To the Classmate Who Always Volunteers to Speak First

Dear classmate,

You know who you are.

The lecturer asks a question and before the rest of us have even finished processing what was said, your hand is already in the air. Sometimes, it feels like you've been waiting for that exact question your entire life. For the longest time, many of us didn't understand you. How were you so confident? Why were you always willing to speak? Did you not feel the same fear the rest of us felt when trying to put together a sentence in a language we were still learning? From where we sat, it often looked effortless.

Meanwhile, the rest of us were busy conducting a full committee meeting in our heads. We checked the grammar, reviewed the vocabulary, worried about pronunciation, reconsidered the grammar again, and eventually concluded that remaining silent was probably the safest option. You, on the other hand, simply spoke.

At times, we admired it. At other times, we were slightly annoyed by it. Sometimes both at once. After all, there is always that moment when the lecturer asks a question and the entire class suddenly develops a deep interest in the floor, the ceiling, the windows, or their notebooks. Nobody wants to make eye contact. Nobody wants to risk getting it wrong. Then your hand goes up and just like that, the tension disappears. The lesson moves on, the lecturer is satisfied, and the rest of us are spared from being called out one by one. Whether you realise it or not, you've saved many of us from the lecturer's wrath.

As the semesters go by, though, something becomes clear. The reason you're comfortable speaking isn't necessarily because you're the smartest person in the room or because you know more than everyone else. More often than not, it's because you're willing to make mistakes publicly, and that is something many of us struggle with. Language learning has a funny way of making people afraid of things they would normally do without thinking. People who can confidently debate in English suddenly become quiet. People with great ideas suddenly become nervous about saying them. Not because they have nothing to contribute, but because they are worried about getting it wrong.

You seem to have made peace with that possibility. You've reminded us, intentionally or not, that speaking a language is not something you become good at by waiting until you're perfect. You become good at it by speaking before you're fully ready, making mistakes, surviving the embarrassment, and trying again.

Of course, we're still going to roll our eyes occasionally when your hand goes up for the fifth time in one class. But we appreciate you. You answer the questions we're too scared to answer, ask the questions we're too shy to ask, and often serve as the icebreaker when an entire classroom is trapped in silence. And on the days when we finally gather the courage to volunteer an answer ourselves, there is a good chance it is because we watched you do it first.

So this is not just an open letter. It's a thank you.

Signed,

The classmates who are still rehearsing their answers in their heads.