Ella Doss Mrs.Bratton English 1-7 October 15, 2012 Humiliation.

It went away slowly, the fear and anxiousness that came over me before my speech. My face was like a furnace , but the cool, salty tears were cooling it down, almost evaporating. The lingering heat and sweat from on my palms was still there, but at least it was over.
The bell rang, announcing the end of fourth period. I dashed out of the classroom as prompt as I could, stopping for no one. My next class, youth leadership, was not much farther away. I could now feel the anxiousness start to kick in. My heart started to race frantically, feeling like it was going to pop out of my chest. My jaw started to tremble. My lunch, a peanut butter sandwich, was starting to trek up my throat. Public speaking has never been my forte, but I had no choice. The only thing that was going through my mind was, “this won't end well.”
The tardy bell chirped like a bright yellow Canary , announcing the start of fifth period. Mrs. Maddox nonchalantly plodded into the room, wearing an orange top with flowers and leaves on it. Her hair was freshly highlighted, with frosty blondes and browns. “Are you guys ready for your speeches?” She asked. The room filled with groans and babble. “I’m taking that as a yes,” she replied. Mrs. Maddox took attendance and gathered her wooden clipboard and pen, preparing to listen to our speeches. “Are you ok?” asked my friend, Kenya. “I’m fine, just nervous. I hate presenting speeches,” I replied. I knew what I just told her was all a lie. I'm actually not ok. I felt like I was about to explode. Mrs. Maddox hopped onto the table and sat down. This was the cue that the speeches were about to begin. “Do we have volunteers?” asked Mrs. Maddox. In my class, there were that bravest and most extrovert people in my grade, “Ok, Annika. You’re up,” she announced. The next few people did theirs so well, I wondered how they dealt with nervousness, or if they even had any. “Am I the only one who has fears like this?” I questioned myself. It didn’t matter, the feelings I was having weren't going to go away, but I wished they would. The volunteers hands started to become less and less. No one was brave enough. Mrs. Maddox was getting aggravated. The room was noiseless, as if you hear a tiny pin drop unto to cold, icy floor. “Ok, if no one is going to volunteer, then I’ll have to start pulling sticks,” threatened Mrs. Maddox, so she did.
She started to draw the first few names and every time she didn't call on mine, I started to loosen up, the tension I my muscles just disappeared. The number of Popsicle sticks started to dwindle down and the jitteriness inside of me started to increase. My jawbone and legs and knees started to chatter like a brutal earthquake . I finally started to a feel rush of safety, only ten more minutes until the bell would ring, but just my luck, she called my name. I slowly and vigilantly walked up to the podium, a rusty, unstable music stand that felt like it was going to collapse.
I felt like everyone was staring at me. Among the class, sat many people that I knew were going to say something if I started to cry, but I could not let that be engraved into my brain. I stood there like a deer in the headlights, waiting for the nod that I could start. As soon as I knew it, Mrs. Maddox nodded at me signaling the start of my speech. My first few words came out and I just lost it.
After my speech was over, I felt calm and uneasy. The adrenaline was still rushing through my body uncontrollably. My face was pink like a rare piece of steak. My eyes were swollen and my rose was running. I just sat in my chair feeling like everyone was laughing at me inside to themselves. I felt humiliated.