Giving Speeches Back In The Fifth Grade Felt Like Labor

I sat in my chair gazing at the clock ticking away. Sweat was pooling on my forehead. My hands were clammy. It was an air-conditioned classroom but I was suffocating. Watching other students deliver their speeches with fluidity made me envious. How were they so good at this and why did I suck at this? Why wasn’t I just as good as all the other students?

Anytime it was my turn to present in front of the class, I stumbled on my words and avoided eye contact. My body fidgeted, my cheeks turned pink from the heat and my breathing halted. I would glance at the clock wishing for the bell to ring. I don’t know what stirred the fear. It may have been because of the unfamiliarity. Standing up and speaking to a crowd of people all alone was a foreign concept to me.

I was born in Karachi, Pakistan. My school was two blocks down from my house. The year was 1997. I was in the second grade. During that time, we sat in our seats and listened to lectures. That was it. I don’t recall being taught how to present in class. But when I immigrated to the United States with my family, I learned that presentations are an essential part of learning. They boost our confidence and enhance our communication skills. Too bad I failed to comprehend that back in the fifth grade.

I was the student that rarely raised my hand in class. I cringed if the teacher called on me. I was afraid to speak up because I felt that I may embarrass myself. The cloud of doubts made me restless. When I learned that we had to write a report on an American leader of our choice and then present it to the class as a speech, my stomach churned. I kept asking myself how would I present a five minute speech to the class all on my own? Like how?

I came home and told my dad about the assignment that my teacher gave us. I remember him telling me, “start practicing today.” I chose to do my report on Helen Keller. After I finished the written portion of the report, it was time to focus on the presentation. My dad advised me to memorize the 4-page long report and use that for my speech. So that is what I did. I reiterated it to myself a few times a day and eventually I got it down. After I came home from school, my dad sat on the sofa and I stood a couple of feet away from him and recited my speech. He would give me tips on how to improve. It became a routine. Each day I felt myself becoming firm in my words. I began using gestures. I spoke with an intensity that I never knew existed. My voice was laced with a sharpness. There were no more dents.

On the day of the presentation, I stood in front of the room and delivered my speech without a single trace of trepidation. Words flew out of my mouth like poetry. My gaze swept across the room. My legs remained rooted to the ground. My breathing was steady. My face bloomed with confidence. And before I knew it, the five minutes were over. For the first time, they felt short. And seeing the glow of pride on my teacher’s face made me smile. That day I learned that hard work and consistency ALWAYS pays off!