23 lines
1.3 KiB
JSON
23 lines
1.3 KiB
JSON
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{
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"captions": true,
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"voice": "af_nova",
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"music_url": "https://4ort.live/v1/mtv/video/361304ab8879?download=1",
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"scenes": [
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{
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"id": "s1",
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"narration": "A room has a sound before it has a meaning. At the first bell it's a tide: chairs scraping, backpacks dropping, twenty-eight separate voices deciding together what kind of hour this is going to be."
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},
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{
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"id": "s2",
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"narration": "But an hour in, the sound changes. This is the quiet I actually teach in. Not silence, a hum. Pencils finding paper. A chair shifting because a body leaned in. Someone laughing at their own mistake. That hum is the sound of a mind doing work, and you cannot fake it, no matter how still the room looks."
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},
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{
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"id": "s3",
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"narration": "The other quiet is a warning. Twenty-eight heads down, twenty-eight screens, and not one pencil moving. That's not attention, that's a queue. You learn to hear the difference the way you learn to read a crust, by the sound it makes when you knock."
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},
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{
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"id": "s4",
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"narration": "So I listen more than I talk. I drop my voice instead of raising it. I wait past the pause that feels too long. And when the hum comes back, I've earned the room. One held breath at a time, under the Wasatch, same as every teacher who ever learned to read the quiet."
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}
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]
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}
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