Wow. You should have seen me in high school. I’ll take a bit of blog to describe it, but I assure you that a look back to my high school experience is nothing but uncomfortable for me. Sure, I had a few friends, but my … um … “social skills” were insufficient to create a comfortable environment for myself. Here’s a classic example of my social discomfort: I was in a small theatre class my freshman year, perhaps a dozen people. Our assignment for this particular day was to read a poem. There we sat in a circle of chairs set up on the stage. Mr. M., the drama teacher, would later have a heart attack related to the stress of his job, but that day the students were lethargic. Slouched in their chairs they waited as Mr. M. asked me to read my poem: “Hell in Texas.”
They were Texans. I was not.
It doesn’t matter where you move when you’re 14, you won’t like it. Period.
The lights were too bright on stage and very dim over the rows of seats where an audience would normally sit. I wished I could sit in the dark and read my poem.
“Stand up,” said Mr. M.
I stood … barely.
You see, this is a story about fear. I was afraid. I hated being in front of people, even a dozen stupid high-schoolers. My legs were shaking so terribly as I read Hell in Texas that I almost fell over. My hands, my voice, everything was shaking.
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I finished the poem and collapsed into my seat with the additional fear that I might have shat myself while reading the poem. As the next student started reading I shifted in my seat. Nope, I hadn’t shat myself. It was horrible, but at least one not-bad thing had come of it.
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In the seven years that passed between my high school and college graduations a number of experiences combined to alter my self-perception and confidence, but the lesson that I’m still in the process of learning is: be bold.
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My new self thinks: the early bird gets the worm. Early bird.
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But my old self says: the second mouse gets the cheese. Second mouse.
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