I once had a second grade student –
let’s call her Amy – who was quiet and shy, even thoughtful, and not the kind
to get noticed. She lived on a farm near the school, and when I came for a home
visit, she asked me to bring my mountain bike so we could ride through her cow
pastures and see the fish pond. She wasn’t any more animated that she usually
was in class, though her quiet pride in her pets, her bike, and her family was
evident in every blush and downcast glance.
Amy’s parents were worried because
she was quiet and slow to respond in conversations. Her reading was progressing
at a normal level, but she read still slowly and shyly, even in one-on-one
conferences. To all outward appearances, she was simply someone who liked to
think and take her time with it, and in today’s rushed world, she stood out.
I recently read a book that helped me
better understand Amy, and myself, at the same time. Quiet: The power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking
by Susan Cain describes the American admiration of gregarious, friendly,
talkative people and its detrimental impact on the 1/3 to ½ of us who are
introverts. Our Extrovert Ideal rewards quick action over careful thought and
admires charismatic leadership over quiet strength. It explains why Amy’s
parents and many others like them worry that something is wrong with their
child if she only has a few close friends and prefers to read or play alone instead
of attend parties and participate in team sports.
Cain’s book helped me realize that
introversion is determined from birth (4-month old babies who were highly
reactive to unusual stimuli later turned out to be introverts who preferred the
solitude of their minds over the activity of crowds) and that it can be a gift
rather than something to be embarrassed about. She describes a number of introverts
who pretend to be extroverts for periods of time but who then find quiet times
to decompress later. A surprising number of apparent extroverts are really
introverts who are faking it for something they love (e.g. radio talk show
hosts, beloved professors, presidents). As Cain says, “Sometimes it helps to be
a pretend extrovert. There will always be time to be quiet later.” In the next
breath, however, she says, “But in the long run, staying true to your
temperament is key to finding work you love and work that matters.”
Until I read this book I had no idea
how I, too, had subscribed to the Extrovert Ideal to the point of even feeling
bad about myself for avoiding small talk and preferring to spend Saturday at
home reading a book. I also realized that I’d set up my classroom to promote
this ideal by encouraging group work without leaving room for individual
projects, and rewarding the quickest and loudest responders in class
discussions without leaving sufficient wait time for the more contemplative students.
One third to one half of our
classrooms are filled with introverts like Amy. How can we make room for them
to make the most of their natural temperaments?
