In my junior year in high school in 1996, my English teacher assigned a selection of literary classics to her class. The assignment was simple, read the assigned classic and turn in or present a book report in two weeks.
“Okay, class,” she said. “I have selected a masterpiece for each of you to read. Once you’ve completed your book, you will be required to submit a written report or give an oral book report in front of the class.”
As expected, the entire class groaned about the assignment. Personally, I hated book reports because, at that time, reading, writing, and public speaking weren’t my strengths, and this assignment possessed all three elements.
My instructor continued, “The book on your desk is your assigned reading. I’ll go down each row, person-by-person, and document the type of report you’re committed to giving.”
Unsurprisingly, most of my class opted to submit written book reports over the oral. It was my turn to answer.
“Jonnathan,” my instructor asked?
“I, I, I’ll d, d, do the oral report,” I slowly and painfully exclaimed.
“Oral,” my teacher asked, surprised? “Are you sure?”
“Y, y, yes,” I responded. “I, I, I’m sh, sh, sure.”
At that time in my life, I was 16 years old and struggled with a stutter that worsened when I was nervous, especially when speaking publicly. Therefore, with a grade of a “D” or “F” looming for any written book report, I opted to take my chances with the oral report.
I was assigned Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. The class had two weeks to complete our assignments and submit our reports.
On the day our reports were due, I arrived, and my teacher asked those who opted for the written reports to pass their assignments to the front.
Then smiling, she said, “Okay, class. It’s time for our oral book reports. Who wants to go first?”
Instantly, my hand shot up as I nervously said, “M, m, m, me!”
My thought was, “If I went first, the class would have no one to compare my presentation to.”
Grimacing, my teacher said, “Okay, Jonnathan’s first. Remember class to please be nice to the presenters; public speaking is very hard. Ok, come up to the front, Jonnathan.”
I stood up from the security of my desk and made my way to the front, slightly shaking, palms sweating, while a drop of sweat rolled down the right side of my face.
I turned and faced the class and my classmate, Darren, who was next, shouted, “You got this, Jonnathan!” Darren was an extreme extrovert and was already experienced in public speaking, acting, and rapping.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, and started, “O, O, O, Of Mice and Men… by John Steinbeck is an amazing story about friendship, loyalty, and brotherly love….”
My classmates were quiet, occasionally giggling or tearing up as I spoke. As I concluded my oral book report, I closed with, “I am not much of a reader but if you want an amazing story, you have got to read this book!”
I paused and turned to my teacher sitting quietly at her desk and looked as though she was fighting back the tears. I thought I must have bombed the report and potentially terrorized my friends.
As the class continued to stare at me in complete silence for a few more long seconds. The silence broke when Darren stood up and started applauding. “Wow! Jonnathan, wow,” he proclaimed. “That was awesome, bro! Just awesome! I had no idea you could speak like that!”
The class followed his lead, all applauding, and cheering. I had no idea what was happening at that moment and started to retreat to my desk when my teacher stood up and said, “Wow, Jonnathan! Class, that is how an oral book report should be done. That was simply riveting, Jonnathan, the best I have ever heard. A plus!”
After class, as I got up to leave, my teacher asked me to stay after for a minute to talk. “Jonnathan,” she started. “Why do you stutter? “Dropping my head in shame, ” I responded, “I, I, I, I have always s, s, stuttered, ma-am.”
“No, you don’t, Jonnathan,” my teacher proclaimed. “Jonnathan, you didn’t stutter at all during the report. You are an excellent speaker, captivating in fact. You are not a stutterer. You didn’t stutter during the report and I don’t think you will stutter anymore. Do you understand me? You aren’t a stutterer. For you to do what I witnessed under the stress of public speaking, I don’t believe you are a stutterer anymore. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Shocked by her confidence in me, I smiled and responded, “Yes, ma-am. Thank you.”
Her permission to not stutter released me from a lifetime of identifying as a stutterer and starting my path towards becoming a professional marketer, author, designer, speaker, and copywriter.
Encourage someone today and rather than tell them what they cannot do, give them permission to do what they never imagined was possible. You are created to do great and marvelous things!
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