Public Speaking

The homeschool group hosts an International Fair each year at the library, during which kids give presentations on the country of their choice. The age range is 7 to 17, from what I could see, and there are really few guidelines about what forms the presentations should take. The result is a wonderful combination of a 15yo playing Irish airs on a violin, a 10yo doing a Powerpoint presentation on Brazil, a 7yo pressing her younger sister into service as a Filipina Dancer, and ... Cub!

Yup, he decided he wanted to sign up to talk about Denmark. He's only 4, so follow-through isn't his strong suit, but it's not a big deal if he flakes out, right? Besides, he's only done a couple of show-and-tells in a very small, informal group so odds are he'll be too nervous to get up there when it comes right down to it.

So we paint a picture of the Danish Flag, glue a couple of Legos on it and a handful of Danish coins. He tells me what he wants to say, and I write 2-3 sentences on each 3x5 card. When we reach fifteen cards I suggest that it might be enough, making a mental note of which ONE card I can let him read if it's all too intimidating.

We arrive at the Library. There's a podium, a microphone (!), and formal audience seating. About 60 kids have participated, and each has one or two parents with them. Cub wants to sit Right In Front. When the moderator asks for volunteers his hand shoots up. He ends up being third. I go up with him, and whisper that he doesn't need to use the microphone if he doesn't want to. He takes it from me with a withering look. Whiskey decides he needs to be there, too, and wears a viking helmet by way of costume.

My little boy is amazing. He read every single card in a strong, clear voice without "eating" the microphone. He made extemporaneous remarks. He gestured to his props. Frankly, I was just there to hold the poster. He totally kicked ass, he did a better job than some of the teenagers!

After the fifth phone call I made before we got out of the parking lot, I asked him if it bothered him that I was bragging about him so much.

"It's okay, Momma," he said with a long-suffering sigh.

"You're not really as excited about this as I am, are you?" I asked curiously.

"Mooooom, I KNEW I'd do a good job." Oh. Well, then. He has a point.

Nevertheless, I'm still proud. And I will continue to brag. Just maybe where he can't hear me.

Pamela