One honor I’m awarded annually is to serve as a judge in the Maine 4-H State Public Speaking Contest. Several years ago, I was wandering the hall during a break when I noticed a future presenter standing with her dad. Since it’s a friendly group, I greeted her and asked how she was. Her reply included, “I’m very nervous.”
I said, “No, you’re not.”
She countered, “Oh yes, I am. I’m REALLY nervous.”
I asked her name and then stated, “You are not nervous. You are Lisa. You are feeling nervous.” I’d distracted her, so she appeared less nervous and more curious. We had a brief conversation about the difference between who we are and what we are feeling and experiencing. I asked her if she had ever been sick. She confessed she had. “Well, again, you weren’t sick. You were Lisa. Lisa was feeling sick.” We practiced some other examples. “I’m Lisa. I’m feeling sad.”
She and her dad (who was really enjoying the conversation) caught the subtle difference in language. I closed it by summarizing, “So you are feeling nervous. When you give your presentation, remember that you are Lisa. You have worked hard and are prepared. Be Lisa who is prepared. It is okay to feel nervous but don’t let it interfere with who you really are. Feelings are energy. Be you and make that energy work for you.”
Unfortunately, I did not get to see her present—the luck of the draw, I suppose. One great thing about this contest is that judges are encouraged to give “feedback” to participants, so I didn’t break any rules even if I had judged her presentation. (Notice I would have judged her presentation. I would not have judged her.)
This year, I got to witness another example with a participant I was judging. She was better than good. Her presentation was actually about presenting—a creative touch. At the end, she started crying. She, of course, apologized and explained how much learning meant to her and how fortunate she was to have supporters and mentors.
In my judge’s feedback, I complimented her passion and admitted I nearly cried with her—that says much about the quality of her presentation. Her tears were not who she was, but they were a concrete and visible demonstration of how she felt.
This is not just about public speaking. It’s about communication. I recently had a heated discussion with a life-long friend. Fortunately, we were able to pause long enough to remember who we were and acknowledge how we were feeling. Then we were able to move past the anger back to who we were.
I offer you the same challenge I offered these two young adults. Remember who you are. Don’t forget that what you may be feeling isn’t who you are. And, as a bit of a bonus, when you “get” that, you realize that you need not be the victim of your emotions.
You might also create a bit of a game out of it. When you first see someone and ask them how they are, listen to the answer. They will tell you how they feel. “I’m really… tired, frustrated, happy…” You can reply, “I didn’t ask who you are. I know you are (name). But I understand you are feeling… tired, frustrated, happy…” (Be gentle, be nice, keep a smile on your face and in your voice.)
Be prepared for some interesting conversation about the difference between communicating who we are and how we feel.
