What’s as reliable as losing your quarter in a New York City telephone, as constant as dandruff, as invariable as middle aged spread? It’s the scores of students who stream into my Speech class every semester looking like they’re ready to face a tax audit or a root canal. And those are the happy ones. Gender’s not a factor: the men and women seem equally wretched. It’s not age, either: I’ve had 18-year-old freshmen and 75-year old retirees with equally long faces and hunched shoulders. Size, shape, style: nope. They all look like someone’s killed their puppy. Every semester, I remind these woebegone men and women that they signed up for this class. I really didn’t shanghai anyone, dragging them out of their warm beds to break rocks on the chain gang. I tell them that public speaking is not a tax audit or a root canal. It’s not even a flat tire on the expressway, a missed train, or a burned casserole. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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