As I was walking out of Publix this afternoon, the most adorable group of Daisy Girl Scouts were  selling their cookies right outside the door. Dressed in their little blue smocks, the five and six year old girls were shyly asking each grocery shopper if they would like to buy some Thin Mints or Samoas (my two personal favorites), or whatever other kind there are to buy.  The little girls were cute, but easy to resist since I don’t ever carry cash. (Ok…and because I already have a box of Samoas in my kitchen cupboards…whatever.)

Once upon a time, I was a Daisy Girl Scout. I remember the blue smock. That’s one of the few things I remember about the Daisies.  That, and that I got kicked out.

Yes, you read correctly:  I got kicked out of Girl Scouts.

I wasn’t really old enough to understand, and I know that I eventually ended up back in Girl Scouts because I had the ugly brown sash with patches on it, but I had to hang up my blue smock as a five year old. I know now that it’s because I didn’t talk.

Again, you read correctly: I didn’t talk.

Actually, I did talk. Quite well, actually…and a lot. But you wouldn’t have heard me talk unless you were my mom, my dad, my sisters or my brother.  And I would whisper to my friend Tracy.  Again, I was pretty young and don’t know all the background. I’m not sure when or why I stopped talking to people who didn’t live in my house, but I did.  I didn’t talk to my grandparents, my aunts or uncles, cousins, Sunday school teachers…no one.  I didn’t talk through two years of preschool, which must have been really frustrating for my teacher. Finally, I was “forced” to talk as a kindergartener when, as I remember it, my teacher Chris Hulse told me that I couldn’t go to recess unless I talked. She made me tell her the colors on a miniature basketball I had.  Now I may not have talked, but I wasn’t stupid. As a five year old, missing recess feels a lot like the end of the world. So I told her my colors. I don’t know how much I talked after that, but at least people knew that a) I could, in fact, form words and b) I knew my colors.

A lot of people called me shy. I don’t think that’s what it was. I’m certainly not shy now, and I don’t know if shyness is something that people grow out of very easily.  (More than anything, I think I was just stubborn; I know that’s one of my character traits.)

I didn’t talk a lot through my early elementary years, but by middle school, I’m pretty sure I talked all the time. My high school teachers probably wished I would talk less. Fast forward to my college years: my dad was watching the Today Show and they were doing a segment on selective mutism. He called me up and told me that it sounded a lot like me as a child. I did a little research and thought the same thing.

According to Wikipedia, selective mutism is:

“a communication disorder in which a person, most often a child, who is normally capable of speech is unable to speak in given situations, or to specific people…Children and adults with the disorder are fully capable of speech and understanding language, but can fail to speak in certain social situations when it is expected of them…They function normally in other areas of behavior and learning, though appear withdrawn and some are unable to participate in group activities. As an example, a child may be completely silent at school for years but speak quite freely or even excessively at home.

I doubt the term “selective mutism” had even been coined in 1987 when I was in kindergarten, so I’ll never know for 100% certain that it’s the reason I didn’t talk. Regardless, I’ve come a long way since then. People who knew me as a young child still tell me that they can’t believe I’m that “little girl who never talked.”  Now I have a bachelor’s degree and master’s degree in communications. I’m completely comfortable speaking in public, which is actually ranked as one of most people’s biggest fears (even greater than the fear of death).

So there’s another part of  my unique story–a part that seems so insignificant to me now, but a part that helped shape who I am.

Not many girls can say that they were kicked out of Daisies. I think that helps me resist the cookies a little bit too. :)

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