Sometimes the Outcome Doesn’t Matter

Sophomore year, I joined Academic Decathlon and quickly grew to love each of the ten competitive events. My favorite, however, was speech. It felt natural to me and I loved the freedom to be able to write as I wished. My speech that year had been about my experiences with moving schools as a child and how I had grown from that. Mr. Anderson helped a ton with developing my speech until I felt it was the best piece of work I could produce. I rehearsed it endlessly for states; it was the one competition where I could 100% know the material and what I would be tested on. At states, I won a gold medal in my division, which made me feel incredibly validated in my speaking abilities.

Nationals was online that year. We met at the school in order to compete together and Mr. Anderson bought us Thai food. Unfortunately, my previous confidence in my speech had dwindled due to not practicing as much as I should. I already get stomach aches when I am nervous, but the spicy Thai cuisine certainly did not help. I rushed to use the bathroom quickly before my speech, which made me feel even more unprepared. Something felt off and I had never felt so nervous. When I look back now, I can see that the vulnerability of my speech, as well as the pressure of Nationals, contributed to my downfall. My hands trembled and my voice wavered as I entered the Zoom room. I held it together most of my speech until the last paragraph, where it all fell apart.

“These circumstances shaped who I am today”, I started to conclude, feeling my knees buckle and shake under the weight of my fear. “There are many negative impacts such as, um… such as…”.

Oh no. I had forgotten the ending of the speech. My speech. I took a deep breath and told myself to pause and try to find my place. However, the harder I searched for the words, the more I realized my mind was completely blank. I could only focus on the expressions of pity, gradually growing on my judges’ faces as I grappled with what to say. I could remember the premise of my closing paragraph, but that was nowhere near the poetic and carefully curated message I had worked for weeks to perfect for this moment. Before I knew it, I had paused for what felt like 10-15 seconds. I knew my score was ruined.

I don’t completely remember what I said to conclude. I only remember fleeing the library right after my event, only to report to Mr. Anderson how horribly it went. I could feel the tears fill my eyes as I explained that I had ruined my whole event. However, he ended up explaining to me that it was okay that I messed up. Sometimes people don’t always rise to the occasion. The only thing I could do was try and do better next time. Of course, I didn’t medal. But I gained the motivation to try harder next year.

During Nationals my junior year, we had the amazing opportunity to compete in Frisco, Texas. I spent longer working on this speech and wrote it about a life-changing experience I had that influenced my career choice as a lawyer. That speech was probably one of the most meaningful pieces of writing I have made, as I used it as an essay to get into my dream school’s fly-in program and it perfectly summarizes my biggest obstacles and aspirations. All I had to do now was go to Nationals and perform.

Out of five, I was the last speech in my competition room. The other students talked about social issues, education, and nuclear energy. I worried that my speech would be too personal, but it was the message that mattered the most. I maintained confidence throughout my speech; I held eye contact, used my hands, and had variety in tone and pace. My judges followed along intently, and even the man timing my speech seemed enthralled when previously he had focused on the clock. When I finished, I felt a sense of victory and euphoria at how well it went. If I medaled or not, I knew that at least I had put my best foot forward. After my speech, I saw one of my judges and my timer walking past me in the hallway. I waved and smiled at them, and to my surprise, they came over to talk to me.

“I know we shouldn’t be doing this”, started the judge. “But you did an amazing job. You genuinely had the best speech that we saw all day.”

“You really did. I believe we sat there for around five minutes after, talking about it. It was really inspiring to see. Could I follow you on Instagram?”, said the timer.

The next day, we attended the awards ceremony. I won medals in Essay and Music which was such an amazing experience that I am still very proud of. Thanks to my luck, Speech was the very last category to be announced. I remember how my heart sank when I didn’t see my name up on the board. I won’t lie, a few tears were shed. I felt as though I had let myself down and Mr. Anderson. However, when I look back on it now, not winning a medal doesn’t mean that my speech wasn’t good. There were over fifteen sets of judges and each one of them grades subjectively. What matters is that my judges felt connected to my speech and that I was able to touch them with my story. I am still proud of my speech– it was a reminder that the outcome doesn’t always showcase your success.

Photo Credits: dsamare24