i am not a political person. in one-on-one conversations, i do fairly well; i don’t really worry about my individual voice, echoing in a vast hall, strange ears hanging on to every word, criticizing my ummms, my ahhhhs, and my omigod-i-lost-my-train-of-thoughts...

i am heading over to my second panel discussion in just as many nights; an information session providing discussion on afghanistan aid.

by attending, i’m not going to serve some political purpose; if i were political, i’d be willing to speak up and make a difference. instead, i will do as i did in high school – sit in the corner and nod. but whenever a moderator makes the fatal announcement, “we’d like to open up the floor for discussion”, i freeze. it takes me back to oac economics, when mr. wookey would spring his intimidating arm out at unexpecting students (ie. me), seeking for deep analyses, on the spot.

but it wasn’t mr. wookey that started it all. i blame you, mrs. barry. you, oh teacher who preferred kerry, my academic rival. you, who disputed any of my achievements from kindergarten to grade 2. you, who didn’t understand that after school, i went back home to hear an infinite, confusing barrage of cantonese and broken english. you, who didn’t understand that just two years ago, i was set apart from the regular class to learn E.S.L. you, who scrawled in my grade 3 report card: “connie should learn to speak before she thinks. her enthusiasm causes her to rush through a topic, leaving the class confused.” you, who didn’t understand that i was a sensitive 8 year old, cried and read this as a command to not speak up in class. you, who gave me praise in my next report card after a term of not speaking or offering ideas.

keen on pleasing the teacher, i stopped talking in class. this is what she wanted.

ah. i guess i shouldn’t blame mrs. barry. it’s my fault for not taking the initiative to stand up and attempt to speak clearly in front of a crowd. 16 years have passed; you would think i’d have learned something. but i know i’ll fail. as with everything i do. in my mind, i’ve engrained the idea that if i can’t succeed naturally, i can’t succeed at all.

good god, this world would be in serious trouble if everyone was just like me. remind me not to sign my dna for mass cloning.

but i want to learn. my ears are not as stupid as my mouth.

exit music: ditto ***