Day of Reckoning
I woke up early that morning to draft my presentation notes and to do an informal run-through in front of the mirror. Our professor was drawing from a hat to see who would go today. The minimal preparation I had done did not bother me; I was convinced that I could wing it well enough to snag a good grade. When I got to class I sat down and started half-heartedly rehearsing my presentation in case my name was called. Dr. Jefferson pulled the first name from the hat—Katie Andrews. Katie strutted confidently to the front of the classroom to deliver a perfect presentation, which included powerpoint, charts, graphs, pictures, and excellent verbal transitions. This is when the first wave of anxiety hit me. The quality of my presentation was nowhere near Katie Andrew’s. I smothered my panic by telling myself that Katie Andrews was an overachiever. But as the class continued, the quality of presentations did not decrease. I was really panicking now as I realized I that I was going to look like a fool up there with my graphless, chartless presentation. My heart began to race; my breathing quickened. I tried to shut out the sound of the other students’ speeches and go over my notes in my head. But what I had planned to say now sounded like a fifth grade show and tell project, and I couldn’t stop imagining myself in front of the classroom, shaking as I held my notes, every other word caught by an “umm” or a “soo.” Ok, ok, ok, I could do this. I just needed to develop an entirely different presentation. I frantically restructured my notes and began practicing under my breath. But I was getting disapproving stares from my peers. “Who was this muttering psycho?” their faces seemed to ask. No, this wasn’t working! I had to stick to my original presentation. But the waves of panic had somehow erased it from my memory. Just then, the professor stuck his hand in the hat. A quick glance at the clock told me that there was time for one more presentation. I stared holes into the hat, trying to tell the piece of paper with my name on it to run, hide, or destroy itself! “Ok, who do we got here… James,” Dr. Jefferson announced. I collapsed with relief onto my desk. When class ended I went home to really prepare my presentation.
You definitely made me nervous! :)
ReplyDeleteWoo peer review questions!
ReplyDelete-- You're describing pride before a fall: the presentation you thought you could wing but definitely can't, and the miraculous reprieve to the next class period. (Been there... except I never get pushed out to the next class.)
-- What makes this real for me is your description of your internal monologue. I'm not seeing the physical reactions people normally describe -- sweaty hands, the exact positioning of your collapse on your desk, whatever -- but I'm really hearing your position. I like the way you announce your thoughts about things factually, since doing it other ways always takes me out of the paragraph.
-- I like you smothering your panic, you sounding like a fifth grade show and tell. You create really affective situational metaphors. I imagine the exact emotional feeling of being in your shoes, but this doesn't transition well to a physical space. When you say "my heart began to race; my breathing quickened," you're trying to engage that area, but the language you're using is so general and I've heard it so many times that I'm aware of you trying to create an effect. Aristotle talks about some of the most powerful metaphors being totally familiar but also totally new: you need a brand new way to talk about this deeply familiar situation, especially the physical reactions we've all seen, experienced and heard described a million times.
-- I'm also not with you as you move through your day. The only time I feel like I'm the same location as you is during the lead-up to your presentation; I'm not feeling it practicing in the mirror or breezing into class. If you can make me feel as at-ease as you did before Katie Andrews started talking, then it sets me up to feel as awful and worried as you do in the most significant part of your paragraph. Without that carefreeness, and without a clearer shift from emotion to emotion, I come in when you're worried, I know I'm being set up to be worried, and that sick dread you want to creep up on me doesn't creep.
I feel like you should either condense the various emotions that you are trying to convey into something simpler and more effective, OR isolate one emotion and really go at it (i.e. lack of preparation, your peers thorough preparation). I personally think that you could convey all of these various concerns subtly by effectively describing that familiar anxiety. I like the end, nothing is quite as amazing as getting an unexpected, and much needed, extension. Charlotte and Aristotle make a good point about general language, so I won't go there. I think that is something you could definitely expand on though. As you watch someone in the exact place you are anticipating occupying yourself, you get nervous. I think you could bring the audience to that place with you.
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