The longest hour and a half of my life was spent locked inside the musty school gym at freshman year homecoming. The music blared, loud and awful. Neon lights flashed across the room even though there was still light outside. Everyone was scrolling on a phone.
My friends and I drifted between the courtyard and the gym, halfheartedly watching the small clump of people dancing before retreating, acting above it all. We wanted to have fun, but we cared more about making sure no one thought we were as lame as others thought the dance was.
After I checked my phone for the 17th time in the past five minutes, I noticed the people actually having fun didn’t seem to be worried about looking awkward. They shouted lyrics to songs I hadn’t heard since seventh grade, jumped in a sweaty circle and one kid even breakdanced. Their pure joy made me realize things are only boring if we make them boring. Their exhilaration looked effortless because it was genuine, proof that faking detachment takes more energy than caring ever will.
This nonchalant act affects the classroom too. A teacher’s simple question is met with silence because no student wants to look nerdy. Effort gets labeled as cringe or try-hard, so I often catch myself masking my enthusiasm. But in this facade of indifference, I sacrifice opportunities to grow as a learner for the safety of avoiding vulnerability.
As the same nostalgic songs played at this year’s homecoming, I decided to stop pretending. My friends and I threw ourselves into the people dancing, shouting lyrics and shoving through the crowd until we were overheated and breathless. We stumbled into the courtyard for air, laughing until our ribs hurt.
On the car ride home, we all agreed that was the most fun we’ve ever had at a homecoming dance. It had nothing to do with the DJ, the music or the decorations.It was fun because we decided to stop pretending.
This desire to be nonchalant has convinced us that showing emotion is embarrassing. Students would rather appear dull than risk looking overly passionate. They’d rather downplay their own achievements than admit they worked hard for them.
As more students adopt this mindset, they weaken their ability to push boundaries and create extraordinary things. Without passion, there’s no art, no skyscrapers, no scientific discoveries that alter the course of history. Those accomplishments only come from people willing to put in the work, even if it means risking failure and embarrassment.
The students who dare to be “chalant” and allow themselves to be vulnerable, care deeply and act with passion will live more fully than those obsessed with nonchalance. Life has no award for being the most nonchalant. Yet we spend so much time following social rules that don’t serve us. The only way to lose is to live this life superficially.
Embracing “chalance” doesn’t mean caring obsessively. It’s about balance and caring enough to live authentically. Every school dance, event and new day is a chance to be “chalant.”
The sidelines will always be full of spectators ready to judge, but change doesn’t happen there. The future is being written on the dance floor.