Sebastian Kleinau

In der 13. Klasse bekamen wir in Englisch die freiwillige Hausaufgabe über ein peinliches Erlebnis zu schreiben. Für mich war das der Anlass mit einem "traumatischen Erlebnis" in der 9. Klasse abzurechnen. Dieser Text ist die Aufarbeitung eines fehlgeschlagenen Vortrages, der dafür verantwortlich ist, dass ich Vorträge seit diesem einen hasste.

© When I sank like the Titanic did

Sometimes there are situations which you really would like to forget because it was really embarrassing. I just imagine something like the following situation I want to draw inside your mind now.

Imagine you are in class 9 or at least around class 9.
You got the homework to prepare a lecture which you have to deliver in front of the class to train your possibility in free speaking and all this stuff.
Because the topic is not given and it should be done just to train yourself in giving lectures you decide to choose a topic which you have dealed with before at home.
You want to give a lecture about the Titanic.
Being well prepared with 3 pages with short keynotes which you have worked out by the help of the internet and 2 heavy books with around hundred pages and some nice pictures inside you go to the lesson. You took these two books with you and put some paper between the pages you want to show in front of the class.
Remembering that this kind of homework seems to be a yearly one and remembering the lecture from last year you sit on your chair and listen to the guy standing in front of class and talking about his topic.
“It’s no big deal” you think. You will talk in your mother tongue and you have no reason not to be concentrated because you prepared well and you will give this lecture and then it’s done.
The guy seems to finish his lecture soon.
You notice you heart beating. You listen to someone calling your name.
You stand up. It’s your turn.
You see the curtain opening. It’s your stage.
You notice that your left shoe doesn’t change his position and before you can do anything you feel that your movement in front of the class is stopped and that you are falling.
You can hold yourself at a chair and this is the only reason you aren’t lying on the floor now.
Strange comments about that start go through the class room and being arrived in front of the class you put your notes on the table.
But now it’s really your turn.
You start with the introduction and everything works fine.
Chapter one, two, three, four, five – no reason to be nervous.
But having reached chapter five you think that it is enough. You look the guy sitting at the first table in the eyes and then you shout at him that he should stop talking and stop laughing because you are not able to concentrate on your lecture.
You are unsure because you don’t know why he is laughing all the time but finally this was not the right way. There is silence. Hundreds of eyes are starring in your eyes. Nobody expected that. You feel blood streaming in your head. You feel your face turning into a “Rudolph-the-red-nose-reindeer”-nose. You think this is the end.
And then you read out your next heading: “The end of the beginning”.
A few milliseconds later you notice that the collision with an iceberg was not the end of the beginning but the beginning of the end and as you look into the class you see faces smiling in ways you have never seen before. They try to be serious but the first laughs out loudly and so do the others.
You feel how your face is covered by sweat but you have to continue. You are not allowed to do another mistake. You take this heavy book from the table to show them an illustration of the iceberg hitting the Titanic. Not only your face is covered by sweat but your fingers as well and being an expert you look at your fingers which are not able to hold this book. It crashes on the floor and you remember the scene at the beginning of your lecture.
Silence - thousands of eyes starring in your eyes. Of course all the small pieces of paper you put into the book to mark the pages are placed around the book like an ocean of pieces of paper. No chance to find the pages. You look in front of the class and give the comment “Looks like there are no more images today”.
The silence is broken by loudly shouted out comments which make you angry.
You try to improvise while putting the book back on the table but then the point is reached where you don’t know the next sentence without looking on your prepared pages.
“Not another mistake now” you think and read out the next sentence.
Everything seems to get serious again when you talk about the fact that there were not enough rescue boats. Then you talk about the sink of the Titanic and – stop – something is missing. You forgot to put the people into the rescue boats and you tell your class mates “I’m sorry but we have to go back a few minutes because I forgot to put the people into the rescue boats. They are all dead if I continue like that”. You shouldn’t have said this. Strange sounds, smiling faces, laughing people – everything is known from the last mistakes.
You can’t stand this. It’s enough. You want to finish your lecture but there is one chapter missing.
When everybody calms down you continue but the whole rest of the story is sweating and feeling like your lecture will be the funniest one of the day or week or month or even year.
Thousands of minutes have passed when you reach the last keynote on your page and being happy of having finished the lecture you are lucky not to know that fortune wants the total victory today. Fortune seems not be your friend today. It wants you to lie on the ground and a few seconds later you feel your left shoe crashing in a bag. You see yourself falling down and then it is like a movie running in front of your eyes: The book, your notes, thousands of these little pieces of paper and millions of eyes starring at you.

But it wasn’t “you” – it was just me.
© Sebastian Kleinau, 11.03.2006