Today's Challenge:
Think of a time when you didn't think you were capable of doing something, but then surprised yourself. How will you surprise yourself this week?
Today's entry:
Back in college, if there's one thing I thought I was completely incapable of, it was public speaking. I spent most of high school trying to avoid any kind of attention, so the idea of being the center of attention was absolutely terrifying. If I had a 10-minute presentation, I'd rush through it in 6 minutes, staring at my shoes, as if hoping they might turn into ruby slippers and offer me an escape route.
I muddled my way trough in college – luckily, 10-minute presentations weren't a big part of our grades. Flash-forward to the second year of graduate school – on the first night of our 2-hour class, our professor announced that each of us would be teaching one of those classes.
Two hours with all eyes on me. There was no way I could rush through that, and my faith in magical shoes was sorely lacking.
So, I started with the one thing I knew. I wouldn't die. Yes, I might be uncomfortable and embarrassed. I might not be able to face my classmates for days or weeks. I might have to quit school in disgrace, but however irrational my fear I knew for a fact that spontaneous combustion was impossible. Or, at least, very, very unlikely.
Somehow, once I pounded that one fact into my head, others arrived to keep it company. There were only 6 people in the class, and they were all my peers. They wanted to learn more about this subject. They were probably, when I really stopped to think about it, as worried about the assignment as I was.
You've probably figured out by now that I survived. That first presentation wasn't the stuff of legend, but it wasn't bad. Over time, they got better. I had good days and bad days, like anyone, but every now and then I had an amazing day, a day I connected with the audience and surprised myself.
A couple of years later, I took an elective class on teaching. We had to give a 10-minute presentation, a fitting tribute to my college failures. I spent hours preparing for that 10 minutes, rehearsing the words until I finally realized that the words didn't matter. Teaching was about ideas, about showing your passion for a subject with such intensity that no one in the room could resist.
I can't really describe that day. Presenting is the closest I've felt to being "in the zone" – an altered state of consciousness where I somehow feel more than human, perceiving ever glance of a room full of people and interacting with them all simultaneously.
I chose a different path than teaching, but part of me will always be a teacher, and, on occasion, I still surprise myself. I try to remember that, just maybe, the thing I'm terrified of today will turn into something amazing tomorrow.
