to me indicates a teacher that has just had her or his last nerve stepped on and the festivities are about to begin. Back away. Not that I have not done my share of raised voice talking (ok…yelling). No saint here, I’m always a work in progress.
It took me a few years of teaching children to realize that the normal decibel level in some households is “jackhammer” level, where my home is more “passenger car” level. It takes some time to convince a student that if my hair is blowing backward and I am blinking a lot when you are speaking, your voice level is a little too high. I now think of my group classroom voice level as “bee hive”. A little buzz is good, a sign of industrious artwork happening. Attack of the killer bees is not so good.
When I first started teaching over twenty years ago, I had a young man who both spoke loudly and spit when he talked, a dental thing I think, so someone (not me) had told him to hold his hand in front of his mouth when he talked. This was a second grade student, so it was rather dicey to talk with this young man, who had interpreted this instruction as “Hold your fist in a perfect “O” around your mouth.” This had the effect of channeling the spit right at you when he talked. His other fist he kept in the air with an index finger pointed up as if to punctuate the little shower you were getting with an exclamation point. I always imagined he went into politics.