The mythology of speaking up

When I pictured myself at uni, I imagined becoming one of those people who always had something sharp and clever to say in tutorials.

You know the type: hand up, coffee in hand, casually dropping references as though they were born with a bibliography.

In reality, at the beginning of the year I found myself the one who had a thought, edited it three times in my head, and then decided the moment has passed.

For a while, I convinced myself that meant I was doing uni wrong.

There’s a quiet pressure at university that “engagement” means talking.

Contribute to the tutorial. Debate your point. Respond instantly to someone else’s idea.

If you don’t, it can feel like you’re not really there, even when you’re listening so intently that your brain is buzzing.

I tried to force it for a while. I’d prepare comments beforehand and promise myself I’d speak up. Sometimes I did. Other times my words came out awkwardly and I’d spend the rest of the day replaying a single sentence in my head like a voice message I wished I’d never sent.

The way I actually learn

What I’ve started to realise is that my brain works differently.

It prefers a slower burn.

I’ll leave a tutorial thinking, I didn’t get much from that, and then later:

• An idea someone mentioned comes back to me on the bus ride home.
• A sentence from the reading suddenly makes sense while I’m making dinner.
• A question I never asked in class becomes half a page of notes that night.

It’s not that I’m disengaged.

It’s that my engagement looks different.

It looks like re-reading lecture slides.

It looks like scribbling in the margins of my notebook.

It looks like texting a friend hours later saying, “Okay… I finally figured out what I think about today’s discussion.”

None of that earns participation marks.

But it still counts.

Even if no one else sees it.

Redefining what “showing up” means

I’m slowly learning that:

• Listening is still participating.
• Taking time to think isn’t a weakness—it’s simply my way.
• Not every worthwhile thought has to be spoken out loud the moment it appears.

I’m also setting myself small challenges rather than impossible expectations.

One thought per tutorial.

Some weeks I managed it.

Some weeks I didn’t

That’s okay.

University lasts for years. I don’t need to transform my personality overnight.

Looking back

The funny thing is, when I really think about it, I wasn’t always the quiet student.

In high school, I actually spoke up quite a lot.

The difference?

I wasn’t the person making clever observations or trying to impress everyone with a brilliant point.

I was the one asking questions.

Lots of them.

Sometimes they probably sounded obvious. Sometimes they made me feel a bit silly. But asking them was how I learnt.

And when I think about it, isn’t that the whole point of being at university?

Maybe somewhere along the way I started believing I needed to have the answers before I earned the right to speak.

I don’t think that’s true anymore.

Before I started biomedical science, I was genuinely excited about it. Last year, it felt like exactly where I wanted to be.

Then I actually started.

And… oops.

It wasn’t the right fit.

Now I’m moving into journalism — a degree I’ve wanted to study for as long as I can remember.

So maybe this next chapter won’t be about suddenly becoming the loudest person in the room.

Maybe it’ll simply be about finding the confidence to ask questions again.

Because, really, that’s where learning begins.

To the other quiet students

If you’ve ever walked out of class thinking, I should have said something…

You’re not failing university because your voice isn’t the loudest in the room.

You’re allowed to be the student who:

• Thinks deeply.
• Processes slowly.
• Writes more than they speak.
• Shows understanding through essays instead of debates.

For me, Uni Musings probably won’t be filled with stories of brilliant tutorial discussions.

Instead, it’ll be this.

Sitting with my thoughts after class.

Turning them over.

Finding the words when they’re ready.

And writing them down here.

Because maybe learning isn’t about who speaks first.

Maybe it’s about who keeps thinking long after everyone else has gone home.