Evans

Jessica Evans
Professor Malcolm Campbell
UWRT 1103
26 January 2015
The sound of my three-inch heels clanked across the stage, microphone in hand. I made
my way to the podium. In what felt like slow motion, I lifted my left hand to wipe the warm,
damp sweat off my forehead. Clank.., clank.., clank. Mentally trying to prepare myself, but
hardly keeping calm. I attempted to swallow my fears but my throat was dry and hesitant.
Clank.., clank.., clank. I heard the chattering of the crowd behind the green velvet curtains. My
heart was a jackhammer, fast and ringing back and forth in my eardrums. Clank.., clank.., clank.
I felt my pulse surging all the way through my fingertips. My stomach roared with angst when I
realized the clanking stoppedmy journey across stage had come to a quick halt. I rested my
shaken hands on the podium with unease. A single drop of sweat ran down the left side of my
temple as my green shield was being reeled open in front of me, revealing the audience.
Public speaking was never my thing. I never would have agreed to be a teacher assistant
at my dance studio if I had known public speaking was anywhere in that job description. But
there I found myself, right up on stage about to announce the awards as hundreds of people in the
audience stared. And stared. The dance studio decided to put me in charge of announcing
awardsIm not sure why anyone would think that was a good idea. Dont get me wrong, I was
never antisocial; I actually had a job as a server that required me to be outgoing. It was the
thought of a one-way conversation to a brick wall of eyes filled with judgment that scared me.
Not wanting to admit to my fear or risk losing my job, I accepted the job with a smile.

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Weeks went by and my dread grew each day. Youd expect this kind of thing to come
more easily to someone who can go out and dance in front of the same exact crowdbut it
didnt. Speaking was different. It wasnt something I knew how to practice, or even that I could
practice. The idea of practicing speech sounds crazy until you realize youre a week away from
having to do before a sea of people. I had too much pride to stand in the mirror and practice my
speech, and I would never admit to my friends or family that I was mortified, so I decided to
wing it. Bad decision.
As the curtains hid behind the stage and revealed me, I forced a smile on my face for the
crowd. To my surprise I couldnt see a single face in the crowd. All I could vision were stage
lights beaming up at me and burning my nervous, sweaty face. At that moment I wasnt sure
which wouldve been the better option anyway. Having to force my muscles more than I ever
had before, I lured the microphone up towards my quivering lips. I managed to mutter a greeting
somehow, although I still couldnt recall what I actually said. I was anticipated at least some kind
of reaction: a greeting back, some applause, snoring from how I had already bored them to sleep.
Nothing. I continued. The fact that I was given what to say and had cue cards helped calm my
nerves before the show, until I looked to read them and realized my damp fingers had created a
smudged mess with my lines on the pathetic excuse for a 4 by 6 index card. The words were
still legible, but I took an obvious pause while trying to get myself back together. I felt the
redness find its way to the surface of my cheeks.
By now it felt as if I had been on stage for an eternity and my speech wasnt even started
yet. The note cards wobbled in my unsteady hands as my eyes fluttered across them to catch my
spot. I cleared my throat as a clearly unsuccessful attempt to distract the crowd from my loss of
words. At that moment I did what I know my mother would never want me to do and uttered a

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long uuuhhhhmm.. into the microphone. I felt the final m sound sink down my throat and push
my heart into the pit of my stomach. I knew I had failed myself. It was too late to turn back. But
moments before giving up, the word I was looking for grabbed my eye on the half destroyed
paper like a magnet to metal. I forced my locked lips open and let the words free from my
mouth. To my own surprise they came out with grace and elegance and I imagined them as
myself dancing on the stage. The confidence and ease of dancing on stage was reflected into my
speaking. I sounded out the hard consonants like kicks and cuts, while softly saying the vowels
as chasss and chains. The steps as words came together like songs as sentences.
Focus. I was doing so well. Focus on the words. I kept speaking. Focus on the dance. I
kept speaking. Focus on the speech. After gaining confidence, I began to stride around the stage
to maintain my calmness. I slipped the index cards onto the podium before I stepped away. Focus
on the words. My heels clanked on the wooden floors. I gripped the no longer sweaty
microphone with both of my steady hands and paced across the floor. Focus on the thoughts. I
now had the confidence to stray away from the stand that I used as comfort and confided in using
movement around the stage as I do when I perform. Without the cue cards in hand I had to focus
on the words, I knew I had this. Clank, clank, clank. My three-inch heels now seemed like sixinch stilettos that clicked instead of clanked. I tugged the microphone from the stand and the
cord came traveling behind me. Click, click, click. I focused on what to say. I focused on the
dark silhouettes of heads and looked past the beaming stage lights. Click, click, click. I spoke
with rhythm and grace. I was focused on the words, focused on the movement, focused on the
sound of my clicking heels, forgot about the nerves anBANG. I focused on the floor.
My view shifted from a dark shade of crowd to a view of those green velvet curtains
running horizontally at eye-levels view. I was so focused on getting it right that I forgot to focus

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on not getting it wrong. The microphone lay in a coiled position near my feet when I realized
what had happened. I had paced myself in a circular motion and re-crossed the path of the
microphones tail where it reached out and grabbed my three-inch heels from under me. All of
the nerves I pushed away before crawled through my veins and stiffened my body to the ground.
After letting what just happened sink in, I adjusted myself and used every ounce of energy I had
left to sit up. Im not sure if the crowd was silent in worry or if they were roaring with laughter. I
think my embarrassment silenced my ears because I recall seeing someone across the stage
mouthing, are you okay? but no sound would come out. As any other dance, I picked myself
up and disregarded my mistakes. However this was not a real dance and I was on a real stage. I
wrapped up the speech as fast as I could move my mouth and scurried off the stage. I had failed.
So maybe I hadnt mastered the art of public speaking. Maybe I had done just the
opposite. Maybe all Ill ever be able to do confidently on stage is dance. But thats okay. I
learned that I couldnt just expect to be good at something that I never practiced. I can
communicate through dance because I practice it for hours on end each week. Though the whole
speech turned out to be a blunder, I picked myself up off the ground, swallowed my pride and
finished the speech. And at one point I even believed I had the confidence I needed to get me
through the whole thing okay. Even though that time may not have gone as well as planned (at
all), I know if I had another chanceor maybe a few moreI have the ability to become more
confident and be able to speak in front of people easily. Nothing can be mastered on the first try,
especially without any practice or experience. Just the exposure to public speaking alone gave
me the chance to face my fears and learn from whatever mistakes I made; in this case falling flat
on my face and embarrassing myself in front of only a couple hundred people. At least I know
for next time I should probably try wearing flats.