On a Friday evening in September, I stood in Susie’s with my friends, waiting for the microphones and speakers to be set up. It was karaoke night, and the room was filling up. My friends and I were having an excited argument about what song to sing. Some of us suggested Bruno Mars, while others mentioned Billy Joel. Despite my previous enthusiasm, I grew hesitant when I thought of actually singing before a large crowd. I wanted to sing, but I feared embarrassing myself in front of others. I surveyed the room to see how other people were feeling and recognized how others were coming up with song suggestions just like my friends and I were doing. However, even after ten minutes, no one actually stepped up to the stage to grab the mic, including myself. While I was still doubtful of my potential voice cracks on stage, I forced myself to ignore my paranoia and grabbed my friend’s arms to step on stage. Although I made a couple of voice cracks and sang a few notes out-of-tune, no one gave any judgmental looks. Instead, the whole room cheered, enjoying the moment with me despite my imperfections.
After some reflection on that night, I realized that my hesitation to sing at the karaoke might have come from a struggle to fully trust my community. I had feared the risk of showing a side of me that wasn’t my best, which overpowered my ability to trust the supportiveness of my peers. I also noticed that I might not have been alone in this tendency. During karaoke night, some of my friends were reluctant to sing together, shrugging off as they said, “Nah bro, I can’t sing.” Even outside of karaoke night, I have seen my peers turn away from their interests in sports or clubs, fearing that their lack of experience might cause embarrassment.
Andover provides ample opportunities for students to explore their passions and interests, ranging from small events like karaoke night to more significant ones like clubs and engaging with ASM speakers. However, in an aspiring environment like Andover, imperfection sometimes feels like something we can’t afford. This leads us to stay silent in class discussions and opt out of extracurriculars of interest with the excuse “maybe next time.”
What we tend to overlook is that Andover is a community that we can trust to not judge others for trying. Thinking back to my revisit in the spring, I remember how every student in the audience watching the student-led talent show would chant and scream their lungs out to support their peers. If a dancer tripped on their landing or if a musician entered a beat early, the audience only grew louder with their cheers. It was this unwavering support for each other — that the crowd and the Blue Key Heads showed — that took my attention, and convinced me I wanted to belong to this community.
Throughout my experience at Andover so far, I’ve seen this pattern everywhere. I remember on the first day of school, I asked for directions to Gelb Science Center three separate times during a passing period. Each time, I was met with an enthusiastic welcome to campus as they instantly recognized that I was a freshman. One of them even suggested walking there with me, and I had a friendly conversation with them along the way. Through these small acts of kindness to strangers and the ways we root for each other, the Andover community has shown me again and again that I could trust them. I just needed to believe it.
The next day, I forced myself to step up during a discussion about an artwork in English class. Despite my determination, some parts of my brain tried to shut my mouth, tempting me to stay in the comfort of silence. However, my hand was already raised without my noticing. As I shared, some nodded, some showed expressions of disagreement, but all of my classmates respectfully listened to my thoughts. By the end of the period, I no longer doubted, “Are my opinions valid?” Instead, I just spoke to my classmates and teacher as naturally as I would with my friends.
Wanting to achieve one’s best could be a constructive mindset, but it shouldn’t restrict proactiveness and risk-taking. In fact, the embarrassment that we fear is usually far less severe than what we imagine. Even if your few voice cracks or wild opinions about a passage made some people laugh, light embarrassment eventually gets diluted by the satisfaction of being fully involved. Our community is already ready to embrace all of our success and stumbles — we just need to trust it enough to act.
