Ever since I started elementary school, one thought has been pondering in my head, and it’s been creating a crippling insecurity that I’ve kept inside of me, whenever I step foot into the academic classroom. One moment will forever mark this insecurity that stays ingrained in my mind, and it is the moment when I was sitting in a science class, and the teacher asked us one question: “Tell me a bit about yourself.” I sat a little distant from everyone else, after all, I didn’t have any friends in the class, but I was in the front. I sat in the front because I was determined to learn and get the most from the class. The teacher looked at me and then the student behind me and said something that will define the rest of this article, “I’m going to choose the quiet students last because I know they are a little shy.” Her tone wasn’t offensive, it wasn’t condescending, but it was casual, and in that subtle casualness, the biggest disrespect was highlighted because that day, my science teacher didn’t realize the detriment of what she just said. Turns out, I was never called on to share about myself, and the teacher had forgotten. And none of it mattered. The way I walked into the classroom to sit at the front seat or to smile and tell the teacher how my day went, at the end of the day, none of it mattered, because as soon as I was identified, my fate was decided. 
It turns out my insecurity was because I wasn’t loud enough.
I’ve listened and observed the behaviors of teachers throughout my academic years, and one thing I have noticed is that the extroverted kids tend to be perceived as more competent. Quiet in the classroom does not mean disengagement, nor does it equate to intelligence in any form, because the amount of time a student speaks in a given academic space will never dictate their success in further academic years. Leadership and accomplishment are never obtained; they are obtained by the integrity, constant striving, and the willingness to attempt to get outside of your comfort level, but it seems teachers manage to fail to see how all of these elements are critical. Teachers often correlate how often a student speaks with other elements of their personality and performance that is not necessarily the case. A study from the National Institutes of Health found that introverted students often face subtle, perception-based barriers in the classroom, such as being called on less or underestimated by teachers. However, the study also concluded that introversion does not make students less capable—personality type does not determine learning effectiveness.
I wish teachers would start to see all students and their capabilities, because every single student deserves to have their potential seen. As a quiet kid, I’ve spoken in soft tones and kept some ideas to myself, but my passion for learning has been overlooked just because I was “quiet” or “shy.” I’ve raised my hands and asked questions during and after class, but a part of me only sees the teachers around me noticing the louder student.
I’ve seen other students help out their peers in private, lead projects efficiently, and complete assignments to their best efforts, but their actions often are overshadowed by the current stigma introverts have for disengagement. Leadership doesn’t need a microphone, and it certainly doesn’t need a stage. In the quietest moments, a student can lead and display their passion for learning, and the volume at which they do so does not matter. When we say leader and leadership, we should remind ourselves that these terms have depths, and such behaviors and mindsets come from a genuine passion and commitment, no matter how the student sounds. Quiet students can lead too, and we don’t need to hear it to see their commitment.