Exploring the value of being a quiet person
The following college essay was inspired by attending a story slam hosted by CTK College Coach last spring.
I sit patiently on one of the saggy, broken-down seats in our middle school auditorium, watching my classmates approach the stage one by one to receive their much-desired, cheap plastic trophies. All I can think about is the sweat pooling in my palms as my soaked shirt sticks to the back of my chair. The 7th grade Poetry Grammys are an annual event in which students are recognized for the best poems written in class that year, but all my focus is on escaping that oven of an auditorium with two free hands. Having no trophy means I will not have to suffer the grueling walk on stage to thank my teachers. I see my name appear on screen as a finalist for one of the categories, and my heart sinks to my stomach. I grip the arms of the chair and pray my poem will not be picked. Luckily, the friend sitting next to me is the winner, and I exhale with relief. Being the center of attention is my worst nightmare. This time, I avoided it.
My life is full of terrifying social experiences like this one. In kindergarten I begged my parents not to send me to school dressed up for Halloween. When I eventually showed up as Spider-Man, I was terrified I would be the only one in costume. It wasn’t just Halloween that got to me. Throughout elementary school I had a crippling fear of asking to use the bathroom, as that would require raising my hand in front of the whole class, something far too intimidating to endure. When I ran 90 laps in the gym for the PACER test in middle school – second only to my best friend Kai – I came to class with a face bright red from exhaustion and suffered stares from which I could not hide.
I never wanted classmates or teachers to know what I was thinking or how I felt. Instead, I liked being on the outside looking in, observing the world and wondering what was going on inside people’s heads. No matter where I went, whether it was a baseball game, the American Museum of Natural History or a coffee shop in town, I was curious about the stories of the people surrounding me. Years of moving through the world this way made me a great listener. Even the smallest moments, like in my job at a STEM center where kids constantly need to tell you things like why they enjoy apples far more than oranges, or heavier moments when a friend has done poorly on a test or feels like the world hates them, being right there taking in every word is a comfort I can give. Being able to really listen and understand people has been the key to finding the value in being a quiet person.
Interestingly, I was never bothered by the attention I received in sports. Even on the biggest stages, such as playoff baseball games and national track meets in which hundreds or thousands of people are watching, I have been OK. I am completely focused on what I am doing, all my energy going into my legs as I run or on the ball as I go for the catch. Sports have always been a great outlet for me to get away from that anxious side of myself. Over time, I started carrying some of that confidence into other areas of my life.
I still am not the biggest fan of the spotlight, and you likely won’t see me on a stage anytime soon. But I can raise my hand in class, and I can give a presentation without having to stress myself out a week in advance. I learned to see the positives in being a quiet person. The way I see the world – as a listener and observer – will forever be an important part of how I approach life.
Henry Cooper graduated from Columbia High School in 2024 and will be studying psychology at the University of Pittsburgh this fall.
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