木林森 2007-4-5 12:46
Your Name Is What?!
[size=4]原作者 EMAIL: [email=yulongz@hotmail.com][color=#0000ff]yulongz@hotmail.com[/color][/email][/size]
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[size=4]Hi, Everbody,
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Sorry I could not type Chinese as convenient as English, so I just use English. believe most of PWS on this forum are good at reading English.z ?,@-@ m+d
I come across the Chinese Stuttering Center (CSC) website a week ago. I can feel the heat of energetics, enthusiasm and pains of our fellow PWS (person who stutters). This is a very resourceful website. Many posts are very inspiring. I do not have time to write more today. I just want to post a story about saying a person's names, the most dreaded moments for us.
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Your Name Is What?!
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by John Wade s O(e-R*I]!] z
The first day at a new school is typically not a welcome experience. It
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ranks somewhere between a root canal and watching an infomercial for the
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Psychic Friends Network. And that's under good circumstances.
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I had just moved from Dallas to a small town in rural East Texas during the |3U"k0S.v-D
summer of my Junior year. Like a typical high school student, my main
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objective in life was to attract as little attention to myself as possible DW+b R#E/NH {
and just blend in. With the cool crowd, of course. I was planning to just
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lay low the first few days, and get a feel for the complicated intricacies
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of the high school social scene. I still believed firmly in the "success
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through avoidance" approach to dealing with my stuttering at this time, and
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thought that if I could get by without speaking for long enough, I was boundk,e1RR!{rBe7j
to have a breakthrough experience in my sleep and wake up a fluent speaker./}v;u;e-u!h,a1x+mm
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Life seems to have a way of upsetting the best made plans. I arrived early.wM8fF5I Ge
the first day of school, and observed the students milling in the hallways.k6Ib"u yd V2Aw X
I listened to the aspiring young scholars conversing as I was trying toD%B E2w3I g}d}
divert attention away from the churning in my stomach. I quickly realized[?
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the importance of first names, because every guys' middle name was "Bob" and
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every girls' middle name was "Jo."
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My first class was social studies. For some inexplicable reason, social,J}z/H8zP
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studies teachers like to be innovative. Its' not bad enough to bore students
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according to traditionally accepted methods, they have to be creative and
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make us uncomfortable as well. I expected that sometime during the first day
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of school I would have to introduce myself. I was as prepared as I could be-P5sc)m:zL*k
for this, meaning that my hands were sweating so profusely I could have
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extinguished a small forest fire. But my social studies teacher asked us to
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introduce the person sitting next to us. As long as the person had a oneo&j d y ^o+k N
syllable name I was unlikely to stutter on, like "Uh," there would be no$I5OMEZV
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problem. I turned to the student next to me, a very pretty blond girl who
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told me that it was her first day here as well. We had something in common
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-- maybe the first day of school was not going to be so bad after all. With
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considerable difficulty, I introduced myself to her. "Hi, my name is John
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Wade." As luck would have it, her name was not "Uh." She politely told meF,c8W#|0d4[
that her name was Camilla Titsworth. Being someone who stutters, I can
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detect potential embarrassment a mile away, somewhat like a bomb-searching
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dog can detect a particle of gunpowder at a crowded airport. This situationruL1Jk3JH
had the makings of a five-alarm disaster.
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As the teacher went around the room, calling on pairs of students to
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introduce each other, my apprehension mounted. Dropping out of school was
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looking distinctly inviting. Or maybe if I snuck out to the bathroom for the
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rest of the class period no one would notice.
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The dreaded moment arrived. Being the gentleman that I am, I let Camilla go
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first. She effortlessly informed the class that my name was John Wade. I
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felt a momentary wave of relief, since she had said my name for me, saving
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me from the usual struggle. Perhaps I could arrange to have her travel with
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me as my designated introducer. But the 30 pairs of eyes focusing on me
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brought me back to reality. After what seemed like an eternity of1NXB/O l%H
struggling, I finally got out "Camilla." I think that I pronounced it
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"Camel-la," but I don't think that the subtleties were noticed over the_Ek*e'?U#?
cacophony of my stuttering. Emma Jo and Veta Sue were looking at me like I
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was a wounded puppy, pleading with me to go on, and shooting hateful glances
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at anyone who would even think of snickering. In the back of the room, Earl
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Ray was explaining to Jimmy Bob and Billy Bob that I must have been kicked;R{wu+|$K
in the head (pronounced "haaay-ed") by a horse when I was young.
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Now to the moment of truth, saying Titsworth. I had the feeling that after
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taking 15 struggle filled seconds to say Camilla that everyone in the class
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had their lead story of the day to talk about with their friends. But I
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persevered. "T-T-T-T-T-Tits." I got the first syllable out, but then2~:R*@$i5S.v}I"eD5Y
nothing. What was this, I never get stuck in mid-word! Of all the times to-W upxCf2v
develop a new way to stutter. I had to get the rest of her name out, and
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fast, before I was branded for life as a pervert. The mind does not always
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think clearly under times of stress. I decided to try the "running start"
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approach, which involves backing up and repeating what you have just said,t%z9]$l6sP
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hoping it will somehow help you be more fluent. (It seems to make sensek;M9aF S5Z
until you put it on paper.) "Tits-Tits-Tits-Tits-Tits." Nothing was coming.
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If anyone happened not to be paying attention before, this scintillating}Xx:q8xK$X5?
repetition certainly got them on the edge of their seats. This guy has great
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material, even if his delivery leaves something to be desired. "Tits, Tits,J,Z
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Tits, TITSWORTH." I finally got it out!
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Throughout the ordeal I did not make eye contact with poor Camilla. I'm sure
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she did not appreciate me magnifying her parents' sin of not legally
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changing the family name. I was pretty sure that although suffering can draw
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people together, I could cross her off my list of prom-dates. Camilla moved-t5y(p,p v
several weeks later, never to be heard from again. To this day no one knows
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why, but I have always had my suspicions.[/size]