The Weird Kid With the Guitar

When I got my first teaching job (here at N-K) in 1994, it came with a coaching assignment:  speech.  Honestly, I hadn't ever competed in speech.  I had a speech minor, and had performed A LITTLE BIT in high school and college, but that was it.  I was not the John Wooden of speech coaches, let me tell you.

But, I love kids and so I jumped in feet first and gave it my best shot.  Over time, our enthusiasm for the work we were doing paid off, and I'm proud to say that in eight years of coaching, we took eight performances to All-State (pretty much the state tournament of public speaking).

When I earned the "new job" of principal, I gave up the coaching.  Now, however, with my son in the program, the head coach Polly Schiltz has allowed me to help as her assistant.  As a matter of fact, I'm writing this after a long, fun day of speech competition in Decorah.

Anyway, over the years I remember how my students and I looked forward to our contest traditions:  I always looked for a raised glazed doughnut in the coaches' lounge, they ran to make camp in the sweetest spot in the gym they could find, and eventually we would find the Weird Kid With the Guitar.

It's true:  at EVERY speech contest there's some kid--sometimes it's a girl, sometimes it's a boy--with a guitar.  And she's sitting on a stool, or a box, or the floor (but always she's sitting) playing the guitar to a devoted group of fans.  And most of the time, the fans don't even know the guitar player; they hear the music, see this kid playing guitar, and sit down in front and sing along.  Weird.

Or is it?  Today, the Weird Kid With the Guitar took the form of a young lady with a miniature blue guitar, almost a ukulele-type model.  And the kids listening to her were singing along, just as other kids over the years have sung along with other kids and their guitars in other gyms across the state. 

She seemed like the type of kid who only had one or two good friends back home, who never raised her hand in class but got pretty good grades, who lingered at the back of the lunch line without drawing attention to herself.  Quiet, make-no-waves, a wallflower.

But today that Weird Kid was thoroughly enjoying what we all enjoy:  people were paying attention to her.

In the gym with her guitar, she was the center of attention.  Every other kid in that gym heard her sing, watched her perform, and she received applause after every single song she played.  That's the cool part of speech contest, and it's why I sometimes get hot under the collar when folks ask incredulously, "You coach speech?" in the same tone you'd use to say, "You eat bugs?"

Yeah, I coach speech.  And I'm proud of it.  I'm proud of the stutterer who overcomes this challenge and earns a "I" rating at state; I'm proud of the kid who wouldn't leave the bench in basketball, but finds success in public speaking; I'm proud of the special education student who basks in the applause she receives for being brave enough to step on stage and perform; I'm proud of the Homecoming King who goes against what "the cool kids" expect him to do and joins the speech team; and I'm proud of the Weird Kid With the Guitar. 

I'm still waiting for the day when one of my students asks, "Mr. Fritz, would it be alright if I brought my guitar to speech contest tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," I'll say, with pride.