The conversation over the past couple of days about introversion and extroversion, and the perceived valuing of one over the other in our culture, has had me thinking about my own schooling. In particular, I’ve been thinking a great deal about where and when, in my 9 years of elementary schooling, and my 5 years of high school, I felt the most at home.It’s very easy to remember the negative moments; I don’t think I’m alone in observing that they often stay with you for many years, if not longer.
But where did I shine? What was happening around me on those days where I came home and couldn’t wait to get back the next day? Was there a connection between those moments and this whole conversation about the introversion/extroversion spectrum? What do I remember about the way the class was organized, the work that I was given to do, and the degree of freedom and space with which I was allowed to do it?
A couple of instances jump to mind immediately and in my next post I will share one or two with you.
But as this summer Saturday fades into another lazy Sunday, I’ll invite you to do the same. Do you have a story to share when you felt you were at your best as a student? Can you remember any of the conditions that may have contributed to those memories? What made that experience so memorable and so positive.
Over to you, and I will catch up with you at some point in the next 24 hours!
I’m not sure if introversion and lacking in confidence are related but as a student I was not the guy with his hand in the air all the time. I was terrified of being wrong and having people laugh at me. Some people call that paranoia. I had a friend who used to say, “If you went to a football game and the team went into a huddle you’d think they were talking about you.”
I was very small for my age and very quiet and withdrawn. I was not unhappy. I had a great family and didn’t go to school every day carrying baggage that needed analysis by the school psychologist. What am I saying? What school psychologist?
In elementary school I discovered I could sing, or at least Miss Sheehan my Grade 3 teacher discovered I could sing. Whenever we had music class I was the star of the class. She encouraged my parents to enroll me in the parish choir at St. Peter’s Church, which was one of the premier choirs in the city, out-famed only by St. Michael’s Choir School. Mr. Harry O’Grady was the choir director and he auditioned me. By the time I got home my Mom had received a call from Harry and I was in the choir. Meanwhile back at school, my shining time was when we were singing. I was given the best solos in all the concerts and I was ever so comfortable doing that. Nobody laughed at me. Music days were the times when I couldn’t wait to go to bed the night before because I was going to get to sing the next day. Thanks to Miss Sheehan I found myself putting my hand up more often.
In choir, Mr. O’Grady used to have me sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and “Ave Marie” at midnight Mass every Christmas. On Christmas Day part of the extended family dinner celebration was little Michael’s rendition of “Ave Maria”. My aunts and uncles and cousins used to ooh and aah as I hit all the high notes effortlessly. It was great to be a kid. Singing was my path to self-confidence. Sad to say, when my voice changed I didn’t like the sounds that came out of it so I quit singing. I carry that regret with me to this day. But I still have my memories of “music class” as my comfort zone at school and I will be forever grateful to Miss Sheehan and Mr. O’Grady.
In grade 5, a negative event set off a series of positive events that transformed and shape me until the end of high school. I was doing pretty good in grade 5, without a whole lot of effort on my part, but not according to the teacher. On the first day of grade 5, my seat was in the rows of the Brown Bears, far away from my friends, and I might add it was the first time kids seating was arranged by reading groups. Being in the Brown Bears was not the issue, but sitting with all the Brown Bears became the issue, and it impacted my social life in school somewhat, fearing that the kids would see me as a C student when in reality I was not. I just had a problem in reading out loud. I hated to read out loud because I was a slower reader, unlike my friends who read orally with a tempo and expression.
My greatest fear of my classmates seeing me as a C student, did not come into play at all that year. Most of the grade 5 kids, did not like the seating arrangement based on reading ability, and they could not figure out why I and another boy who sat across from me were sitting in the Brown Bears. My friends said we didn’t belong in the last two rows, including the other students of the Brown Bears. Our grade 5 teacher was a hard task maker, and not at all given to smiling or laughing.
Come November, the teacher assigned a geography project, of flour and paste maps of any continent of your choice. I became quite excited, knowing I would do Africa. I started early, knowing it would take weeks to accomplish on the imaginary flour map inside my head. My father provided the board, and a special spot in the basement. I gathered my father’s atlas collection, not to draw Africa, since I had Africa memorized, imprinted inside my head, but the topographical features of Africa. My flour map, would be a colourful representation of the geography features, the African countries, capital cities, and much more. So, I toil away in the basement by myself and covering it up after. When I made a mistake on the geographical features, or it didn’t look quite right, the soften flour plaster would be remove, to correct it. As time went on, my parents probably took peeks, and provided me the tools that might be helpful in my project. As the flour map took shape, my parents took me to the store to purchase paints. And not the ordinary paints, but of the highest quality. The painting took just as long, considering that I had made the flour map into a 3-dimension representation, showing the elevations from sea level to the mountains. At the end, when I was trying to figure out how I would represent the names of the countries and the capital cities, it was the only time my family actually had help me, because I asked to cut out the words of names and places out of my father’s books. Out came the typewriter, and my older brother pounded away typing the names and places not once, but several times, trying to find a solution that would put the cities and the countries of Africa without taking away from the topographical features of Africa , which was not necessary in the project. Just the names of the countries and capital cities. but I had other plans. Little flags on toothpicks, using colour paper from various sources including old Christmas cards for countires, and ordinary white paper for the cities. Not easy to do, and my mother sat down to do the tedious work of pasting the flags to the toothpicks. I took the finished flags, and placed them on the map, and brought it upstairs for the drying process. It sat in the living room for two weeks, being admired by one and all. On the day the project had to be delivered, my mother arranged to have me driven to school, and I was so excited to hear the oohs and aahs from my classmates. All the kids surrounded my four map, with all the oohs and aahs, but not the teacher. She accuse me of not making it on my own, and I was so mad that I got my coat out of the closet, and took off running all the way home. Meanwhile, my friends stood up, to tell the teacher that I did it on my own, and at home my mother had already received a phone call from the school.
She was just hanging up, when I opened up the door. My mom was angry at the grade 5 teacher, but she was the not the only adult. Unknown to me, when people dropped over, and us kids were at school, she would take them down to the basement to look at my flour map. I was not known for artistic flair, and my mother just had to show it off. Can’t do it on a flat piece of paper, but watch out world give me a lump of clay, or a piece of wood, my artistic flair will emerge.The flour map of Africa was a work of art, and not just a geography project. The following day, the grade 5 teacher apologized to me, in front of the class, and than apologized to the whole class. The principal was at the back of the classroom, remaining silent while the teacher explain herself, and what she learned not just about me, but all the kids in the classroom. Hey us kids, have good points about us, and sometimes schools are not places that shows the qualities of kids well in an academic setting.
Things change from that point on, starting about two weeks later with the top reading group demanding that I and the other boy to be moved to the Jets reading group on the other side of the classroom. We got moved to the Jets reading group in name only, but we stay where we were since there was very no room to put two more desks. A month later, I was selected to play with the big boys and girls for track and field practice. My social-status move up to the top, to prepare for the running events in track and field, since I ran faster than most of the seniors in grade 7 and 8. The best part, I got out of sitting in class while everyone else had to stay behind, until another grade 5 student, who was my equal was selected.
The flour map of Africa sat in the showcase of selected projects at the school, and two other projects from grade 6 and grade 8 were added. My oldest child attended the school to grade 3, and it was in grade 2 she discovered my projects. Seeing my name on the projects, the dates among other projects dating back since the 1950s, she came home to tell me. I could not believe it that the school still had old projects kicking around so long ago, to be routinely on display. I half suspect, the projects on display was based on parents who attended the school and now have children going to the school. So, I went down to look at my work of art, the map of Africa. Surprising, and still in awe that I made it all on my own at the age of 10. Some other people came by, strangers to me and pointed to the flour map of Africa. They were admiring the work and how creative the map, giving the continent of Africa a realistic look on the geographical features of Africa. Leaning to my introvert side, I remained silent, but contented that my project of Africa was still receiving oohs and aahs after all the years that has past.
The flour map of Africa, was my ticket to self-confidence in school and outside of school. The grade 5 teacher who accuse me of not doing the project on my own, began a series of mini-events standing up for myself, and not to remain silent in the face of difficult people. I discovered I was pretty good at the creative stuff in writing, language and three-dimensional art medium.I was particular good at the one-liners and adept at problem solving, and not the type the education system describes in edubabble, but the type walking and chewing gum at the same time. The best part I earned a reputation by the school, and it followed me into high school, that the teachers expected a ‘wow’ project and essays. And when I did not deliver the ‘wow’ in my projects, they would either say or write, disappointed that my work was not its usual level of creativeness and thinking outside of the box. The actual words were boring and typical, but if it was today it would be creativeness and outside of the box.
My tendencies toward introvert activities, actually masked my creativeness, until the day that I got so excited making plans inside my head for my version of the flour map of Africa. Even my friends who came over on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons, had no idea I was an excellent map drawer on paper as well as flour maps, and yet I showed little talent in art class, especially drawing on paper. My best friend, who was the first one to be shown the project at its earlier stage, who was an accomplished artist – far better than me – could not get over the detail. And than she asked me to draw the map of her continent for her board and borrow my father’s atlases for a few days. I did, but it was the last time she saw my project, because I did not want anyone to copy any of my ideas. Drawing the map was okay, but she was on her own after that. Two introverts, to where my best friend remained an introvert, and where I became a combination of the two. All of a sudden I was thrust into the lime light, and I found it very hard to boast like most extroverts do,,,,,,,
My youngest is very much like me, and recently she was thrust in the lime light earning a spot on the six member swim team for the Provincial Summer Games, placing third over all. She did not tell anyone except for me, and when word got around especially the fact that she is the only one representing her community at the provincial summer games, the attention of the adults was overwhelming for her. Yes she was quietly proud, but she is not the type to ring the bells and tell everyone, look at me and play the extrovert role. Today, she is at another swim meet, accompanied by her boyfriend who is the gopher today and not me, tending to her needs in case of broken straps of goggles, food and just on stand-by. It takes the extrovert side to excel in sports, especially swimming, but the introvert part of her personality plays the role of over riding the negative thoughts so the extrovert part of her plays the starring role in her mind on the actual swims. She placed first in her backstroke this morning, and when she called me it was the extrovert side and than the introvert side that I know so well made its appearance. She is not comfortable in the limelight, but she is learning to bask in the limelight. Just my thoughts on how the introvert and extrovert parts interact with one another and the overall personalities of individuals.