Deadline Looming

Prompt theme two: deadline looming

I couldn't refuse, could I? I pondered this. Mrs. Baxter stood there, waiting for my response and I supposed I only had another few seconds to consider it. Yes or no. Two choices. 50/50.

I could write the speech on time. I was confident in that. But to speak it aloud in front of my entire graduating class? I already had fears of tripping on my gown and falling during the procession of students to the stage. If I made it onstage... did I dare to speak? No, no I didn't dare. I was terrified by the thought of it.

"Can you give me a day to think about it?" I managed to say.

Mrs. Baxter seemed flustered by the reply. "One day only. You have until tomorrow morning to think about it. One doesn't get handed an opportunity like this every day!"

I thought about it a lot. What qualified me to speak on the subject of Overcoming Obstacles? Just because I was disabled and graduating? I was crippled, not mentally-challenged. Surely others were more deserving of the honor. I could think of a few who were.

Overcoming obstacles. I hadn't overcome. I was ashamed of myself. I lied about the diapers I carried in my fannypack to school everyday. I was shy and unpopular because I was scared to open up to people. I had only ever kissed one girl, who I rejected because she was weird. As if I wasn't. I tried to act normal, sitting far from peers that were more like me than I cared to admit, those who may have been my friends had I let them. But I went through twelve grades ignoring them instead.

Overcoming obstacles. Sure, I was more able-bodied than most with Spina Bifida, but that credit went to my parents who put me on a walker and introduced me to crutches at a young age so I wouldn't be wheelchair-bound.

I fell asleep that night sure I would reject the offer.

The next day, however, I said yes. Although I wasn't sure I deserved the speaking opportunity, one thing I could overcome was my fear of public speaking, and that would have to be enough, because ultimately I agreed that it was an honor to be chosen.

Two weeks later, I found myself standing again before Mrs. Baxter, on the day before the rough draft was due when I would have to present it - aloud! - to a committee of teachers. She asked a new question. Was I prepared? Was the first draft ready? Two questions, technically, but really the same, and the answer was no.

"I'll have the draft ready to present tomorrow," was all I said. I didn't tell her I hadn't written anything at all. I had certainly tried, but clump after clump of paper was thrown in the wastebasket.

That night, with the deadline looming, I stared at the blank page, willing my mind to fill the white void with any decent scribbling that would simply suffice to have something- anything! - to present. Plagued by self-doubt, my hand was as paralyzed as my lame legs. But in the darkest hour, my hand began to write, and write well. I wrote as if driven by muses as caffeinated as I. Words flowed onto the page. Relevant quotes half-remembered and quickly researched were inserted. It wasn't, by my estimation, on par with the Riddle of Sphinx, but I finished it. I was impressed with what i had produced. Proud, even, but also scared it would be terrible to someone else's ears.

It was cheered by the committee. Although i heard no voices, no ‘amiable delusion,’ perhaps it was, in fact, inspired.

Deadline met, my next hurdle was the big day of graduation where I would present a final draft. My first draft was it, without additions or alterations. I prayed I would recite it well, and perhaps was helped then, too, because although I didn't think i had said anything special or significant, two months later, midsummer, I received a call from the Superintendent of the County School District,
asking me to speak on the same subject in front of the teachers for the coming school year. I couldn't refuse, could I? {wordcount: 705}