I have always been too enthusiastic. Out of all my classmates, I sang the loudest at birthdays, I laughed the longest at jokes and I asked more questions than anyone else. In fifth grade, a firefighter visited my class; after I’d asked my third question about how fire suits actually work, I remember hearing some classmates groan and seeing my friend Thom lift his arms up and, in mock agony, flop down on his desk. I tried to be shy, really. I would go for a few days sitting on my hands during lessons, but, inevitably exhausted by my inauthenticity, I would soon find my excitement uncontainable once more.
Before the start of every school year, from the time I was nine up through middle school, I would make the same school-year resolution: to become shy.