Years ago, I taught a public speaking class that included a nursing home resident I’ll call Jan. It was the only time that ever occurred in my twenty-one years of teaching as an adjunct instructor for a community college. One of her nurse aides also enrolled in my class to provide transportation for Jan.
I learned early on that Jan had a big vision to empower young girls all over the country to use their voices to stop sexual violence from happening to them. This was important to Jan because she had been a victim of sexual violence as a young girl.
Of course, I emphasized the importance of captivating speech openers because if you don’t hook your audience, you’ve already lost them, and I provided many examples for students to try out. Jan took speech openers to another level when she walked up to the podium for her first speech and did this:
She rose from her chair with unmistakable intention. Every movement was deliberate. She steadied herself, then began the slow walk toward the front of the classroom.
When she reached the podium, she did not adjust the microphone. She did not shuffle papers. She did not smile.
She stepped behind it, planted her feet, and without warning, brought both hands down on the top of the podium with a crack that split the air.
The sound, wood against bone, was explosive, commanding, and impossible to ignore.
Silence followed, though the energy was electric.
Then she lifted her gaze and locked eyes with each person, one at a time. She held each stare long enough to make it personal. No one escaped it. No one dared look away.
It shattered every expectation of what a “nursing home resident” might look or sound like at a podium. It wasn’t just an entrance. It was a declaration. She didn’t have to ask for attention. She owned it.
Jan’s was the only speech opener I remember from over one thousand students I taught over the years. Sadly, it was probably the only public speaking platform she ever had, because she died before she was able to realize her dream.
She also stood out to me because of my work with “older-than-me” adults in long-term care settings—some of the most invisible people in our society.
I love that my work allows me to help give them a voice so they can be seen and heard.
Face to Face - A Photo Collage by Kareen King