The 5-Year Old in Me
As we were walking to our class this morning, I was telling my colleagues a story that I hadn’t told in ages - the story of my first time on stage…
I used to hate taking naps when I was little (who would have thought, I know) and so often times my mom would have to bribe me with surprises and treats when I woke up. So one day she says, “Zahra I have the BEST surprise for you! Go to sleep and when you wake up I’ll tell you all about it.” Thoroughly excited, I laid down to sleep thinking of all sorts of toys, games, days in the park I would earn after this wretched hour of stillness.
And then I wake up to news that I have to “perform” on stage in a talent show our community would put on every year. I actually remember the feeling of disappointment. What the heck kind of a surprise is this?! Great I have to suffer through a nap and then instead of getting a toy, I get to die of stage fright right after. Wonderful.
Anyway, my mom dolls me up in this sari, wraps my toy baton in brown paper so that it looks like a walking stick and gives me my Toys R Us sunglasses to wear. Then she tells me to hunch over and act like a gramma, walk across the stage and say some lines in Gujrati.
What?
Yes. I had to be a gramma in front of like 1,000 people. This, in case you were wondering, is why I hate surprises. I’m not kidding when I tell you I don’t like them. Even the good ones (because clearly my impression of good is different than yours, mom).
I remember being nervous and kind of annoyed (seriously, how could my mom think I would like this?!) when I was on stage. I also remember, very vividly, walking across to the microphone and just as I was about to say my lines seeing my brother and his friends in the seats right by the front of the stage, to my left. My nervousness was slightly replaced by excitement - who knew I was that important to them? I said my piece, which I guess was pretty funny (I need to figure out whose idea those lines were), and the whole crowd started cheering - I could hear it in the backgroud, but all I remember was zoning in on my brother and his friends going nuts cheering, hooting and hollering right in the front.
That 5-year old Zahra felt like a million bucks.
Teachers have to take the stage and have to “perform” every class - that’s their job. They don’t just write the script, they direct and act it too. And no matter what - whether it’s in front of a class or on a physical stage in front of thousands, I don’t get nervous about public speaking. I don’t get sweaty, I don’t get sick, I don’t get palpitation. I go up there, I do my thing, and I walk away.
And it made me wonder - how much of my attitude toward the stage stems from that first experience? Would I be more frightened and less confident if I didn’t see my brother and his friends cheering for me in the front row? How formative are these moments?
I can pinpoint different skills that I’ve picked up along the way - the debate team helped with my argumentative skills, Mosaic with my leadership skills, but confidence and that lack of fear - somehow I think those come much more “naturally” and are much more deep-rooted than simply picking up handy tools along the way.
How much of who I am today is a result of those first memories and experiences? My guess is a lot more than I’d like to admit.
Perhaps a thank you card is in order…
