Good morning, My Friend!
If you were to place yourself on a “Scaredy Scale,” with one being “Brave as Heck” and ten being “Quaking in my Boots,” what number would you be? It probably depends on the situation, right? You may be a one as far as roller coasters go, but a ten when it comes to public speaking. I’m around a 9.8 in almost every scenario you can think of. But something happened the other day that encouraged me and made me think maybe there’s hope for this Chicken of the Sea. It involves my 12-year-old granddaughter.
Olive is the second child of three girls born to our daughter and her husband. Her older sister, Winnie, had been the apple of our eye for almost two years, and when she was born—voila! Two apples!!
As the two sisters grew (and eventually added a little sister, Molly, to the mix), anyone could see that they had different personality traits. It’s always remarkable to me how most siblings are so different! Same parents, same household, but so very different. Winnie loved being in a mix of kids. Not Olive. Winnie let her feelings be known to all; she had big feelings and couldn’t contain them. Olive kept hers to herself.
When it came time for Olive to go to preschool, there happened to be one at the church where Jared (our son-in-law) worked. Perfect! As our daughter was taking her to school for the first time, Olive said from her car seat in the second row of the minivan, “I’m not going to talk at school.”
And she didn’t. Not one single word.
Oh, she knew how to talk! You should’ve heard that girl at home! She was silly, funny, and loud! We tried many times to get her to talk more quietly, but as soon as she left the comfort of her home, she remained quiet.
Olive had a little friend who she felt comfortable whispering to, and so she would whisper in her ear, if she needed something to be known. Olive played with the other kids, ate snacks with the other kids, did all the things all the other kids did—she just did so silently.
When Olive moved to another preschool the following year, her teacher noticed her quietness and told her parents she’d known another child like that in the past. She had a fancy name for it. Again, Olive made a close friend that she could whisper to, and life went on.
I remember going to birthday parties for Olive during these years. She’d have a few friends over from her class. The parties were at Olive’s house, and so Olive . . . spoke. You should have seen the faces of her classmates! “I didn’t know Olive could talk!” they’d say with big eyes and bigger smiles!
As Olive moved into kindergarten, she saw a therapist who specialized in children and told Maria about special allowances that could be granted at school for Olive, who didn’t want to share her words with everyone. Papers were filed, and allowances were given. There always seemed to be one friend that Olive could trust enough with her words, and for that, I’m grateful.
As the years went on, more and more words emerged. We always knew they were in there. My goodness, when you saw Olive at home, you knew she was full of them! Impressive ones, too! She was still quieter than most kids when out in public, but she was beginning to raise her hand and answer questions in class.
Through the years, Olive has shared her words more and more. She’ll probably never be the one who bursts in the door of a party and screams, “WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? Woof-woof-woof-woof!” (Although I can totally see her doing that at home!) She has been stockpiling words by reading anything she can get her hands on. That girl can read!
Fast forward to just the other day: Olive is finishing 6th grade in Los Angeles, where her family moved two years ago. Where they live, elementary school goes through 6th grade, so she is “graduating” this year to Junior High. As part of the graduation ceremony, there was room for two students to give speeches. There was no “requirement” to write this speech, only that if they wanted to do so, they’d need to write the speech and present it to a panel of teachers to “audition.”
Olive, of her own volition, auditioned for one of the speeches.
I could stop right there, and my story would be complete. Olive writing something fabulous was not a surprise to me at all. I’ve seen her do that before. That girl can write. But present it to teachers and other kids? With the thought that if she’s chosen, she would stand in front of a vast roomful of people and share her words?? I just can’t.
We were blown away that she wanted to even go through the audition process. And then—her speech was chosen. She and one of the boys in her class would be the two students to speak at their 6th grade graduation.
Wait a sec—there’s something in my eye.
Watching the video of her walk up onto that stage, stand at a podium and read her amazing speech to a crowded room . . . suddenly I have no words.
When I think about Olive deciding to try out for that speech, it makes me want to do brave things. I’m not usually a risk taker or a go-out-on-limb sort, but if Olive can do it, then maybe I can, too.
I want to close with the words Maria used to describe this event, as her words are perfect:
“Last night, it was Olive’s . . . 6th grade graduation, which is also the end of elementary school here. And can I just tell you something I’m ironically still speechless over? This kid, this same kid that had accommodations so she didn’t ever have to speak out loud at school, gave a speech at her graduation last night. As in, voluntarily submitted and was chosen to be a speaker. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘before and after’ sort of way. She was always brave and smart before other people got to hear her voice, too, but man, I’m proud of how she continues to surprise us.”
I’m proud, too, Olive. Thanks for showing me that I can be brave—like you.
I hope you feel brave this week, my friend!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I have nothing to say.”
―
(from The Introvert’s Way: Living a Quiet Life in a Noisy World)