What’s the Word: Competition can be a teaching tool
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And some will do things that, while they aren’t technically cheating, come pretty close.
I remember a speech I gave on the recently assassinated JFK in a 4-H Club public speaking contest when I was 13. The contestants had been narrowed down earlier in the day so that, after a mediocre high school cafeteria lunch, the only two left were myself and a pretty blonde girl named Sandy. As we sat on the stage waiting to give our speeches, I decided it would be sporting to wish her good luck.
“Good luck,” I said with a big smile.
She gave me this strange look but finally said, “You too.”
She went first and did quite well. The audience of 40 or so kids, parents, and judges were very attentive and I figured I had my work cut out for me.
When she finished, I finally got up to give my speech, but as soon as I started, some kids in the front row started giggling and whispering and pointing. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They couldn’t be laughing at my speech about our slain president, so it had to be something about me.
Then it hit me. What if one of the worst things that can happen to a guy in public had happened to me?
What if my fly was open?
I was desperate to know if that was it, but the logistics of checking my fly in front of 40 people pretty much boggled my 13-year-old mind, so I decided to just get done with my speech as soon as I could and get out of there. I figured I could get plastic surgery later and move to Outer Mongolia or something. I’d seen those Mongolian guys in the National Geographic and their pants didn’t look like they even had a fly, so that was one less thing I’d have to worry about from then on.
I finished a six-minute speech in something under three minutes and headed straight to the boys bathroom. When I got there and found I was safely zipped up I flashed a relieved grin at myself in the mirror and that’s when I saw the huge hunk of vegetable matter that obscured the majority of my front teeth. I dejectedly cleaned it off and headed back out into the hall to wait for the judges verdict, as if I didn’t know what that would be.
Sandy was standing there and I went over to congratulate her in advance.
“Man, that was so embarrassing,” I said, “I had food on my teeth. Can you believe it?”
“I know,” she said, “I saw it when we were talking before we gave our speeches.”
“You knew?” I said, horribly affronted, “Dang, why didn’t you tell me?”
She gave me this look of total disdain that 13-year-old girls reserve for 13-year-old boys.
“Because I wanted to win,” she said primly, and turned on her heel and walked off.
I learned something about competition that day. And something about the battle of the sexes too, I think. I learned what the term “cutthroat competition” means, and I also learned that, contrary to popular belief, the female of the species can keep totally mum about anything if they need to. Even something as embarrassing as food on your teeth.
(Charlie Johnson is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)