Graduate School Jitters, 1975

I cannot breathe. Strangling, my words sound like alien croaks. My heart hums like a didgeridoo, a sound split from its source. There is no ground beneath me, I  am floating above myself and at the same time sinking.

I want to die. Now.

The professor clears his throat, praises my paper as the best one, trying to help. This does not help.

I've never before shared my opinion in public. I'm the only cross-over from sociology in the graduate psychology class, standing in front, facing everyone.

The professor coughs politely. The other grad students whisper, shuffle their feet.  

How awful. They pity me.

I wish for the ultimate act of kindness, a lightning strike. I think this is the most humiliating moment of my life, not knowing yet there will be other, greater embarrassments, until I find my voice.