First Days...Unexpected Challenges

It was the start of my senior year - the first of many lasts. I was recharged from summer break and ready to embrace my final year of high school. But my enthusiasm was partnered with reservation. While the intrigue of new classes and senior privileges excited me, the beginning of the school year was synonymous with the stress of new demands on my expressive language. 

I was determined to embrace the year with a renewed commitment to managing my stutter, despite my apprehensions. I would prove to myself that I could build on past accomplishments and achieve more fluency.

In order to surmount this language boulder, I started the school week with my mindset focused on targets - speech targets. My targets are well-embedded, reliable tools, and I've practiced and personalized over the years. While these strategies are always within my reach, consistent self-monitoring and mindful application are required for their success.

During those first days of school, when I faltered and stuttered, I immediately reminded myself to slow down and get back on target. I spoke for what felt like nearly every minute of the school day and emerged from most of my conversations pleased with the performance of my targets.

I enjoyed dialogue with my teachers and participated in class discussions. I chatted with friends and encouraged my cross country teammates at practices. Conversations came easily, and all was well.

Then on the third day, I received unexpected news that would become the ultimate test of my expressive language: I was expected to speak publicly during an assembly.

I'm the student Judicial Council co-chair at my high school, thus I was responsible for delivering a speech with my partner about school expectations and new decorum rules for the year. I've attended countless assemblies as an audience member over the past three years of high school, but this was a first. This was my initiation to the stage and podium... and the dreaded microphone!

What's worse than stuttering? It's speaking in front of 600 classmates while your stutter is amplified by your school's state-of-the-art sound system.

Fortunately for me, my Judicial co-chair is a supportive and fearless friend. As an added bonus, we were afforded the time to compose our speech together, ahead of our scheduled assembly appearance. I had a plan.

My co-chair and I met one evening and drafted our speech. Easy enough. Now all I had to do was show up and read our notes once on stage. 

I read all the time. I speak all the time. So combine the two, toss in my targets, and I had a recipe for successful delivery.

At this point, my nerves were soothed, and I genuinely looked forward to giving the speech. I had a chance to demonstrate that I could do what I once imagined was impossible.

Assembly day arrived. I had my notes in-hand. I even looked spiffy in my coat and tie. I was prepared. I was eager. I was confident. Or was I?

My co-chair and I were introduced by our class leader, and I approached the stage from behind the curtains. I heard my loafers clicking on the wooden floor, and I knew this was getting very real. I found my shared position at the podium, placed my notes in front of me, and looked up. I my gaze met hundreds of eyes looking at me, and my reaction was visceral: I was in front of everyone, and I could feel their stares (and expectations) radiating through my body, shooting straight to my mouth. 

Finding myself on that stage brought on a tenacious undertow of insecurity that had the potential to sweep away my confidence. I was going to have to combat this surge of self-doubt -- there was no alternative.

My first few sentences admittedly were not stellar. I've faced similar obstacles in the past during oral presentations, so I knew what to do, and I knew I had to do it quickly.

I paused. I identified my miscues. I inhaled a full breath. I began my next sentence with slow exaggeration - so snail-like that I felt like I was in a slow-motion film. Once I found my way back to my targets, I was fine. I finished the speech smoothly and without error, and it was exceedingly satisfying to do so.

My first public speaking assignment of the year was complete and a relative success. Next up was my senior speech, which was less than two weeks away. And spoiler alert: that speech went even better!

The beginning of my senior year demanded unexpected language challenges, even in the early days, but I welcomed those hurdles and considered them opportunities to strengthen my trajectory of fluency. I gained more experience and now feel much more confident taking on the rest of the school year and future speaking engagements.

While my stutter will be with me for the rest of my life, I know it's up to me to continue garnering my strengths and maximizing the advantages that years of intervention have afforded me. My stutter is an unwavering adversary but one I'm grateful to have the fortitude to confront each day.

Written by Stan Craig