My First Speech

MY FIRST SPEECH 

When I was a sophomore at Richardson High School in Richardson, Texas, way back in 1970,  I thought it’d be fun to sign up for speech class and learn a little bit about what my Dad did for a living.  There were probably about 25 students in the class and our teacher, Mrs. Gray, didn’t waste any time getting us started.  The first speaking assignment, if I’m remembering this correctly, required us to speak for three minutes.  I don’t recall what the topic was but I do recall that several students spoke before I did.  The quality of performances varied from great to awful.  Some went over the time limit; some went under the time limit.  One guy froze and had trouble getting the first line out.  When my turn was over I was relieved.  I had stopped talking right on the three minute mark, I hadn’t stuttered, mispronounced any words, or messed up in any discernable way.  

At the next speech class session, Mrs. Gray returned our handwritten speeches with our grades clearly written in red and circled at the top of the page.  As she handed them out she’d call out a name and announce the grade:  Barbara Green, A; Jill Williams, A-plus; Robbie Mathis, B-plus.  The guy who only spoke half of the allotted time got a B.  Even the guy who froze got a higher grade than the C Mrs. Gray gave me.  I could tell by the look on my classmates faces that my low grade surprised them as much as it surprised me.

 After class I waited for everyone to leave and I told the teacher I didn’t understand why she’d given me a C.  I thought I’d done well and I named a few people who had gotten higher grades but had fallen short in areas I did not.  In my mind’s eye I can still see her sitting there at her desk.  She adjusted her glasses, pursed her lips and said in a clip, “I happen to know who your father is – I expect more from you.”

 Today, I like to tell my audiences that if they judge my performance on the same basis Mrs. Gray did, they are apt to be as disappointed as I was with my grade! 

It’s true.  I’ll never be a Zig Ziglar, and neither will anyone else.  But, if I’m my father’s daughter, I will always try to be the best me I can be.  Like Daddy says, “You don’t have to be great to start, but you do have to start to be great.”