I was sat in the school library last Thursday, groggily reading through an English article and counting the minutes till my mum’s ‘I’m here’ text would arrive. It had been a long day. It was there, as I cradled a cup of tea and tried desperately to stay focused, that a younger student approached me.
Our conversation was short, and her face a little pink with embarrassment, the expression that we assume when talking to strangers. The girl told me, with a small, self conscious smile, that she thought I was pretty. The moment was surprising and lovely in equal parts.
I wondered, after she’d hurried out the library, why it felt so significant. The compliment itself wasn’t important; it would have been just as kind if she’d mentioned my clothes or my hair or handbag. It was the act that caught me off guard, the simple but irregular action of approaching a stranger, for the singular purpose of saying something nice.
In short, it shocked me. It's become atypical, communicating with people we don’t know. We, the socially shy generation, would sooner slide into someone's snapchat dms than speak to a stranger at a bus stop. Perhaps my surprise was also influenced by a feeling of shame. Because in truth, although I see many interesting or pretty or inspiring people around me, I don’t often vocalise these opinions.
I think there’s a second pandemic which needs our attention. One we can solve without vaccines or lockdowns or prods up our noses. Our generation has become horribly ill with the virus of silence. Symptoms include avoided eye contact, faces glued to phones, and an aversion to talking to people we don’t know. Forget the 2 metre distancing, someone could be sat right next to us and we still wouldn’t start a conversation.
It’s really, truly puzzling. Because I don’t believe that we are bad people. I also don’t believe that we are unsociable. I am certain that we, as much as any previous generation, want good relationships with the people around us. A society full of smiling strangers, where conversation blooms naturally and can be initiated between people of any age, ethnicity or religion. Is this not what we all want? We nourish our individual friendships but are slowly losing touch with our wider communities.
We need to relearn the art of talking. Reclaim the careless confidence of children, who would happily chat to any person. We all had it once, but as we grow into shrewd and sensible adulthood, this courage slips away. Instead, we learn the habits of awkwardness and insecurity, painstakingly self conscious of how we are presenting ourselves. We live in fear of judgement, and therefore barely live at all.
It worries me, when I sit on a bus with 20 people, and am wrapped in cool silence. Talking is not always necessary, but it should at least feel like a natural option. This is a bus of human beings, not sea snails on a rock. We should not curl up at the presence of people we don’t know.
There are times when this virus of silence grips me by the throat. When I hesitate before speaking to a stranger, and stumble and blush through my words. I walk away from some exchanges with a red face and an inner monologue of ‘God, I sounded stupid’.
But there also days where I am sat in the library, silently cursing my English homework, and a younger girl approaches me. Days when a compliment, freely given by a stranger, makes a smile bloom under my mask. Moments that are small, and maybe unimportant, but remind me why talking is so vital. In a year that’s been every shade of ugly, with our own smiles hidden under blue material, conversation has never been more precious.
After a 2020 spent in our houses, 2021 should be a year spent talking to others.
Kayleigh Lennon, Year 12
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