Wake Up
33333My ninth grade forensics class was not interesting until we were three weeks into the first semester. For our first unit, we read short stories in front of the class. I put off preparing until the last minute, and as a result I received a C, which I fully deserved. I got through the story all right, but I could not give my characters distinctive voices. I was concentrating on keeping my own voice from shaking, and I could not stand still. It was terribly stressful, and afterwards I decided that if I was ever asked to read another story in front of the class, I would walk out and slam the door behind me.
33333I often wondered what had possessed me to sign up for forensics in the first place. I had never been able to speak in front of people. Oral reports terrified me, and I had always been horrible at them. So why on earth did I choose to subject myself to a class which required me to be in front of the room talking almost every day? My only theory was that our teacher, Mrs. Deramo, had tricked us somehow when she spoke to us in eighth grade. Her job was to teach persuasive speaking. Of course she would be good enough to convince a group of innocent fourteen-year-olds to take her class.
33333After my disastrous first experience with the short story, I considered dropping the class. Giving up did not bother me. I just wanted a simple, boring first period that I could sleep or do my homework in. But two things stopped me. The first was that I was afraid of approaching Mrs. Deramo, who could be very intimidating. I was hesitant to ask for permission to use the hall pass, and I could not imagine telling her that I wanted to quit.
33333The second thing that stopped me from leaving was a small sign above the blackboard that read "WAKE UP! Can you hear me?" That was why I had signed up for forensics. I wanted to be able to stand in front of people and wake them up. Everything I had to say was useless if I could not speak without shaking. We would not be reading short stories forever. She had promised that we would debate, give speeches, and learn how express our opinions in ways that would affect our audiences. After my attempt at the short story, there was nowhere to go but up. And so I decided to stay long enough to find out what was next.
33333We knew what was next before she told us. When we walked into the classroom the day after we were through with the dreaded short stories, there was a Mark Twain quote hanging on the side wall in large block letters: "It takes three weeks to prepare a good impromptu speech." I knew that we would not have three weeks to prepare our impromptu speeches, and so it was hardly a comfort to me.
33333I soon found out that we would have exactly thirty seconds to prepare. We would then have to talk for thirty seconds about whatever topic was on our index card. It seemed simple enough. Thirty seconds was not a long time. But I was already nervous about standing up in front of the class. The only positive thing I could think of was that nobody would expect me to be prepared.
33333Listening to the impromptu speeches was much more interesting than listening to the short stories had been. Many of them were quite funny. It was also a neat way to learn about our classmates. Since there was so little time to prepare, we were saying the first things that popped into our heads, with no time to edit our thoughts. Some people said three or four sentences and waited for the time to run out. When Tim was ordered by Mrs. Deramo to keep talking, he walked over to her desk and checked the time on her stop watch. Scott could do a brilliant voice of an elderly lady, and he had us laughing our heads off with his speech about the lottery. But even Scott could not top Todd's speech, which will not be soon forgotten by any of us.
33333Todd was a strange looking boy. His pointed nose, half-closed eyes, and twisted posture gave him an appearance that made people wonder. It was difficult to tell if he was a misunderstood genius or just stupid, but one got the feeling that it was one or the other. As far as I knew, he had no friends in the class.
33333The topic Todd pulled was MTV. He didn't seem like the type that would know much about it, and he looked like he had no idea what to say. He started with what he did know:
33333"MTV is a channel on television. They play music videos. It's number 24 on TCI cable."
33333He spoke slowly, and he drew out each word as if it stung. His breath came in short, quiet gaps, but he did not seem to be nervous. He continued:
33333"It's also on digital cable, but I don't know what number it is. There are other music channels on digital cable. . . But that's not really the point. They play music videos. . ."
33333Todd didn't seem to know anything else about MTV. For a moment he paused and glanced hopefully at Mrs. Deramo and the stop watch. She shook her head. There was still plenty of time. He began to speak quickly:
33333"I don't really understand why people watch MTV. I think the videos are stupid and boring. There's probably some guy in the back sweating with his hand down his pants. . ."
33333Todd froze. The class burst out laughing.
33333"Stop right there!" Mrs. Deramo yelled, standing up at her desk.
33333"Aw, fuck. . ." Todd mumbled, jerking slightly. His eyes grew wide as he realized his latest mistake.
33333"Get out in the hall!" Mrs. Deramo commanded, turning to point at the door.
33333Todd stumbled into the hallway. He tried to smile but only managed a grimace. We were still laughing uncontrollably. Shaking her head in disbelief, Mrs. Deramo ordered John to pull a card and get to the front of the room. She told me to take one so that I could be next.
33333My card said "Pittsburgh." While John talked about his favorite movies, I tried to think of something intelligent to say about our city. I had lived there all of my life, but all I could think of was our sports teams.
33333I walked to the front of the room and faced the class. My mouth instantly went dry and I tried to keep my legs still. I repeated the topic to myself and tried to focus. Mrs. Deramo started the stop watch. I began to speak:
33333"It's okay to live in Pittsburgh. We don't have a beach and the weather is bad, but at least it's not West Virginia. We have sports teams. The Pirates are pretty bad, but the Penguins and the Steelers have had some good years. . ."
33333I was drawing a blank. I was suddenly unable to remember anything else about the city I had lived in all my life. And I didn't know enough about sports to keep talking about them. I glanced at the door, which was partially open. I could see Todd sitting in the hallway, and I smiled slightly as I recalled his speech. I glanced at the sign above the blackboard: "WAKE UP! Can you hear me?" MTV, television stations, music. . . radio stations! Of course. I continued speaking:
33333"But what is up with the radio stations in Pittsburgh? The only good station we had was The Revolution, and it was bought out by some alterna-crap station that plays commercials more than anything else. And the other stations mostly play oldies. Oldies can be okay, but this is the 1990s, and there is a lot of new music out there. But it takes forever to find something from this decade on Pittsburgh dials. Even the stations that advertise `hits of today' play 80s music half of the time."
33333I had a lot to say about the morning shows, but Mrs. Deramo raised her hand to indicate that the thirty seconds had passed, so I finished:
33333"Pittsburgh is a pretty nice city to live in, but it would be a lot better if we had some decent radio stations."
33333A few people clapped. Mrs. Deramo nodded. "Good job. Okay, Jessica, you're up!"
33333I returned to me seat, but I didn't hear a word that Jessica said. I was replaying my speech in my mind. It could have been better, but it was probably the first time I had given a speech without shaking. I had gotten through it, and I was fairly sure I could do it again.
33333At the end of class, Mrs. Deramo went out into the hall to talk to Todd. I could see her waving her arms. Although I couldn't make out any of the words, it didn't look like Todd was having much fun. Mrs. Deramo re-entered the room and sat down at her desk with a sigh.
33333Todd opened the door hesitantly. He walked awkwardly to his seat. We stopped talking.
33333Suddenly, Scott shouted "Yeah, Todd!" and the class burst into applause.
33333Todd jerked and sat up a little straighter. I wondered how many times he had been applauded by a room full of his peers.
33333"It's not something to be praised about," he said. His face had flushed.
33333Mrs. Deramo was clearly annoyed at our encouraging behavior. "No, it isn't."
33333"And it's not funny," he continued, but he couldn't hide his smile. He gave up and laughed with the rest of us. When the bell rang, Todd left the room in a crowd of people who all wanted to know what had happened.
33333Mrs. Deramo threw her hands in the air and returned to her grade book. "I can't believe it's only second period," she muttered. "What a way to start the day."
33333I agreed with her, but I said nothing. As I gathered my books, I knew I would stay.
THE END