Discovering My Speaking Style: From Quaver to Confidence
The gift of gab is a gift that I have - Beastie Boys
Join me, if you will, as I flash back to grade school.
Recess has ended. Students are sitting at their desks waiting for class to start. Energy in the room is high. Laughter and voices fill the room. Then, slowly, an inkling of realization dawns on you. The other classmates are no longer talking, though your conversation has continued.
How long have they been quiet? Are they all looking at me?
At which point you see the teacher, standing at the head of the class, staring you down.
Do you know what it feels like?
I do.
It doesn’t feel great.
We all struggle with some form of self-regulation as kids. Mine was knowing when to zip it.
You might not be surprised to learn that a person who talks for a living was accused of talking too much as a kid. Though really, the two are not linked, it just happens to be true in my case. And talking too much did not make me a gifted speaker.
Like most of population, I held a fear of public speaking growing up. As a true GenXer, my Canadian grade school experience included the speech component. Starting in fourth grade, every student had to make a speech in front of their classroom. Top orators in each class then competed in front of the whole school, and I believe, the top of those performers then went on to a citywide competition.
I’m not clear on the last detail because I was never a top performer.
The parameters of the presentation were simple. It should be 3-5 minutes long, we could use index cards, and could speak about virtually anything. Since we were kids, with limited experience in the world, the topics were typically sports or pop culture related; or a review of a big family trip. Our speeches were a series of facts and figures delivered in a school report fashion. Again, that was what we knew as kids.
I don’t think visual aids were allowed. Could you imagine some poor kid breaking out PowerPoint at that age? Not that it existed, but still, I’d like to warn them they have decades of that tomfoolery in their future so avoid it while you can. Go play outside! Be free!
On occasion a student understood what it took to standout. They were more performative, less academic in their delivery. In the school setting, that worked.
I can only remember one of my speech topics. One of my strange fascinations for a time was the 1883 Krakatoan eruption. (Nerd alert! Nerd alert!) I didn’t truly understand the impressiveness of the data points, yet I was mesmerized just the same.
The explosion is estimated to be 13,000 times more impactful than the bomb dropped over Hiroshima. It was heard by people in locations between 3,600 and 4,800 miles away. What really got me, was learning that the sheer volume of ash and debris displaced into the atmosphere turned the skies red around the world.
“One evening I was walking out on a hilly path near Kristiania—with two comrades—The sun was going down—It was like a flaming sword of blood slicing through the concave of heaven. The sky was like blood—sliced with strips of fire—I felt a great scream,” The Private Journals of Edvard Munch, p. 64-65
Holy crap right? It is presumed that when Munch created his famous painting, The Scream, in 1893, the red sky reflects the moment he described.
The day of the speeches came. When my name was called, I stood up, walked to the front of the class, and started shaking immediately. My voice quavered. People at the back of the room couldn’t hear me clearly. And my shaking hands made it a challenge to read my index cards.
Not exactly the performance of a gifted speaker now is it?
Contrast this with the fact that I was already performing at that young age. A few months ago I referenced the fact that I was hamming it up at home. I loved to pretend I was singing, or acting out a movie scene or comedy skit.
And, at age ten, I started competing in gymnastics. Where, sink or swim, on the day of the meet, your performance is less about skill and more about controlling your nerves when all eyes are watching you. That is more exposure to performing in front of an audience than most of my classmates experienced, yet when it came time to present, I was basket of nervousness. A big old shaking basket.
It was like that throughout high school as well. Less shaking, but no less nervous.
Reflecting on those early experiences, I realize now it wasn’t the fear of being the centre of attention, that was pressure I learned to handle as a gymnast, it was the fear of speaking itself. Weird for a chatterbox, no?
Here’s what I think happened over the years.
I had to discover the type of speaking that suits me. There are many forms of public speaking, and being successful at one form does not always translate into success in another.
Stand-Up Comedian is surely the most difficult speaking gig there is. Forget all the work that goes into crafting the perfect joke, gag, story and delivery. From your very first performance, the audience has a two-drink minimum just to be there. And there is no hiding from them regardless of whether they laugh, stare silently or heckle. Comics need to be quick on their feet, adjust and understand when to roll with the punches or deliver the razor-sharp comeback. (see: Kevin Hart, George Carlin and the goddess Wanda Sykes)
Sneak peek at the first video in an upcoming series on communication.
Speech givers are the people who bring you to your feet. Who make you feel all the feels, down in the bottom of your very being when they talk. They understand their assignment is to move you and they never fail to deliver. (see: Viola Davis, Oprah)
Debaters are quick on their feet, impassioned and know the facts. I realize their are some who simply deliver sound bites to score points with their base, but those aren’t the great debaters. The best can change the minds of those who dislike them. Jon Stewart is at the top of his game in this style of delivery. Yes, his stand-up days surely help with timing and ability to adapt. But do not fool yourself into thinking his skills are purely the result of fast editing and gotcha moments as seen on his shows. He brings the fire to the congressional floor, the debate stage and long form interviews. His ability is one small part of the reason 9/11 responders and war vets exposed to burn pits received healthcare funding that the United States had previously denied.
Storytellers, you know them. The people who draw you in, purposefully take the winding road and we, quite happily, sit back and let them lead us to the destination. This could be on stage or during an interview. Pass the popcorn and settle in. (see: Miles Davis, Anthony Hopkins)
None of the above are my thing.
If I was to engage in a debate, within seconds the passion would take over, I’d start yelling “You’re wrong!” over and over again and probably break into tears.
What I realized is I am most comfortable when I help others make sense of something. As an informer, when speaking in the role of teacher or facilitator; or, to offer an insight when speaking on stage. I’m not there to entertain, though a few laughs never hurt anyone, I’m there to shed light on a concept or guide people to a realization.
That is why my roles, even my first ‘real’ job, eventually included a training component or required me to present findings. I wasn’t rallying the troops. I wasn’t spinning yarns. I was there to educate, explain and enlighten. Once I figured that out, it was one of the reasons I found confidence stepping into the role of speaker.
Enjoyed this story? Add your email below to subscribe for free and receive these stories directly to your inbox. You may also support my writing by contributing to the tip jar.
Keep this topic going: listen to the accompanying Reflections by G podcast
