The only other girl I really liked in our French Immersion class besides Neve was Cassandra Raponant. She was by far the shyest girl in the class.
Often the teacher would ask the class a question and people would put their hands up to give the answer. The same few kids in the class would always have their hands up and the teacher would eventually want to pick on other people and put them on the spot. Cassandra was one of the ones that never put her hand up. She was just too shy.
When the teacher would put a question to her in class, she would just shrug her shoulders or shake her head no. She was a smart girl and often we knew she had the answer, but she was too shy to speak.
One time the teacher asked a question that was so simple it would have been an embarrassment not to give the answer. Then the teacher called on her. Cassandra knew the question was ridiculously easy so she felt compelled to answer even though she didn’t want to. The smile on her face gave that away. When she spoke, she got about 3 or 4 words out and then her voice cracked. From that point on she could only whisper like someone with laryngitis.
The class burst into laughter. That girl was a whole other dimension of shy.
One year the school started up a chess club. I already knew how to play chess by then, so I signed up. To my amazement, Cassandra also knew how to play. I learned from our first few games that she didn’t know how to defend against being beaten in four moves, but after that I decided to play defensively to drag the game out.
As we played, we talked. I have no idea what we talked about, but I remember thinking how amazing it was to just talk to her. This girl was so shy most people didn’t even know what her voice sounded like. Yet, here she was talking like normal over a chess game. It was exciting to see her come out of her shell.
I always liked that girl, even if I only retained those two memories of her in five years we were classmates.
Often the teacher would ask the class a question and people would put their hands up to give the answer. The same few kids in the class would always have their hands up and the teacher would eventually want to pick on other people and put them on the spot. Cassandra was one of the ones that never put her hand up. She was just too shy.
When the teacher would put a question to her in class, she would just shrug her shoulders or shake her head no. She was a smart girl and often we knew she had the answer, but she was too shy to speak.
One time the teacher asked a question that was so simple it would have been an embarrassment not to give the answer. Then the teacher called on her. Cassandra knew the question was ridiculously easy so she felt compelled to answer even though she didn’t want to. The smile on her face gave that away. When she spoke, she got about 3 or 4 words out and then her voice cracked. From that point on she could only whisper like someone with laryngitis.
The class burst into laughter. That girl was a whole other dimension of shy.
One year the school started up a chess club. I already knew how to play chess by then, so I signed up. To my amazement, Cassandra also knew how to play. I learned from our first few games that she didn’t know how to defend against being beaten in four moves, but after that I decided to play defensively to drag the game out.
As we played, we talked. I have no idea what we talked about, but I remember thinking how amazing it was to just talk to her. This girl was so shy most people didn’t even know what her voice sounded like. Yet, here she was talking like normal over a chess game. It was exciting to see her come out of her shell.
I always liked that girl, even if I only retained those two memories of her in five years we were classmates.
