For weeks, she was always there – quiet, composed, barely noticeable.
She took up so little space that it was easy to forget she existed. No comments whispered to neighbors, no questions, no reactions. She was the kind of student both teachers and classmates could overlook without meaning to.
Then, one morning, during a tense discussion about empathy, our professor grew frustrated with the silence and turned on her. He demanded she share her thoughts – mistaking quiet for indifference. The class fell completely still.
Instead of replying, she stood up, walked to the whiteboard, and began to write. Her hand trembled slightly, but her message was firm:
“I lost my voice in an acc:ident two years ago. But that doesn’t mean I have nothing to say.”
The soft scrape of the marker was louder than any voice in that room. In that instant, something shifted in …
Continue reading on the next page >>>
