Blackout ✓

25 | public speaking

"THE SOFTWARE USES EXISTING TECHNOLOGY to alleviate one of the world's most pressing issues," Jamie droned, his eyes glued to the cue cards in his hand. "Entern is the combination of virtual reality, internet networks, medical institutions and developing communities that addresses systemic inequalities in healthcare—"

"Remember eye contact," I interrupted smoothly. The common room was deserted, save for the two of us.

Since spring break till the end of April, it had been full steam ahead. Krista—as predicted—had gone into a study cave in order to tackle the Calculus course that threatened to ruin her GPA, and Riley had been using every available office hour in order to perfect her final thesis.

I was in the same boat. While I hadn't heard back from Columbia University, I still had earned places in three other med programmes—Boston University, Langone and Tufts. My future was secured, regardless of the location.

Some might have used this milestone as an opportunity to decompress and take it easy towards graduation, but not me. If I wanted to graduate magna cum laude in May, I only had room for one B in my course load. Everything else needed to be A or above.

Yes, I had a lot to do, but I always had time for Jamie. Especially when he needed my help.

Jamie had taken what expertise I could offer about medicine and prototyped a back-end iteration of Entern, not publicly available. The software was enough to model how virtual reality systems connect with established medical databases. Trouble-shooting had consumed most of his time since spring break.

His proactivity about the Innovating Philanthropy project the entire semester had paid off. Now, we only had to refine his presentation in anticipation of the presentation night next week.

And his public speaking needed refinement.

"Each sentence, pick a person and look at them," I advised.

Jamie glanced at his cue cards and swore. "I can't. I just feel like I'm going to stumble over my words if I'm not reading them directly off the page."

"Then you stumble. Just pause and start again," I said. "You know the presentation content like the back of your hand. But the audience isn't there for the PowerPoint. They're there for you."

His eyes swam with nervousness. "How are you so confident when you do public speaking?"

I chewed on my cheek, recalling all the speeches I'd given or events I'd hosted as the WISA treasurer. The science fair projects that I'd presented in high school. The speech competition that I'd entered at twelve years old. Perhaps the latter I had harboured anxiety towards.

But in more recent years I couldn't remember feeling a lick of dread. Not enough to throw my game, anyway.

"I don't know," I admitted sheepishly. "I've just never been anxious about audiences. I don't believe that anyone in the room is critical or wants to judge me or see me fail. I just tell myself that they're peers. Also, fuck their opinions."

"Oh, my God."

"What?"

"I can't think like you can." Jamie said miserably, "Here I was hoping you'd tell me to picture the audience in their underwear."

Thinking back to the WISA funding presentation, and the lethargic old men in the room, I shuddered. "That's nasty."

Imagine them in their underwear. What idiocy. Had that trick ever worked in anyone's life?

"I can't do it. I've done group projects before and it was terrifying enough," Jamie complained. "I just see people looking bored or like they're laughing at me and I lose faith in myself."