A few weeks ago, Upper School English Teacher Charlotte Madere started a unit on profile writing for her Creative Writing course. Students were tasked with reading a few of the profiles published in The Flex, so she invited this writer to talk about the process—how a story comes together, what makes it interesting, and who makes for a good subject. It was this last point that drew the attention of Sharis Walthour ’25. How exactly did we choose a subject for a story? In a polite explanation to her scrutinizing gaze, I explained the different reasons someone will fall on a storyteller’s radar—sometimes a teacher, coach, or director will say something interesting about a student; sometimes, in the course of a story highlighting a program, a student emerges as central to the story; and sometimes, someone just has an interesting energy.
Those are the typical reasons, yet the explanation left Sharis noticeably unimpressed. Why hadn’t I written about her?
So now Sharis has inspired a new reason to that narrow list of who makes for a good story: when a subject convinces a writer they’ve missed out on the real interesting story: herself.
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Ms. Courtney: Why do you think I’m interviewing you today?
Sharis: I don’t know. You probably hear me in the halls a lot… I feel like I’m a pretty loud, energetic person at Pingry. So you’re probably like, ‘Oh. I want to hear what she has to say’.
***
So who, exactly, is Sharis Walthour?
Let’s start with who she is not.
Sharis Walthour is not an athlete. She plays field hockey (“I’m not very good.”) and briefly played golf for two years (“I wasn’t very good,” she says, before adding dryly, “Everyone’s been playing since they were literally out of the womb.”). She once ran track. “I tried track in the eighth grade,” she clarifies. “I was So. Bad. Oh my God! I was So. Slow. I’m embarrassed I ever did that.”
Did she think she was going to be fast?
“No. I just didn’t think I was going to be so slow compared to everyone. Oh my God. I did not realize.”
Was everyone else running track since the day they were born, as she humorously suggests they must have been with golf?
“Yeah!” she proclaims. “Or I guess they’re just really fast? I thought I was gonna be at least medium, or not super speedy, but not so slow and out of breath all the time.”
So that covers sports. “I’m not really athletic,” she says flatly. “And I’m okay with that.”
Sharis was recently nominated for 11 superlatives and won three: Biggest Gossip (“I don’t think I’m even that much of a gossip. Maybe accidentally? But I don’t think that’s even a bad thing! I just like to be informed.”); Most Likely to Want a Superlative (“I don’t think that’s personally me. I mean, I would love to want a superlative.”); and Most Likely to Have a Reality Show (“Yeah. I want a show about me.”)
What would a Sharis Walthour reality show look like?
“My life,” she envisions. “A big day in my life. Through my perspective…. A camera recording me throughout school, and when someone makes me mad or does something I think is funny or I just want a confessional to the side”—and here she briefly embodies an annoyed reality TV star—“Oh my God, I can’t believe this person just did this to me! Or said this to me! Or I can’t believe I got that math grade!” She points out camera beats and how she would give the viewer a deadpan look. “Boom. Boom. Boom. Like the Kardashians, but my life.”
What will a Sharis Walthour reality show be called?
“Sassy Sharis,” she proclaims. “That was my nickname in second grade.” Sharis, who came to Pingry in Kindergarten, used to be so quiet in class that her teachers expressed concern to her parents that something was wrong with the mousy kid who kept to herself. “I used to not talk a lot—I know, I know. I see your face. You’re in shock.” Indeed, if we’ve established who Sharis is not, it’s become clear who Sharis is: someone who can talk, and make you laugh, and catch you off guard. The vision of her not talking is a hard one to conjure. “In Kindergarten and first grade and preschool, my teachers used to call my parents and ask, ‘Why does this girl not talk? Is there something wrong with her?’ And then—boom! Something happened in second grade and I just started talking a lot and can’t shut my mouth now. So then people nicknamed me Sassy Sharis. I liked the ring to it. ‘Sassy Sharis!’ boom boom! Kind of like Paris Hilton… like pink glitter. Sassy! Sharis!” While the reasons for her being quiet escape her memory, once Grade 2 rolled around, she flourished, and soon after, she started wearing a backpack with “Sassy” emblazoned on it in sequined letters, and the girl who kept her face hidden behind her hair and didn’t talk much was gone.
So who is Sharis Walthour now?
According to Upper School English Teacher Tom Keating, “She’s the loudest kid in the entire school.”
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Nowadays, Sharis says the feedback from her teachers is always the same: “Pleasure to have in class. Talks a lot.”
“I’m fond of her,” says Mr. Keating warmly, who taught Sharis in his Honors Freedom class last year when she was a junior. “What I like about her is she’s one of those people who has no filter—but in a good way. She’ll just come out and say what she’s thinking. And that makes her very provocative and dynamic in a public setting.” Mr. Keating’s Honors Freedom class debates and examines various topics, an environment that he observes is “tailor made” for Sharis.
Mr. Keating considers Sharis, who, besides her reality show dreams, wants to be a lawyer (“Yeah, I’m not backing down.”), an asset to a vibrant classroom discussion. “She’ll get to the bottom line of any topic or issue…. She’s not going to beat around the bush. She’s not going to equivocate. It’s just not her personality.” When it comes to lively debate, Sharis thrives. “She has a very forceful personality. She’s bright and she’s a quick thinker. And she cuts to the chase. She can just get to the heart of whatever we’re talking about. She’s very good at asking, ‘Okay, what’s the bottom line here?’ And I’m not saying she doesn’t take things under careful consideration. She does. But again, she’s just got an instinct to read the layout of any situation and to figure out what’s going on very quickly.”
And is she really loud?
“You can hear her from four classrooms away,” observes Mr. Keating. “But that’s part of her personality—very brash, even sort of confrontational. But all of this in a good way.”
He has no doubts on her future. “She’ll be a good lawyer.”
***
Someday she’ll be a reality TV star and, in between camera takes, a great lawyer, sure, but that’s someday. What about today? She can’t quite shake the feeling that she doesn’t fit in. If her ambitions seem a bit too much, well, Sharis has heard that before, too.
“People tell me a lot—even my own friends—‘you’re being too much’—and, oh my God, being too much? I get that a lot.” Was she too much when she participated in a fundraising Cotillion event and won the title of Emerald Princess for raising $55,000 for the organization Essex County Links Inc. in November? Being too much? Maybe. But as she said, she’s not backing down.
The comments don’t really bother her. Mostly. “That phrase…” she says slowly. “It actually kind of hurts sometimes. Because… what do they even mean by too much?”
Whatever hurt she feels gets funneled into an inquisition, like a lawyer interrogating a witness on the stand. “I ask them to explain,” she says emphatically, “Why am I being too much? Kids in my grade can’t explain it. They don’t have an example of me being too much. They’re just saying that. ‘You like hearing yourself talk at this point.’ ‘You’re just being mean for no reason.’ You have no evidence against it. But!” and here she gets excited, “If I called them mean, I would give them five quotes they said to me explaining why they’re mean! And they can’t say anything back.” Her confidence here is twinged with a bit of frustration. “I hate it when people make statements and have no evidence behind it. I used to do that when I was younger, and my mom and dad said ‘don’t have an opinion on something if you can’t back it up with information.’”
She’s not going to dwell on it, and she’s certainly not going to change for someone else. “I don’t understand why it doesn’t affect me,” she admits with a shrug. “I’ve tried being quiet and I can’t. It’s impossible.” Her eyes light up at the thought. “I’m like, I’m gonna try to be nonchalant one day and not talk and be mysterious.” She pauses here and deadpans, “I can’t last an hour.”
Some people are nonchalant, but not Sharis. Sharis is all chalant.
***
As she gets ready for graduation and looks ahead to University of Miami next year, how does Sharis hope to be remembered?
“My voice.”
When pressed to explain why, she says simply, “They always say I’m loud. That you can hear my voice from a mile away.”
So there you have it. Sharis Walthour, not-a-gossip-just-an-informed future reality TV star, future high-powered attorney who will not back down, and always, proudly, too much, the opposite of nonchalant, and the loudest kid in the school.
Really? The loudest?
Now it’s Mr. Keating’s turn to deadpan.
“Can all 600 of us be wrong?”
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To contact the author: Sara Courtney, Communications Writer
Photo by Natalie Gonzalez