Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Thursday, December 13, 2018

Glossophobia

Future public speaking . . . champions
I’ve always been a talker.
Always.
The word vociferous could be very aptly applied.
But, during my formative years, if anyone ever wanted to fill me with absolute, bone-numbing, chill-of-death dread, all one would have to do was say, “Diane, why don’t you stand up and say a few words.”
Okay, the ‘saying a few words’, I could handle.
The operative/terrifying aspect here was the part where they said, ‘why don’t you stand up’.
Because that usually means that, in front of people, one has to STAND UP.
Yikes.
Grade seven provided the ultimate test.
Our English teacher whose name was Miss-Mueller-How-Could-You-Do-This-To-Me!, had assigned Every. Single. Person. in our class to do a report.
An oral report.
Okay, here’s where I admit that I had to have the words 'oral report' explained to me.
Miss Mueller HCYDTTM! was happy to enlighten me.
A little too happy.
My soul was immediately immersed in dread.
Death was suddenly an imminent thing.
Due to occur on Thursday next.
I spent the following six days in an ambivalent froth.
Finally putting ink to paper the night before I was due to face the firing squad.
To this day, I can’t remember what I reported on.
Or even if I reported.
Because something happened just before my turn that is etched forever in my memory . . .
I‘m sure you’ve all been there.
Nervously Anxiously Apprehensively Terrified-ly awaiting your turn before the critical masses.
Well, the girl who preceded me was my good friend, Gladys.
She of the calm, self-possessed demeanour.
Gladys was also known for her clothes of uber-cuteness. No grunge here.
And I should mention, too, that Gladys’ outfit that day was a matching pants, top and hat that were OH-MY-GOODNESS-SOOOO-CUTE-I WANT-THEM-I-WANT-THEM-I-WANT-THEM!!!
Back to my story . . .
Gladys stood up in front of the class and began her presentation.
Suddenly, her voice . . . faded.
And the teacher leaped to her feet and caught her as she fainted.
She survived.
Gladys, I mean.
I just thought I’d mention that in case you were concerned.
I know we were . . .
But her scary experience helped me to realize something.
The other kids in my class were just as scared as I was.
Some even more so.
And every single person in that audience wasn’t sitting there waiting for me to flip out or slip up so they could laugh.
Nope.
They were thinking about/dreading their own ten minutes of infamy.
And if our reaction to our good friend’s mishap was anything to go by, all we wanted was for our classmates to succeed.
Who says you don’t learn anything from public speaking.
In Grade Seven?

10 comments:

  1. That is a wonderful realization to be able to come to at such a young age! I remember the dreaded oral report also. And I was shocked to see the two most outrageously behaved boys in my Grade 7 class displaying the worst case of nerves as they gave their presentations! It was an eye-opener for me too, Diane!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Amazing discovery to realize that even the 'popular' (I never was in that group) kids suffered, isn't it?!

      Delete
  2. Stage fright is a very real and difficult phobia to overcome. I don't know where it changed for me but I used to be scared to death to stand up and speak. I think back about 30 years ago when I became an instructor at the college (teaching journeyman upgrading) that my stage fright was brought under control. Of course you NEVER get over it; there is always a lingering doubt, especially when you are about to face a new class...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think it helps when you are confident in what you need to teach. I got over mine by selling Creative Circle stitchery!

      Delete
  3. As jenny_o says, that is a powerful realisation you came to very early.

    ReplyDelete
  4. This takes me back to freshman year speech class with Mrs. McClone. What a long semester that was!

    ReplyDelete
  5. I'm so sorry for Gladys and I'm sure my daughter K would know exactly how she felt. (K preferred to turn in her books and walk out of the school). I'm extremely grateful that oral book reports just weren't done when I was in school. I'm not sure they are done even now, out here.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Your daughter K and I are cut from the same cloth, obviously! :)

      Delete

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