The teacher asks the executive branch for a recap of its work. Everyone vies for airtime. Everyone except Maya. Samantha takes charge as usual, her voice carrying over everyone else's, until the rest of the group falls silent. Her report doesn't make a lot of sense, but she's so confident and good-natured that it doesn't seem to matter.

Maya, for her part, sits curled up at the periphery of the group, writing her name over and over again in her notebook, in big block letters, as if to reassert her identity. At least to herself.

Earlier, Maya's teacher had told me that she's an intellectually alive student who shines in her essay-writing. She's a gifted softball player. And she's kind to others, offering to tutor other children who lag behind academically. But none of Maya's positive attributes were evident that morning.

Any parent would be dismayed to think that this was their child's experience of learning, of socializing, and of herself. Maya is an introvert; she is out of her element in a noisy and overstimulating classroom where lessons are taught in large groups. Her teacher told me that she'd do much better in a school with a calm atmosphere where she could work with other kids who are "equally hardworking and attentive to detail," and where a larger portion of the day would involve independent work. Maya needs to learn to assert herself in groups, of course, but will experiences like the one I witnessed teach her this skill?

The truth is that many schools are designed for extroverts. Introverts need different kinds of instruction from extroverts, write College of William and Mary education scholars Jill Burruss and Lisa Kaenzig. And too often, "very little is made available to that learner except constant advice on becoming more social and gregarious."

We tend to forget that there's nothing sacrosanct about learning in large group classrooms, and that we organize students this way not because it's the best way to learn but because it's cost-efficient, and what else would we do with our children while the grown-ups are at work? If your child prefers to work autonomously and socialize one-on-one, there's nothing wrong with her; she just happens not to fit the prevailing model. The purpose of school should be to prepare kids for the rest of their lives, but too often what kids need to be prepared for is surviving the school day itself.

The school environment can be highly unnatural, especially from the perspective of an introverted child who loves to work intensely on projects he cares about, and hang out with one or two friends at a time. In the morning, the door to the bus opens and discharges its occupants in a noisy, jostling mass. Academic classes are dominated by group discussions in which a teacher prods him to speak up. He eats lunch in the cacophonous din of the cafeteria, where he has to jockey for a place at a crowded table. Worst of all, there's little time to think or create. The structure of the day is almost guaranteed to sap his energy rather than stimulate it.

Why do we accept this one-size-fits-all situation as a given when we know perfectly well that adults don't organize themselves this way? We often marvel at how introverted, geeky kids "blossom" into secure and happy adults. We liken it to a metamorphosis. However, maybe it's not the children who change but their environments. As adults, they get to select the careers, spouses, and social circles that suit them. They don't have to live in whatever culture they're plunked into. Research from a field known as "person-environment fit" shows that people flourish when, in the words of psychologist Brian Little, they're "engaged in occupations, roles or settings that are concordant with their personalities." The inverse is also true: kids stop learning when they feel emotionally threatened.

No one knows this better than LouAnne Johnson, a tough-talking former marine and schoolteacher widely recognized for educating some of the most troubled teens in the California public school system (Michelle Pfeiffer played her in the movie Dangerous Minds). I visited Johnson at her home in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, to find out more about her experience teaching children of all stripes.

Johnson happens to be skilled at working with very shy children—which is no accident. One of her techniques is to share with her students how timid she herself used to be. Her earliest school memory is of being made to stand on a stool in kindergarten because she preferred to sit in the corner and read books, and the teacher wanted her to "interact." "Many shy children are thrilled to discover that their teacher had been as shy as they were," she told me. "I remember one very shy girl in my high school English class whose mother thanked me for telling her daughter that I believed she would peak much later in life, so not to worry that she didn't shine in high school. She said that one comment had changed her daughter's entire outlook on life. Imagine—one offhand comment made such an impact on a tender child."

When encouraging shy children to speak, says Johnson, it helps to make the topic so compelling that they forget their inhibitions. She advises asking students to discuss hot-button subjects like "Boys have life a lot easier than girls do." Johnson, who is a frequent public speaker on education despite a lifelong public speaking phobia, knows firsthand how well this works. "I haven't overcome my shyness," she says. "It is sitting in the corner, calling to me. But I am passionate about changing our schools, so my passion overcomes my shyness once I get started on a speech. If you find something that arouses your passion or provides a welcome challenge, you forget yourself for a while. It's like an emotional vacation."

But don't risk having children make a speech to the class unless you've provided them with the tools to know with reasonable confidence that it will go well. Have kids practice with a partner and in small groups, and if they're still too terrified, don't force it. Experts believe that negative public speaking experiences in childhood can leave children with a lifelong terror of the podium.

So, what kind of school environment would work best for the Mayas of the world? First, some thoughts for teachers:

Don't think of introversion as something that needs to be cured. If an introverted child needs help with social skills, teach her or recommend training outside class, just as you'd do for a student who needs extra attention in math or reading. But celebrate these kids for who they are. "The typical comment on many children's report cards is, 'I wish Molly would talk more in class,' " Pat Adams, the former head of the Emerson School for gifted students in Ann Arbor, Michigan, told me. "But here we have an understanding that many kids are introspective. We try to bring them out, but we don't make it a big deal. We think about introverted kids as having a different learning style."

Studies show that one third to one half of us are introverts. This means that you have more introverted kids in your class than you think. Even at a young age, some introverts become adept at acting like extroverts, making it tough to spot them. Balance teaching methods to serve all the kids in your class. Extroverts tend to like movement, stimulation, collaborative work. Introverts prefer lectures, downtime, and independent projects. Mix it up fairly.

Introverts often have one or two deep interests that are not necessarily shared by their peers. Sometimes they're made to feel freaky for the force of these passions, when in fact studies show that this sort of intensity is a prerequisite to talent development. Praise these kids for their interests, encourage them, and help them find like-minded friends, if not in the classroom, then outside it.

Some collaborative work is fine for introverts, even beneficial. But it should take place in small groups—pairs or threesomes—and be carefully structured so that each child knows her role. Roger Johnson, co-director of the Cooperative Learning Center at the University of Minnesota, says that shy or introverted kids benefit especially from well-managed small-group work because "they are usually very comfortable talking with one or two of their classmates to answer a question or complete a task, but would never think of raising their hand and addressing the whole class. It is very important that these students get a chance to translate their thoughts into language." Imagine how different Maya's experience would have been if her group had been smaller and someone had taken the time to say, "Samantha, you're in charge of keeping the discussion on track. Maya, your job is to take notes and read them back to the group."

On the other hand, remember Anders Ericsson's research on Deliberate Practice from chapter 3. In many fields, it's impossible to gain mastery without knowing how to work on one's own. Have your extroverted students take a page from their introverted peers' playbooks. Teach all kids to work independently.

Don't seat quiet kids in "high-interaction" areas of the classroom, says communications professor James McCroskey. They won't talk more in those areas; they'll feel more threatened and will have trouble concentrating. Make it easy for introverted kids to participate in class, but don't insist. "Forcing highly apprehensive young people to perform orally is harmful," writes McCroskey. "It will increase apprehension and reduce self-esteem."

If your school has a selective admissions policy, think twice before basing your admissions decisions on children's performance in a playgroup setting. Many introverted kids clam up in groups of strangers, and you will not get even a glimpse of what these kids are like once they're relaxed and comfortable.

And here are some thoughts for parents. If you're lucky enough to have control over where your child goes to school, whether by scouting out a magnet school, moving to a neighborhood whose public schools you like, or sending your kids to private or parochial school, you can look for a school that

prizes independent interests and emphasizes autonomy

conducts group activities in moderation and in small, carefully managed groups

values kindness, caring, empathy, good citizenship

insists on orderly classrooms and hallways

is organized into small, quiet classes

chooses teachers who seem to understand the shy/serious/introverted/sensitive temperament

focuses its academic/athletic/extracurricular activities on subjects that are particularly interesting to your child

strongly enforces an anti-bullying program

emphasizes a tolerant, down-to-earth culture

attracts like-minded peers, for example intellectual kids, or artistic or athletic ones, depending on your child's preference

Handpicking a school may be unrealistic for many families. But whatever the school, there's much you can do to help your introverted child thrive. Figure out which subjects energize him most, and let him run with them, either with outside tutors, or extra programming like science fairs or creative writing classes. As for group activities, coach him to look for comfortable roles within larger groups. One of the advantages of group work, even for introverts, is that it often offers many different niches. Urge your child to take the initiative, and claim for himself the responsibility of note-taker, picture-drawer, or whatever role interests him most. Participation will feel more comfortable when he knows what his contribution is supposed to be.

You can also help him practice speaking up. Let him know that it's OK to take his time to gather his thoughts before he speaks, even if it seems as if everyone else is jumping into the fray. At the same time, advise him that contributing earlier in a discussion is a lot easier than waiting until everyone else has talked and letting the tension build as he waits to take his turn. If he's not sure what to say, or is uncomfortable making assertions, help him play to his strengths. Does he tend to ask thoughtful questions? Praise this quality, and teach him that good questions are often more useful than proposing answers. Does he tend to look at things from his own unique point of view? Teach him how valuable this is, and discuss how he might share his outlook with others.

Explore real-life scenarios: for example, Maya's parents could sit down with her and figure out how she might have handled the executive-group exercise differently. Try role-playing, in situations that are as specific as possible. Maya could rehearse in her own words what it's like to say "I'll be the note-taker!" or "What if we make a rule that anyone who throws wrappers on the floor has to spend the last ten minutes of lunch picking up litter?"

The catch is that this depends on getting Maya to open up and tell you what happened during her school day. Even if they're generally forthcoming, many kids won't share experiences that made them feel ashamed. The younger your child is, the more likely she is to open up, so you should start this process as early in her school career as possible. Ask your child for information in a gentle, nonjudgmental way, with specific, clear questions. Instead of "How was your day?" try "What did you do in math class today?" Instead of "Do you like your teacher?" ask "What do you like about your teacher?" Or "What do you not like so much?" Let her take her time to answer. Try to avoid asking, in the overly bright voice of parents everywhere, "Did you have fun in school today?!" She'll sense how important it is that the answer be yes.

If she still doesn't want to talk, wait for her. Sometimes she'll need to decompress for hours before she's ready. You may find that she'll open up only during cozy, relaxed moments, like bathtime or bedtime. If that's the case, make sure to build these situations into the day. And if she'll talk to others, like a trusted babysitter, aunt, or older sibling, but not to you, swallow your pride and enlist help.

Finally, try not to worry if all signs suggest that your introverted child is not the most popular kid at school. It's critically important for his emotional and social development that he have one or two solid friendships, child development experts tell us, but being popular isn't necessary. Many introverted kids grow up to have excellent social skills, although they tend to join groups in their own way—waiting a while before they plunge in, or participating only for short periods. That's OK. Your child needs to acquire social skills and make friends, not turn into the most gregarious student in school. This doesn't mean that popularity isn't a lot of fun. You'll probably wish it for him, just as you might wish that he have good looks, a quick wit, or athletic talent. But make sure you're not imposing your own longings, and remember that there are many paths to a satisfying life.

Many of those paths will be found in passions outside the classroom. While extroverts are more likely to skate from one hobby or activity to another, introverts often stick with their enthusiasms. This gives them a major advantage as they grow, because true self-esteem comes from competence, not the other way around. Researchers have found that intense engagement in and commitment to an activity is a proven route to happiness and well-being. Well-developed talents and interests can be a great source of confidence for your child, no matter how different he might feel from his peers.

For example, Maya, the girl who was such a quiet member of the "executive branch," loves to go home every day after school and read. But she also loves softball, with all of its social and performance pressures. She still recalls the day she made the team after participating in tryouts. Maya was scared stiff, but she also felt strong—capable of hitting the ball with a good, powerful whack. "I guess all those drills finally paid off," she reflected later. "I just kept smiling. I was so excited and proud—and that feeling never went away."

For parents, however, it's not always easy to orchestrate situations where these deep feelings of satisfaction arise. You might feel, for example, that you should encourage your introverted child to play whichever sport is the ticket to friendship and esteem in your town. And that's fine, if he enjoys that sport and is good at it, as Maya is with softball. Team sports can be a great boon for anyone, especially for kids who otherwise feel uncomfortable joining groups. But let your child take the lead in picking the activities he likes best. He may not like any team sports, and that's OK. Help him look for activities where he'll meet other kids, but also have plenty of his own space. Cultivate the strengths of his disposition. If his passions seem too solitary for your taste, remember that even solo activities like painting, engineering, or creative writing can lead to communities of fellow enthusiasts.

"I have known children who found others," says Dr. Miller, "by sharing important interests: chess, elaborate role-playing games, even discussing deep interests like math or history." Rebecca Wallace-Segall, who teaches creative-writing workshops for kids and teens as director of Writopia Lab in New York City, says that the students who sign up for her classes "are often not the kids who are willing to talk for hours about fashion and celebrity. Those kids are less likely to come, perhaps because they're less inclined to analyze and dig deep—that's not their comfort zone. The so-called shy kids are often hungry to brainstorm ideas, deconstruct them, and act on them, and, paradoxically, when they're allowed to interact this way, they're not shy at all. They're connecting with each other, but in a deeper zone, in a place that's considered boring or tiresome by some of their peers." And these kids do "come out" when they're ready; most of the Writopia kids read their works at local bookstores, and a staggering number win prestigious national writing competitions.

If your child is prone to overstimulation, then it's also a good idea for her to pick activities like art or long-distance running, that depend less on performing under pressure. If she's drawn to activities that require performance, though, you can help her thrive.

When I was a kid, I loved figure skating. I could spend hours on the rink, tracing figure eights, spinning happily, or flying through the air. But on the day of my competitions, I was a wreck. I hadn't slept the night before and would often fall during moves that I had sailed through in practice. At first I believed what people told me—that I had the jitters, just like everybody else. But then I saw a TV interview with the Olympic gold medalist Katarina Witt. She said that pre-competition nerves gave her the adrenaline she needed to win the gold.

I knew then that Katarina and I were utterly different creatures, but it took me decades to figure out why. Her nerves were so mild that they simply energized her, while mine were constricting enough to make me choke. At the time, my very supportive mother quizzed the other skating moms about how their own daughters handled pre-competition anxiety, and came back with insights that she hoped would make me feel better. Kristen's nervous too, she reported. Renée's mom says she's scared the night before a competition. But I knew Kristen and Renée well, and I was certain that they weren't as frightened as I was.

I think it might have helped if I'd understood myself better back then. If you're the parent of a would-be figure skater, help her to accept that she has heavy-duty jitters without giving her the idea that they're fatal to success. What she's most afraid of is failing publicly. She needs to desensitize herself to this fear by getting used to competing, and even to failing. Encourage her to enter low-stakes competitions far away from home, where she feels anonymous and no one will know if she falls. Make sure she has rehearsed thoroughly. If she's planning to compete on an unfamiliar rink, try to have her practice there a few times first. Talk about what might go wrong and how to handle it: OK, so what if you do fall and come in last place, will life still go on? And help her visualize what it will feel like to perform her moves smoothly.

Unleashing a passion can transform a life, not just for the space of time that your child's in elementary or middle or high school, but way beyond. Consider the story of David Weiss, a drummer and music journalist. David is a good example of someone who grew up feeling like Charlie Brown and went on to build a life of creativity, productivity, and meaning. He loves his wife and baby son. He relishes his work. He has a wide and interesting circle of friends, and lives in New York City, which he considers the most vibrant place in the world for a music enthusiast. If you measure a life by the classic barometers of love and work, then David is a blazing success.

But it wasn't always clear, at least not to David, that his life would unfold as well as it did. As a kid, he was shy and awkward. The things that interested him, music and writing, held no value for the people who mattered most back then: his peers. "People would always tell me, 'These are the best years of your life,' " he recalls. "And I would think to myself, I hope not! I hated school. I remember thinking, I've gotta get out of here. I was in sixth grade when Revenge of the Nerds came out, and I looked like I stepped out of the cast. I knew I was intelligent, but I grew up in suburban Detroit, which is like ninety-nine percent of the rest of the country: if you're a good-looking person and an athlete, you're not gonna get hassled. But if you seem too smart, that's not something that kids respect you for. They're more likely to try and beat you down for it. It was my best attribute, and I definitely enjoyed using it, but it was something you also had to try and keep in check."

So how did he get from there to here? The key for David was playing the drums. "At one point," David says, "I totally overcame all my childhood stuff. And I know exactly how: I started playing the drums. Drums are my muse. They're my Yoda. When I was in middle school, the high school jazz band came and performed for us, and I thought that the coolest one by a long shot was the kid playing the drum set. To me, drummers were kind of like athletes, but musical athletes, and I loved music."

At first, for David, drumming was mostly about social validation; he stopped getting kicked out of parties by jocks twice his size. But soon it became something much deeper: "I suddenly realized this was a form of creative expression, and it totally blew my mind. I was fifteen. That's when I became committed to sticking with it. My entire life changed because of my drums, and it hasn't stopped, to this day."

David still remembers acutely what it was like to be his nine-year-old self. "I feel like I'm in touch with that person today," he says. "Whenever I'm doing something that I think is cool, like if I'm in New York City in a room full of people, interviewing Alicia Keys or something, I send a message back to that person and let him know that everything turned out OK. I feel like when I was nine, I was receiving that signal from the future, which is one of the things that gave me the strength to hang in there. I was able to create this loop between who I am now and who I was then."

The other thing that gave David strength was his parents. They focused less on developing his confidence than on making sure that he found ways to be productive. It didn't matter what he was interested in, so long as he pursued it and enjoyed himself. His father was an avid football fan, David recalls, but "the last person to say, 'How come you're not out on the football field?' " For a while David took up piano, then cello. When he announced that he wanted to switch to drumming, his parents were surprised, but never wavered. They embraced his new passion. It was their way of embracing their son.