Standing in front of thousands of people and putting yourself out there for everyone to criticize is not as easy as it looks. Okay, maybe not thousands of people, but it feels like it.
Speech is very stressful. One thing is for sure–we do for fun what most people fear more than death. That slogan is scary enough by itself.
Do you know anyone who would wake up at 4 a.m. on a Saturday morning to read poetry for strangers? I know a few. In fact, I’m one of them. Speech is more than just reading to strangers; it’s performing for strangers like judges, other competitors and spectators.
Judges have the magic piece of paper that determines the fate of the competitors–the ballot. From the second you walk in, you have to make them love you. This is easy for me since I am so wonderful, but it’s challenging for others. Appearance is important. It would be awful to get a ballot that says “I hate your shoes,” or “Your hair is in your face.”
Note to potential speakers: when selecting speech suits, you must look like you’re going to a funeral. If you don’t look like you’re going to a funeral, you’re doing it wrong. No one would listen to us if we looked normal.
We are hated in the speech world. When Seminole walks into a room, everyone stops to stare (who wouldn’t stare at us?). They watch our every move searching for flaws. Our best behavior is a must. This adds extreme pressure.
I have over 30 minutes of speech material memorized. This includes a 10-minute dramatic interpretation, 10-minute humorous interpretation, a 10-12-minute duet scene and five 30-second introductions.
Aside from the memorized events, I participate in prose and poetry. Prose and poetry are placed in a little black book. The little black book is your life. If one loses her book, she is kicked off the team and shunned. Then she has 10 years of bad luck…if she’s lucky.
At a typical speech tournament, I wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning. Sleep deprivation makes it challenging to get ready, but I do what I have to. I then get on a bus and attempt sleep for an hour or so. After that, I stand in a huge circle with my teammates and warm-up, but we don’t stretch or do jumping jacks. Usually. The warm-up includes some questionable things which I choose not to reveal at this time because I do not wish to be incriminated. I spend hours running between rounds, listening to performances and talking to walls…walls and doors make excellent audiences…less criticism. This does not, however, keep the rest of the world from thinking we’re crazy.
In the cut-throat world of speech and debate, we are trained to be the best. We have a reputation to uphold. We must maintain this reputation at all costs. So if you see me talking to a random wall, I’m not crazy…I’m successful.