It’s Monday morning, and 145 middle schoolers gather in Ware 500. The faithful assembly space buzzes with 8 a.m. energy. Left of stage, an eighth grader flips through a collection of notecards a final time. She takes two deep breaths and steps onto the stage, where four weeks of preparation will culminate in her Grade 8 Talk. On Mondays and Fridays for nine years now, eighth graders have shared themselves with their classmates, and prepared through this experience for the traditional Class IV Talks that lie ahead. Grade 8 Talks, the brainchild of Middle School director Will Crissman, combine storytelling and speechmaking, developing skills and broadening perspectives — of the speakers and audience.
Formal public speaking is new for many middle schoolers. “I tell students they need to give themselves at least three weeks,” says Debbie Simon, Grade 7 teacher and Middle School speech coach. “Preparation is the key to eliminating your fear of public speaking.”
During week one, students work with Debbie to develop their topics — perhaps a passion of theirs, or something others might not know about them. Week two is devoted to developing a rough draft; Debbie helps students structure that draft into a simple, informative speech. The final week is “all out loud,” which Debbie claims works to get over nerves.
Most students do “talk” — that is, they deliver a speech to kick off the morning’s assembly. Sharing yourself is the goal, however, so students might choose to showcase a talent or skill — playing an instrument, or demonstrating fencing, karate, rhythmic dance techniques. One girl recently exhibited her archery skills. (No arrows fired!) Whatever the format, students share something personal and important.
For Milton middle schoolers, the Grade 8 Talk precedes that rite of passage and deep-rooted tradition, the Class IV Talk. Every Class IV student delivers a personal, researched and assessed five- to seven-minute speech to his or her classmates. While the practical value of learning to speak in public is an important tool, Will says the most powerful outcome of the Grade 8 Talks is stimulating empathy and appreciation for one another.
Though each Talk is a student’s own creation, themes do emerge: the value of hard work, learning from failure, the support of family and friends, taking risks, pursuing a passion. Some students talk in very personal ways about their families: growing up with two moms or two dads, growing up without a mom or dad, the role of grandparents and siblings.
“Without intending to, students convey our common values,” says Will. “They articulate a set of ethical standards that reflect what the School is trying to impart. And they’re doing it entirely on their own. Delivering a Talk can be transformative, too. A quiet student might use it as a means of coming out of his shell. A girl might become an icon of something in a way that hadn’t existed before. It may help a student to formulate an identity, and that can be really powerful.”
Debbie works as a “guide,” never changing a student’s topic. She describes her suggestions as structural, adding transitions, or strengthening a thesis. “To be effective, your speech can’t wander all over the place,” she says. “You have to remember your audience. If you’re talking about something very technical, or very personal, you have to make sure everyone can engage, relate to your topic in some way. A story is the best way to bring your message to life.”
“Structure gives the students security,” says Debbie. “Without structure you lose your audience, and you lose your own place, too. With a sense of structure, if the speaker gets lost, he or she can get back on track with the next point. In its early stages, this process can seem a bit formulaic, but that formula allows people to take a baby step into public speaking.”
The Grade 8 Talks help students, and adults, to see one another in different ways. Witnessing moments of vulnerability and honesty in another person is a memorable experience.
“Talks are routinely a highlight of the day,” says Will. “The students have delivered some of the most meaningful and emotional messages that I’ve seen here at Milton. They respect each other for what they’re doing up there. The Talks have become an important part of our culture.”
— by Erin Berg
Imagine walking onto a tennis court expecting to play a small 10-year-old, and when you look across the net you only see the person’s chest. This is the story of the tennis match I played in the local town tournament near my house in Maine. It started two summers ago when I played a 16-year-old who was 6’ 4″ and towered a foot and a half over me. I stepped onto the court for the warmup and he started to hit balls that whizzed by me. I started to panic, and when he got the first serve, I felt like a helpless gazelle in front of a lion at dinnertime. He served the ball and I shut my eyes in prayer muttering to myself, “I’m too young to die, I’m too young to die!” As I heard the racket hit the ball, I cringed. When I finally opened my eyes, I trailed the ball like an outfielder watching a home run go right past him. I heard a loud “THUD!” as the ball hit the back fence. In my head I started to get excited: maybe his size doesn’t make his game. In the end, I actually won! In the beginning I thought I should quit for mere survival purposes, but if I had bailed, I never would be here telling you this story.” — Jack Weiler ’18
In different cultures around the world, people have different ways of naming their children. In America, most names are chosen by the parents of the child. However, in Africa, the “Nandis of the Great Rift Valley” in Kenya have a particularly interesting way of naming their babies. The baby naming takes place in the mother’s hut, where the mother and attending women call spirits’ names to watch over the baby. The baby is supposed to squeeze, indicating which name has been accepted. In Nandi traditions, the original name given to a child does not get used until a substitute name related to the circumstances of their birth, selected by the mother, is given a few days later. In my case, before I was born, my grandfather gave my parents a list of Nigerian names to choose from. They chose Kalaria to be my first name. My first middle name is Juliette, after my aunt on my mother’s side, and I have a second middle name, Nnenna, which means “first daughter.” Some parents may choose their child’s name because it is family tradition, others because it means something, and some choose it because they simply enjoy the name. Whatever the process, the naming of any newborn child is special. — Kalaria Okali ’18
I’m sure we are all familiar with Walt Disney. Whether it is Disney World, a Disney production, or Walt Disney himself, we all marvel at the world Disney created by fantasizing. Walt Disney was a trailblazer in his field because he set out on a path unheard of before. He created worlds of nonsense, filled with cartoons and songs that redefined television during the early half of the 20th century. Characters such as Mickey and Minnie Mouse came from Walt’s brain, where everything that would be, wouldn’t, and everything that wouldn’t, would. He turned his imaginary reality into something tangible, and he turned his fantasies into a world where he could truly express himself. He showed us, “If you can dream it, you can do it!”
When I was younger I used to use my imagination all the time. I had multiple worlds that I lived in. I lived in worlds where my stuffed animals, Puppy and Kitty, could talk, and we would have tea parties together outside in my yard or on my bedroom floor. It didn’t matter where I was, I felt like I was in a dream. Wearing a plastic tiara, I could become a princess. Holding a spoon, I was a chef. At the time it didn’t seem silly to create forts or pretend my siblings were monsters coming to eat me. It just felt liberating, and fun! It was easy to let my imagination run wild and let myself go. I was free. I am fascinated by the way imagineers use their imaginations. What puzzles me is how today it is harder for me to believe in worlds that only I can see. And I worry that if I stop using my imagination, I won’t really see what my creativity can be. — Soleil Devonish ’18
When I heard that the MIT Gilbert and Sullivan Players were putting on Into the Woods, and my voice teachers encouraged me to audition for the role of Little Red Riding Hood, I thought to myself, “Sure! Why not?” I had worked with the company the previous summer, I knew and liked the directors, and I had always wanted to be in Into the Woods. I figured there was nothing to lose. I was less sure of myself walking into the audition. I found myself in a long, dark hallway deep within the bowels of MIT. The hallway was lined with adults, warming themselves up, running scales, practicing monologues, and generally milling about in a highly professional and intimidating fashion. Then the auditions began. The noises emitting from that room were absolutely unbelievable. The most death-defying sopranos, incredible altos, and baffling basses I had ever heard. I began to panic. What was I thinking?! What was I doing here auditioning for a role against other adults in an entirely adult company for a role that is ALWAYS PLAYED BY AN ADULT? I got goose bumps when I heard the woman next to me say how much she wanted to play Little Red. My knees began shaking when my name was called, and I actually broke out in a cold sweat as I walked in the door. There was the long table. There were the sleepy-eyed, fidgety-handed, spaced-out-looking people I had to impress. Then I opened my mouth and began to sing. At the end of the audition, the directors did not seem noticeably changed. My heart sank as I looked up. I thanked them and scurried out the door, embarrassment hanging off of me like a garment. I went home second- and third-guessing myself, wondering how I could have been so cocky, so presumptuous as to assume I had any hope of being cast. Through some miraculous alignment of the stars, I got the part. I got to perform my dream role. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. If I hadn’t gone to the audition, taken the risk, I wouldn’t have gotten the part. — Alexandra Upton ’18
Three Lessons from “Talk” Veterans
Veterans of the Middle School, with successful Grade 8 Talks under their belts, Kiana Mendes ’15, Benjamin “Mack” Makishima ’16 and Jacob Atwood ’17 delivered Class IV Talks that people still remember. Their talks were among the “Best of Class IV Talks” voted by their classmates. Here’s what the pros have learned.
“Being able to think deeply about one topic is a valuable skill. With social media and so many other distractions, it’s easy to float on the surface of things, never digging deeply into one topic. Focusing and researching one idea from different angles is a skill you use in your Class IV Talk and throughout high school.” — Jacob
“Hearing your classmates share a piece of themselves gives you the confidence to do the same. I was most surprised that I was actually good at public speaking. I have always been a talker, but public speaking was foreign to me. Until I delivered my Grade 8 Talk, I hadn’t yet discovered that niche.” — Kiana
“Some people will write their Talk as an essay, and though it might be a very good essay, it’s not a speech. A speech has to conform to the voice of the speaker and keep the audience interested. First, the speech has to sound like you. It shouldn’t sound academic unless you talk like that. If you don’t write in your own voice, people will be bored, because they’ll feel like they’re talking to a human research paper. They don’t want to hear your footnotes — they want to be entertained. Most importantly, they want to have learned something about you.” — Mack