Why I'm a bad public speaker- POINT 1

Being the performance-driven overachiever that I was in high school, I added participation in public speaking competitions to my already full extracurricular schedule in the 11th grade. I worked hard on my speech; I researched the subject, crafted it carefully, and practiced it repeatedly. I practiced the timing, putting in appropriate pauses for emphasis, facial expressions, and vocal inflections.

The time came for the competition and I was ready. I tackled the challenge with gusto, and it was beautiful. I wowed them with my presentation. I know this sounds a little too self-assured, but I hope you’ll allow me this, especially given the circumstances I must relate below.

The other competitors gave their speeches, and I knew I was a top contender. The other keeners at the top knew it too. As the extemporaneous round started and I took my place at the podium, I could see them squirming uncomfortably in their seats. They knew I had them. I was presented a basket with little slips of folded paper, and I carefully reached in and made a blind selection. My challenge was to take the phrase written on the slip I had chosen, and immediately craft and present a two minute speech.

I cleared my voice, made brief but pointed eye contact with my intimidated competitors, and then unfolded and read the piece of paper in my hand. “Suffering makes you stronger.” I blinked.

Then proceeded the longest 120 seconds of my life.

“Suffering makes you stronger.” I started with authority.

“When you suffer, you get… stronger.” I continued a bit more thoughtfully, looking off to the distance. Pausing for effect.

“To be stronger… you must suffer.” I inflected my voice with a bit of incredulousness, to show that I related to the audience and yet had a deeper understanding of the stated truth.

What followed was some creative re-wording and rearranging of the initial statement, without an ounce of meaning, or substance.

I could tell I was losing them, but I had absolutely nothing to say about this subject. My only recourse was to stall, and try to fool them with my clever re-wordings. It didn’t work. The tension in the front-row keeners visibly eased, until smugly relieved smiles plastered their faces. And there I was, with a stunning conclusion: “Suffering, makes you stronger.” Authoritative once again.

I took my seat knowing that my hopes for a win were lost.

It seems strange to remember a point in my life where I really had nothing to say about the fact that suffering makes you stronger. It’s the one subject about which I can’t stop talking, now.

Just a funny memory that I hope makes you smile, as it does me.