Fear and rock 'n' roll

Getting ready to speak in San Diego: Look at me now!

When I was looking at colleges, I wanted 1) a school with a good communications program and 2) a decent basketball team.  (Yes, that really was one of my criteria).  In the late 80s, my top choices were Michigan (Fab Five), IU (perennial in-state favorite), Syracuse (Jim Boeheim was on a roll), University of North Carolina (need I say more?) and University of Cincinnati (new coach Bob Huggins and new Shoemaker Arena).

For a number of reasons, I ended up at the University of Cincinnati.  It was a great pick for sports: the Bearcats went to the Final Four my junior year, a year and a half after the Cincinnati Reds swept the Oakland Athletics to win the World Series.  I went to school with Kenyon Martin and Nick Van Exel, and I spent all four years as a jock, joining the rowing team and working part-time at Shoemaker checking IDs for the weight room and the track.

I chose Communication Arts as my major, and dived into my freshman year with enthusiasm.  In the middle of the first quarter, I discovered that in order to graduate, I would have to face my arch-nemesis: public speaking.  Begin teeth gnashing and hair pulling.  Communications means that I have to TALK IN FRONT OF PEOPLE?  Oh no.  I frantically looked at other majors and even considered switching to English Literature.  It was at that point I decided I’d rather die of embarrassment in public speaking than die of boredom in English Lit (no offense intended to Lit majors).   I had to get it together and face down my fear. 

Second quarter, I found myself in Introduction to Public Speaking.  I sat down in my chair and was starting to feel at peace with my decision until the door opened… and in walked three cute members of the baseball team, whom I saw on a regular basis at my day job for Intramural Sports.  Heart pounding.  Palms sweaty.  I reconsidered English Lit, but it was too late to switch.  Out of necessity, I stuck it out and passed.  One down.  One more speech class to graduate.

The next year, there was a special class offered called “Women in Rock”.  Yes, really.  [In case you didn’t already know, I’m a huge music fan and spent the time after working, studying, or rowing attending concerts.  You name a Hair Band from the late 80s/ early 90s, I most likely saw them in concert and/or met them through friends and contacts at a local radio station.]  The professor for the “Women in Rock” class was visiting author Lisa Lewis, and I opted to study groupies and their lifestyle for my final paper, and transcribed conversations and created psychobabble theories about why they do what they do.  As I was working on the final paper, the class was given a special opportunity:  Joan Jett was coming to town, and someone in the class would have the opportunity to interview her.  I won.

J. Jett  (it feels weird to call her Joan, and it is all wrong to call her “Ms. Jett”) was tiny, spackled in stage makeup, and very nice.  I talked to her about her teenage years as a dropout and Runaway, and was awed by her quiet confidence.  My repayment was to present the interview to the class.  Epiphany: I discovered that it’s easy to present when you are excited about the subject. 

Over the years, I haven’t learned to love public speaking, but I take small speaking roles, like moderating a panel, and keep practicing.  I watch those who are great at it and try to learn from them.  I faced my fear, and rock and roll got me through it!  

I love Rock n Roll. (Me, Snake Sabo from Skid Row, and my college BF Kristi)