The first slide showed the logo for the camp. The second showed a giant green front with a juicy pink earthworm hanging out of its mouth. The kids giggled as they shouted, “Ew! Gross!” I laughed, too, as my face turned red, and I attempted to explain the picture. Unlike the rest of my classmates, I was not tucked safely into our usual seats at assembly but standing in front of the whole school, slide clicker in hand, doing my best to speak loudly enough for all of my peers to hear.

In 1988, my parents told me my summer camp director had called and asked if I would help present on camp during one of my school assemblies. I hated overnight camp but loved running through the woods and playing in the creek from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. at a day camp just fifteen minutes from my house. I spent as many summer days as possible, first as a camper and then as a CIT (Counselor In Training), learning and talking about conservation, local habitats, and picking wild blueberries for snack time.

In my memory, the school booked a representative from the camp to tell the students about this fabulous summer opportunity in our own backyard. I knew only that they wanted me there to speak from a camper’s perspective and give my friends a view from another kid’s eyes to make it more appealing. I showed up early for assembly and walked into the room to find an old slide projector and wheel full of slides set up in the aisle. With less than thirty minutes to go, I learned the camp employee couldn’t be there, and one of the school administrators handed me the slide “clicker” on its leash, attached to the machine.

I had no idea what was on the slides, how many there were, how much time I needed to speak, what I was supposed to say, or what would be helpful for my peers to hear. Literally, my friends walked into the room to sit down and watch a slide show of what I did on my summer vacation—those poor kids.

All I remember thinking as the administrator thrust the controller into my hand was, “Oh. Ok.” I didn’t have time to panic, run away, or refuse to speak. Students streamed in, and my friends waved at me. I had to do and say something, so I welcomed everyone and started clicking through slides.
“Um…that’s where we sit and have lunch. Everyone brings a lunch, and it’s fun to see because some people bring food from their own gardens, and there’s this one teacher who brings these giant blueberries from bushes in her yard, and sometimes she has enough to share and…yeah…it’s cool.”
“Oh! That’s the creek. We go down there and play every afternoon after lunch. It’s good to bring creek shoes because the rocks are sharp but you want to make sure they’re old because we get really dirty playing in the mud, and my clothes always have stains on them. The best is when we try to build a dam across the creek!!”

“That’s a fire. Some of the older kids get to go for an overnight camping trip one or two weeks a summer, but I don’t know much about it because I’ve never been.”

And so it went for the entirety of the assembly: Me, clicking the button and advancing the slide, making up something to say about it, and my friends sitting there, forced to listen as I droned on.
People ask me how I can stand in front of a room full of people and start talking without notes. I have several answers, but truthfully, I think it goes back to that day in fifth grade when someone handed me the reigns and said, “Take it away!” For years after, when asked to speak, I thought, If I can do that, I can do anything.

I don’t recommend this “flooding” technique to overcome your fear of public speaking. It would not have been my chosen entry into the craft. But I did learn some valuable lessons that day, many of which did not surface until years later. I share them with you in case you need a boost to stand up and speak out:

– Usually, no one else in the room can get up and do what you do. No matter the setting, the people present asked me to speak, whether as a public speaker, retreat leader, or preacher and wanted to hear what I had to say. Even if they have the same knowledge as me, they cannot stand in front of the crowd and synthesize it in the same way.

– Other people don’t want to be the person standing at the front of the room, holding the floor. I have spoken to and preached in front of people with far more advanced degrees than I have, but they sit to hear me speak. Some of my favorite teachers confided in me over the years that, while they can talk in front of a classroom of kids, speaking in front of other adults terrifies them. I figure if I’m willing to stand up and speak and they aren’t, then they can’t judge me.

– Talk like you’re having a conversation. I could sit down one-on-one with anyone in the room and easily talk about any topic. When I stand up to speak, I think about what I would say if only two or three of us were in the room. People relax and listen better when they feel you’re speaking directly to them.

– In most cases, the worst that can happen is no one remembers what you said. They may remember how you smiled, how friendly you were, or if you were cold and distant. Having them take away that you spoke warmly and in an inviting manner is enough. Of course, you want them to remember what you said, but it doesn’t always happen. Think instead about how you make them feel.

– What is it you most want them to think about when they leave? I wanted my friends to think my camp was cool and a fun place to go, so I spoke with that in mind. When I preach, I repeat my intended lesson several times and in different ways. Formulating a key lesson keeps you on track and helps to hold the audience’s focus.

– Let the audience take what they will and leave the rest. Countless times, audience members have come up to me and shared what they took from my words, and their perception bore little resemblance to my intention. I thought I had been clear in my articulation, but their ears took the ball and ran with it to a distant goal line previously unimagined by me.

At least you don’t have a slide of an earthworm hanging out of a frog’s mouth…unless you want to. Once you open your mouth, you control the trajectory of the speech. No one can derail you unless you let them. Remember what you planned and use any aid, illustration, or image that helps get your point across.

I am not embarrassed when I think back to that day in fifth grade. I do wonder what the camp and school administrators were thinking by handing an 11-year-old the controls to slides, of which I had no knowledge, and then giving me complete control of the room of elementary school kids. I made it through and learned more than a thing or two in the process. Was I frightened? Completely. Did it paralyze me? No. I was just talking to a bunch of my friends about the great time I had over summer vacation.