Stuttering Stage Shock
On the
morning of the big event, I was fidgety inside the school library. The contest
didn’t begin until one o’clock in the afternoon, so I had to sit and wait while
my classmates were having classes. A part of me wanted to join them, just to
calm my jittery nerves, but I had been told to take it easy. It’s mildly ironic
that taking it easy was doing nothing to relax me. I recalled what my coach
said: Give the crowd something to
remember.
By
lunchtime, my coach, the school principal, the high school moderator, and other
administrators called me over to them. I made my way to them, and then our high
school moderator announced that we were going to have a prayer, through the
sound system. Slowly, students filed out of their classrooms and stood by the
corridors. I bowed my head, a bit flustered. After the prayer, I had expected
everyone to just silently go back into their classrooms like they usually did.
I was wrong. My batch mates broke out into thunderous cheers and yells, wishing
me good luck. I stood stupidly in the middle of the school grounds, lost on
what to do. Their cheers pretty much echoed through our small and modest school.
I broke out of my stupor and raised my hand, with a grin that could make any
giddy idiot jealous.
My
coach and I arrived at NCCC and proceeded to the Event Center. My coach went to get seats while I went to
the restroom to change into my suit. I returned shortly after and spotted my
coach with my mom, who had arrived shortly after I went to the restroom. Soon
enough, the other contestants arrived with their coaches and classmates. The
event holders gathered us together and gave another briefing. Then we took our
seats on the stage. As luck would have it, I was contestant number six. I
listened to the first three contestants before I shifted my attention to the audience.
Under the glare of the lights, I saw my batch mates arriving. I wasn’t able to
restrain a small smile as they came to join my coach, my mom, and the Debate
team in the audience.
The
fifth contestant began to speak in front, which meant it was time for me to
pick my question. A man carried a bowl of rolled up papers and offered it to
me. I plucked out a roll at random. I smiled because the question was something
I could answer. In this
technologically-advanced era, how can we fight against climate change?
I
scribbled away at my paper. The buzzer went off and the fifth contestant walked
back to her seat. I only had a minute left. I stopped listing my points and then
mentally went through them. The buzzer went off again. It was my turn. I stood
up and moved towards microphone. The mic stand was too low, so I attempted to
adjust it. I didn’t know how. I frowned slightly, before I rolled my eyes
discreetly, and then I just took the mic from the stand. What a great way to
begin.
I read
the question, gave a brief definition and background, and then laid down my
three points before I launched into my explanation. The feeling was just
indescribable. Words just flowed out of my mouth as if a supernatural force
from heaven above was pulling them out. I spoke as my mind was conjuring up sentences
at breakneck speed. I made up for what I lacked in power with pure heart and
sincerity. I reiterated my points, rather smartly. I was finished; all that’s
left to do was to give a curt bow and farewell. I made a small bow and then I
opened my mouth and said: “Good morning.”
Good morning. Crap. It was afternoon.
I
realized my mistake rather quickly, so I sheepishly added in: “Ay, good afternoon!”
Well, at
least that was something they would be able to remember. I made my way back to
my seat. When I faced the crowd again, I made sure to keep a smile on my face.
Time
passed, and finally it came to the announcement of the top three. I gripped my
pencil until my knuckles almost turned white. Then finally, the emcee announced
that Colegio de San Ignacio made it to the final round. I smiled full-force.
For this final round, the finalists would be taken away from the area. Only one
finalist at a time was allowed on stage, so that we wouldn’t be able to hear
what each other would say. As luck would have it, I would be the first one to
speak. The other two finalists – Davao Christian and Ateneo – were escorted to
one of the offices upstairs. The three of us were to have the same question. Do you think that the economic and social
advantages of putting up a coal power plant outweigh the possible disadvantages
it could cause to the environment? Justify.
The
emcee asked if I wished to go backstage to write down my points, I said no and
stayed on stage. The crowd applauded. Soon, I started talking extemporaneously.
To my horror, I forgot what my second point was. There was an awkward silence
that dragged for an eternity. I blurted out:
“Oh my
God…”
I could
practically hear the audience’s shock.
Luckily,
I managed to remember. So I continued on with a calm face. In the middle of it
all, I made another slip-up. “So I agree with the coal cowe-power, ahh blech, coal power plant.” Despite
the fact that I got tongue-tied, I let out a good-natured chuckle and carried on.
At the end of my talk, I gave another curt nod and this time I said ‘Good
afternoon,’ with emphasis on the “afternoon”. The crowd applauded.
Time
ticked on and everyone was done with their turn. We sat on the edges of our
seats, waiting for the final decision. Finally, after what seemed like an
eternity, the chair of the board of judges announced the champion.
“Colegio
de San Ignacio!”
My
batch mates jumped out of their seats and roare before things even registered
in my brain.
I won. I joined my batch mates in
the audience, and they enveloped me an embrace. Things went by in a blur after
that. After all those slip-ups earlier, I just kept on smiling. I did it. I
gave them, and myself, something to remember.
