Analysis of performance and literature

I know this is long, so bear with me.

Spring quarter has just started and as a engineer, I am required to take a public speaking class. But there is an alternative course that I could take instead of public speaking; Analysis of performance and literature (Anal Perf). Of course I went for that one. I am not good at public speaking and I heard that Anal Perf was a lot of fun. But when I actually took time to read the syllabus, I was horrified. Basically, in this class we read literature and then we perform it. This means that I HAVE TO PERFORM. It's hard for me to explain how scared I got when I read that I had to perform. It was like I was gripped by intense fear, my heart started pounding faster, and I even started sweating. I am not comfortable with acting, or anything related to it, so I was ready to drop that class and go for public speaking.

But SWolffy encouraged me to try it out. And I did. I found that it is actually really fun. It's not like acting, it is more like story telling and being creative with the story. Our first assignment was to think of a significant moment in our life and perform it. It took me a long time to think of my story and was not easy for me to tell. It was one of those embarrassing stories my sisters liked to share about me. Anyway, when it came for me to perform, I sat in a chair under the spotlight and began

Hi, I'm Esther. A little background about me is that my mom is Asian and my dad is Caucasian, and when I was little I was really really shy. Now when I entered kindergarten I was at the peak of my shyness. My kindergarten teacher, Ms. Wilmoth, was a huge old lady with wispy white hair who absolutely loved children. Her love, however, was a little too affectionate. She would make all the kids line up before they went home and kiss them on the top of their heads. Any normal person would have thought that she was such a sweet old lady, but I thought she was darn scary. At five years old, I was freaked out by this huge old lady who tried to slobber me. So naturally, as the shy kid I was, I couldn't gather to courage to talk to her.

But she kept trying to get me to talk; to the point that it was embarrassingly annoying. Then, at the end of the first week of kindergarten, she gave up and asked me if I spoke English. Then I replied in perfect English, "No, I don't speak English." Now English is the only language I know and I don't know what led me to tell Ms. Wilmoth this, but she believed me and immediately assumed my nationality. Then, as quick as a flash I was swept to the classroom next door.

This "new class" was the class for the Spanish speaking children. Even though I was really confused, I liked the "new class". The Latino teacher sang us Spanish songs, read books in Spanish, and the only thing I needed to do was to clap my hands to the beat of the songs. However, my mom was not pleased with this "new class."

The day after I was put into the "new class" my mom came to my school at the end of the school day. I remember I was struggling to put on my coat to go outside and I looked up and saw my mom storming into my classroom. I was horrified to see my mom barge into the classroom with one of the most scariest faces I've ever seen. After all the children had left, my mom sat down with Ms. Wilmoth to have a little talk. I was at the other side of the room playing with blocks, completely ignorant of the situation. But when they were done, I looked my mom's face and I knew I was in trouble. She took my hand and we went into the car.

For a while she didn't say anything. Then, she looked at me from the rear view mirror and said, "Esther, I know right now you are very shy. But I know that one day you will grow out of your shyness. So Esther, stop being so afraid."