The words “um” and “like” seem to be the only words that can exit my mouth. My body trembles as if my heart has just been electrocuted. I can feel the whole class staring me down like laser beams against my skin. They are waiting, waiting for me to make a mistake. My face turns into a fire truck red that seems so hot my eyes start to water like there is a leakage in my head and it needs to filter. My brain becomes full of this stuffy feeling and starts to pound like when you get off a jerky ride at an amusement park. My voice sounds shaky and stutters. The teacher interrupts to ask a question and it sounds like something just barked or screamed in my ear with no intention of stopping until I respond. My brain reflex snaps back and forth like a ping pong ball until I find a seat back in the comfort of my desk.
I Am Nervous. . .
October 22, 2007