Personal Statement - Joseph Katz

There is nothing remotely fun about the “fun fact.” Each summer when my camp counselor would lead a standard “get to know each other” activity, my anxious internal dialogue would kick into high gear as I dreaded the moment that I would be forced to share some ‘unique’ information about myself:

Something not too noticeable but not too dull

I’ve figured out the “two truths” part. Is it lame for my lie to be that I’m an only child?

You can’t say Shirley MacLaine is your celebrity crush; she’s like eighty now.

I wasn’t always quite so nervous during my tweenage summer camp years. When playing a card game or discussing the quality of the latest Friday movie choice, I was comfortable engaging in impassioned conversation. In the absence of such structure for discussion, however, I would succumb to self-doubt and remain reticent rather than risk embarrassment. It was as if I could only be open with my peers when I forgot that I was socializing with them. When my mind was entirely focused on contemplating game strategy or justifying my hatred for Shrek Forever After, I no longer had the processing power left over to worry about how they might judge me afterwards. 

As you might imagine, I wasn’t much fun during the weekly dances at camp. Rather than join in with the others who bunched up in the center of the dance floor, I would hide behind a Faulkner novel in the corner, adopting a pseudo-intellectual attitude of practiced indifference as I struggled to get through a page within the noisy atmosphere. In retrospect, I don’t understand why I thought separating myself from the crowd was the less embarrassing alternative. Still, I can see why the prospect of introducing myself to new people in this unstructured environment was so frightening. At least when campers and counselors came over to question me, the presence of my book diverted the conversation to a topic that I was comfortable discussing. 

Almost anyone who knows me today would say that I have completely overcome my awkwardness in social situations, but I’m not sure that this is entirely true. Though I’ve learned to be comfortable in my own skin through various leadership positions and new social situations in high school, I’m still somewhat daunted by the “fun fact” and stick to a modest sway on the dance floor. The spotlight still feels uncomfortable to me. 

I began to reflect on these camp experiences after being chosen as a head peer mentor for new students this year. Considering how best to acclimate a dozen ninth-graders to high school, I decided to avoid the traditional icebreaker activities I despised and developed my own. Taking advantage of teenagers’ instinct for debate, I asked the mentees to choose between bringing home a sloth, a tortoise, or a boa constrictor and then to defend their choice. Not only did my mentees make clever arguments (I would never have considered the danger of sloth claws nor the possibility of using a tortoise as a seat), they also provided insights into their personalities (two seemingly dissimilar students, for example, both revealed that they would choose the snake to keep their moms out of their rooms). 

Conventional wisdom dictates that social awkwardness is something that we should overcome through self-discipline. Mentoring, however, has helped me to value my sensitivity to social discomfort. Attuned to the factors that can cause mental distress, I can better accommodate those who are still unsure of themselves and struggling to connect with others. In this small way, I hope to do my part in mitigating the unnecessarily intimidating situations that define adolescence for so many while discovering new dimensions to my authentically awkward self.