Biteye 1

Cheich Biteye
Ms. Ingram
UWRT 1101
20 August 2014
The Speech
As I walked towards the stage, a million thoughts racing through my mind, I raised my
head to see an ocean glaring at me. The moment was upon me. All of the work I had put in up to
this point was going to be put on display and tied to me in the most intimate way possible. A
collection of memories over my entire educational experience interwoven in words on three
sheets of sweat dampened paper. All to be ushered into linguistic existence by yours truly in
hopeful benevolence that will grace the ears of the very peers I shared those endless years with.
No pressure.
When taking that first step towards the distant podium I recalled the sinking sensation I
felt in my stomach the evening before. I had stayed up all night preparing a speech that should
have been finalized a week ago. The inevitable regret of procrastination always seems to sting
the most when the importance is at its greatest. My knowledge of speech writing was nonexistent prior to the assemblance of the parchment in my hand. As I put the papers in the holding
spot on the podium I began to second guess the prose I so hastily compiled.
I questioned everything the speech contained down to the placement of commas. The
flow was the crucial point that I had hoped to capture. I was only accustomed to writing in
scenarios where I would be judged by someone reading my writing. The flow necessary in prose
that was to be orated required a different set of writing skills that I had only just begun to

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explore. Not to mention the fact that this was also going to be my first attempt at the oration of
any speech let alone the seemingly half-baked one I prepared.
A feeling of utter glumness fell upon me as I adjusted the microphone towards me. I
looked at the seat I had occupied about a minute ago and my throat immediately felt arid as a
droplet slid down the condensation sweltered water bottle I left in my seat. I jerked forward
coughing and hit the microphone which declared a deafening screech mortifying the audience.
A poor moment for dry mouth indeed. The chatter of the waiting audience desisted
instantaneously. The few moments of solace I was expecting before my oration was dispersed by
the incident and all the attention was squarely focused on me. I proceeded by adjusting the mic
once more and looking toward the audience in search of my teacher for the signal to begin.
Instead I caught the eyes of the person who laid the very foundation of my writing skills
to even begin putting together the diction I was momentarily going to give off. My mother gazed
at me with great admiration. If my writing prowess was the star in that moment she was no doubt
my biggest sponsor and I was eager to pay dividends to her. Her own vernacular had been
colored by her business orientated job and it was no doubt ingrained in my dialect and prevalent
within my speech. The skills passed on to me by her and co-sponsors of my writing were at the
core fundamentally sound and upon the reflection of this I became at ease with the thought of
resting on my laurels to create this speech.
My confidence began to rise immensely, just the thought of my writing strength gave me
the mental assurance to collect myself and unwind. Although I poorly prepared for the speech the
actual foundational writing skills for its formulation were robust. The only true short coming
possible was the actual execution of the speech which was feeling much more likely to go

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smoothly now that I was convinced that I had all the skills necessary to put on a strong
performance.
Theres a very ominous feeling that hangs in the air just as something important happens.
Its the type of super charged excitement and awareness that seems to flow through you pumping
ever rapidly as you reach a point of cognizance that was previously unknown. My eyes spotted
my teacher and she gave me the universal and clich thumbs up go ahead hand signal to begin.
I started with an impromptu greeting to the audience exuding a slight swagger that reflected in
the mild chuckle the patrons let out after my awry entry.
As the first word of the speech that the spectators were now beckoning to hear rolled off
my tongue I had a split second to recollect on my current position. Within a matter of a few short
minutes I was able to transfer myself from a position of gross incompetence to one in which I got
my bearings and felt in control of my surroundings. I was able to interpret my setting
recognizing that I was in a poor mental state and get my footing within a few moments. I exuded
awareness in a very critical way using a tethered technique displaying situational literacy if you
will. While the more traditional form of literacy was needed to construct my speech the
subsequent bellowing of it to a crowd of my peers could only be made possible by a crucial
competency with situational literacy. A literacy that allowed me to bask in the glory of my
spoken prose.