She stepped up to the podium ready to impress them all. Rows of students dotted the horizon and directly in front of her sat the professors. She froze. Looking to the professors, she licked her lips then pressed them together anxiously. The Dean glanced at his watch.
She shuffled her notes and cleared her throat; thoughts were going 90 miles an hour through her mind. Her cough echoed through the auditorium on the microphone. The clock ticked. The students glanced at each other in confusion, expecting something. Anything. Speak, she willed her voice. Say something, she told herself.
“Good Afternoon,” the words rang out from the speakers dotting the walls. Keep talking. “I’m here to speak to you about love, sex, life, and relationships.” Her eyes darted to her cue cards, instinctually moving the front card to the rear. “I do not claim to be an expert on the matter, in fact, I don’t believe this to be possible. I only intend to share with you what I know.”
Give them the fine print. “If this was not the lecture you were expecting; if you wanted an older, wiser individual, you’re welcome to leave. The first thing I tell myself in the morning is that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. So if you don’t want to spend the next hour in this lecture hall with me, you can leave and no one will hold it against you.”
She glanced aprehensively at the professors. The man on the end with the gray beard seemed disappointed; yet the woman beside him was beaming. She flipped over her next cue card, waiting for someone to get up from their seat.
November 6, 2006 at 11:04 pm
this makes me feel guilty about my own non-writing status.
i’m sending the e-mail NOW
and this time i mean it!
November 9, 2006 at 12:15 am
don’t worry jordana — i was just taking the advice of one of our writing books from class.