the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

Among other things, I teach public speaking. I've become quite comfortable and adept at speaking in public since I began teaching at USAFA (it was an "area for improvement" when I first got here, certainly), and now I get to teach public speaking to firsties.* Today was the first day of the semester that they gave speeches. 

* "Firsties" are known in the rest of the civilized world as "seniors"; I like to call them "lieutenant selects."

But to back up a bit...unless you are a genuine mutant, public speaking is a learned skill, and you master it only through practice. That practice is often painful because you have to do it in front of an audience. You can and should practice your speech and presentation and posture and body movements before you speak, but the audience is The Test. It is the fire used to heat and fold the metal, and let's just say that with my cadets, there's a lot of folding going on. 

They've given presentations and briefings at least since they entered the Academy, but with very few exceptions, they haven't given speeches. My first order of business* is to point out that briefings and speeches are different animals. To help them make the leap, I don't allow them to use slides at all.** In addition, I stress the importance of a strong introduction and a strong finish. Do not stand up and say, "The poem I picked is...," because what the...?! This is a speech! Get my attention! Give me context! And please, for the love of all that's holy, don't finish with, "Any questions?" (Keep in mind: These are Air Force officers in training. They've had briefing formats hammered into them. Some of them don't know how to not give a briefing and they learn this only at the business end of a cattle prod.***)

* If I think of it first. I don't follow a script. 

** This also has the benefit of preventing them from turning their backs on the audience and staring at the screen as they speak. Yeah...I try to save them from themselves. 

*** A D or an F in a core class, which mine is. And they have to pass it now to graduate this May. 

I cover eye contact--this one is huge to me--body control, "owning your space," not hiding behind the lectern, voice control and variation, gestures, facial expressions, and of course, organization and content of your speech. I provide examples as I go. 

Of course, most of them just listen and nod then promptly forget most of it and don't practice their speeches, producing painful productions of furious pacing; fast, monotone deliveries; and general winging-it. After they speak, I make sure the class understands that what they say won't change my grade, then ask them to give the speaker feedback. Students will pause for a bit, then offer things like, "He had my attention immediately," "He made good eye contact," "I enjoyed his poem."* After an uncomfortable silence, one cadet will eventually venture, "I heard him say 'uh' a few times." 

* This assignment consists of having them find a war poem outside of the class's assigned readings, doing research to understand its context, then doing an in-depth analysis of the poem based on that information. They have to present at least part of their poem in the speech.  

So I went into my 6th period class today, having already gone through this with my two earlier classes. My 6th period is a special group. All teachers have these from time to time. I have a lot of awesome students (no kidding), but sometimes the personality of the class as a whole is just...well, classes like my 6th period are why we do what we do, I think. 

I took volunteers. The first cadet--one of my quietest cadets--volunteered (!). He led in with an effective introduction, talked about his poem but didn't really analyze it, then finished with, "Are there any questions?"

After the speech, I said, "So...what did Matt do right?!" The class looked at each other. I said, "C'mon. Kumbaya time. Let's hear it." 

"He had my attention immediately." "He personalized it." "He had good voice inflection." 

He didn't analyze his poem to the level I was looking for, but he had good delivery and eye contacts and he went first, so he got an "easy" A. I spoke for a while on what I expect in a speech (using his performance to riff on--or is that "off of"?), then asked for another volunteer. 

Crickets. 

I waited. I think the hour hand on the clock moved a bit. Then Dean offered to do his. 

Dean is, without question, my quietest student. 

He took his place and waited for the signal to proceed. I gave it and he paused, took a deep breath, looked around the room, and said, in carefully measured words: 

"The year is 1854. You are Englishmen...." He's out from behind the lectern, making intense eye contact with each person in the audience. His voice is expressive; his gestures are perfect. Nothing is rushed. He quotes, from memory, a couple of stanzas from Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade" and he quotes them like he wrote them. He even has us close our eyes for a bit so he can get us to imagine what we would do in that situation. His presentation is a thing of power and beauty. The class is spellbound. He finishes with an engaging statement and hits his time requirement perfectly. We all sit there stunned for a long moment. 

I turn to the class and say, "OK. What did Dean do right?" 

There's silence. They look at each other. Then one of them says, "Not anything, really." 

Another, from across the room, said, "Yeah. I couldn't focus on what he was saying for all of the 'ums' and 'ahs.'" 

"And he stood there like he was rooted to the floor. I mean...do his legs work?"

"I don't think he looked up from his notes even once." 

"Yeah. And he read his poetry like he was trying to rock us to sleep." 

I should add that Dean nodded and took his feedback with aplomb. 

"It doesn't suck to be me" d