Voices of the Spring Concert
Nine-year-old Darren had a lot of interesting thoughts buzzing in his mind all the time—so many, in fact, that he could hardly get them out in one smooth sentence. Whenever he tried to share an idea, he’d say “um” or “uh” a dozen times, losing his train of thought halfway through. Class presentations were a nightmare: Darren’s face would get hot, his hands clammy, and he’d stammer through most of his words.
But Darren had something special to look forward to: his school’s Spring Concert. Though he wasn’t the best singer, he dreamed of standing on stage and delivering a short welcome speech before the music began. It was a brave goal for someone who had trouble speaking clearly, yet deep inside, Darren knew he wanted to prove to himself he could do it.
A Friend’s Support
Darren’s classmate, Mia, noticed how frustrated he became whenever he spoke. “Hey,” she said gently one day after class, “you always have such cool ideas—you told me about that flying car invention you read about, remember? I just… can’t always follow you when you’re talking. Sometimes you say a million words at once.”
Darren sighed. “I know,” he said, twisting the edge of his notebook. “My mind just… it just goes, and I can’t get the words to come out right.”
“Would you like to practice with me?” Mia asked. “Maybe we can work on slowing down and picking a short summary before diving into all the details.”
Darren nodded, feeling a flicker of hope.
Small Steps in Speech Class
A few days later, Darren’s teacher, Mr. Collins, announced an optional “speech practice” session during lunch breaks for anyone who wanted help speaking in front of the class. Darren felt both nervous and relieved—this was exactly what he needed.
During these sessions, Mr. Collins had the students do simple exercises:
Think-Pause-Speak: Before talking, they would silently think about their main point, pause for a few seconds, and then speak slowly.
Practicing Key Words: They learned to pick out just a few important words that would guide them through a sentence.
Eye-Contact and Breathing: Looking at a friendly face (like a friend) and taking a deep, calming breath before starting.
At first, Darren still peppered his sentences with “um,” “like,” and “uh.” But Mr. Collins never made him feel embarrassed. Instead, he’d gently say, “Let’s pause and try that sentence again.” Over time, the filler words began to fade as Darren forced himself to slow down.
A Home Rehearsal
At home, Darren practiced with Mia on video calls. She’d wave her hands dramatically when he started to speak too fast or forgot to summarize. “Stop, think. What’s your main point?” she’d remind him. Darren would pause, and then start fresh.
He also recorded himself on his mom’s phone. At first, hearing all the gaps and stammers was tough. But as the days passed, he noticed progress. While it wasn’t perfect, he saw improvement in how he organized his thoughts: fewer filler words, clearer sentences.
The Big Night
Finally, the Spring Concert arrived. The auditorium was buzzing with excitement: parents, teachers, and classmates filled the seats. Backstage, Darren’s heart pounded. He clutched his index cards with a short welcome speech he’d prepared—a mere three sentences, each carefully crafted so he wouldn’t trip over too many extra words.
Peeking through the curtains, he spotted Mr. Collins smiling encouragingly. Mia gave him a thumbs-up from the choir section. Taking a steady breath, Darren stepped onto the stage, index cards rattling in his trembling hands.
“G-good evening, everyone,” he began. He caught his breath, remembering to pause. “Welcome to Lakeside Elementary’s Spring Concert. We hope… you enjoy the show.”
His voice wobbled slightly, but he spoke each word deliberately. The entire audience listened patiently, and after his short greeting, they burst into applause. A rush of relief and pride flooded Darren. He’d done it—he had spoken clearly, with only a few small stammers.
A Lesson in Steady Growth
After the concert, Mia ran up to him. “That was awesome!” she said. “You sounded so confident up there.”
Mr. Collins patted Darren on the shoulder. “You see, small steps and practice work wonders. Keep going at your own pace.”
In the following weeks, Darren still found himself stumbling when he got too excited or tried to explain something complicated. But each time, he remembered to pause, think, and then speak. He could feel himself improving bit by bit—not perfect, but better than yesterday.
And that was enough for Darren. Because now, he knew that with patience, practice, and some encouragement from the people who cared about him, he could share his ideas with the world—one clear word at a time.
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