5 little words

Yesterday, as I sat in my public speaking class, located in the tiniest room that exists in NYU's Silver Center (what I frequently imagine must have been a closet back in the day), I wondered how I was going to make it through my fifth and longest (2 hours and 30 minutes of pure agonizing torture, to be specific) class of the day. The thought was quickly interrupted when the Stern-suited Asian in front of me thrust his desk chair backwards, inevitably crushing every fiber of my right leg's being. Even loudly and obnoxiously yelling "OUCH" - not just to elicit a response, but because it actually hurt like hell - could get him to notice the human being he just assaulted via furniture unit... But that's not what I'm getting at.



We were to finish presenting speeeches about objects we "like". You may be asking yourself, as I was, why couldn't we seem to finish presenting these impromptu, three minute long speeches during the previous class? Why, there were only about 20 students, and the class is 2.5 hours long.



You see, every so often, the professor feels the need to interject and tell "just a short little story", usually pried from the depths of his former career as a lawyer, but most frequently, these stories are no where near my definition of "short", nor do they have remotely anything to do with whatever was being discussed in class... But that is also besides the point.



Almost everyone had given their speeches, and everyone's object had varied from one place or item to another. It was 7:00 and there was just 25 minutes of class left when at least one more speech was needed to be given, and I realized I had devoted the last two hours to doodling in my notebook. So I decided to volunteer. The speech I gave is nearly irrelevant, other than five little words I considered to be the most insignificant part of my 180 second speech: "this might sound cliche, but..."



Little did I know, but this phrase would throw the class into utter mayhem. When my speech was over, the class began giving constructive criticism. I was about to be home free, when one overly-analytical nursing student decided to open the Pandora's box of critiques and call into question why I used those five little words. Soon enough, war had erupted. Students were yelling at students, the professor was yelling at students, students were yelling at the professor. Allegations were being tossed around that I was insecure, I had belittled myself and my argument by prefacing my concluding statement with the warning of a cliche; others claimed that my preface was a smart and necessary move in an effort to appeal to all audiences and add more legitimacy to my statement. But while all of this mayhem and conflict surrounded me and my speech, I couldn't have cared less.

Morals of this story, however: 1) it seems to be the smallest, least pondered over of our actions and words that carry the most weight 2) people will care more about your "intentions" than you do 3) sometimes you need to read between the lines of the things you say and do to learn more about yourself and last but not least 4) I am and always will be an instigator of conflict, regardless of whether I'm making a conscious effort or not.