From the pit of my soul to the pits of my arms — anxiety spread. With the latter, it took the form of sweat.
Basically I was a complete disaster.
I was moments away from stepping up to a podium in a fluorescently lit cafeteria in front of a few hundred kids in my middle school. My nervous energy was an awkward beacon broadcasting to everyone, “Hey look at that sweaty nervous kid!” It didn’t help that with thick glasses and spiky cowlicks erupting from my straight black hair I already looked ungainly.
Being an nascent teenager and running for student body president of my small middle school was a scary task. Encouragement from those who loved me dissipated once I stepped up to the podium and gazed upon the sea of seated, fidgety faces before me.
The gulf between my aspirations and my reality seemed wider than the vast Pacific Ocean. I knew there was a good chance I’d drown before I reached the other shore, otherwise known as finishing my speech. The optimist in me also knew I could do it — and that I had to try.
Carefully, I placed my page of notes on the podium. Glancing down, I opened my mouth and began to speak.
It all started out OK as I finished my opening sentence. Then the second sentence slipped out from between my dry lips and into the microphone.
Maybe I could make it through, I thought as momentum built.
Suddenly, like one of those annoying squeaky toys, my voice cracked and extinguished any confidence I had gained from those first few sentences. That voice crack might have been the one thing the audience actually heard in the midst of my speech. I could see the amused look on the faces of a handful of my schoolmates.
I paused before continuing. Fueled by my anxiety, my voice cracked again over the microphone. Giggles grew louder while whispers got more hushed.
Puberty was f&*ing with me.
It was as if my biological nemesis was egging the chuckling children in the audience on.
Puberty was a real pain in my ass. My body may have been growing bigger and stronger, but my confidence and physical coordination got knocked back a few notches for a while. Incidents like this were only the beginning.
A few minutes later I stepped off the platform, sweaty, anxious and disappointed.
I lost that election, but it didn’t dissuade me. I ran again in high school, first as junior class president, then as student body president. I won both. Numerous speeches were given, in a variety of locations, to a variety of people. Being a band geek, I drew confidence from my many band performances, including many solos. Into college, I gave more speeches and presentations and emceed events. I worked as a radio DJ and even studied television production, producing packages and working as a reporter. In China, I helped produce a TV show and acted as “Doctor Joe, English Doctor” on a Beijing TV program — a program probably seen by millions.
…But the lessons I learned from that middle school speech were ones I carry forth today and maybe they can help you:
- Conquering your nerves involves acknowledging them first. Once you expect them, you can deal with them more easily. That middle school speech was my first ever and I didn’t know what to expect.
2. Know that each and every person in your audience would be nervous, some far more so than you. For me, this always made me feel better — and it might make you feel better too.
3. Practice, practice practice. Practice alone and practice in front of others. Not only will you be able to deliver a clear message, but your confidence will grow. I have made the mistake of believing I could wing an important speech once, and the result was a speech that left me with regret because I sucked. Respect your audience, and yourself, by preparing and practicing to the best of your ability.
4. When your voice cracks, roll with it and continue on. I know you are rolling your eyes at that, but everyone encounters imperfections when speaking — technical errors or human errors. Acknowledging the obvious ones in a human (or humorous) way endears others to you — and prompts them to pay attention. Turn miscues to your advantage. You have that power!
Over the years I’ve learned even more techniques. Tricks to stop the “Ohhs,” and “Uhhs” and how to use pauses. Some tricks and techniques I have tailored to myself.
And, despite the fact my voice has stopped cracking (*knocks on wood*) I do occasionally get butterflies speaking to groups. At least I have the tools at my disposal to battle them. I have no doubt that you can too!
