COM 107 Public Speaking

(Note: mentions famous serial killers, mass-shootings, and terrorist attacks as historical events)

October 2012

Daniella slipped into her seat just in time. Parking was a nightmare at Oregon University. She knew this, just as much as she knew her favorite coffee shop was busy before morning classes started. And yet, she would not get up any earlier. Beating the clock to class was starting to feel like a game that would be embarrassing to lose someday.

“Good morning!” the professor called out as he closed the classroom door. 

Daniella noticed that Professor Griffin looked extra gorgeous today. He was one of the youngest professors on campus, around 30 years old, and this was his second year teaching. His wavy brown hair was getting slightly too long. He was the only man who made a scarf look sexy. And his smile… when he smiled at you, it felt like you were the only one he had ever looked at. 

If a neutral observer walked in the room, they would know immediately which women were straight and which men were gay just from the admiring stares (and occasional drool) focused in Professor Griffin’s direction. There were never empty seats in his COM 107 Public Speaking class. 

“As I’m sure you know, next week is Halloween,” Professor Griffin said. He casually leaned on his desk like all the cool teachers in movies trying to relate to their underachieving students. 

“I want to make your next assignment interesting!” he continued. “The theme for your new speech is irrational fears. Specifically, your irrational fear.”

Professor Griffin smiled as he watched the reactions on the students’ faces. A mix of excitement for a “scary” prompt and dread at such a personal topic. Although one woman was still just staring at him, clearly daydreaming instead of listening. He smiled at her and she snapped out of it, blushing. He wrote What is your irrational fear? on the board with a red dry erase marker to get her up to speed. 

“I don’t want to hear an easy answer. You won’t be able to make a whole speech out of ‘Spiders are scary.’ Tell me what it is exactly that you are afraid of. Be specific and try to think of why it scares you. Are you afraid of dogs because a neighbor’s mutt went full Cujo on you as a kid? Are you scared of soup because you spilled a pot of it on yourself the first time you tried cooking alone?”

A student in a football jersey raised his hand. “At what point does a fear count as irrational? Like, dogs kill people. Soup can burn you enough to land you in the hospital.”

“A great point! Thank you, Michael,” Professor Griffin responded. “I bet you were on the debate team in high school.” 

Michael grinned, definitely not immune to the professor’s charms. 

“Most fears are of things that could happen. Could you be bitten by a shark? Yes. Could a man in a mask come at you with a knife? Yes. Could a log slip off the back of a truck and ram into your car? Yes.” Professor Griffin could feel the mood shift in the room and changed course. “But are any of those things likely to happen? No! An irrational fear is something that definitely, or almost certainly, will never happen.”

“Like a fear of spiders,” Daniella said, surprising herself. “There are some species of spider that can hurt us, but usually they’re harmless and want to avoid us as much as we don’t want to be around them.”

“Exactly!” Professor Griffin beamed at her. “The fear of spiders is irrational. The little spider that appears in your shower can’t hurt you, yet we panic like it’s a creature straight from a John Carpenter film. The spider, however, has a very rational fear of being flattened by your shoe.”

Many of the students chuckled. Professor Griffin smiled at Daniella again, making her heart skip a beat. He was so handsome. 

“I can see the light bulbs over your heads are starting to spark,” Professor Griffin said to the class. “You have this week to prepare your speech, and we will do presentations next week. I’m going to give you the next 10 minutes or so to brainstorm ideas, and I have a hand-out to pass around with the actual assignment details. After that, we’ll look at some more public speaking strategies that will be helpful for you.” 

Daniella pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag. Brainstorming was meant to be done on paper, not computers. 

But what was she afraid of? Just the normal things, like spiders and heights. Basically everything counted as an irrational fear. But Professor Griffin wanted something with a reason, a backstory. 

Not to be depressing, but some pretty horrible things happened when Daniella was growing up. National headlines like the Columbine shooting. Local tragedies like the two girls who were kidnapped and murdered on their way to school outside of Portland. Can we even mention that era without bringing up September 11th? 

Her mind finally grabbed hold of an idea, like catching a firefly in a jar. She had never actually caught a firefly, but the characters in books always made it sound fun. She picked up her pen and started scribbling some notes. 

“Any questions so far?” Professor Griffin asked the class, interrupting Daniella’s train of thought. 

“What’s your irrational fear?” the drooling woman asked. 

“A fair question,” Professor Griffin responded. “I’ve always been scared of serial killers, especially the ones who pass as regular people. John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, Gary Ridgway. I’ve seen enough news coverage and documentaries to realize that true evil doesn’t look like Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees.” 

The one junior in the class, Chris, tentatively put his hand up. 

“Professor Griffin?” Chris asked, not waiting to be called on. “You did this assignment last year, right?”

“I did!” Professor Griffin said. “The students enjoyed it and came up with some creative fears. So I wanted to repeat it this year with all of you.”

“But… what about Brittany Taylor?”

The whole room fell silent.

Everyone remembered Brittany Taylor. She was front-page news for weeks and they were coming up on the anniversary of her death. But asking questions about an unsolved case was too intense for an 8:00 AM class. 

“What happened to Miss Taylor was a tragedy. She was a great student to have in class,” Professor Griffin said gently, his voice quieter than it had been. 

“Did she really give a speech on her fear of drowning just, like, days before she died?” Chris asked. 

Professor Griffin sighed. “Do you all really want to hear about this? I’m sure some of you knew her.”

No one protested. A few people were nodding their heads. 

“Yes,” Chris answered for them all.

“Alright,” Professor Griffin agreed. He pulled a chair to the front of the room and sat down, facing them. “Brittany Taylor gave a speech about one of her fears, just like my other 97 students did that week. Her fear involved drowning. She told us about when she was a kid and her younger brother drowned in a pool while her family was on vacation. Miss Taylor turned her speech into advocacy for safe swim practices, like children wearing bright neon-colored swimsuits to make them highly visible in case of an emergency. Her speech was both emotional and educational.”

“But if she was so scared of drowning, why did she go to the river that night?” Chris argued. 

“I believe the police had that same question,” Professor Griffin said calmly. 

“Did they talk to you?”

“They did. They talked to all of her professors, and her academic advisor, and the dean, and the public safety officers. I gave them a copy of her speech, but I wasn’t able to be helpful beyond that.”

Chris looked like he wanted to argue more, but didn’t know what to say. 

“She had been drinking,” Daniella said, immediately regretting her choice to speak up when everyone turned to look at her. “I mean, the police released the toxicology report. She had alcohol in her system.”

“Did you know her?” Professor Griffin asked kindly.

“Uh, no. Not more than anyone else. She was in my biology class last year. Like, before she died. But there were 50 students in that section,” Daniella said. Why did I even say anything? she thought to herself. I’m not part of this. 

Professor Griffin nodded and turned his attention back to Chris. “I would understand if you don’t want to do this assignment. We can discuss alternative speech ideas for you.”

“No,” Chris shook his head, not wanting attention any longer. “No, it’s fine.”

Professor Griffin nodded again. “Let’s take a 5 minute break. When we get back, we can go over some more strategies for effective public speaking.” He returned to his desk and pulled out a laptop, presumably to check his email. 

The spell that had been over the class, keeping everyone quiet and still, finally lifted. Conversations started up again, students left to use the bathroom, and cell phones came out of pockets. Daniella went back to her notes. 

—

A week later, students were presenting their irrational fear speeches in class. Professor Griffin had created a sign-up sheet so students knew which order they were going in, eliminating one layer of stress. 

Students’ irrational fears included jello, tarot cards, well-maintained lawns, storage units, pocket watches, prime numbers, submarines, and used cars. Everyone had a good story, either scary or hilarious, for why their fear was valid. No one had a speech about a “normal” fear like snakes or tight spaces. 

Daniella was nervous, but it was too late to back out now. Daniella clutched her notes as she walked to the front of the room for her turn. 

“Hi, everyone,” Daniella began. “You all know me, but as a reminder, I’m Daniella Barton. When we were told the prompt was our irrational fear, I thought back to my childhood. I pictured myself as a kid, sitting on my bed. I asked myself, ‘What was she afraid of?’” Honestly, it was mostly spiders. I even had a dream once that giant spiders, as tall as horses, were chasing me down the hallway at my elementary school.”

Several of her classmates laughed good-naturedly. Okay, she thought, they’re with me. Time to ruin it with the real idea. 

“But, then a memory came back to me. And you have to know, I was an anxious child. I could worry about anything, especially when a What if? idea got stuck in my head. For at least a few years as a kid, my mind kept asking, ‘What if an airplane crashed into our house?’” 

Daniella still had her classmates’ attention, and she noticed Professor Griffin watching her intently. 

“Now, even as a kid, I knew this fear was irrational. I don’t think I even brought it up to my mom because I knew how silly it sounded. I didn’t grow up in the country where a small plane might need to make an emergency landing on a back road. I was living in Portland, and not even near the airport. There was no reason for 8-year-old me to peek out my bedroom curtains at night to check whether the nose of a plane was pointed at my window. Looking back now, I realized this started after 9/11 happened.”

Daniella paused and looked out at her audience again. She could see dawning comprehension on some of her classmates’ faces as they made the connection. 

“I was in 3rd grade on September 11th. I had stayed home sick that day and ended up watching the news with my mom. I know I missed or didn’t understand a lot of the details until later, but I knew generally what was happening. I just don’t think my 8-year-old brain was meant to watch airplanes fly into a building.”

Daniella paused again. Professor Griffin had sympathy in his eyes. 

“What’s interesting, I think,” she continued, “is that I didn’t become afraid of airplanes. We have family out of state and we continued to fly for visits without any problems. But my brain made a mental note that airplanes can hit buildings, and my younger self didn’t know how to process that. The threat of an airplane pointed at my bedroom window became a boogeyman I needed to watch out for.”

The room was still as everyone listened. It was intimidating, but better than the low noise of a bored audience rummaging through their backpacks or clicking their pens. 

“Those of us who were children during 9/11 have a unique perspective. We were too young to fully understand it, and far too young to do anything about it. But we were old enough to experience it and maybe develop some irrational fears. I’m genuinely curious now how many of us are scared of things like planes or tall buildings..

“Moving forward, society needs to make children’s mental health a greater priority, especially after traumatic events. There were no resources for helping children deal with the aftermath of 9/11. Teachers told us to ask our parents, and parents told us our teachers would talk about it at school. I’m not blaming them. They had their own grief, and they weren’t counselors. But children shouldn’t be left to make sense of big, scary events by themselves, because sometimes they become afraid of airplanes crashing into their bedroom. Thank you.”

She’s the one, Professor Griffin thought. It has to be her. 

—

Adam Griffin paced around his apartment. 

“How is this going to work? I can’t fly a plane. It has to be something else.”

His cat meowed at him, agreeing that there was no way Griffin could crash a plane into Daniella Barton’s house. 

“A car could crash into her house. Or a bus. Where am I supposed to get a bus? No, it has to be a car.”

The cat rolled onto her back, pretending to want belly rubs. 

“But I can’t drive the car. There has to be someone in the car when it crashes, but it can’t be me. Obviously.”

The cat yawned. 

“This was so much easier last year with Brittany. Drowning is easy.” 

The cat jumps up, chasing after a fly or moth or small ghost. 

“Oh!” Griffin yelled. “I’ve got it! I can… yes… it’ll work!” 

—

Daniella lived in a small rental house with two roommates. The house was about a mile off campus in a quiet neighborhood, which Daniella appreciated but her roommates resented. The road curved in front of her house. On the outer curve was a creek blocked by a guardrail. 

Adam Griffin had been watching the house at night since Daniella gave her speech.

It was late on Halloween night. Most of the neighborhood had gone to bed already. Daniella had been dragged to a party closer to campus with her roommates, but she finally managed to leave “early.” She had been drinking earlier that night, but it had been long enough that she was safe to drive herself home. 

Daniella was annoyed that none of them thought to leave any lights on at the house before they left for the party. She used her cell phone light to help her get in the house. When she flipped the light switch on, nothing happened. Daniella cursed, loudly, assuming her more fashionable roommate blew a fuse from all of her hair styling tools again. She dropped her purse and shut the front door behind her. 

She couldn’t see that the backdoor was open. She couldn’t see that her favorite professor was only a few feet away. 

Griffin hit Daniella over the head with a baseball bat the roommates kept by the front door for protection. Young women who live alone can never be too careful. 

Daniella collapsed to the floor. She was alive, for now. Griffin pulled her onto the couch that was right beside the front door, under a big window that looked out onto the street. The layout of the room could not have been more ideal. 

Griffin quickly left through the backdoor. This next part was going to take a bit of luck, but he was optimistic. He crossed the street and waited on the guardrail by the creek. 

Only about 20 minutes later, Griffin got lucky. He could hear a car coming and saw headlights begin to appear on the road. 

As the car approached in front of Daniella’s house, Griffin jumped into the road, waving his arms and making himself big like he was trying to scare off a predator. 

The car didn’t have time to brake, and the driver was too intoxicated to remember to brake. Instead, the driver quickly spun the wheel to turn the car away from the guardrail and unexpected man in the road. 

The car drove straight into Daniella’s house, shattering the big front window and crashing into the couch. 

“Oh no,” Griffin laughed, quietly. “Hopefully no one was lying there!” 

Griffin walked away. “I can’t wait for next year’s irrational fears.” 

—

DRUNK DRIVER HITS HOUSE, KILLING CLASSMATE

Reported by Martha Singleton

Around 1:30 AM on November 1st, a local college student drove his car into a house near Oregon University. Chris Walsh, age 21, was driving home from a party when he swerved unexpectedly and crashed into the house. Daniella Barton, age 20, was inside the house at the time, directly in the path of Walsh’s car. Barton was pronounced dead at the scene. Walsh was taken to a nearby hospital, where he was determined to be under the influence of alcohol. Walsh and Barton were classmates at Oregon University. The OU community, grieving the one-year anniversary of Brittany Taylor’s death by drowning, are struggling with this new tragedy. Walsh is currently facing charges of manslaughter, driving under the influence, and reckless driving.