“The Emiquon Project near Havana, Illinois is the largest wetlands restoration project since the Florida Everglades. It should be noticed that the nearby Chataka…that is, the nearby Chautauqua Wildlife Reserve…”
The harsh lights shine down on me as I grip the black lectern like a lifeline. I stand stock still in a momentary mortification of my mispronunciation. This must be what a deer in the headlights feels likes: caught in a situation that could cost it everything. I can feel a single bead of sweat roll down my face as I realize my faux pas. Shocked at my own mistake, I race through the rest of my notes as my mouth trips even more and my voice becomes garbled.
It was one mistake that began the crumble. During an important public speaking competition at the State Fair, I stumbled over my words and sped through the rest of the speech. For months now, I had slaved over, scrutinized, written and rewritten my material and now all seemed in vain. I am a perfectionist by nature, and such an amateur mistake for a two-year competitor was disgraceful. Shamefully, I exited the stage sure that I had failed and ruined any chance I had had for the coveted title of Champion. Later in the day, I received the remarks my judge had written during the discourse of my presentation. The most prominent was this: “Come out from behind the podium. You hide yourself back there. You started out so well, but lost all your confidence once you started to speed up. Slow down, and be confident. You are in control.”
I remember staring at the words for several minutes; it seemed both an edict of death and an issued challenge. It was true: I had failed to garner the title of Champion. However this wasn’t the end. I would be back next year, and I would be ready to conquer. Before anything was to happen, though, I would need to learn to be more comfortable on stage.
At first, I paced like a caged wild animal, unable to master the artful glide of a true master orator. My motions were erratic and nervous without the hulk of a lectern or podium to shield me from the obtrusive gaze of my listeners. During this time of dissatisfaction with my own performance, I looked at professional speakers such as Josh Shipp, Byron Garrett, and Keith Patterson to study their own techniques in order to develop a style all my own. Gradually, I began to fall into the rhythm of speaking. I kept at an even pace and learned to match my emotions with my tone of voice and rate of movement. I honed my skills by taking a course at a local college and continued to test myself by speaking in front of audiences large and small. Finally, I deemed myself ready to once again compete.
A deep breath. I take a single moment to calm my heartbeat before launching out into the unknown. Eyes of the untamable audience stare back at me as I rise from my seat to take center stage. It is fearful exhilaration that I feel as I loose a tumultuous jig of words, painting emotion and fact upon the hearts of my listeners. Their ears belong to me, their eyes are fixed upon my figure as I look straight back at them, pausing a moment to let my words sink even deeper before plunging home the harpoon of my purpose. I combine poise with passion. I am in control as I leave my spectators with one last jewel of knowledge and glance of finality as the applause follows me down from the spotlight.
How corny can I be? I can be cornier... trust me... this was an essay I used for a writing portfolio, its so crappy... stupid word limits....
No comments:
Post a Comment