Last year about this time, I asked my then-college sophomore if there was anything she hoped would be different about the upcoming school year as compared with her freshman year.
She didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” she told me. “I wish my professors would quit picking on the introverts.”
My daughter learned a few things about herself during her first year away at a private university not far from home, and one of those was, as she put it, “I’m just such an introvert.”
She is her mother’s daughter, so I feel for her. Her small school’s laudable emphasis on individual attention can come across as trying to work the introvert out of her, as if it’s a problem that needs to be solved or a wrong that needs to be righted.
To be clear, my daughter adores her school. Her father and I are thrilled she’s there. The college our girl chose almost on a whim is absolutely the right place for her. But its commitment to helping students become who they might be sometimes seems to trample on who they already are.
Maybe someday my daughter will have a chance to communicate these points to her instructors directly, but for now, in her own words, this is what she says she’d liked to tell them—and what she wants them to understand—on behalf of all the introverts among them.
Please don't single the introverts out in class. If I had a dollar for every time a professor or a student leader told my class or my group, “You introverts are going to have to get outside your comfort zones,” I’d have enough to cover at least a couple textbooks. From the beginning, I've heard you address my classes and sternly warn the introverts that we’re going to have to “speak up and participate.” But I don't remember you ever telling the extroverts that they need to do anything different or be anyone different from who they are.
I will speak up and participate, but not if you keep trying to force me to do it. I agree I need to stretch myself. I actually do want to be more vocal in class. I know this is important. But all your cajoling and coaxing are not drawing me out; they’re making me want to crawl further into myself. If you truly want to know what I have to say, make me feel safe, not ashamed. Give me gentle encouragement and time instead of telling me I need to hurry up and change.
Being an introvert is not a personality defect or character flaw. Introverts do not need to be fixed, healed, or persuaded to “cross over.” And just because I am an introvert does not automatically mean I am an inferior student to someone who’s an extrovert.
Introverts bring something to the table that the world—and your classroom—needs. We are deep, reflective thinkers. We process before we speak. We have complex, multi-layered ideas to share, but we take our time putting them on public display . . . provided we’re given that time. If you let the extroverts always jump in ahead of us, we’re more likely to keep those ideas to ourselves. Which is a loss for everyone.
You can’t tell how much I'm growing and changing and challenging myself just by what you see in class. I’m only in your classroom for a few hours a week. You don’t know what I’m doing the rest of the time, and you don’t know what I’m overcoming just to be on this campus in the first place.
I’m working hard to forge friendships. I’m spending big chunks of every day doing things in and with groups of people when one-on-one interaction is my default comfort setting. I’m trying to figure out how to stand out sometimes when what I really want to do is blend in. I’m working on who I want to become and what I need to do to make that happen. Someday, all this change and growth might show up and make itself known in your classroom. But first you’ll have to be patient with me and show me that you’re on my side.
And to my daughter’s teachers from her mom: I want you to know that I’m truly thankful for you. I know you care about my student and want the best for her. I’m just asking you to be careful with her. And while you’re helping her see who she can become, please let her know you that you also value her for who she already is.
A version of this piece first appeared on Grown and Flown.
My daughter learned a few things about herself during her first year away at a private university not far from home, and one of those was, as she put it, “I’m just such an introvert.”
She is her mother’s daughter, so I feel for her. Her small school’s laudable emphasis on individual attention can come across as trying to work the introvert out of her, as if it’s a problem that needs to be solved or a wrong that needs to be righted.
To be clear, my daughter adores her school. Her father and I are thrilled she’s there. The college our girl chose almost on a whim is absolutely the right place for her. But its commitment to helping students become who they might be sometimes seems to trample on who they already are.
Maybe someday my daughter will have a chance to communicate these points to her instructors directly, but for now, in her own words, this is what she says she’d liked to tell them—and what she wants them to understand—on behalf of all the introverts among them.
Please don't single the introverts out in class. If I had a dollar for every time a professor or a student leader told my class or my group, “You introverts are going to have to get outside your comfort zones,” I’d have enough to cover at least a couple textbooks. From the beginning, I've heard you address my classes and sternly warn the introverts that we’re going to have to “speak up and participate.” But I don't remember you ever telling the extroverts that they need to do anything different or be anyone different from who they are.
I will speak up and participate, but not if you keep trying to force me to do it. I agree I need to stretch myself. I actually do want to be more vocal in class. I know this is important. But all your cajoling and coaxing are not drawing me out; they’re making me want to crawl further into myself. If you truly want to know what I have to say, make me feel safe, not ashamed. Give me gentle encouragement and time instead of telling me I need to hurry up and change.
Being an introvert is not a personality defect or character flaw. Introverts do not need to be fixed, healed, or persuaded to “cross over.” And just because I am an introvert does not automatically mean I am an inferior student to someone who’s an extrovert.
Introverts bring something to the table that the world—and your classroom—needs. We are deep, reflective thinkers. We process before we speak. We have complex, multi-layered ideas to share, but we take our time putting them on public display . . . provided we’re given that time. If you let the extroverts always jump in ahead of us, we’re more likely to keep those ideas to ourselves. Which is a loss for everyone.
You can’t tell how much I'm growing and changing and challenging myself just by what you see in class. I’m only in your classroom for a few hours a week. You don’t know what I’m doing the rest of the time, and you don’t know what I’m overcoming just to be on this campus in the first place.
I’m working hard to forge friendships. I’m spending big chunks of every day doing things in and with groups of people when one-on-one interaction is my default comfort setting. I’m trying to figure out how to stand out sometimes when what I really want to do is blend in. I’m working on who I want to become and what I need to do to make that happen. Someday, all this change and growth might show up and make itself known in your classroom. But first you’ll have to be patient with me and show me that you’re on my side.
And to my daughter’s teachers from her mom: I want you to know that I’m truly thankful for you. I know you care about my student and want the best for her. I’m just asking you to be careful with her. And while you’re helping her see who she can become, please let her know you that you also value her for who she already is.
A version of this piece first appeared on Grown and Flown.
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I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to tell me what you really think. Years ago, I explained to my then-two-year-old that my appointment with a counselor was "sort of like going to a doctor who will help me be a better mommy." Without blinking, she replied, "You'd better go every day." All of which is just to say I've spent some time in the school of brutal honesty!