There was a perfectly valid explanation for why I was a socially awkward child.

            When you’ve been scolded for speaking in the presence of others, when you’ve been made fun of and teased mercilessly by family, you learn to keep your mouth shut.

When you are never asked which flavor of ice cream you prefer or what cereal you’d like, or even what game you’d like to play, you realize that your preferences have no standing within the family.

            Let me explain.

I was the middle child, with a brother who was fourteen months older and a sister who was seven years younger. In my mother’s eyes, neither of them could do no wrong, while everything I did or didn’t do was mercilessly scrutinized.

They got to decide where we went, what we ate, what games we played. Their birthdays were celebrated with homemade cakes, candles, and ice cream, while mine passed without notice.

In essence, I was invisible. Except when they needed me to perform some household chore. One of my many duties was to clean my brother’s bedroom, something I despised. I was also expected to dust off every single leaf on every indoor plant, at least once a week. It was a tedious, time-consuming job.

When the family sat in the front room to watch television, or gathered for a meal, I appeared as demanded, but only in body. I was not permitted to speak unless commanded, even when my siblings were having a great discussion about something of interest.

It was a rough way to grow up.

            There were some benefits to being invisible.

By the time I was five years old, I had already learned that not being seen was a blessing. If they didn’t see or hear me, I was safe from punishment supposedly deserved for saying or doing the wrong thing.

On the other hand, my invisibility kept me miserable: an unhappy child whose self-esteem was nonexistent.

            For some reason that to this day I don’t understand, my parents decided to enroll me in a private school Kindergarten. Back in the 1950s, Kindergarten was not mandatory. My brother hadn’t gone: his school years began with first grade. Because I was in a private school, my parents had to pay tuition.

We were a low-income family, struggling to have food on the table. Paying my tuition must have had an impact on the rest of the family.

            On the first day of school, even at my young age, I realized that I was academically behind my peers. I could not name all the colors, did not know shapes, knew no letters of the alphabet, and had no understanding of numbers. My teachers gave me different work than my peers.

While they worked on learning basic words, I colored and cut out shapes. (I forgot to mention that they had to teach me how to cut!) I was so far behind, that when small groups were formed, I sat alone.

This marked me as being the dumbest kid in the class. During free play, no one wanted to have anything to do with me. I spent all my time in the sandbox, creating roads for the metals trucks and cars.

One time I decided I’d swing, but no one would get off so I could have a turn. Or if they did get off, they’d hold the swing for a friend.

            Day after day I sat silently in my assigned desk. I didn’t answer when the teacher asked me a question, if she did so in front of the class. If she cornered me when I was alone, I managed a whispered response, but only a word or two.

I still remember my teacher whispering that I would overcome being shy. She was wrong.

            When Kindergarten finally ended, I knew a lot of things that I hadn’t known before class began. I now knew colors, shapes, numbers, and letters. I could hold a pencil correctly and write my name, the alphabet and numbers. I could draw shapes and color within the lines. But I could not speak out loud and I had no friends.

            It was a terrible way to begin one’s academic career.

            As I grew older and moved from grade to grade, I understood what was required to score high enough to satisfy my parents. I did all the things that my teachers demanded and completed all assignments to the best of my ability.

When called upon to respond in front of my peers, something happened inside me: my mouth froze and no sounds were emitted. No matter how hard I tried, I could not muster the strength to squeak out a response. It was embarrassing.

            By junior high I had developed a voice, but it was a quiet one. I still had no friends. I could not approach someone and initiate a conversation. If I neared a group on the playground, I stood silent, even when I had something to offer.

            In high school I made my first real friend. She was a loner like me. I don’t remember her name, but I do recall the hours spent on the playground, talking about all kinds of things.

This was a revelation. Someone cared what I thought and really wanted to know and understand my opinions!

Imagine how liberating that was. This friendship allowed me to grow, so that by the

time college began, I had overcome some of the paralyzing fear I had of public speaking. I could answer in front of others, but only if the class was small. If I felt I truly knew something more than my peers, I could muster the strength to voice an opinion.

I’d like to report that even in my seventies, I am no longer shy, but that is not true.

I’m comfortable in small groups of close friends, but still nervous when emersed in groups of people who do not. I struggle when at writing conferences and workshops where I am with ten to fifteen strangers who will critique my writing and then express my critique of theirs.

It’s painfully hard.

If in a situation where there are lots of individuals who either I don’t know or barely know, I find a corner in which to plop down. And then there I remain until time to leave.

People who have known me for a long time don’t believe that I am shy. That’s because I feel safe with them. I believe that they want to know what I think, and so I can relax and be me.

I love being with those friends because they treat me as a person of worth.

If only I had felt this growing up. Imagine how different I might have turned out!