to enter a speech contest

Every single year I cried at the local Optimist poetry recital contest.

Every.

Single.

Year.

Except for the one year that I skipped it. I was in grade 5 I think and the teacher that will not be named had the thought, maybe you shouldn't have to do it that year. I'll circle back around to this.

It started in kindergarten, we got to say a poem as a group. I'm not sure which poem we memorized but we were adorable, all three of us. Adorable. No competition, just three toothless kids reciting a poem in chorus. I'm sure I was the loudest, my two classmates were much softer spoken than me, but we had power in numbers. And our teacher standing in front of us cueing us if we needed.

Then it happened in grade 1.

I got to the stage, my hands wringing, my body vibrating, my mouth dry. I think I got half the title out before I crumpled under the pressure of the audience staring at me. I couldn't get a word out through the sobs, I don't even know who it was that walked me off the 1/3 of the stage that we had borrowed from the Christmas concert stage.

Same thing in grade 2.

And grade 3. My mom convinced the judges to let me say my poem to just them. Not that I would be part of the competition but she thought by forcing me to do it I wouldn't let it get the better of me.

Then grade 4.

Finally, relief came in grade 5. My teacher gave me the job of coaching and prompting the other students. The baffling part was that in rehearsals I was one of the best kids in my three grade classrooms. I could easily memorize my poems. In rehearsals I was always clear, I knew which words to emphasize, I knew which actions would make the poem come to life. In Grade 5 I didn't rehearse, I coached.
 
My dad was disappointed. He thought I was accepting defeat. I lied and told him that I was still practicing with the kids just not performing. Standing outside his office I easily rattled off one boy's poem that I had memorized through coaching him. I said it with more bravado and emphasis than he ever did, even on competition day. But I did not go on stage. He did.

Grade 6 came around and I was back at 'er. I memorized a poem, even as the boys in my grade (all 3 of them) heckled me in my efforts. Nope.

Grade 7. Same thing.

Grade 8, I wish I could say that I conquered it. I didn't. My efforts to push through the tears were fruitless.

I was so frustrated that year because I was certain I had picked the poem that would break the curse. The Listeners by Walter de la Mare. I relished the unanswered weary traveler, the spookiness of the poem, the call and no response, someone or something was there, wasn't there?

I began loud and clear, "Is there anybody there? Said the Traveler...".  Tears responded.

I ran off the stage and into my classroom.

I've thought about that silly competition too much for my own good. I figured it was my perfectionism absolutely crippling me. I was so focused on not messing up that I would just cry. It's like the kids learning to ride a bike and all they can focus on is the tree and inevitably crash into the tree.

Being a glutton for punishment, I entered the Optimist Speech Competition in grade 8. I wore a head to toe brown velvet vest-skirt suit. My hair was slicked back in a tight ponytail with my yiddish curls down the side of my face. I don't remember what I spoke on, but I remember that brown velvet outfit, it's funny the details you recall. They didn't pull out the stage, but they did place a podium on a table and put the carpet from the stage down. There were maybe 10 chairs out. In attendance were my competitors, the judges, parents, and my teacher (who was also a parent so it cut into the numbers). It was on a weeknight so there wasn't much community interest, this may have played to my hand. Truth be told, I think I told my parents to stay at home, or I might not even have told them about it. I'm not sure, but I am fairly certain they were not there. Or they could have been in the audience, there was very little blood in my brain, it was focused on keeping me alive so the blood was all in my torso, hands clammy and frozen, feet purple, brown velvet floor length skirt.

I wobbled up to the podium, speech papers violently shaking in my hands. I'm sure each audience member saw my heart beating out of my chest. Likely silently praying for me that I would make it (I lived in a small town and they all knew the lore of the girl that couldn't say a poem). I stared hard at the pages of notes I had. I didn't make eye contact once with anyone except my fellow competitors as they beamed up at me, willing me on. The whole time I stood up there I just kept pushing through the tears that tried to flood my eyes. I pushed through the throat tightening and got my words out.

My competitors were so excited for me as I finished. I sat back down and they hugged me tightly, elated that I completed.

I got bronze.

I should mention that there were only three competitors.

I don't care.

I got a medal.

And what's crazier now, I have a penchant for public speaking.

That's all.