On the first day of class when syllabi are being passed out there are many things that people look for first. How many papers are required? How much is the midterm worth? Is the final cumulative? But this humble writer’s eye always goes to one word before anything else: participation.
Even the mere mention of the word strikes fear into my introverted heart. It can come in the form of presentations, skits – God forbid or just basic in-class discussion. And as far as I can tell there are basically two types of people in this world: those who participate and those who don’t. And I’m staunchly a member of the latter category.
In the U.S. – a country that prizes all things loud and the aggressive – you have to speak up to be seen as making a valuable contribution to society – not to mention to get ahead in life. And to an extent that might just be the way of the world. But I implore you, dear reader – is it a crime to be quiet?
I know what all you extroverts are thinking: how pathetic. And maybe it is. I’m not above admitting that I probably have the social skills of a hermit crab, especially when it comes to public speaking. But I know that there are a few timid souls out there – probably hiding out in the Africana section at the library or in Plex’s many narrow winding halls – who feel my pain.
My personal low came early in my Northwestern career, when I earned a paltry 60 percent on my discussion grade for a history class during the Fall Quarter of my freshman year. Really? Sixty percent? I was there every day, I always had the reading done and I swear I only occasionally treated myself to a daydream. You would think I had stormed into class 30 minutes late, put my bare feet up on a desk in the back of the room and started shooting up heroin while chatting on my phone to warrant that kind of grade. And while that was obviously an extreme case, it serves to prove a point. Society just doesn’t seem to value introverts.
The education system is set up to favor extroverts, when introverts are just as necessary. Famous faces from Einstein to Lincoln were introverts, according to therapist, author and public speaker Marti Laney, who leads workshops on introversion – and had her own website, so obviously she know what she’s talking about. (She also mentions Harry Potter as another famous introvert, which is probably the most exciting thing I’ve heard all week.) We toil – often thanklessly – behind the scenes, allowing the extroverts to bask in the spotlight.
Most people at NU probably won’t be able to relate to me on this particular first world struggle. I have seen some very impressive, longwinded monologues in class from people who obviously have no problem speaking up. But talking doesn’t always equate with contributing. When I do venture to speak up in class, I like to imagine that my comments are fully-baked, insightful thoughts rather than just speaking for the sake of a tally mark on a roster.
But in general it seems like professors and TAs assume that if you don’t say much, you either aren’t listening or didn’t do the reading. And that’s not necessarily true because, in reality, we’re not lazy people. We’re just cripplingly horrified at the prospect of our voices being the only noise in the room. And the worst is when you don’t speak up for the first few weeks. Then when you finally do get up the nerve to say something, it seems like there is a giant spotlight above you complete with neon sign proclaiming you a participation failure.
So here’s to the introverts. You might feel like society is constantly jockin’ your style, but they’re just jealous. Or something.
Samantha Booth is a Medill junior. She can be reached at [email protected].
