Before I was nine years old, I had a nickname, which I hated very much—the dumb girl.
In the early years of my primary school life, I could not communicate well with others. I did not have speech impairment, though. On the contrary, I was completely fine when I talked to my parents at home. But in school, I turned into a different person. When other kids talked to me, instead of responding quickly and fluently, like what I did at home, I froze, and my lips were stuck together with layers and layers of glue. At first, my classmates thought that I was just a shy girl. Later as time passed, they thought that I was a weirdo who would never speak.
Luckily there was always somebody in the world who likes to be friends with a weirdo. I met a girl named Jenny. She was then my friend - my only friend. Though people always say “like attracts like”, this does not apply to our friendship at all. Much different from me, she was a very talkative and extroverted girl. She had endless topics to talk about even with those she just met five minutes ago. Not only did other kids like her, but the teachers also did. Whenever the teacher asked a question in class, Jenny would always be the one who put up her hand eagerly and actively, breaking the silence in class. Teachers’ liking for Jenny kept increasing after she won the Championship in the Speech Festival for our school. Her victory and eloquence made her famous in our school that teachers always asked her to be the little master of ceremonies in the school events. The moment I saw her standing in the spotlight, speaking confidently with her hand holding a microphone, looking at the audience fearlessly, I admired her, I envied her, and I wanted to be someone like her.
One day at the end of a typical Chinese class, the teacher asked, “Anyone would like to join the Speech Festival this year?” When I heard the word “Speech Festival”, thousands of thoughts flowed into my mind. Speech Festival? Isn’t it the one Jenny joined last year? This may be my chance. This may be my time. Yes! I want to join it. Wait! No, I cannot be the one. I cannot do it. The teacher will not choose me either. I am “speech-impaired”. I am the dumb girl. I cannot even speak to others. How can I dare to stand on the stage?
The teacher asked again, “Nobody?” Wait! I want to be like Jenny. I want to join it! I want to try! My heart is screaming.
The teacher was about to give up, packing her things and getting ready to leave the classroom. At this moment, I slowly raised my shaky right hand, for the first time ever in my primary school life. Everyone was looking at me in silence. After a few seconds, a girl yelled, “How can a dumb girl join the Speech Festival?”, and the whole class burst into laughter. I was afraid. I was scared. I put my hands down quickly and felt my tears spilling out from my eyes uncontrollably. “Okay cool! So, this year we have Hau Man to join the Speech Festival. Everyone please gives her a big hand!” The teacher announced to the whole class. The kids clapped their hands as the teacher ordered while rolling their eyes. I smiled to the teacher with tears still on my tiny face.
With lots of self-doubting, I started my journey to the Speech Festival, to be the one who I wanted to be. I was assigned a piece of Chinese poem. At first, I was not brave enough to recite the speech in front of my teacher. So, I practiced at home. Standing in front of the mirror, I looked at myself and read aloud my speech. I demanded my parents sat down on the couch watching me practice. I never let them go until even they could recite my speech. When I was confident enough, I repeated it in front of the teacher. Despite my confidence at home, I dared to speak softly only. I wanted to give up. Maybe I was born like this. Maybe public speaking was just not my thing. “Keep trying, Hau Man.” The teacher tapped me on the shoulder gently.
So, I did. After months of practice, I was ready for the Speech Festival. On the day before the competition, the teacher asked me to perform in front of the whole class. When I was coming out from my seat, I saw some students smiling evilly and some whispering something to each other. I stood in front of the blackboard, facing all my classmates. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I was about to have a heart attack. I took a deep breath and started to deliver my speech. For the first time ever, I spoke confidently, fluently, and loudly in front of the class. The moment my speech ended, I held my head high and bowed to the audience. The classroom was once again in silence. After a few seconds, most of my classmates, including Jenny, applauded and cheered for me. I smiled to my teacher with no tears on my face this time. I know—no one will call me the dumb girl anymore. I know—the new Hau Man was born.
I did not win the competition at last. I did not gain fame in our school. I was not asked to be the little master of ceremonies after the competition either. But I was proud of myself for my brave act of stepping out of my comfort zone, conquering my fear. And I understood that only by taking up challenges which frighten you, you can learn and grow.