After a day of elementary school packed with group work and drama, I remember packing up my bag, mechanically going through the motions. I gazed off into space, attempting to soften the shrieks and bellows of laughter around me. As I was about to zip up my backpack and high-tail it to the carpool, my teacher pulled me aside to ask if she could talk to me in the hallway about something. Assuming I was in trouble, my throat immediately went dry as I croaked an affirmation and tentatively followed her outside.
It Doesn’t Take What You Might Think for the Wallflower to Grow
What I did not expect was the question she asked next. Gently, she said to me, “I’ve just been noticing. I know you aren’t my loudest student, but you’ve been awfully quiet and worn out in class in the past week, much more than usual. Is everything all right?” Her question evaporated into silence, and she awaited my answer with an imploring look. I pondered what I could possibly say to her. “I’m all right,” I replied. “Of course, everything's fine,” then offered a smile as she nodded slowly. This concern was alien to me. Everything really was all right, and my spent mood these days were not a result of sadness nor a 10-year-old's elementary crisis. In reality, I was a person leaning towards introvert tendencies. I was simply out of my element, keeping up with my outgoing friends and the prototypical preteen drama. Overstimulated by it all, I needed a moment to take a breath, in the introvert’s quintessential enclave, among my thoughts.
When I looked in the mirror, I was confident and comfortable in the silent, reserved reflection that gazed back at me. I already knew this well. But many people around me didn’t. My solitary self-retreats were a far cry from the default model in schools which prepared students for society. In my case, what was simply introspection took on the appearance of reclusion among a classful of clamoring kids. As I’ve gotten older and stepped out of my shell a bit, I have certainly evolved from being an enemy of public speaking and starting conversations. Like organisms in their habitats, I have created my own adaptations to an extroverted environment. I can proudly say these adaptations vocalize more than their fair share as I find my voice and speak up. But my reticent nature still remains, and as much as society might value sociability, I am still perfectly fine- seated on a slouched armchair with the lights dimmed, enjoying music and solitude- just the way I am.
28