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XAVIER ENGLISH BOOK SERIES III

I Can Still Hear the Laughter

During parties, most especiallythose with lots of gorgeous women,many of my friends jump at theopportunity to be the center of attention. Whether it be performingmagic tricks or singing on the MagicSing, my buddies are always leapinginto the spotlight and trying to showothers what they’ve got. Not me,though. I’ve always been the shyand reserved one. I’m not suremyself, but it’s probably because Iwas terribly embarrassed in achildren’s program that I am awfullyshy today.My humbling experience tookplace during the Parents’ Dayprogram when I was in kindergarten.Our teachers had been rehearsing uson our various numbers weeksbefore the day of the importantevent. The performance of oursection was a song-and-dancenumber on various fruits andvegetables, and I considered myself fortunate since I hadbeen chosen as amongthe lead characters inthe presentation – thecabbage. My mom hadworked painstakingly tomake my costume forme, and the nightbefore the pageant,when I tried out thecostume at home, Icouldn’t stop smiling; Ireally did look like a cabbage. Mymother had cut out pieces of beigecloth, painted them various shadesof green, and then layered themintricately. Although the outfit wasquite heavy, I was determined, morethan ever, to give my bestperformance in it.On the day of the program, outcame the radish, the beet, and therest of the other vegetables. Despitetheir colorful costumes, I wasbrimming with confidence since Iknew that my outfit was the best.Soon enough, I heard my cue. Thevoice on the tape sang, “and of course, the delicious green leafy, thecabbage!” Upon hearing my signal tocome out, I confidently glided untothe stage, tiptoeing as I hadpracticed many times before, andthen sang my first few lines, “I amcabbage, green leafy cabbage!”Suddenly, just after singing thelast syllable of the line, I felt my leftcalf cramp. It could have beencaused by the weight of the costumeor it could have been from thetiptoeing, but whatever the reason, Ifelt my leg give way. The next thing Iknew, I was rolling all over the stagelike a cabbage gone mad. Notwanting to ruin the entire show, Icontinued to croon my lines. “Insoups, salads and stews, I assure ahealthy you!” Then suddenly, I felt athud, and abruptly, the rollingstopped. It was then that I realized Ihad fallen off the stage and that mycostume had broken in half. I was innothing but my underwear. Thelaughing from the crowd was, to me,absolutely deafening, unforgiving,and frightening. Today, eighteenyears after thatexperience, I am stillhaunted by it.Whenever I find myself in a situation thatrequires me to be infront of spectators, it’salmost as if I can hearechoes from thelaughter of the audience in thekindergarten program. For thisreason, I dread being in front of acrowd; in fact, I dread even thechance of being in front of a crowd.It’s gotten so bad that even whenthe moment calls for a simple prayerin front of a few people, I can’t getthrough the task withouthyperventilating or much worse,getting teary-eyed.Will I ever get over myoverblown stage fright? I’m not verysure; I’ve been seeing a speechtherapist since I was ten to fix theproblem, sadly without muchimprovement. However, it never failsto overwhelm me when I think about