Last weekend, I had the honor of spending time with 300 educators and 450 students. This one day conference which was hosted by Port Clinton Schools was an uplifting and meaningful day filled with connection and practical strategies for taking good care of ourselves, our students, and their learning.
Before delivering my keynote, I rushed to the restroom. I thought I was going to vomit. I was incredibly nervous. So. Very. Nervous. I had the good sense to turn my microphone off to ensure that the people in the auditorium wouldn’t hear me hurling over a toilet.
So many people I deeply admire deliver keynotes in a manner that seems effortless. They are funny, high energy, highly engaging and knowledgeable, and full of confidence in themselves, their message, and their audience.
This was not at all how I felt about myself. I had practiced many times in the days leading up to the event. And now, there was no turning back, whether I felt ready or not, it was time to get up there.
And again, I thought I was going to vomit. Which led to fears that I would vomit on the stage. I started to envision that scene from ‘Pitch Perfect” where Aubrey vomits everywhere during the Barden Bellas’s performance in an a capella competition. “‘Aca-excuse me’ what was I thinking when I enthusiastically said yes to this opportunity?”
I was surprised to find that after I got started, I seemed to be enjoying myself and getting a bit more comfortable. I found myself worrying less about people in the audience whose body language was hard to read and more on the those who were taking pictures of slides, nodding, and smiling in agreement.
Leading up to this keynote, I received many helpful pointers from many people I deeply admire and respect which helped me both prepare and also execute. So, thank you. You know who you are. And thanks to your generous sharing and caring, it went well.
But I want to bring us back to the fact that all of that went out the door about 10 minutes before it was time to start. Because my nerves took over, and I was overcome with fear.
I’m sharing this because many of us have felt this in the moments before a presentation for the board of education or before walking into a difficult conversation. It’s scary to put ourselves out there and to do work that we care about so deeply. It’s scary to do hard things. Especially when we have never done those hard things before.
But sometimes, we have to push through the fear and do it anyway. We have to learn to do it scared. We have to learn to tell ourselves that these nervous are just excitement that needs reframing.
We need to learn to be our own champions in these moments. My friend, Livia Chan, shared this quote during our Legacy of Learning book study with Brian Martin, and I find myself coming back to it quite a bit lately:
“There are times when we need to stop listening to ourselves and start talking to ourselves instead.” – Trent Davis
I’m sharing this because we need to normalize fear. We are human beings. Of course we are scared. Sometimes even terrified. But if we don’t push through discomfort, if we don’t learn to talk to ourselves in ways we would talk to someone we love, we won’t have what it takes to solve the world’s really complex and daunting problems. Our future and the future of this world quite literally depends on our response to discomfort.
Fear is a reminder that we are alive. Fear is a beautiful reminder that we are not invincible. But fear is not always there to tell us to pause or stop. Sometimes, yes. And often, no. We must learn the difference if we hope to make a lasting impact on our schools and this world.
Feel the fear.
And do it anyway.
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