So THAT'S What It's Like Up There!
Some weeks back I taught Dr. D's graduate Aural Rehabilitation class. He was away at a tinnitus conference in Sweden. To say I was nervous beforehand is putting it very mildly. Even though I'd become confident in my public speaking skills these last 5 years, this was brand new. Teaching. Conveying ideas and facts. Helping, making students understand. Complex topics such as central auditory processing, hyperacusis, and the vestibular system. Granted, topics I deal with almost daily in my work, but still.....
As I came up through grad school, a multitude of oral presentations were expected of us. With each semester, we were required to coordinate PowerPoints and Q & As with increasing skill. Somewhere along the way, it became, dare I say, enjoyable?! I began to rehearse the heck out of my presentations. I would run them down like an actor obsessively learning his/her lines, until it became natural. Natural enough that I would not have to read off the slides. Reading off slides virtually guaranteed the glazing over of eyes in the collegiate audience. I hated when instructors did that.
In 2007, I co-presented at the American Academy of Audiology convention in Denver. It was an enlightening experience. Somehow (read: God) I was even able to manage an audience member who insisted on interrupting my flow with questions that should have waited until the alloted time. But, curve balls like that are what I needed to get better. Later that year, I presented research data at the Florida Academy of Audiology meeting. The presentation laptop contained an earlier or later Microsoft Office that was incompatible with my flash drive and for the first 10 minutes while the techies struggled to get my visuals rolling, I had to merely describe rather than show my carefully prepared slides. At first, I was horrified. But within a few minutes, I was really into it. I knew my stuff. What a concept. Preparation. Who woulda thought? It really does pay off in a pinch.
I'm not recounting any of this to toot my own horn. I just wanted to provide some history. Even with these experiences under my belt, teaching a class of graduate speech-language pathology students was rather daunting. "They're sharp," warned Dr. D. "Don't think you can snow 'em!" I prepared over a week's time, but by the last few days I felt a peace (read: God again). This experience also proved to be quite winning. In addition to my spiel, I was able to break out the markers for the white board and answer some nuts & bolts audiology inquiries. I had another of those out-of-body moments right then. I watched myself, standing in front of a class, explaining concepts that had been explained to me only a few years earlier. Odd, so odd. That trek from reticent desk dweller to teacher seemed so rapid, but it was paved with blood, sweat, and tears.*
Two days later, I returned to proctor the students' final exam. This was also quite heady; I was handing out tests, writing the time remaining on the board, answering questions. Dr. D even encouraged me to grade some of the tests before he returned. I didn't mark a one. I didn't feel right doing it, even with all the other transitions I had made. Plus, the students asked that I not grade them, as Dr. D was always more than fair with points.
I liked being up there. When I get a little older, I'd like to be up there a lot, I think.
*Promised grad school entry forthcoming. Someday.
As I came up through grad school, a multitude of oral presentations were expected of us. With each semester, we were required to coordinate PowerPoints and Q & As with increasing skill. Somewhere along the way, it became, dare I say, enjoyable?! I began to rehearse the heck out of my presentations. I would run them down like an actor obsessively learning his/her lines, until it became natural. Natural enough that I would not have to read off the slides. Reading off slides virtually guaranteed the glazing over of eyes in the collegiate audience. I hated when instructors did that.
In 2007, I co-presented at the American Academy of Audiology convention in Denver. It was an enlightening experience. Somehow (read: God) I was even able to manage an audience member who insisted on interrupting my flow with questions that should have waited until the alloted time. But, curve balls like that are what I needed to get better. Later that year, I presented research data at the Florida Academy of Audiology meeting. The presentation laptop contained an earlier or later Microsoft Office that was incompatible with my flash drive and for the first 10 minutes while the techies struggled to get my visuals rolling, I had to merely describe rather than show my carefully prepared slides. At first, I was horrified. But within a few minutes, I was really into it. I knew my stuff. What a concept. Preparation. Who woulda thought? It really does pay off in a pinch.
I'm not recounting any of this to toot my own horn. I just wanted to provide some history. Even with these experiences under my belt, teaching a class of graduate speech-language pathology students was rather daunting. "They're sharp," warned Dr. D. "Don't think you can snow 'em!" I prepared over a week's time, but by the last few days I felt a peace (read: God again). This experience also proved to be quite winning. In addition to my spiel, I was able to break out the markers for the white board and answer some nuts & bolts audiology inquiries. I had another of those out-of-body moments right then. I watched myself, standing in front of a class, explaining concepts that had been explained to me only a few years earlier. Odd, so odd. That trek from reticent desk dweller to teacher seemed so rapid, but it was paved with blood, sweat, and tears.*
Two days later, I returned to proctor the students' final exam. This was also quite heady; I was handing out tests, writing the time remaining on the board, answering questions. Dr. D even encouraged me to grade some of the tests before he returned. I didn't mark a one. I didn't feel right doing it, even with all the other transitions I had made. Plus, the students asked that I not grade them, as Dr. D was always more than fair with points.
I liked being up there. When I get a little older, I'd like to be up there a lot, I think.
*Promised grad school entry forthcoming. Someday.
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