Situated in this room, I looked to each person that was walking up, the front of the class, ready for their speech, and imagined that person as myself. Just the thought of being up in the front of the class caused me to sweat profusely. I knew that when it was my time to go up, every single step of mine would feel like it would take a year to complete, and that everything would be completely silent. Each time a student went up, there was minimal side chatter, and when I was to go up, there would once again be side chatter, but to me, it will be as silent as a windless winter day.

The palms of my hands continued to sweat, with the desk my palms were touching feeling as though it were ice: it was just that slippery. I could feel every drop of sweat run down my head, almost like water running down my head from having it under a shower head. I felt as though everyone was already looking at me, waiting for me to get up and focus their judging eyes upon me. I could feel the heat radiating from my red face, and it wasn’t from the heat surrounding me, as the room I was in was actually quite cold. I glanced around, and it appeared as though no one was going through what I was going through. Everyone seemed calm, and determined to get their speech over with. Man, did I sure feel like an outcast. Some of the well spoken students of my class swaggered on up to the front of the class, with of course a hint of pretentiousness, and gave their speech without a single er, um, or uh. They were even smiling the whole time. I knew I would only stammer and stutter as I gave my own speech, and I would have the look on my face that a dog would have around an abusive owner. I could already begin to feel my mouth getting dry.

“Aaron, you’re up.” said my emotionless teacher. My teacher took a chunk of my soul when he looked into my eyes with his cold, dead stare. I sat as still as stone for what seemed like hours. Everything was in slow motion at the moment I heard my own name. The aroma of my own body odor filled the air, and me, being self-conscious about everything that I do and am, caused me to sweat even more. Not only was I afraid of speaking to the class, but I was also afraid of the people judging me based on my clothing. My family is in hard times right now, and I can’t afford new clothes. My clothes are covered in grime, since I help my father, as he is a mechanic.