Three More

The sound of a metal water bottle hitting the ground nearly gives you a heart attack. The girl in front of you apologizes to the teacher and the student currently presenting. You suddenly become very aware of the coffee cup on your table. Just to be safe, you down the rest of it and possibly prevent a disastrous mess. You are okay. You will make it through this. You check the clock, 36 more minutes. There are three students ahead of you and if they each spend at least 12 minutes on their presentation, you’ll be free until Monday. 

You left the cafeteria ten minutes before the bell rang and arrived to class exactly seven minutes early and took your seat. You did the math in the beginning of the year. It takes three minutes to get to class, seven minutes is not too late to make you panic, but not too early to make you seem like a nerd. You are not a nerd, but you are not a slacker who arrives late. You are a laid back and chill student who can get good grades. This presentation might have you a little nervous, but you will do fine. You will get up in front of the class, tell a little joke, give an amazing presentation, and ace another one of your classes.

At least that’s what you tell yourself. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the last few weeks. You are a nervous wreck and it shows. The great rumble of your stomach gives you away. The river of sweat down your back reveals your discomfort and the rapid thump of your heart asks to break out of your chest. You can’t do this and everyone here knows it. Your facade is crumbling and they’ll see the scared wimp you actually are. 

You set these thoughts aside and look at your index cards. There should be 14 cards here, but you count 13. You count again,13. Then again, 13. Maybe if you count slower, good you just miscounted. But, are these notes enough. Last time you gave a presentation you went under the time limit. You talk too fast and you never prepare for it. You glance at the clock, 32 more minutes, and write down more notes.

The current presenter asks the class if we have any questions. Of course you have a question, you always do, but your hand never graces the air and your question disappears without a trace of existence. If you had asked a question, you could have wasted a few minutes and let the time bleed into the next presentation. But, the schedule remains on track and you might still have to present. You pray that the next presenter will go over time.

Why are you like this? If a simple presentation can bring you down like this, how are you supposed to survive the real world? People always say you are shy, but why does this feel so much heavier? Are you really shy, or is it something more? Is it all in your head?

Upon further inspection of your notes, a word sticks out. Do you know how to pronounce that word? You go over the past few days and try to remember if you searched up the pronunciation. You did a lot of research on how to present. How to stand; where to look; what volume to speak at; how to pace yourself; but you never thought to search how to pronounce that word. It’s fine, you can solve this problem easily. You slowly pull your phone out and glance around you. They know. You can feel their eyes watching you, waiting for you to break the rules. You ignore this feeling and turn the brightness down. After a few minutes you sigh, according to Google, you were pronouncing it right. 

A student in the front row raises his hand. He asks the teacher for a note to see the school’s nurse and the teacher give it to him. The student stands up and your stomach drops. That’s the next presenter. Which means you're up next in 18 minutes.

You stare at your notes. You can’t see it, but you sense everyone staring at you. A million eyes watching you panic. Your classmates are the jury and this is your trial with only a short amount of time left until your sentencing.

Your breath quickens. 

You should have worn the blue shirt, this jacket makes you look fat.

You should have combed your hair back.

You should have eaten a bigger lunch.

You should have eaten a smaller lunch.

You should have taken more notes.

You should have stayed home. 

No one wants you here. 

You are a fraud that pretends to be good at school. You will fail this presentation and never get into a good college. Your family will abandon you and no one will ever love you again.

The girl in front of you turns around. You suddenly notice that everyone is looking at you now. You glance up front and realize the teacher called your name. They all think you’re a terrible listener now.

You breathe in sharply and push yourself out of the desk. It takes a moment because you slid down low into the chair to help the person behind you see better. They never asked for it, but you didn’t want to burden anyone with your height.

The walk to the front of the class feels like the walk of shame. You introduce yourself and your topic to the class. You stare at the cards in your hands and fight a small debate with yourself. Just say it, you look down at your index card and see the joke you wrote down staring up at you. You know you will regret it if you don’t.

But, what if they don’t laugh? 

What if they do laugh, but at you instead of the joke?

You flip to the next card and continue on with your presentation.