Overcoming Stage Fright
We checked the official speech contest website.
It had a structure advancing from city preliminaries to provincial preliminaries, then to the national finals. The divisions were kindergarten, elementary, middle/high school, and general.
"A-yeon should register for the kindergarten division."
"Yeah."
The kindergarten division speeches were 1 minute 30 seconds to 2 minutes long.
Registration required submitting the application form, speech manuscript, and a video of the speech via the official homepage.
"We have to submit a video too. Gotta record it ahead of time and upload."
Mom scrolled through the list of themes and read them aloud.
"There are five themes. Gotta pick one."
I peered at the list.
a. Our Posture for Peaceful Unification
b. Content that Widely Proclaims the Superiority of the Korean People
c. Content that Instills Filial Piety and Respect for Elders
d. Content for Energy Conservation and Environmental Protection
e. Other Specific Ways to Love Our Country and People
I read through the entire list carefully once.
"...Mommy."
"Yeah?"
"The themes are all so boring."
Mom chuckled.
"Speech contests are always like this. They're not opening it to talk about tough stuff, right?"
"Huing... but still, but still."
For a total science nerd like me down to my bones, picking one of these lame themes was just too much—even for the organizers.
Couldn't they throw in at least one like 'Proving Fermat's Last Theorem for Kids' or something?
Then I could prep hard and give a killer speech... But if they did, the kindergarteners to high schoolers would all drop dead. Hmph, let 'em all wipe out! I'd solo the whole thing!
"A-yeon, we still gotta pick one."
I looked at the list again. A, B, C, and E were all social and cultural—nothing exciting.
The only science-y one was environmental protection...
"D seems the least bad."
"Energy conservation and environmental protection?"
"Yeah. It's the only one I can tie to science and tech. I can reference that carbon capture paper from last time and make the script way more fun."
Mom glanced at me for a second.
"Carbon capture tech in a kindergarten speech contest?"
"Why not?"
"...The audience might get confused."
"Let 'em get confused. Finals aren't the goal anyway."
Dragging this lame theme all the way to nationals? No thanks from me.
Better to hop a plane, fly overseas, and present in English at a real conference.
This was just practice to get my lecturing groove back.
Mom thought for a moment, then chuckled.
"...Sounds fun though? Imagining the audience zoning out during a kindergartener's speech."
"Right? Right?"
We both grinned mischievously.
"Okay, I'll write the script now. Mom, record the video later."
"Got it."
"Nihihi. Then tonight when the family's all together, Yoo A-yeon's Special Speech begins!"
I stretched my arms wiiide as I got up.
Then I headed to the study and dug through my subscribed foreign journals.
Rustle rustle.
"That carbon capture breakthrough paper from last year should be here... Ah, found it!"
COF-999. A groundbreaking carbon capture material announced in a 2024 Nature journal paper. The authors claimed just 200g could capture 20kg of CO2 per year, making it the game-changer in carbon capture tech right now.
I'm basing my kindergarten speech on this paper.
"Heheung. They'll clap like crazy 'cause I'm so smart, right?"
Tap tap tap. I slowly typed out the script with my tiny fingers.
Script done, and that evening, I started my speech in front of the family.
They focused on my pronunciation, eye contact, and breathing.
"—COF stands for Covalent Organic Framework, a new material! Especially COF-999 for carbon capture has chemical structures like amines inside to selectively grab just CO2! And—"
"A-yeon, hold on."
"Why, Daddy?"
"You're talking too fast. And your eyes are glued to the script."
"Mmm... yeah? Okay."
Again.
"—CO2 in the air is only about 0.04 percent, but COF works even at low concentrations! Just 1 gram separates 100 milligrams of CO2, so—"
"A-yeon."
"Why, Mommy?"
"Your pronunciation's all mushy now. Speak clearly and loud during the speech, okay?"
"Ugh, y-yeah..."
"Sis, fighting!"
Again. Again. Again...
Through all those practice video takes, I gradually got my lecturing senses back.
If pre-practice Yoo A-yeon was +0 strength, now I'm +7 strength Yoo A-yeon.
"Fuheheheng! Confidence overflowing like crazy!"
Confidence bursting! I dashed around the living room u dada da, venting my excess energy.
"Sis, playing tag? Me too!"
"Eek!"
"Hehet!"
Speech contest regional preliminaries day. Held at the City Cultural Center Grand Hall.
I froze for a sec at the sheer scale when we arrived.
Kindergarten to general divisions, packed with people—contestants and families made it chaos.
I gripped Mom's hand tight.
"A-yeon, you okay?"
"Y-yeah... probably..."
We entered the waiting room. Kids my age—five, six, seven-ish.
Some clutched scripts, mumbling them under their breath.
Others buried in mom's arms, bawling and throwing fits.
"Mommy, no, scary, don't wanna!"
"Just a little, go announce for 2 minutes. That's it."
"Nooo! I said no— waaah!"
That kid auto-forfeited.
Crying's contagious? The kid next to her memorizing lines started sniffling too.
I sat quietly on a waiting chair, watching. A-rin sat beside me, eyeing the room.
"Sis, why they crying?"
"Scared."
"Sis not scared?"
"...Dunno."
I answered without confidence.
My turn came. The announcer called me.
"Yoo A-yeon. Please move backstage."
Mom put a hand on my shoulder.
"You can do it. Fighting, my girl."
"Y-yeah..."
I nodded shakily. Peeking through the curtain from backstage, the auditorium seats were full.
Maybe 300 to 400 people. All eyes on the stage where I'd stand.
Gulp. Saliva went down.
"Haa... haa..."
Thump thump. Heart racing, breath short.
In my past life, I'd lectured dozens of times. But this body didn't care—it saw this as danger.
Can I... really do this?
That thought flashed.
Then tiny arms hugged me from behind.
Squeeze.
"A-A-rin?"
A-rin had hugged my back.
"Sis. When you hug me, I feel safe."
She mumbled into my back.
"Hope sis feels safe too. Scary stuff, fly away—!"
Tiny, cute arms. Not much strength.
But somehow, it calmed my heart.
Yeah. A-rin's watching. Can't crumble as big sis.
I breathed deep, in and out. Turned and looked at A-rin.
"A-rin, thanks."
"Heung. Sis is my pride! I believe in sis! Go show 'em!"
Announcer called again.
"Yoo A-yeon. Please enter."
I pushed the curtain.
Pop pop. I stepped onto the stage.
Over 300 gazes poured in, but now it was fine.
"Hellooo! I'm Yoo A-yeon!"
Long story short, total wipeout at the speech contest. No surprise, and I wasn't bummed since nationals weren't the plan.
Kindergarten kid spouting a brand-new carbon capture paper less than a year old? Too hard to understand, they said.
Other kids: Love our nation! Respect elders! Save the Earth!
Then some weirdo kid drops Covalent Organic Frameworks. Everyone thinks, Oof, this is...
98% of the audience probably had no clue.
But when I finished, they clapped—confused faces and all. That was plenty satisfying.
"Wuheheheng."
Imagining applause in my head vs. real claps? Total different level!
"A-yeon, good job."
"Party time to celebrate A-yeon's speech success today?"
That night, Mom unleashed 120% hidden power—banquet-level sides.
"Wooow!"
"Mom best!"
Gobble chomp munch. Me and A-rin inhaled the table.
"A-yeon, A-rin, slow down. You'll get tummy aches."
"Mngmngmng."
"Onnnnehet."
Mom and Dad watched us fondly.
After dinner, I told Mom.
"Mommy, think I'm ready for the real lecture now."
"A-yeon, all prepped in your heart?"
"Yeah! Totally good! Yoo A-yeon confidence max!"
I thumped my chest with my fist.
After 300 real claps, stage jitters way down. My subconscious now sees crowds as safe.
Experience is key!
I grabbed Mom's phone and texted Professor Park Moo-yeol.
Tok. Tok. Tok.