Q: How do you help a fifth-grader become more comfortable with public speaking? My 11-year-old does not like “people looking at her.” She refuses to participate in activities like choir or drama and as a young child she wouldn’t perform with her preschool class. She did make it through all of her elementary school performances, but those ended in second grade as covid disrupted third and fourth and they don’t do them in fifth. She had her screen off during Zoom school.
Now, public speaking in front of the class is required. Her first attempt left her in tears and unable to start. A combo of snow days and teacher absence gave her 10 days in between attempts. She practiced in front of family multiple times a day and knew her material really well. We talked about all the normal strategies (looking at the back of the room, one friend, the teacher, etc.) and told her to just look at her PowerPoint screen if she got too nervous. She made it through one slide before falling apart into tears. Her teacher moved her computer (with the slides) so it was between her and the class. She finished like that.
She has another class presentation and wax museum in May. She’ll have to present to the class and then do a short speech to many small groups of people (elementary students and parents) during the wax museum. How can we help her be ready for this and be more comfortable going forward?
A: Thank you for writing in, I imagine this is very stressful to witness. Watching our children suffer is simply awful, so let’s find a way to reframe this as well as give her some tangible support.
To begin, many children are afraid of public speaking. In fact it is one of the main fears of many adults. When it comes to normalizing this fear, please let your daughter know that several well-known people were and are afraid of public speaking: Julia Roberts, Jay-Z and Jim Gaffigan, to name a few. Many more tell stories of total and abject terror at having to speak publicly as children; your daughter is good company.
I would like to remind you, and every reader, that she lost two solid years of social practice and resilience-building. Two critical years that she would have been incrementally working on raising her hand in class, sharing her opinions with teachers and peers, and giving small presentations on different subjects. Not alone did she lose these years, but there was a regression in her slipping away behind a turned-off camera. To be crystal-clear, I blame not one person for this: not the teacher, you or, most of all, your daughter. She did her best, and that time is gone. As much as this country and our parenting culture wants to move full-steam ahead, it is useful to still see that some of your daughter’s social and educational skills are still that of an 8-year-old. This reframe doesn’t mean we drop expectations, but it does provide a compassionate reminder that we need to accept where she is rather than where we want her to be.
As for the good news, your daughter is making progress! Despite her crying, she kept trying. She practiced in front of family numerous times a day (showing her desire to try), and even when she fell apart in class, she still kept going. Personally, I see her desire to grow and her resilience shining through, and I would be very proud of her. Yes, her fear is alive and kicking, but she is the personification of courage. Courage is being scared of something and wanting it at the same time, and I see these forces in your daughter. That’s pretty awesome.
As for May, I would work with the teacher to keep growing her courage skills, and I would also find a way to continue to keep her “fight or flight” nervous system jumpiness in check. Set up as much practice at home as physically possible, and have lots of “dry-runs.” Have family and friends come over to mimic the wax museum presentation. Have her practice the rules of three (three points she needs to make, not more, not less). Insert little celebrations between practices, and keep it light. Keep her growth front and center and all the while, stay a bit detached from it all. (I know, do it all and don’t care about it). We are looking for a feeling of ease, optimism and confidence.
Finally, you began the letter by stating your daughter doesn’t like “people looking at her,” and it is important to respect and appreciate her sensibilities. While our culture prizes loud and brash, some of the most interesting and needed people are not performative. Their quiet ways are to be prized and while public speaking is a wonderful skill to learn, be sure to provide time to refill her “quiet” cup, whether through time with friends (non-performative), reading or being outside - anything that makes her feel like herself. Susan Cain’s books are an excellent reminder of the value of a quieter life; I highly recommend them. Good luck.