Article | How Thick Is Your Face?

 By Eddlynn Jennifer Mangaoang

Written: July 19, 2021

Please do not repost or copy to another site. Thank you. Enjoy reading.

I have a very thin face. Compared to when I lived in the Philippines, my face is much thicker now living in the United States of America. 

"If you don't speak out, you can't do anything."

In the Philippines, it's so hard to interrupt a class once it started. Even when you need to go to the comfort room (CR -it's what we call restroom), you have to be quiet. We have a CR pass for those who need to go, and only one person at a time. The pass is a piece of paper or white cardboard laminated and hanged with a lanyard. It worked with keeping the classes going without interruption from the "Ma'am, may I go to the CR?" bouts of students needing to pee. 

But not all classrooms implemented such an idea. 

Filipino children grow up relatively competitive. It was highly encouraged by the school's faculty staff and parents. There were the quarterly top ten or top fifteen, midterm and final exams distributed by highest to lowest, and the occasional favoritism among the top students, especially those who were in the top five. There was a good outcome to that - self-discipline, excused absences due to extracurricular activities, and so on. However, the bad outcome includes fear of making mistakes and the feeling of humiliation or embarrassment that comes with it. 

I was part of the top five in my elementary school, but I remembered forming a habit when I was in grade 3 - nail-biting - because I get nervous when the teacher asked questions I didn't know the answer to. It's already embarrassing I was not able to answer the question, but my pride as the number 3 in our grade ranking was shaken. It was a huge blow. 

So, in the face of authorities, I was afraid to speak up. 

I got culture shock when students would interrupt a class to deliver bags of cookies during Valentine's Day or a Cheer for AP Exams during middle and high school. I migrated to California when I was 13. I remembered becoming quiet. Back in the Philippines, among the friends I grew up with, I was talkative and joyful. I was not one when I was in middle school up to freshman in high school. I revolved around my sister who is, fortunately, my twin. She was my companion during lunch breaks, and if we got different lunch breaks - because there were two, yay! - I ate by myself. For me, interruptions in class were not permitted unless it was a must - like needing to go to the restroom or emergency, but there were students interrupting classes for different reasons - knock on the door, and the teachers seemed okay with it, some welcomed it as well. 

However, before freshman year ended, I was inducted into the National Honor Society (NHS), and my face became relatively thicker. I got to volunteer with different organizations inside and out of the school. The interactions I have with other people fostered me to become more outgoing and outspoken. In addition, we have a project within the club wherein volunteers could distribute the next batch of invitations for induction nominees. I volunteered to do just that - knocking on unsuspecting classes of teachers I never once met to distribute invitations. It was nerve-wracking. I remembered standing outside a door for more than a minute, my sister and I arguing (quietly) who to knock and open the door.   

Building my confidence as a public speaker was slow and painful. In NHS, in order for you to get a leadership position, you must at least have some popularity with the members (your members must know your name at least). But the most important is the SELF-INTRODUCTION. Presentations give me roof-high anxiousness, but I had to introduce myself to less or more than 20 people in a small classroom with just a piece of paper in front of me. I had to attract their attention. I had to give my best impression.

I had to be the old talkative-joyful me. Unfortunately, I lost both written speeches (I ran secretary for 2 years in a row); I might have been able to share it here. I think they were on the high school-provided Google account's Drive. I really thought I have a copy of the last one at least, but alas, I couldn't find it.

I have to recount it, I guess. In my first election, I was loud. I attempted humor, and I was glad (very much so) when it was greatly appreciated with peels of proud laughter and claps. I remembered my teacher, who was also the advisor of the club, giving me proud looks. I won the election. For the next election, I also ran the secretary position. Similarly, I went to the humor route. There was still as much laughter as the first one, but now the members knew of my success at being the club's secretary. It was a great win for me again. In both cases, I tumbled with my words and even lost my last sentences because I was gesturing so hard; there was nothing pointing at the paper indicating where I ended. 

Being part of the board of officers came with this -> communications and speeches. Every officer has to write their pieces for the induction ceremonies (or read an already written part of the program's script) in the STAGE, with inducted nominees, friends, and families with them. Also, there were authoritative figures on stage sitting with you (like the PRINCIPAL O.O). You heard that right, we sat ON STAGE facing everyone with lights beaming at you (I'm actually grateful for that because I couldn't see anyone in the audience). My parents? THEY ALWAYS COME. Although we weren't part of the inductees, our parents come to take pictures of us while we're doing our speeches... also when we receive awards during the banquet - our advisor or the emcees would announce awards during this time. 

They were nice experiences, thinking back at it. 

"Answers are given when there's a question."

During this quarantine, my only source of communication with my professors was email. You might say, "What about Zoom?" Well, if you look at any syllabi, written under the professor's name and titles was his email address and telephone number. "To make an office appointment, send an email with the course number." Or anything similar to that. Everything starts with an email. AND I LOVED IT. 

I still get anxious with phone calls and prefer written communication as much as possible. With written communication, I can build my messages carefully before sending them. And don't I have a lot of questions...

I learned that if those in my GroupMe wouldn't answer my questions fast enough or didn't really have the answer I needed, the fastest and most effective way to get my answers was by emailing the teacher. I only asked for clarifications. Sometimes, I would get very vague or confusing instructions for an assignment, and I have to make sure I'm doing the right thing before I start that assignment, so I send an email to my professor or text messages to my classmates. Sometimes the professor would forget to upload an assignment or part of an assignment, so I have to send them an email at 1 am (No. I wouldn't wait for the reply. I would sleep and wake up with or without their reply). The only reason I felt comfortable sending them those questioning emails was the knowledge that I sent it to the person who will receive my assignment. Whether they replied or not, my next step will be base on their clarified instruction or my interpreted meaning of the instruction. 

I'm not as confident during a normal class time though (pre-quarantine type of class). I tend to hover a bit before I ask my question. However, if I know my professor, if they're very supportive and always game at anything you throw at them, then I gain more confidence when talking to them. 

It's important for a person to gain the ability to speak confidently because it ensures great communication and the possibility of expanding connections. Support from people who makes an impact on a person's confidence is one of the best thing used to influence a person in a positive way. You don't have to be the greatest speaker, you only have to be the confident one and everyone will see and appreciate that.