Introvert tales

My daughter recently transferred to a local university. As part of the process, the school invited her and any guests to attend an all-day orientation. The event was well planned and informative. I was impressed with the school and their no-nonsense attitude toward student responsibility and academic integrity. They also provide a myriad of resources to help kids make the transition to their institution. Most of the events were for both student and parent, but not all.

After a surprisingly very good lunch in the cafeteria, the students were taken on a tour of the campus. The parents had the opportunity to meet and mingle with faculty members and administrators over dessert and coffee. Fun, fun, fun! (sarc.) Sort of like attending a wedding reception where you know the bride or groom and no one else. But I did go.

I thanked the Dean of Academic Studies for her talk and chatted with the head of the English department. I also spoke to someone from the registrar's office, the transfer office, and a few other faculty members whose departments I do not remember. Having done my duty, I made a bee-line out of the reception room, found an armchair in a quiet location, and pulled out the philosophy book I had brought with me. Everyone was very friendly, but it was so nice to be alone and quiet with a book.

I can fully relate to this character's dilemma and great relief:

He was sick of the noise and sight of so many people and determined to go quietly away, but it so happened that just at that moment the crowds about the door were particularly impenetrable; he was caught up in the current of people and carried away to quite another part of the room. Round and round he went like a dry leaf caught up in a drain; in one of these turns around the room he discovered a quiet corner near a window. A tall screen of carved ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl half-hid - ah! what bliss was this! - a bookcase. 

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, Susanna Clarke, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2004, pp. 45-46.