Marlon Ramos
9/12/23

So there I was, little me, trying to give a presentation to my third grade math class in
elementary school. Never in my life have I ever been so nervous and so frightened than how I
was when I was presenting to that audience. Classmates looking directly at me with straight
bored faces, the teacher sitting on his desk awaiting my presentation, the two kids gossiping to
each other in the back, most likely about me. All these things running through a little boy’s mind,
my mind, but why. Let’s take a refresher course; so back when I was in pre-k, all of the students
had their own caterpillar that they would have to watch over and attend to make sure that they
were healthy, so that when the day came and they finally became butterflies, we could all release
them. I was always saying, “mine is going to be the biggest one, bigger than all of yours!” but
the rest of the kids didn’t believe me, and they laughed too. Everyday I said the same thing, and
everyday I’d make sure that there were freshly cut leaves and little droplets of water in their tank.
But when the day finally came to release our newly born butterflies, mine was the only one,
stuck in it’s chrysalis. I was devastated, I looked after that caterpillar like it was my own baby,
but my baby didn’t want to be born and see his father. When it was time to release the butterflies,
everyone had smiles on their faces and laughed seeing those butterflies soar through the air,
everyone but me. Those smiles and laughs quickly turned towards me when they realized I
hadn’t released any butterfly, that my butterfly didn’t even become one. I was the laughing stock
that day, the boy who said that his butterfly would be the biggest, turned out to be non-existent.
They tormented me with lines like, “Hey, maybe your caterpillar didn’t like you” or “you suck at
taking care of butterflies”. It was after this day that I was scared of representing myself or my
things to others. Remembering this time the day of my math presentation, I promised myself that
things would be different and that the audience wouldn’t laugh at me because they were teasing
me, but because I had said something funny. It wasn’t easy, I stumbled on my sentences and
stuttered over my words, and the kids in the back definitely couldn’t even hear me, I thought I
was a terrible presenter. My panic rushed to me and I dashed to the bathroom, saying that I really
had to go pee. While looking at myself in the mirror, I told myself that I could do it, and that I
would present without being scared, so I went back to present. Ofcourse I was still scared, but
that didn’t matter, my braveness took over and made me speak more clearly and louder. I slayed
that presentation, and made the rest of the kids giggle a little bit. After that day, I would always
try to incorporate jokes into my language, trying to get the listener to enjoy what I was saying by
making it funny. No longer the class joke, but the class comedian.