My presentation in class went pretty much as I’d hoped. I was pleased that my mother’s lessons to me as a child seemed to engage the class so well at the start of my presentation. I like to start my lessons with something dramatic like that whenever I can. (I generally avoid saying, “Today we’re going to….” or “Let’s pick up with….” or “OK class….” as the first words out of my mouth.) I was also pleased to hear the advice/lessons of our classmates who shared what their parents/guardians told them as children. I think we can all relate to the messages we were taught as kids. That’s why that seemed to me to be a great way to enter the world of Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl”. Even though the girl in the story receives different advice than any of us probably had, we can all relate to basic premise of the story; we were all children once and our parents had things to say to us.

Technology is not my friend, so I wasn’t surprised at all that I couldn’t get my daughter’s boom box to play the song I had selected for the class. The song I did play was OK but the other one I had chosen was better for my purposes. (My selection was in English and Antigua is an English-speaking country. Also, the song I had selected was more clearly a Caribbean piece. It is by the same artist who did Hot, Hot, Hot.) But, I’m glad I marched on. I’ve learned that sometimes you just have to go on with the show when things don’t work as you’d hoped, especially when technology is concerned. Teachers always need Plan B, right?

One thing I wish I’d done differently is that I’d probably have told the class Cornell’s story as I would in an actual teaching situation (rather than just telling about the technique as I did). When teaching the lesson I would unfold Cornell’s story bit by bit with a storyteller’s flair. I’d tell my classmates that once there was a beautiful young African American boy named Cornell who grew up in a very poor neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago. I’d describe the neighborhood and how dangerous it was for Cornell to grow up there. I’d tell: how Cornell worked like crazy to earn a place in the science and tech magnet school, how he had one teacher at that school who identified Cornell’s talent and helped him apply to a predominantly white prep school in rural Massachusetts (to get him away from gangs in his neighborhood), how Cornell won a scholarship to that school, went there, and graduated with honors, how he won a scholarship at Carlton college, how he spent junior year in Germany and became fluent in German, how he put himself through law school after he graduated doing all sorts of jobs – DJ, temp work, modeling, working in an improv troupe, playing the trumpet, being featured in a national Coke commercial. (The campaign was “A Coke and a Smile” and Cornell was the smile.) I’d tell how Cornell went on to become a high-level consultant with the CIA. I’d tell Cornell’s whole story like that building and building before I’d reveal that the story is true and that Cornell is my husband. That way the story would have big impact, I think. (There’s my love of the dramatic again.)

I was perhaps too mindful of my 20-minute time limit and rushed through this part of the presentation. But, at least I do think my classmates got the gist of what I would be trying to accomplish in telling my husband’s remarkable story. Rule of thumb from my days on the seminar circuit: Start and end strong. I started my presentation strong but my ending could have had a lot more razzmatazz. Next time I’ll remember that. — Laura