Growing up, I went to Mass with my classmates once a week during the school year. A bonus all school Mass was thrown in for good measure if there was a feast day. Our teachers were forever encouraging us to participate in the Mass, not just take a nap. Being the dutiful student, I did just what was asked, I participated. There was one week, in particular, that I vividly remember. 

It is hard to bloom when we are sitting with shame.

We practiced the songs for the Mass in music class and we were all encouraged to sing loudly so that God could hear our voices. As the priest processed in, we started to sing. My little earnest self chimed in, possibly a little too forcefully and a little off key. After a few lines, the boy next to me nudged me and told me to be quiet. He probably used more colorful language than that because I still remember how it felt to be shushed.