• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Danielle shrugged. “Oh, yeah . . . I didn’t really know anyone in the class, so . . .” She didn’t see why her reticence mattered. Danielle wandered outside again and spent the remaining hours of the trip by herself.

At school, Danielle had shifted to visiting Emily and Viv during lunch instead of during her free period. That way she didn’t have to deal with finding lunch companions. The aide would sit Danielle and two other student visitors in a semicircle to answer questions about themselves. In response to their answers, Viv, who could understand speech, would nod or raise her eyebrows.

As Danielle returned to the sisters’ classroom week after week, she realized she enjoyed visiting them. She liked making crafts with the girls, and helping with the goofy stuff they did, like the “Armadillo Race,” which they looked forward to every year. Each visitor planted an amaryllis; the student whose amaryllis bloomed first won a prize. Because the sisters couldn’t see the plants, the students wrote their names on note cards in puffy glitter ink and glued on a symbol so the sisters, who judged the race, could tell the plants apart. Danielle’s symbol was a bead in the shape of a conch shell.

When Danielle had picked up her amaryllis plant from Viv and Emily’s classroom, she walked through the halls, head down as usual, half-hidden by a large white flower with flashes of pink. Other students made snide remarks. “What is she carrying?!” various students said, giggling.

Danielle nearly snapped at one guy that he must be “a complete idiot” if he couldn’t tell that she was carrying a plant, but she held back. It’s not worth it, she told herself. They’re stupid. They don’t have any idea that the flower is a big deal to Viv and Emily. She told herself not to get angry, but it wasn’t easy. Those people can see and do pretty much whatever they want, while Viv and Emily can’t really do anything. Yet they make fun of the things that Viv and Emily like. Kids at this school are such asses.

Danielle relished the challenge of working with people who had mental and physical handicaps. It wasn’t easy to abide by new rules, steel herself from freaking out, and get used to seeing someone drool. Danielle was pleased that with the sisters, she was able to be patient without getting frustrated; patience was not Danielle’s strong suit. Best of all, she liked talking to them. They seemed sincerely interested in Danielle’s opinions and answers to the aide’s random questions. They didn’t judge her or pressure her to be someone she wasn’t. Because the sisters couldn’t talk, Danielle liked guessing their reactions by their facial expressions. Danielle slowly came to the realization that the girls’ mutual appreciation of each other’s company meant that Emily and Viv were her friends.

______

THE COURAGE OF NONCONFORMISTS

If there is one trait that most cafeteria fringe share, it is courage. No matter how awkward, timid, or insecure he or she might seem, any teenager who resists blending in with the crowd is brave.

A closer look at this age group’s psychology reveals that the deck is stacked against singularity from early on. Studies have shown that children are psychologically drawn to peers who are similar and more likely to end friendships with kids who are different. From the age of five, students increasingly exclude peers who don’t conform to group norms. Children learn this lesson quickly. A popular Indiana eighth grader told me, “I have to be the same as everybody else, or people won’t like me anymore.”

Numerous studies show that students in the same social circle tend to have similar levels of academics, leadership, aggression, and cooperation. The most influential kids are also typically the same ones who insist most stridently on conformity; researchers have found that even in late adolescence, popular cliques are more conformist than other groups. Given that many children often try to copy populars’ behavior, it makes sense that