Chapter One Quiet in the Cafeteria When I was nine years old, I convinced my parents to let me go to summer camp for eight weeks. My parents were skeptical, but I couldn''t wait to get there. I''d read lots of novels set at summer camps on wooded lakes, and it sounded like so much fun. Before I left, my mother helped me pack a suitcase full of shorts, sandals, swimsuits, towels, and . books. Lots and lots and lots of books. This made perfect sense to us; reading was a group activity in our family. At night and on weekends, my parents, siblings, and I would all sit around the living room and disappear into our novels.
There wasn''t much talking. Each of us would follow our own fictional adventures, but in our way we were sharing this time together. So when my mother packed me all those novels, I pictured the same kind of experience at camp, only better. I could see myself and all my new friends in our cabin: ten girls in matching nightgowns reading together happily. But I was in for a big surprise. Summer camp turned out to be the exact opposite of quiet time with my family. It was more like one long, raucous birthday party--and I couldn''t even phone my parents to take me home. On the very first day of camp, our counselor gathered us together.
In the name of camp spirit, she said, she would demonstrate a cheer that we were to perform every day for the rest of the summer. Pumping her arms at her sides as if she were jogging, the counselor chanted: "R-O-W-D-I-E, THAT''S THE WAY WE SPELL ROWDY, ROWDIE! ROWDIE! LET''S GET ROWDIE!" She finished with both her hands up, palms out, and a huge smile on her face. Okay, this was not what I was expecting. I was already excited to be at camp--why the need to be so outwardly rowdy? (And why did we have to spell this word incorrectly?!) I wasn''t sure what to think. Gamely I performed the cheer--and then found some downtime to pull out one of my books and start reading. Later that week, though, the coolest girl in the bunk asked me why I was always reading and why I was so "mellow"--mellow being the opposite of R-O-W-D-I-E. I looked down at the book in my hand, then around the bunk. No one else was sitting by herself, reading.
They were all laughing and playing hand games, or running around in the grass outside with kids from other bunks. So I closed my book and put it away, along with all the others, in my suitcase. I felt guilty as I tucked the books under my bed, as if they needed me and I was letting them down. For the rest of the summer, I shouted out the ROWDIE cheer with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Every day I pumped my arms and smiled wide, doing my best approximation of a lively, gregarious camper. And when camp was over and I finally reunited with my books, something felt different. It felt as if, at school and even with my friends, that pressure to be rowdy still loomed large. In elementary school, I''d known everyone since kindergarten.
I knew I was shy deep down, but I felt very comfortable and had even starred in the school play one year. Everything changed in middle school, though, when I switched to a new school system where I didn''t know anyone. I was the new kid in a sea of chattering strangers. My mom would drive me to school because being on a bus with dozens of other kids was too overwhelming. The doors to the school stayed locked until the first bell, and when I arrived early I''d have to wait outside in the parking lot, where groups of friends huddled together. They all seemed to know one another and to feel totally at ease. For me, that parking lot was a straight-up nightmare. Eventually, the bell would ring and we''d rush inside.
The hallways were even more chaotic than the parking lot. Kids hurried in every direction, pounding down the hall like they owned the place, and groups of girls and boys traded stories and laughed secretively. I''d look up at a vaguely familiar face, wonder if I should say hello, and then move on without speaking. But the cafeteria scene at lunchtime made the hallways look like a dream! The voices of hundreds of kids bounced off the massive cinderblock walls. The room was arranged in rows of long, skinny tables, and a laughing, gabbing clique sat at each one. Everyone split off into groups: the shiny, popular girls here, the athletic boys there, the nerdy types over to the side. I could barely think straight, let alone smile and chat in the easygoing way that everyone else seemed to manage. Does this setting sound familiar? It''s such a common experience.
Meet Davis, a thoughtful and shy guy who found himself in a similar situation on the first day of sixth grade. As one of the few Asian American kids at a mostly white school, he was also made uncomfortably aware that other students thought he looked "different." He was so nervous that he barely remembered to exhale until he arrived in homeroom, where everyone gradually settled down. Finally, he could just sit and think. The rest of the day went on similarly--he barely navigated his way through the crowded cafeteria, feeling relieved only during quiet moments in the classroom. By the time the bell rang at 3:30 p.m., he was exhausted.
He had made it through the first day of sixth grade alive--though not without somebody throwing gum into his hair on the bus ride home. As far as he could tell, everyone seemed thrilled to be back again the next morning. Everyone except Davis. Introverts and the Five Senses Things started looking up, though, in ways Davis could never have imagined on that stressful first day. I''ll tell you the rest of his story soon. In the meantime, it''s important to remember that no matter how cheerful they might have seemed, the kids at my school and at Davis''s probably weren''t all happy to be there. The first days in a new school, or even one you''ve been going to for years, can be a struggle for anyone. And as introverts, our reactivity to stimulation means that people like Davis and me really do have extra adjustments to make.
What do I mean by "reactivity to stimulation"? Well, most psychologists agree that introversion and extroversion are among the most important personality traits shaping human experience--and that this is true of people all over the world, regardless of their culture or the language they speak. This means that introversion is also one of the most researched personality traits. We''re learning fascinating things about it every day. We now know, for example, that introverts and extroverts generally have different nervous systems. Introverts'' nervous systems react more intensely than extroverts'' to social situations as well as to sensory experiences. Extroverts'' nervous systems don''t react as much, which means that they crave stimulation, such as brighter lights and louder sounds, to feel alive. When they''re not getting enough stimulation, they may start to feel bored and antsy. They naturally prefer a more gregarious, or chatty, style of socializing.
They need to be around people, and they thrive on the energy of crowds. They''re more likely to crank up speakers, chase adrenaline-pumping adventures, or thrust their hands up and volunteer to go first. We introverts, on the other hand, react more--sometimes much, much more--to stimulating environments such as noisy school cafeterias. This means that we tend to feel most relaxed and energized when we''re in quieter settings--not necessarily alone, but often with smaller numbers of friends or family we know well. In one study, a famous psychologist named Hans Eysenck placed lemon juice--a stimulant--on the tongues of adult introverts and extroverts. The human mouth''s natural response to a burst of lemon juice is to produce saliva, which balances out the acidic citrus taste. So, Eysenck figured he could measure sensitivity to stimulation--in this case the stimulation of a drop of lemon juice--by measuring how much saliva each person produced in response to the liquid. He guessed that the introverts would be more sensitive to the lemon juice and generate more saliva.
And he was right. In a similar study, scientists found that infants who are more sensitive to the sweet taste of sugar water are more likely to grow up to be teenagers who are sensitive to the noise of a loud party. We simply feel the effects of taste, sound, and social life a little more intensely than our extroverted counterparts. Other experiments have yielded similar results. The psychologist Russell Geen gave introverts and extroverts math problems to solve, with varying levels of background noise playing as they worked. He found that the introverts performed better when the background noise was quieter, while the extroverts did fine with the louder sounds. This is one reason that introverts like Davis tend to prefer being around just a few people at a time; it''s less overwhelming than being surrounded by many different people at once. At parties, for example, we introverts can have a fantastic time, but sometimes we run out of energy sooner and wish we could leave early.
Spending time alone in quiet settings recharges introverts'' batteries. That''s why we often enjoy solo activities, from reading to running to mountain climbing. Don''t let anyone tell you that introverts are antisocial--we are just differently social. Thriving at school or anywhere else comes more naturally when you''re in an environment that allows your nervous system to function at its best. And the fact is, most schools are not environments for introverts'' nervous systems. But once you start paying attention to the messages your body is sending you--such as feeling anxious or overwhelmed--the power is in your hands. You''ve recognized that something feels o.